God Stories - Purpose

I am going to start a collection of stories about transformation – from a woman whose heart was broken, but brought back to life when she met God. It is about the story God tells in all our lives. It is about humanity, and it is about the world.  It is about how an awareness of God changes and infuses everything; how it makes a difference in everyday life. These stories are snapshots of a woman learning to be everything she was created to be and participate with God in His mission in this world.

They will be stories about love, redemption, hope, forgiveness, trust and reconciliation. As you read – the broken parts, the secret parts and the beautiful parts – my prayer is that the Gospel will come alive to you; the transforming story of what God does in a human heart. Maybe it will be stories that changes your life. 

There is Purpose for your Life

     I was sitting on the ground, looking up at an old wooden cross on a tree trunk.  It felt like someone was with me, but I couldn’t see anyone.  Someway, somehow I knew I was OK.  I knew there was purpose for my life.

     When had it all started?  When my husband, my childhood sweetheart told me he was confused and didn’t think he wanted to be married any longer.  At first I just wanted to help him anyway I could.  He needed time, he needed a place to think and maybe pray.  He asked me if I would go stay with my family for a short while so he could be alone and think through some things.  Of course I would.  I would do whatever he needed for me to do.  He would be OK.

     It was sometime in the fall, you know I can’t remember exactly the time, or the day, but it was near Christmas.  He would be OK by Christmas and we would have a great holiday.  I would call him, check on him and see if he was OK.  I would even go by and check on the house, straighten up and clean. 

     One day, very near to Christmas, as I said I can’t remember the days exactly, I went over to check on my husband and see if the house needed cleaning.  As I drove down the road toward the house, something was not right.  He had told me he had to go out of town for a short time…..business, that is why I chose this time.  I would have the house all cleaned up for him, surprise him.  His car was in the driveway.  I pulled in behind him.  I knew something was not right.  I went up to the door, unlocked it and walked in.

     The house was dark, but there was some vague light back toward the bedroom.  I walked in the living room first.  There were some articles there that I didn’t recognize; clothes, a purse, shoes and it looked like presents that had just been opened.  I turned and went into our kitchen.  Someone had been cooking, the table was full of dishes; 2 plates, wine glasses, utensils and there were candles still burning.

     Wine glasses?  My husband didn’t drink.  He had always been against drinking alcohol, many times I had asked him just for a special occasion, could we celebrate with a glass of wine…it would be so much fun?  NO he would say, it is not good for us, it is a sin.  But there on the table were 2 glasses half full of red wine.

 

     I walked over to the kitchen area.  There was a half eaten casserole…..full of mushrooms.  My husband hated mushrooms or that is what he always told me.  Why was he eating mushrooms?

     I turned and walked down the hall, stopped at the bathroom and turned on the light.  The tub was half full of water with bubble bath.  My husband hated bubble baths.  On the side of the tub were 2 more glasses of wine.  There were more clothes on the floor.  I turned and walked out.

     I started down the hallway again.  I could hear noises.  Even as I stood there, I don’t know if it registered with me exactly what was going on.  I was so confused, not my husband I had known him since I was 15.  He was everything to me.  He loved me, we loved each other.  We had promised to be together forever.

     As I started toward the door knob, he came out of the room and closed the door.  I remember looking at him with such confusion, hurt and pain.  I saw this on his face.  He touched me and tried to direct me back to the living room.  I jerked away from him, told him not to touch me…..not to ever touch me.

     He tried to talk to me, but I didn’t know what he was saying.  I was surrounded with a pain I had never, ever known my whole life.  I am not even sure I would call it pain.  Pain was when I stumped my toe.  This was an agonizing hurt in my chest that I didn’t know how to describe.  I couldn’t even see clearly.  I believe we were standing in the living room and I told him to get her out of my house, out of my bed.  He kept trying to talk to me, I couldn’t hear him.  I kept saying get out of my house now.  I believe he even got upset with me, wanted me to leave, give him some time, to come back later.

     I screamed for him to get her out of my house.  He left me standing there and went back to the bedroom.  I turned and sat in a chair.  I didn’t want to see her or him.  I am not sure how long I sat there, but I remember hearing a noise behind me and the door open and close.

     I really don’t remember anything else until days later, but this is what my mother, sister and brother-in-law told me.  I called my mother and told her where I was.  She said she didn’t even recognize her daughter’s voice and knew something terrible was wrong.  She sent my brother-in-law to the house to get me.  He tells me I was sitting in the middle of the living room floor with tears running down my face and I couldn’t speak to him.  He said I acted as though I didn’t know where I was or what was going on.  He helped me to the car and took me to my mom’s.

     Mom tells me for the next 4 days I laid in the bed, would not get up, would not eat, would not do anything and that I cried.  She says she didn’t know what to do with me and was so scared.

     I don’t remember any of this.  The first thing I remember was sitting beside my bed one morning and crying so hard I couldn’t see.  I remember that terrible pain in my chest and I laid down forward on the floor.  I remember mom coming in and begging me to get up and to stop crying.  I couldn’t even talk to her.

     I got up and went to my car.  I do not know where my family was when I did this, but I got in my car and started driving.  I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew it was a good time to die.  I didn’t think I could do something to myself, but maybe I would have a wreck, maybe I would drive over a cliff.  I hoped something like this would happen.  I remember saying, “Lord, this would be a good time for you to take me.”  I didn’t really know if He was there or not, but I remember saying those words over and over.

     I never really knew how long I drove that day…..if I had to say, maybe around 4 hours, but that is just a guess.  I remember pulling my car over to the side of the road, getting out and walking up an incline and into the forest.  I remember feeling absolutely nothing inside, but the forest seemed like the right place to go.  I kept walking.

     I don’t know how long I walked that day either, but I remember walking into a clearing, falling on the ground and crying out to God.  You see I had professed to know God since I was 14 years old.  I accepted Christ at a Billy Graham crusade.  It was the first time I had heard that a God loved me and I was compelled to walk down to the front and receive what this man was talking about.  But now was different, the man I loved was gone.  I didn’t know anything else, but him.

     Once again I don't have any idea how long I laid on that ground crying.  I continued to cry out to a God that I didn’t know…..don’t we all do that?  When our life falls apart, we say God’s name over and over.  Why do we do that?  Do we believe in Him or do we not?

     As I was laying there and had just gotten quiet, I thought someone walked up.  It felt so strong to me that I looked up.  I sat up and looked around me.  I didn’t see anyone, but then I looked up.  What was that?  At the top of a tree was an old, large, wooden cross.  I kept looking at it.  Why was it here?  I stared at it and there again I have no idea how long, but deep down somewhere I knew this cross was for me.  I knew there was a purpose for me, even with what had happened.

     I got up and started walking again.  Something was different.  I didn’t know what it was or exactly what had just happened to me, but I knew I was going to be OK.  The pain was still there, but it wasn’t crushing me.  I walked and actually looked around me.  The place was very pretty.  I hadn’t even seen it before.  I don’t remember seeing anything in days; there were flowers around me, the sun was shining, it felt warm outside.

     I heard a dog barking.  I looked around to see where it was.  I saw this large black dog running toward me from across the meadow.  For some reason I wasn’t scared, I just watched him.  He came close and stopped about 2 feet from me.  He continued to bark.  He looked at me and I looked at him.  Even though he started to growl and I could see the large white teeth, I wasn’t scared.  Standing there that day, I knew that this dog was like the world; it could be a hard, cruel and scary place, but I was safe.  I didn’t know how or why, but I had a peace I had never known before or understood.

     I walked away, the dog ran back to where it came from.  I came out of the forest and saw my car on the side of the road.  I got in it and drove home.  I knew mom would be worried.

 

     I left the house that day hoping to die.  I was 24 years old and knew that life was over for me.  I kept calling out to a God, not believing He was there or could, or would ever help me.  I thought I knew the answer.  I thought I knew what should happen to me.  I wanted to die, but I met God that day.

     The place I ended up that day was a Baptist camp.  Of all the places in the world, I ended up in a Baptist camp.  Why?  God had a plan.  He gave me purpose that day.  Even when the very person I thought was life itself walked away, when the life I knew had been destroyed, when I knew the only answer was death, God met me.

     We have a Creator that created us for a purpose and when we think that life itself is over, He shows us who we really are and what we mean to Him.  He cares about us intimately……..He took me to a Baptist camp and showed me the Cross.

There is purpose to our lives.

Scripture:

It’s in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for.  Long before we first heard of Christ,…he had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose he is working out in everything and everyone. (Ephesians 1:11 The Message)