Today I began to reminisce over a healing which began a long time ago and continues to grow in my life. It was connected to Hebrews 6, which was laid on my back like a whipping as I cracked and broke at the end of my sojourn at the Church of the Redeemer in Houston, Texas, in the early 70’s. Verses 1-8 are heavy on the heart of someone who has failed in his own eyes and heart. They say, “crucified Christ afresh.” “can’t be renewed again to repentance,” and “near to being cursed,” and “its end is to be burned.” Haunting words at a time of a shattered life, and my life was shattered at that time. The words provided a sense of complete hopelessness because God became out of reach and beyond reconnection. I was being told that I was going to hell without possibility of salvation, a living death prior to a permanent death.

Those words have come back to me again and again through the years. I remember a Baptist former pastor who came to me in the mini-market in Boger City, North Carolina back in the mid 70’s. I was working the cash register as an assistant manager, earning a small amount larger than minimum wage. He read the scripture to me and told me the tale of his fall from the ministry. His sin had caught up with him. He was broken from the church, out surviving in the world, adrift from his beliefs and faith — cast out from his calling, bereft of any form of self respect or sense of dignity. He was a man trying to conjure appearances for himself and for others that the hollow in his life wasn’t real or wasn’t important. He wanted to think that he had a reason to live and not to fear dying with the expectation of hell.  His church had given him those words as they had been given to me.

He was already there — hell was burning every moment of his life in his state of disassociation from his faith home. He wanted his faith home. He wanted to come back. He missed being a person of purpose and destiny. He wanted to be a full person and not a cracked shell around an empty space. He wanted to be sharing his soul with God again. I knew this place. I lived there. Built a shanty on a rock outcropping at the desert there. Walked the tracks that circled the shanty and went nowhere, many times – years. His story made me touch my lips to see if they were still chapped and cracked from being parched from thirst and burned. I was stirred and felt like Sampson having my eyes gouged out. I wondered, had my hair begun to grow out again: Had I gotten out of that place? I faced the man, the word, and my death in a mini-market in a small town, a big moment in a small place for two weeping souls. 

A small word drifted up towards my mouth from some place deep inside. I barely heard it before I spoke it. I said, “God doesn’t play jokes on people.” The idea began to form around what the words meant, and a rock began to give water. I understood and explained. You want to be back with God. The only reason you would want that is because God is calling. No man feels that urge without the Holy Spirit’s work. Sin and humanity will never give that urge. God does not call just to have the desire quickened and then God tell the soul, “No, I was just joking. You can’t come back. You’re doomed.” God doesn’t do that. The man’s call and hope was restored in the call of God, “Return to me my sheep. Leave your desert that I might lead you by still waters and rest you in the grass. I will restore your soul.” This poor man was sent to me so that we could be freed. God wanted both of us to leave that barren place. 

The revelation began to tumble into other revelations. I had only perceived myself alone and without God. He had never left. I could see it as the fog blew away. I was convinced my relationship with God was beyond fixing, and lived and thought that way. It was a lie. A lie that became so big that it shaped the world I lived in. I finally saw that I had been protected through my journey in that dark land until the Lord used His own voice in my heart to free two of us to see again. It became obvious to the two of us that we had lost nothing during the darkness, but rather had gained a deeper respect for the love of Christ. We had walked deep in the enemy’s territory and came out with the knowledge that God is greater passing through our lips in praise. 

I continue to learn from that experience as I consider it. I’ve come to understand the probable reasons behind those who placed those words on my back. They are forgiven, joyfully so. What they said to me was a reflection of their own fears and feelings of helplessness. I really understand that. God is greater.  His smallest light is brighter than the enemy’s darkest night. There is no empty place or desert when God inhabits the heart.  I’m sure this experience will continue to teach me. God is generous that way. He is also generous that I can share this with those who have found a patch of darkness. God is greater. He hasn’t left you alone. Open your eyes and heart to Him and be restored to your faith home. He is working on your healing and redemption, even if you can’t see it right now. He does not fail or falter. God is greater.