Recently I attended a Christmas concert at my home church in Statesville,NC. I grew up in this church from the time I was a baby until I went off to college. As we were pulling into the parking lot, Grace said, "Wow, Mom, you must have a lot of happy memories here." And I had to agree that it was true. I had many happy memories inside the doors of that church. And as I thought about it, I realized that it is one of the few places in my hometown that I can honestly say that about it.
Now, I know that a lot of people love going home to the place where they grew up. They love recounting events from their past and passing by places that bring back warm memories. But, I have to say that I do not have any tender or nostalgic feelings toward my hometown. No, in fact, it is exactly the opposite. I actually almost dread returning to visit for any reason at all. Every time I drive into town, I can feel myself beginning to feel anxious. You see, it wasn't exactly a happy place for me. From a childhood tarnished by a broken family, to a youth lived in rebellion and disobedience, my experiences there were mostly anything but warm and fuzzy. I do feel like I need to clarify that I realize that coming from a divorced family is nowhere near as bad as the childhood many experience and my parents were very loving, Christian parents. But I also feel like we do a great disservice when we try to minimalize the impact divorce can have on children just because it is so prevalent within our society. Believe me, I know. I lived it firsthand.
"Home" is not exactly a happy place for me. So, why does this one place, this one building differ from every other one in this small, southern town? I think because it was here that I first felt the hand of God in my life, relentlessly loving and pursuing me...in all my brokenness, heartache and shame. It was here that He persisted in showing me the truth of who He is in so many ways, even if I didn't see it at the time.
As I sat in the pews at the concert, so many feelings washed over me. There were the same sights, sounds, and smells of my childhood. There were even some of the same faces in the choir. Things that had been constant, faithful, unchanging in a little life that had felt so unstable and insecure. I could remember being a little girl, sitting with my Daddy in those pews, listening to the words of the hymns and letting them calm my spirit, even if just for a few minutes, with reminders that God, like the faces in the choir, was unchanging too. "Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me."; "Are you weak and heavy laden, cumbered with a load of care? Precious Savior, still our refuge, take it to the Lord in prayer".
I think it was there in that church that I began to love music. It was there that I fell in love with the lyrics to songs and saw the power that they had to calm and minister to my weary soul. As a teenager, those same songs would carry a different message. " Come home, come home, ye who are weary, come home. Earnestly, tenderly Jesus is calling. Calling, Oh sinner come home" , To the wounded and self-destructive teenager, these words were a constant reminder that Jesus was faithful to forgive, to heal and redeem...all I had to do was come and lay it all at the foot of His cross.
So, I sat there listening to the choir sing. And as the music played I heard my Savior sweetly whispering in my spirit, "It is well". No longer broken, like that little girl of long ago. No longer captive like the teenage girl. Restored, renewed, redeemed. Jesus has made me whole. And I knew that He had always been there, holding me through it all. The music reminded me that He was indeed the faithful one, relentlessly pursuing me through all the hurt and brokenness. And that He was the One who had made all things new. And I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed that He is such a wonderful, merciful Savior. Overwhelmed at how He loves me. " And Oh, how He loves us so. Oh how He loves us. How He loves us so"
So, whatever season you may currently be in right now in your life, He is there. He is faithful. He is calling...earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling...
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