Shedding Old Baggage

Glory I give Glory to the One who saved my soul

You found me and You freed me from a shame that was my own

I cannot begin to say how merciful You've been

Although my ears have heard of you, now my eyes have seen

                                                                                                        - Matt Redman

I love the crisp morning air of autumn. I love the crackling of the leaves, the paint-splattered look of the maple trees and the mountains of fresh vegetables at the farmers' market. I love pulling out scarves and sweaters and bundling Sophie into her northern Newfoundland fur-hooded jacket and felted booties to visit the swing in the park. The fall always fills me with a feeling of newness, like I've been given a fresh start, a blank page full of possibilities for this season. 

The past couple weeks I have been reminded of the fall of 2004, where for the first time, I was having trouble experiencing the usual joyful anticipation that usually comes with the beginning of September. Up until this year, 2004 had been the biggest personal growth year of my life. January through June had been spent just outside of Johannesburg, South Africa, in an orphanage being a part of an international volunteer team caring for abandoned babies. Soon after arriving home, still reeling from culture shock, I was thrown into the unique culture of summer camp Christian ministry in Chatham Ontario while making failing efforts to rescue my first serious dating relationship. On Labour Day weekend, the night before I was headed off for Orientation Week, marking the beginning of my studies at the University of Guelph, I sat on the limestone rock overlooking the shores of Lake Huron by my parents' cottage near Tobermory, watching the sunset and sobbing, feeling overwhelmed by the huge changes in my life that year, and nursing fresh wounds from the abrupt end to a slowly souring relationship. I had been loaded down with serious amounts of emotional baggage that year and was feeling tired, bruised and lost, and honestly, a bit of a wreck.

That was just a little more than eight years ago, and I'm kind of ashamed to admit that I recently realized that instead of long ago leaving all that baggage at the Altar, somehow the well-worn handles had slipped back into my hands. So I acted on my first instinct: I tried to deal with it on my own and sweep the rest under the carpet. And as usual, somehow the presence of my junk freshly hidden, was much more noticeable than before. Soon it was clear I needed some help, I needed to confess my issues to someone who would hear me out and who loved me enough to rebuke me if necessary.

This summer I have been thinking about the great importance of healing alongside forgiveness. James 5:16 says, "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." It makes sense that talking our stuff out with a friend will ultimately help us to shed our burdens, but really, it is much easier to talk about the benefits of it than to actually do it. Clearly I needed to share my baggage with Kyle, but, and I'm ashamed of this as well, although I didn't act on this, I considered talking to a girlfriend of mine instead to avoid the vulnerability of revealing my messy heart to the man who loves me.

When I finally gathered enough courage to tell Kyle what I had been struggling with, instead of being met with anger and rebuke, I was met with what I needed, undeserved grace, gentleness and love. We were able to slowly talk things out and even in the moment I could feel the burden lifting. In the minutes that followed, my heart felt lighter, my thoughts healthier, and I was washed over with gratitude for the heart of our Father so clearly displayed in the response of my husband. I was reminded again of the incredible forgiveness and grace He has waiting for each one of us when we turn to Him in our brokenness. I was reminded of "how great is the love the Father has lavished upon us" (1 John 3:1). I do not deserve this kind of grace, love or forgiveness; but oh, how I need it.   

Sometimes, my junk is going to end up in my lap again, I'm going to find myself carrying around baggage I thought I had dropped off ages ago. I think that's ok. Finding the courage to admit this to a friend who loves me and enlisting help to pry it out of my hands once more is the real struggle. Battling my pride is the issue.

But for today, I feel lighter. Today I feel loved. Today I feel thankful. This lyric is my anthem for the day, "I cannot begin to say how merciful You've been, although my ears have heard of you, now my eyes have seen..."

 Perhaps my first taste of true Joy?