The Open Door

This past week and a half has been crazy.  I told my story.  The really crappy part of my story.  And so many people have read it.  And so many people have responded.  Words of encouragement.  Words of thankfulness.  Words filled with hope.  So much love.  It has been overwhelming.  But what caught me off guard is people sharing their stories.  People have shared THEIR stories.  Some of them for the first time.  Some of them from a place of absolute peace and freedom.  Some filled with faith and healing.  But all filled with the amazing accounts of what Jesus can do with a life He created.  I am humbled.  I am honored.  I am at home in my kitchen with my laptop and my baby playing on the floor sitting with my 12^th cup of coffee, and His story in each of our lives.

 

Your story is life changing.

Your story is not boring.

Your story has the fingerprints of a Carpenter King all over it.

Your Jesus story is meant to be told.

Matthew 20:29-34 tells about two blind men who received their sight.  They are beggars on the side of the road.  Jesus is passing by, and they call out to Him.  Jesus asks what they want Him to do, and they say that they want to see.  He touches their eyes and immediately they can see and begin to follow Him.  A miracle.  A healing.  They once were blind and now they can see.  Instantly they are His disciples.  Wouldn’t you be?  I bet everyone in the crowd following Jesus was floored and amazed.  And as they go on walking together there must have been praise and laughter and worship and joy and questions and commentary on what the world looked like with these new eyes.  The feeling when Jesus sets you free from whatever it is that keeps you in that dark prison.  I bet they told everyone they met that they had once been blind…I bet you couldn’t keep their mouths shut if you tried.  But there is this one little factor I always think about…This one little lie that may have changed everything…At that time, no matter how wrong, blindness was considered a punishment for either the person or their parent’s sin.

What if they were ashamed of their former blindness?

What if they believed the lie?

What if all the people who saw the miraculous healing moved off or moved on?

What if, after time, they chose to live their lives as men who always could see?

What then?

It would never ever take away what Jesus had done for them.  They were blind.  Now they could see.  That was a fact.  But y’all, if they never shared their blind- to- sight- through- the –mighty- hands- of –Jesus-story…well, no other blind man would have much hope.  No other blind man would know that they weren’t being punished for sin…they were just blind.  They could not bring the powerful hope that comes from Jesus radically changing your life without the story of first being blind.  They could love Jesus for the rest of their life.  They could follow Him for the rest of their life and be upstanding disciples.  They could feed the poor, and clothe the naked, and wash the feet of lepers, and be the most awesome and faithful believers ever… But they could not bring the hope and healing they were meant to offer the world if they never mentioned they had once been blind.  It’s a crazy thought with the blind to sight Jesus miracle story…But YOUR story is a Jesus Miracle Story too.  It really really is.

What if I told you I had been called to radical forgiveness…

But never told you I was forgiving my abductor?

What if I told you I loved my amazing Christian husband…

But never told you Christ saved us and our failing marriage on the same night?

What if I told you I loved Jesus…

But just never told you what He has done for me?

Something would be lost y’all.

 

For the past six weeks, every Tuesday, I teach Bible Study to an amazing group of women.  I have this load of “stuff” that I bring with me…bottled water…coffee…creamer…cups…my Reebok box to hold our prayer requests…all sorts of stuff.  Every Tuesday when class is over, we go through the same routine.  I start to clean up and load up all of my stuff, and some amazing women help me.  Some take armloads to my mini van and say good night.  Some people sit and talk with me while I adjust 9 million pounds of coffee creamer.  And there are always a few that wait for me by the door.  Because they know.  You see, the lights to the building are on one side and the door to exit is on the opposite side.  So, once I go and turn off the lights it is pitch black.  I have run into trash cans, chairs and walls…It’s a humbling journey.  So they wait with the door open, and there is just enough light to make it.  Let me say that again,  they stand outside this pitch black room, with the door open, waiting for me, shedding just enough light for me to make it…They encourage me.  They make me laugh.  One time we played Marco Polo.

Why would they do that week after week?

Because they know what it is like to walk in the dark.

They want to make sure I make it to the light.

Before I ever shared my story with anyone…before the first time I uttered the words, “I was abducted…”  I literally thought I was alone with the weirdest story ever.  I blamed myself for going with the man to the woods.  I thought I was cruel and cold and selfish for leaving my sister behind.  I thought I was gross and disgusting.  I lived a life of wreckage with so many poor choices growing out of this event in my life, and my silence was holding me captive. But the light was beckoning, y’all.  How would I ever get there?  It was in hearing another woman, so put together, so filled with grace, so “ok”, share her Jesus Story of abuse and living in shame that I began to have some hope.  Her story, on a DVD y’all,  brought me closer to the light of Christ.  Her story let me see how mighty Jesus is, and I began to believe He could heal me.  I began to listen to the voices of other girls all around me standing in the light encouraging me through their Jesus Stories… telling of their healing…telling of their freedom…holding open the door for all the rest of us stumbling through the dark.  Sometimes I wanted to run to the light.  Sometimes I wanted to give up.  Sometimes I thought I would be just fine standing in the dark by myself with a flashlight telling only Jesus my story.  But this one woman’s story rang of so much freedom through Jesus. 

And I wanted some of that Jesus Freedom y’all.

So, let me encourage you today, from the other side of the open door.  Let me tell you I once was blind.  Let me tell you  I have been saved and healed from hating myself, feeling like I could never trust or love anyone, deep deep anger, feeling like I was going to be attacked by strangers, feeling like my children were going to be abducted, feeling like my husband would leave me if he ever knew the truth, feeling like I was a failure, alone, weird, feeling like life was just to be survived…And in this light of sharing my Jesus Story, I know I am not alone.  And there are others stumbling through the dark, y’all.  They need to know that they can make it. 

They need to know that Jesus will save them.

And Jesus can heal them.

And Jesus can set them free.

And your Jesus Story just might be the words they need to make them look up and see that the door IS open.  Your Jesus Story just might be the right words at the right time, and they can finally know they are not alone.  Your Jesus Story just might be the voice of Jesus in THEIR life so they can finally believe there is a path to freedom.  And you can take your place on the other side of that open door too.  Cheering people on.  Encouraging.  Shouting a little hope through the darkness.  Opening the door wider so they can finally come out into the light. And be free.  Amen.

Jesus stopped and called them.  “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. 

“Lord,” they answered, “we want our sight.” (John 20:32-33)