There is always a new way to view an old story. We hear of a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. We hear of a King who came to reign, with feet bare, born of a teenage mother, and of a family heritage of prostitute and adulterer. He arrived perfect and left perfect, with genes fully human–with a family tree before him scarred with stories of jealousy and murder, deception and mistakes. He is my family and your family. He is my story and yours.
You have a story all your own, with ups and downs and things you regret, things you’ve done you wish you could change. Ask Me into those places. Let Me show you a new way to view these old stories. There is a fresh story I want to give you, a fresh perspective on every past thing you’ve done that you regret.
The old stories are hard to look at with clear eyes. Our memory clings to moments that sting–or our memory feels an empty room, quiet and still, lonely, neglected. Our Father holds it all so close, these memories of ours–whether we can bear to remember the painful details or not.
There is hope everywhere, child. There is hope in everything, in every moment, in every past, in every future. The hope for the future exists in Me—and I ask you to trust Me so I may show you how I look at your past. When I show you your past, I am asking you to trust Me in how I see you. And how I see you is not at all how you see yourself.
My friend can’t remember much of her past from her childhood. It is too painful, too raw. Much has been blocked from her memory–and when moments flood back, she can barely stand the view. Her heart breaks for the girl she was that wasn’t seen, wasn’t loved, wasn’t adored and delighted in. And to hear that God sees her, in those moments, holding her past and her present before Him, so lovingly, in His hands, is difficult to bear. What is she to do with all this mess, all this pain? What is she to do with the absence of happy memories? How is she to have courage and faith and hope when her heart aches for the little girl still within her that feels alone and helpless and lost?
Her past melts with her present, as the pain of the past never fully goes away.
Fair one, I come for you. I come for you again. I do not tire of being close to you. I do not tire of leaning in, listening to your words, your cries, your pleas, your songs. I strengthen you. I equip you. I restore you. I surround you with hope. I bring people around you to show you hope. You have brothers and sisters I want to show you, people whose names I know and whom I delight in bringing forth to you, whom I delight in you getting to know.
There may be a hint, now, of story within a different frame. The little girl in the room abandoned is watched with heart broken wide. Every tear held in hands safe and sure and strong. The pain remains, but the ache subsides–the ache to be loved, to be known, to be healed. This little-girl-grow-woman can look at that little girl alone and see her now, through the eyes of God. She can still cry for her; she can still mourn. But she can rejoice, too, for the story she tells is from the heart of a woman who knows she is loved.
I give you glimpses of beauty, glimpses of glory, glimpses of hope and light. But the light that shines all around you, the light that shines from within you, the Spirit I give you to lead you and be your friend and carry you through these hard days, is what makes you beyond beautiful, my daughter. You are beyond what you can imagine right now.
Sometimes, we just need to know this: we are more than what these hearts of ours can bear to see. For in His eyes, no matter what choice we made, no matter what horrible thing was done to us, we are not broken. Not one bit. We are whole.
Yes, we are frail and we fall. Yes, we are vulnerable and we get hurt. Yes, we are sinful and we mess up. But we are also amazing and beloved. We are also held and cherished.
You, my dear, even in your darkest moments, even in the parts of your story where you felt the very most alone, you have always been seen. You have never been forgotten. You have never been less than special. Surrender your heartaches to the Father who loves you. Let Him awaken hope in your heart. Let Him awaken you to see yourself, and the little-girl self of your past, with His true eyes. What God sees is the only sure thing we can ever see.
We need new eyes to see an old story. We need to stop standing on the edge of the nativity scene and, instead, jump full-on in. We need to see our Father’s hand extended to us. We need to stir up the dust in the barn and push up next to the animals and hear the angels singing and smell the musty hay in our lungs. We are dying to live with hearts awake. We are dying to turnover these old broken stories of ours and let them be beautified, mended, restored.
We are not meant to forget our old stories only because they are too painful to remember. We are not meant to ignore them because it is too much work to let ourselves feel. We are not meant to sleep through a life that is not black and white but full of messy blurs of color mixing from one to the next.
Your story is amazing and messy–a crumpled piece of art God has found in a corner of the room, under the bed, collecting dust. A masterpiece He unrolls and presses to His heart and pins onto His favorite wall, where He can see it all the time. He loves your story. He loves you. He loves everything about you, and He is sorry for how you have been hurt.
I am praying for you, my dear sister, and I am so happy you are here. What beautiful story of yours do you most need to see Him rewrite and make new?
** Make sure you enter the giveaway for the fabulous Sarah Ha pendant! Giveaway ends Thursday, at midnight.
*This post linked up with stories at beautiful Jennifer Lee’s place.