The Irish poet Louis MacNeice is my favorite writer—I can read his poems hundreds of times and still find something new in them. One of my favorite MacNeice poems is called “Thalassa,” meaning “the sea.” These are the lines that jump out at me each time I read it:
“You know the worst, your wills are fickle
Your values blurred, your hearts impure
And your past lives a ruined church.”
That last line so perfectly describes my own past life—a ruined church. To me, the church of my childhood represented everything that was sacred, beautiful, and innocent. It was the place where I began a lifelong relationship with Jesus. The place where, in Sunday school, I learned stories about Jesus that made me want to give Him my heart. The place where I sat with my family, on uncomfortable pews, Sunday after Sunday, writing hymn-inspired poems on the blank spaces of the church bulletin. The place where I went to school from kindergarten to 12th grade, as our school was housed in the church building. The place where I married Monty.
I didn’t just stop going to church when I fell into the seemingly bottomless pit of addiction. To borrow MacNeice’s words, I ruined that church. The choices I made were the metaphorical match that I threw into the church, and my so-called inability to stop making those choices fanned the spark from that match into flames that, in my mind, burned the church of my past life to the ground. Mentally, I’ve wandered through the wreckage and ruins of that church countless times, sifting through the ashes, looking for clues as to what went so wrong so fast. How had I ended up in this place, with tear-streaked ashes on my face and hands? In my mind’s eye, I could see the destruction I’d wrought in that church—shards of the stained glass windows I used to stare at, showing Jesus’ face illuminated by the sun, lay in broken pieces around my feet. I could see hymnals half-buried in the ashes, each charred page breaking my heart a little more.
For the first several months of my recovery journey, my mind returned again and again to those ruins. And as I thought about what I’d done to my life and the lives of everyone I loved, I became nearly paralyzed, unable to take the steps of recovery because I was convinced I didn’t deserve it. Once I learned the concept of surrendering my past, again and again, to the only One who could bury those ashes once and for all, my heart slowly began to heal. I asked for forgiveness from everyone I had hurt—my family, Monty, and God. One day as I was praying about letting go of the mistakes of my past, I could almost hear God telling me to read the story of Saul in the New Testament.
I read about Saul in Acts 9. The first fact in this chapter about Saul is sobering, indeed: “Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples.” The chapter goes on to say that Saul was actively searching for followers of Jesus Christ, to imprison them and, eventually, have them put to death. But everything changed for Saul on his journey to Damascus:
As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”
The road to Damascus.
“Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked.
“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. “Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”
Saul was blinded by the light and lost his vision for three days. When his sight was restored, Saul changed his name to Paul, the Roman version of Saul, to make himself more approachable to Gentiles. He was baptized, and after spending time with Jesus’ disciples, “At once he began to preach in the synagogues that Jesus is the Son of God.” Paul’s conversion was immediately followed by action. He not only preached about Jesus Christ, he planted numerous churches in the name of Christ. He also wrote letters of encouragement to these churches, and those letters became integral books of the New Testament.
When God reminded me of Paul’s past and his conversion, I wondered how Paul was able to let go of his past—his “ruined church” was filled with the bodies of persecuted Christians. Yet Paul didn’t stand around, wringing his hands, bemoaning his past and telling God he wasn’t worthy to serve Him. Instead, he took immediate action to chart a new course for his future. And God used Paul in a mighty way. I asked God, “Can you use me, too?” And He gently turned me away from the ashes of my ruined past and asked me to follow where He led me. Sometimes my progress is slow—I can get so stuck in fear and pain that I feel like I can’t take another step. Then God reminds me of how far we’ve come; He reminds me that even Paul, with his past, was able to move ahead and not look back.
I can’t forget my past, and I don’t want to. I need to remember where I’ve been so that I don’t end up there again. But I don’t live there anymore, in that ruined church, covered in the ashes of despair. When the past whispers in my ear, telling me that God can never use someone like me, I think of PauI again. People doubted Paul’s conversion, saying, “Isn’t he the man who raised havoc in Jerusalem?” Paul didn’t listen to those whispers. He listened to God, who said, “This man is my chosen instrument to proclaim my name.” I still hear whispers from my past, mostly from my own restless mind: Who do you think you are? Who are you to think God could ever use you? Did you forget all the wrongs you committed and the people you hurt? You know what they say—once an addict, always an addict. What if you reIapse? What if you’re too fragile for this life? I’m learning to close my ears to those whispers and cling more tightly to Jesus. He leads me farther and farther away from that past, into a future where He can use me as an instrument of His name.
I think most people have some kind of ruined church in their past—maybe not to the degree of mine, or Paul’s, but something that they’re ashamed of or wish could have been different—a broken relationship, a dream that never came true, or a way they feel they failed. Whatever your ruined church is, God can still use you. If you ask Him, He will pull you to your feet, wipe the ashes from your face, and lead you out of the wreckage. He will show you the next right step. He does that for me every time I trust Him to do it.
“Thalassa” by Louis MacNeice ends with these lines:
“Butting through scarps of moving marble
The narwhal dares us to be free
By a high star our course is set
Our end is life. Put out to sea.”
Do you long to be free? To break through the marble obstacles in your path? I do. So instead of focusing on the ruins of my past, I have a new vision: I can see Jesus at my side, encouraging me to take the next right step, again and again. Another step, Renee. Come on. Another one. I see us taking steps together, moving towards the finish line where God is waiting. And I see you there, too.
“To bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.”
from Isaiah 61:3
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My dearest Renee, what struck me so profoundly in this writing is your willingness to write what God has placed in your heart and to witness to His faithfulness. Your courage in sharing your past, your struggles at times to take that next step, and your honest lament about it all. Only the Holy Spirit can can give you to write that powerfully and sincere without fear of what others may or may not think.
Your post made me think of the burnt church of my own past and I think of the many broken shards in my own life and how they were put back together and or made new in His image. Something tells me that God allows and permits these broken churches of our past because often our churches were not real ones to start off with. We started off with a false image of those churches and who God was or supposed to be and how we were to worship Him. It is only when we have been totally broken and alienated from our senses of who God may be, that He can enter in upon the scene and show us His real self and not the false images we have lived with that were perhaps at some point such a comfort to us? Is it not only then that the real rescue can begin? Is that not what the balm of Gilead is all about– to heal the wounded soul? Is it not about forgiving ourselves, rather than trying to find forgiveness from others who have their own woundedness that needs healing. We are not healed by others once they have forgiven us, but rather we have to forgive ourselves in the eyes of God and only then can the real road to recovery begin. It starts by acknowledging that God created us perfectly us we were meant to be and what He starts, He will complete if we allow Him. some shards and broken pieces will always remain and will only be healed upon completion of our days on earth. As such our shards and broken pieces are a reminder that we are mere pots of clay in the hand of God, we do break here and there and God knows that and is just waiting to heal us in His timing.
Klara–I love what you said about God allowing the ruined churches because they were never the real churches anyway. And yes, it’s only when we’re totally broken and have no where else to turn that God becomes intensely real and rescues us. I like the reminder that some broken pieces will always remain until God calls us home. And how beautiful will that be when we’re all finally whole and healed! Your last sentence is perfect–we do continue to break in places all our lives–but in God’s timing, we are healed. I’m so glad you can comment again; what would I do without all of the wisdom you add to my posts? Thank you so very much for adding your words to mine. So much love to you today, dear Klara.
What an inspiration you are. You mention Paul…well, I look to you. If you can do it, so can I. With God by my side, of course!
I was too rushed this morning to read this. Waited until lunch at work. Now I’m all emotional and don’t want to work. Still worth it!
Love You!
Thank you, Lora Kay. If Paul can to do it, then we both can. With, as you said, God at our side. I hope you were able to go back to work! Thank you more than I can say for your faithful reading and your kind words. You mean so much to me. Love to you tonight.
Renee, thank you so much for your kind words. Yes, I try to absorb, the Bible, on “short reads”, everday. My “fire” so to speak, started when My Mom passed. But, since I have been readin* your Blogs, My “fire” has become a “5 alarm blaze”. Your Blog really gets my brain, “cranking”., You actually “push me” closer to The Lord. Can’t than’ You enough.
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Harold– your mom certainly did light a fire underneath you. I think it’s wonderful that your fire has become such a strong force within you–driving you in your work with your seniors and filling you with a thirst to know more and more about God. Thank you for your kind words about my blog–I rejoice with you that you are growing closer to God every day. And I thank you for letting me a part of that.
Love this, Renee! Once again, you beautifully write about and show the power of God’s grace in your life. You inspire me by your openness, honesty, and desire to always take another step. I know these are not just empty words that you wrote. They are words of your personal life journey — the lows and highs — and your constant desire to fight for the beautiful and reflect God’s love and grace.
Monty–thank you for such beautiful words. I want to BE the person you think I am! Thank you for what you wrote; you may have just given me the thesis statement for my memoir. Thank you for always supporting me–no matter what.
Another wonderful Blog, Renee. You really “bare your Soul”. .I hav3 said this before abou5 your Blogs, Guts, honesty. I relate to this, past wreckage 8n my life. Marital, children, family, friends, All th3 time, M6 Mom prayed for me. Renee, Yiu are m6 ‘model”, so to speak. In the appropriate sett8ng, Bible Studies, Prayers In m6 Church, I “testify”, as to My past “sins and mistakes”.I feel it helps me in my “healing process”. To a great extent, all of your Blogs, have “pushed me” in my desire to ‘testify”, so to speak. All this, obviously ha# taken a lot of prayer and self examination on my part. Again, Ifeel I owe the majority if this to You Renee, In a way, I am like Saul, changed his name toPaul, to preach The Word. I have no5 changed my name, bu5 I feel I have changed my life. Finally, Renee I too can’t. Forget my past,but I don’t live in the past. A final thought on my Mom. She too told mem Take it toThe Lord! In prayer. Finally I can say, “Yes, My Mom Have”. And will continue to do so. From the bottom of my. Heart, Thank You Renee. “kee0 On Blogging”. I will ‘Take Another Step.”, great song.
Harold–thank you for such beautiful words. I have had the privilege of watching you “catch fire” regarding God’s Word. You truly are like a sponge, soaking it all in. And I know you spend a lot of time in prayer and self examination. I do see a big parallel between you and Paul–you are sharing the hope and love you’ve found in God’s word with everyone you come in contact with. Your seniors are especially blessed. And your Mom would be bursting with pride over the man you’ve become. Thank you for letting me share in your journey–and for sharing it here, too.