The Wall

(Originally Written: 2014)

And then there was the day the Lord put a wall in my life.

It looked like a boy.  It was a wall.

A hard, impenetrable wall who had no intention of ever letting me in.

Had I heard of Reactive Attachment Disorder before this moment?

I had no idea.  No idea.  Absolutely no idea what I was facing.

And the wall defeated me.

They say that insanity is when you repeat the same action expecting different results.

I kept trying.  I was insane.

I kept running headlong into that wall, sure that this time I’d get through.

I’d get through the hard heart, the angry spirit, the empty, hollow soul.

I’d get to the other side, I had to.

Because life was on the other side, I thought.

Life for him, and for me.

Bruised and bloodied, I kept at it, determined to fix, determined to overcome, banging my head against it again and again.

Every morning I woke up staring at that wall.  Every night I went to bed with it looming, defeating me, impenetrable.

Baffled at the fact that I did not have any idea what to do, that the wall was still so hard, no matter what I did.

I was a great mom.  I should know how to do this.  I’ll try again.  I’ll try harder.

There was something else written all over that wall, screaming out of those dark eyes:

God doesn’t love you.  If He loved you, He wouldn’t have asked something so hard.

A wise woman once told me that the moment you begin to doubt the love of God, you are lost.

She was right.

What is your wall?

Maybe cancer.  Maybe a faithless husband.  Maybe job loss or chronic pain or a wayward child.  Maybe you’ve tried everything you know.  And the wall looms – threatening to overwhelm all your dreams, all your hopes, all your joy and crush it forever.

God gave me a job.  I couldn’t fail.

God gave me a job.  So I would fail.

The time came for me to kneel at the wall and surrender.

Not to the boy, but to the One who put him in my life.

Finally, hands open, broken, at the end of myself, I said, “I can’t”.

And He said, “I know.  And it’s okay.”

I misunderstood.  I thought God would use me to heal and fix this angry soul, to break down the walls between us, to find love and comfort, to give him hope.

No.  God would use this wall to break me.  To teach me Who God Is.  To show me that even when we can’t, He Can.

Can’t wasn’t in my vocabulary.  But it was sweet to finally admit it.  To let go.  To be okay with realizing I may not be the answer after all.

All my love, all my time, all my efforts, all my energy, all my studying, all my seeking counsel to bring down that wall – all my tears and desperate pleading . . . only to discover I can’t?

How is that a good thing?

Because I discovered grace. (II Corinthians 12:9-10)

Grace is when things don’t work as we planned and don’t look right or feel right . . .  but somehow, to our surprise and relief, God is still in it, He still loves us, and He has a plan.

Grace is the joy of knowing that while not everything will be fixed here, He still offers peace and hope and Himself in the middle of the messes.

Take a break from running headlong into that wall.

Consider that it might not be God’s plan that you overcome it, knock it down, or fix it.

Maybe just let it be, and look for the path around it . . .

Where Jesus is, and where He says, I’ve got it.  I’ve got you.  It’s going to be okay.

And then, when you stop fighting, and your fists unclench, and you accept what is . . .

You can see how He used you after all.  How He can make things right and give you rest. (Matthew 11:28-30)

How answers and understanding and hope come flooding in like sunshine after a long, heavy, frightening storm. 

And your problem won’t be fixed.

But your heart will know He Lives, and He Lives in you, and nothing can separate you from His love.  (Romans 8:38-39)

And the wall is no longer a wall.  It’s a garden of opportunity and answered prayers.