What Happens When The Walls Fall?: Parkinson's, Pride, and Pushing Through the Dark Without the Light

“Wait!” I said, trying to maintain a calm voice and body. 

I approached my 80 year old client, who has Parkinson’s.  He was trying to go down the stairs without properly using his stair lift. 

“Let me get that for you,” I said cheerfully, as I leaned over to set it up. 

He didn’t look at me as he became agitated and yelled that I was doing it wrong, that he knew what he was doing, that he could do it himself, that I was moving too slow and wasting time.

“I’m sorry.  I’m just trying to make sure that you’re safe, and these are the steps that need to be taken before we can head downstairs.”  My hand lay gently on his shoulder, my eyes searching for his, my heart aching with fear that he would get hurt.

“I don’t care.  I’m fine.  Do you care about how I feel or is it that you just want to do it your way?”  He still didn’t look at me, his hands gripping onto the chair.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

An alarm went off – and it was just enough.  He looked over at me.  Our eyes met.  I smiled and said hello.  My heart soared when he smiled back and whispered an excited “Hello, there!” 

*          *          *          *

It almost knocked the air right out of my lungs as I backed out of his driveway.  There it was:  right in front of my face.  With my chest tight, tears began to well up in my eyes, and I let out a gasp.  

A couple of blog posts ago, I wrote of feeling led by God to blow the trumpet in faith and walk towards the walled-in city of my past as God brought the walls down.  And while certain details won’t be making it into this blog, I do feel led to share what’s recently been going on the past week or two. 

In taking those steps of faith towards working through my past with God, He was faithful to bring some walls down.  And then He revealed some ruins in the city of my past that appeared to be shattered – broken beyond repair.  At first, I balked at what He revealed.  No way, I thought.  Let’s build those walls up again, God. 

And then?  I wanted to process through it, and fast - full steam ahead! So off I went – telling God that this is what we were going to do.  And then?  As I waded through the thick muck and mire, I avoided the eyes of my Father.  I had so much shame, fear, anger…feelings I hadn’t experienced in a while.  I looked straight ahead – into the darkness.  I was pridefully and fearfully determined to get through it – I thought I knew the best way.  And I definitely didn’t think God cared about how I felt.  And I broke down.

Remember that counselor lady I spoke of in that trumpet blowing post?  The one I sat in front of – worried what speaking to her would mean?  She suggested that we hit the “pause” button…focus on getting to a safe place with God.  Because if I don’t do this with Him?  It’s pointless and damaging. 

Truthfully?  At first, I was furious.  I didn’t want to hit “pause”…why couldn’t I just continue on?  Was I really just too weak?  Was I too much of an emotional wreck?  But then, I saw that she was right. 

I knew I had been avoiding Jesus.  In the moments of driving from client to client (which is often), I would fill that time with music.  In the time after work, I’d remain in the kitchen talking to my roommates.  In the time before bed, I’d busy myself with Facebook or silly Buzzfeed quizzes (I even started taking ones to find out which character I was from shows I had never even watched…yes, it was a dark time).  But why was I avoiding Him?  I finally admitted that it was because I was mad.  I wanted to do it my way, and I couldn’t see how taking this slow would make things better. 

In looking straight ahead – into the darkness - I lost sight of who Jesus was and was no longer listening to His guidance.  So of course, when you actively run farther into the darkness without the Light, it can swallow you whole.  And that was what it was doing.  I felt numb again.  I’d catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and the old Ashley would be staring back at me.  Mocking me.  You thought you were new?  You aren’t.  You’re just the same old weak Ashley.

Lies.  This past Sunday the Lord spoke to me again through my associate pastor.  I am not defined by my past.  Not by any sin I did, and not by any sin committed against me.  The blood of Christ has washed away all brokenness.  I AM made new.

And God?  My Heavenly Father?  The gracious, marvelous, merciful God who loves me and never forsakes me?  He was searching me out, waiting for me to turn to Him.  He was right by my side the whole time.  His heart was for me.  Not against me.  He just wanted to protect me.  He knows I want to work through this area, and we will – He just knows the proper steps and the perfect timing.  And He wants to go with me. 

And as I drive home, I think of the most beautiful part:  turning back to look into His face, seeing that He’s smiling, and getting to hear Him greet me.  Tears sting my eyes as I bask in His radiant love, the sun shining brightly as I grip the steering wheel.   The tears fall and I lick the saltiness off of my lips as I remember: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” ~ John 1:5 

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” ~ 2 Corinthians 5:17