Aural Bethel

Sometimes things aren't what you remember, and have the hand of God in them when you least suspect.

The winter of 2010, in particular the first couple of months of it, were pretty terrible, truth be told.  Suffering as I do from seasonal affective disorder, there had been frequent snowfalls during December and into January that were driving me down.  February was the cruelest month, with snowmageddon trapping me in the apartment for a week.  Concurrently with it, there was the loss of the first post-divorce relationship, and worst of all, my daughter deciding she didn't want to see me anymore.  Not a particularly great time for sure.

During the snowed in week, there was a particular Christian song that was popular on the radio, and seemed to be played ever hour or two.  It became the soundtrack for that whole terrible mess of emotion and depression I was undergoing during that snowed in week.  It became so associated with that time that I have never been able to listen to it again, because it reminded me of the pain I had been experiencing and the near-nervous breakdown I had then.

In talking to a friend the other day, I had a flash of divine revelation, an epiphany like almost no other.  The song, which for three years had been a testimony of the pain and hurt I had been suffering, changed.  God (and it had to be Him) showed me that it wasn't supposed to be a memory to the pain, it was supposed to be a testimony to the presence of His Love and His Spirit in that time.  I had misread it all this time.  It was really a Bethel monument (in Genesis 28:18, Jacob had a dream (which includes the angels ascending and descending,  which is is where a Jacob's ladder gets its name) and established a monument, a pillar to the presence of God in his dreams and in his life).

The song was intended to represent that for me.  I remember so clearly that day when the the sun finally came out and blinded the snow-bound people.  I remember  praying to God for help in the pain and the valley.  And clearly, just as clearly, I remember His presence.  I remember Him filling my mind and heart with the knowledge that He would be there for me and with me.  I remember Him telling me that I was still going to go through times of pain.  My faith journey has never been one full of emotional closeness to God, and yet that cold, sunny, snow covered afternoon kneeling in the sun beside my window, I felt His presence as almost never before.  The times of suffering that I went through were indeed painful, and at times felt like they would never end. Yet, I was still able to hold on to His promise, and eventually moved through that valley of the shadow.

I had, for three years, failed to remember the faithfulness of the Lord in carrying me, and had in all-too-human form remembered only the pain and suffering the loss of relationships had caused me.  I had forgotten that it was that pain that drove me out of my cubicle isolation at work to actually eat lunch with co-workers.  I had forgotten that it was the pain that drove me out of the apartment and into volunteer efforts, efforts that produced some days of great joy volunteering with the Washington Freedom, or at wine festivals.  That it was that pain that finally convinced me to leave the self-imposed isolation of life and to engage with the people around me.  It was His love, His presence, His blessing that got me through it.  And I had forgotten it.

And now I remember what I knew and had forgotten, yet another example of grace given by God.