When the Lights are Dim

A few years ago my husband replaced our light bulbs with energy-saving lightbulbs. When we bought them, we didn't realize they take awhile to "warm up" and give off all of the light they are designed to give. The first time I turned the bathroom lights on and glanced in the mirror I thought to myself, "Hey, not so bad!" However, as the light bulbs warmed up and gave more light, the image staring back at me changed. She had bags under her eyes, wrinkles around her mouth, crows feet around her eyes, and "sun spots" gracing on her cheeks. For a brief moment I felt a twinge of disappointment and wished there was a way to dim the lights and turn back the clock to see the younger version of myself again. Then I realized the face looking back had been imprinted by the story I've lived and I wouldn't change it for the world, not even the bad parts like my failures and sin that has been so graciously covered by the Lamb's blood. I would not change the traumas experienced that added lines through the anxiety they produced, because they have been so beautifully healed, the scars reminding me of God's healing touch. I wouldn't even want to remove the lines put there by the messy relationships God has provided to encourage growth in my life. The wrinkles, the scars, the bags under eyes, and the sun spots that come with aging, they all tell a part of the redemption story I'm living.

As I reflect on how the Scriptures call Jesus the light of the world and on my life I realize there have been different seasons. In some of those seasons I've felt deeply connected to Jesus. One such season was the time spent in Mississippi in a little Baptists church. The pastor taught at church 3 times a week and in the community twice a week. He always taught the Scriptures verse-by-verse and gave the gospel each time. He frequently encouraged us to search the Scriptures like the Bereans did. Every Sunday school teacher also taught that way and as a result the church was full of believers who loved the Word and talked about it in everyday conversations. The light experienced in that environment produced a body who loved each other, who quickly confessed sin, and who had a desire to live in a way that honored God. I felt close to Him and lived in close communion to Him, experiencing loving conviction and encouragement daily from both the Word and those around me.

We have lived in several communities and have attended at least seven churches since then. Over the years churches have started having less church services and the expository teaching isn't always as in depth as what we experienced in Mississippi. The culture is also busier and accountability is often forced by joining small groups rather than flowing from relationships that have developed naturally over time spent in Sunday school classes, fellowship dinners, and invitations to join others for Sunday dinner, all of which provided time for questions about the sermon, stimulating conversation about how to apply it, and to catch up on each other's lives. I knew the Light was Jesus and that He shines through the Scriptures, but those conversations and discussions helped the light sink in. In that environment I felt safe to confess sin and ask other to pray for me to overcome it.

After we moved from that place, I learned not every church is the same. Soon after we moved, I asked a new pastor a question about the sermon and he got defensive instead of excitedly opening up the Word and showing me the verses he used to reach his interpretation. From then on I have been hesitant to ask questions and have resorted to trying to find answers by looking in commentaries and listening to additional sermons on line. In one church I shared some ongoing painful things my family was experiencing in Sunday School and a man I didn't know said in a harsh tone, "Have you ever heard of forgiveness?" I was shocked and didn't respond. The truth is I forgave everyday the pain my kids experienced by kids who bullied them in our neighborhood. I needed wisdom as a mom on how to navigate the situation and God to begin to heal my kids' hearts. I needed to not feel so alone in this new community we were in where southern accents and homeschooling were grounds for rejections.

I also remember asking for some accountability for an eating disorder with which I was struggling. One lady agreed to meet with me and in our first meeting she confronted me for wearing make up and asked me if I was trying to draw attention to myself like a "floozy." If you know me, you know I am a minimal makeup kind of gal and very modest and don't like to be the center of attention. I felt so shamed I never met with her again. I asked a few other ladies I met in Bible studies at different times to be accountability partners. One shoved the a Bible across the table and told me if I only knew more of the Bible I wouldn't have that issue, one told me all I needed was Jesus, and the third used that information to try to convince the leadership I didn't belong at the church. As a result, I became a lot less real in church and quit seeking accountability relationships. And the light grew a bit dimmer for me during that time and in the dimmer light flaws I was developing went unnoticed and unaddressed because I, like everyone else, have blind spots and don't always see myself accurately.

I eventually sought accountability and healing in the offices of Christian counselors who were Spirit-led believers who, like Jesus, were filled with both truth and grace. I could be real in their offices and know I wouldn't be shamed. I would be given new insights that could help me move forward. At times I was gently confronted when words and actions didn't match and I once again began to grow more and once again was experiencing God and His work continually in my life.  

I believe the little church in the south was on to something. It was a church centered on the Word. It was also a relational church, reflecting a relational God. There we experienced loving relationships and conversations that began to change the distortions I had about God and Christianity. There I experienced more growth because I not only spent a lot of time in the Word, I had conversations about what I was learning and discussed how to apply it to my life. I was surrounded by people who didn't shame me for experiencing postpartum depression, who didn't shame me for experiencing PTSD and fear after a break in, and who didn't "kick me" when I was down about sin or broken relationships. I was surrounded by people who also noticed and acknowledged growth in me and asked questions about how I had worked through some of the issues I had experienced.

It wasn't a perfect church. There were times we misunderstood each other, assumed somebody meant something they didn't mean by a question asked or a statement made. There were times we had to confront sin in the body and it was doubly hard because we truly loved each other so much. And for the most part we had a committment to God and to each other to get through the messy hard parts of relationships. There I was gently confronted by mentors who didn't wound, because they loved well and didn't use the Word of God in a shaming way. Because people discussed the Word in such positive ways people had more sensitive consciences and were more continuously confessing sin and turning from it, literally working out salvation as the Bible tells us to. I think that no matter how good preaching and teaching is, when there are no relational conversations about the Word and the teaching there we are prone to not let it take root in our hearts, resulting in lives that don't reflect the process of sanctification to which we are called.

I have come to realize I am at a place in my own life that I passionately long for the time that I will no longer live where the light can be so easily dimmed, but will be at Home where the sun and moon will no longer need to shine because the Lamb will be the light there of. And His Light will always shine Bright.