Is THIS Restoration?

It’s been a minute. I never anticipated being gone this long. I thought a couple of weeks – maybe – or a couple of months at most. When I hit publish on my last blog post about entering a purposeful season of rest, I envisioned lying in the hammock with a cold drink and a good book. Disconnecting from the daily grind and the pressure of “creating” for a while. But the last few months have looked a lot different than anything I imagined. Within less than a week of taking the obedient step into rest and completing that last post, my complete deconstruction began.

A doctor’s phone call with troubling news, starting a new medication, and an unexpected turn in my health that left my physical body doing things I didn’t understand – things completely out of my control – and I was reeling. Nothing made sense. Every waking and the infrequent/interrupted sleeping moments in between were now stalked by an unrelenting terror that drove deep into my core. My stomach felt like it was permanently in a knot, my muscles exhausted and begging for rest were tightened cords without reprieve. I lived in a ceaseless fog. Confused and crying out to God for answers, I thought I was going crazy.

I was being dismantled. Piece. By piece. By piece. I was losing control.

Beatrice Giesbrecht

How could things have derailed so quickly? I thought I was in a good place before all of this. Making progress, healing, growing. So, how did I end up here? And why?!

God felt far away and strangely silent, my pleas for help felt as though they went unheard. The questions continued, as did the nightly prayer vigils. Drifting like a wraith through empty, darkened rooms as my family slept each night, unable to lay down for fear of how my body might respond if I dropped off to sleep, I was being dismantled. Piece. By piece. By piece. I was losing control. But maybe… maybe, that was the point.

Things continued to build. New challenges. New grief. Wave coming after the next in rapid succession. It felt as though there was no break. The pressure mounting, until I finally erupted. “You said this was a year of restoration. You called me to rest. Is THIS Your idea of rest? How is THIS restoration? When sleep eludes me, and I feel like I’m barely hanging on to my sanity? When things continue to go wrong? When my next steps that seemed so clear have dropped away into a chasm of uncertainty? When my relationships are struggling or imploding in every direction and I can’t seem to find where I belong anymore? THIS is what I’m supposed to lean into? THIS is REST?”

Thank God that He is a God of mercy and He can handle all of our raw emotions and messy questions. I’d like to say He responded with an impressive show of power that miraculously made everything “better”, but His response seemed almost too simple. Just five quiet words. It’s only for a season.

It’s only for a season. Those words blew like a cool breeze on a sun-scorched brow. There would be an end to this. I may not know how long the season, or what was on the road ahead, but there was hope. This was not my end. It wasn’t my “forever” or my “from now on”. It was just somewhere in the middle.

Sometimes Restoration means the stripping away of the old – a sanding down, a pruning, an “un-building” – in order to bring forth the new and revived and beautiful.

Beatrice Giesbrecht

When God first dropped the word Restoration into my heart for this year, I had no idea what that would mean. I hadn’t realized that Restoration isn’t just relaxing and rejuvenating or enjoying release from heavy burdens. Sometimes it means the stripping away of the old – a sanding down, a pruning, an “un-building” – in order to bring forth the new and revived and beautiful. And the first step is bringing all into the light. Removing all the dirt and the clutter. Revealing the scars and wounds, the gouges and missing and broken pieces, exposing the rottenness. Because unless those things are exposed, they can never be addressed. If the rough places and gouges aren’t sanded and filled, they have the potential to wound and damage. If the rotten places aren’t removed, they will corrupt any beauty the Restorer might bring forth.

It’s only for a season. What unfolded from the moment God spoke those hopeful words was a dismantling so complete that I could only watch in horror as my proud bastions of defense, the confident walls, and the guard towers for safety all came down, brick by brick. Exposed and unguarded, their roots finally laid bare, I came face to face with my core belief and my greatest fear -so fully enmeshed that it was hard to see where one ended and the other began. A “foundation” on which every aspect of my life had been built and one that I hadn’t even been aware of. And now, as it crumbled like sand, I began to see that my semblance of control all these years has been nothing more than an illusion. That my restoration process could only begin with the complete demolition of my own self-sufficiency.

This passage has become a metaphor for my life over the last few months. When Jesus told His disciples “Let’s go across to the other side,” He got into the boat with them. He never left them alone for a moment. There were capable men in that boat. Fishermen, who had lived on the water and were no stranger to storms. Strong and powerful men. And yet, their strength and expertise was thwarted by the storm they faced. Their own efforts to control the outcome and direct their course were unsuccessful. Their proclaimed faith crumpled under the force of the wind and waves. In their terror, they forgot His words. They forgot that He’d said they were going to the other side. And with their own abilities and success stripped away, they were faced with their lack and their need. Left to surrender to the One Who told them to get into the boat and the only one capable of getting them to the “other side”.

It’s only for a season. Restoration doesn’t happen in a day. And often there is an ugly middle to the whole process. A point where you may begin to wonder if it was better to leave the former alone than to submit to the remaking of the new. But the beauty of restoration is that at some point the stripping and sanding ends, and the healing and transformation into something beautiful begins. The middle doesn’t last forever.

It’s only for a season. This quiet reminder in the dark hours of the night is what has carried me through the upheaval of the last 6 months. I know that I haven’t reached the “other side” yet, but that fact doesn’t hold fear anymore. Because I know it’s not forever. I know there is a purpose in this dismantling, and exposing, and healing. And regardless of happens in the “in between”, I’m not facing it alone. I have the Calmer of storms in my boat. I’m not in control. And I don’t have to be.

So, even though this restoration process doesn’t look at all like I thought it would, I hold on to God’s promises. Because He has already shown Himself to be faithful and He’s not about to give up on me now. And while my circumstances may scream the contrary, I chose to say, “My God is still good. And He’s still got me.” I’m going to the other side. I may not understand all that is happening in this season, but I know I can trust the One Who will see me through it.

Until next time, friends…