Surrendered in the Valley

Normally sleep comes easy for me. But not this night. Tossing and turning until 2:15 a.m.  My tear ducts clogged, eye pain, body restless, feeling a spiritual torment.

The Holy Spirit prompted me, “Pray ‘release.’ Say ‘release in Jesus Name.’”

I didn’t know what I was saying “release” to but I felt it. Something deeply suppressed or suppressive. “Release,” I whispered aloud, eyes still closed. “Release, in Jesus’ Name,” I said louder. And something released. Something inside me unleashed.

And then, tears. Streaming from right to left, turning to one side to wipe them and then the other, because still my eyes were closed. Thoughts fluttered, and a recognition of a lie released. People won’t  love you when you’re broken. People will turn away from you when you’re angry. They’ll get annoyed with you when you’re sad. So, suppress the anger. Suppress the sadness. Suppress, suppress, suppress.

But the dam broke and I was rebaptized in my tears. Not only was something released, but I finally surrendered. I had been wrestling so much with God. “Why won’t you answer my petitions, my little specific prayers? I don’t want the valley. I don’t want the desert. Take me from it. Why aren’t you fixing it? Why aren’t you taking me out of it?” I just wanted to get out, out, out! And the answer came without words but an unmistakable message: You must conquer the battle in the valley, the one with yourself. Nothing will change until you surrender and decide to accept that you’re in the valley. Accept yourself.

So I surrendered, quite begrudgingly, as God knows. And I said, “Fine, but since You’re not going to take me out, please at least give me little consolations along the way. I just need Your affirmations. I know You love me, but I need Your attention now.”

And so He has been. One Sunday (I usually go to an English Mass when I’m in Swazi), I decided to go to the SiSwati Mass. Nothing is in English, even when you go up for communion, it’s SiSwati. But for some reason, this day, when I went up to receive the Eucharist, the Priest, raising the Host, looked into me (not at me) and switched smoothly to the only English he spoke that morning: “The Body of Christ.”  and it felt… like I was individually seen… out of hundreds.

And then, an occasion in the U.S., with cookie dough ice cream. Cookie Dough ice cream is my absolute favorite and so is Culvers. Combine the two and it’s a feast for this girl. Just ask my brother Justin about his attempt to steal my cookie dough one time when we were in high school. You see, my friend Heather had gifted me my own carton of cookie dough ice cream for my birthday. My brother Justin decided he would taunt me with it, by taking a spoonful of it from across the room. “Put that back, now!” I yelled. He smirked, and scooped a big chunk into his mouth. I leapt from my seat, and he tried to run. I caught him from behind, hooked one arm around his neck with my other hand snatching the carton from his and threw him to the ground, whilst saving the cookie dough. My parents, who saw the whole thing, started laughing. Anger dissipated and I giggled, triumphant, with my brother stunned.  

So, anyway, one day recently we were at Culvers but I hadn’t ordered any ice cream. A server comes around the bend, carrying an extra dish of Cookie Dough and says, “We accidentally made an extra, here you can have this one.” Free!  – like it was handmade, handpicked for me. O sweet Jesus, what a gift not for my tongue but my soul, too. His Love never tasted so good.

There a hundred little things God has done like this, and soon my “In the Valley” collection of dark, depressing, disappointing, angry, frustrated, and sad thoughts/expressions/writings will be glittered with incredible streaks of light, hope, soul smiles, and gratitude. Until recently, I had felt like God was punishing me. That’s why I’m in the valley. That’s why I’m on sabbatical. I asked Him one day in prayer, and He said, “Oh, my child. This is not punishment. This is provision. Why are you so bent on punishing yourself? 

"Come, My child, let Me fix your armor. Let Me tend to your wounds. Let Me fix your crown. I didn't leave you in the valley. I gave you the valley, My Hiding Place, where no weapon, no lie, no self-hatred can stand a chance against My Love."