As midsingles we have a tendency to put on our "best face" at events, which totally makes sense. We don't want to walk around a party or dance or fireside with the latest fashion style called "gloom and doom." However....not a single one of us goes to those events without some hidden insecurity, fear, burden or hurt. And honestly...that's ok. Those things are part of what make us human and mortal and vulnerable. Well, the vulnerable part is the hard part.
In my previous essay I talked about walls, especially the walls that we build around those same mortal frailties and struggles. But as any engineer or architect or kindergartner will tell you, if you build enough walls around yourself, eventually you'll find yourself in a prison of your own making. It is the prisons of the heart and the mind that leave us the most lonely, the most afraid and the most closed off from the love of others. Indeed, in the grand scheme of things these walls slow our progress, steal joy and even prevent us from living the full life that our Father in Heaven desires for us.
As I talked about in my last essay, these walls need to come down. But what if we are unable to break them down ourselves? What if we need help, even divine help?
That the Lord is aware of our walls, even the secret walls around our hearts, should never be questioned. In that same last essay I quoted Isaiah 49:16 which reads, "Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me." We can assuredly include the walls of our pains, our fears, our insecurities and our sins in the list. And yet, the question remains: how can we invite the Savior to heal those troubled parts of our being that hold us back, that wound us frequently and that incite fear when we truly desire faith?
The story of Lazarus comes to mind. When Jesus first hears that Lazarus (whose name we should note means "God is my help" in Hebrew) is ill, the Lord waits two days before coming to Bethany where Lazarus (and his sisters Mary and Martha) lives. I cannot help but draw parallels to our own lives when trials or heartaches cause us to become "ill" in body, mind or spirit. So we pray, we "send word" to the Lord that someone He loves, even us, is ill. And even then, in His infinite wisdom, sometimes the Lord delays his "coming," or his divine deliverance. To the point that we may echo Martha's and Mary's dual laments that Jesus did not come sooner, that some Lazarus-part of our heart or mind or soul or even our faith has died. And because of that pain or sorrow we begin to build up those walls I mentioned, almost as if we desire to entomb the traumas we have undergone as Lazarus was buried in a sepulcher.
I have seen this occur with fellow midsingles, athletes I've trained with, people in my neighborhoods, friends, coworkers, etc. We do this to survive; we numb and try to forget to move forward. Whether it be from divorce or a job loss or a breakup or a wayward child or deep sins or whatever it might be, every heart we encounter in this world has scars that can form walls around it. I think that is why Isaiah described the mortal Christ as a "man of sorrows, acquainted with grief." When Jesus looks on a heart, he sees those scars, those walls, those wounds. In fact, the scriptures tell us "the Lord seeth not as a man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."
I think that is why he wept when he saw the sorrow in the hearts of Mary, Martha and Lazarus' friends. This story powerfully teaches just how sensitive the Lord is to our tears, our cries and our pains. And is it not possible, then, that those walls that we build that hold us back are structures that this carpenter from Nazareth would find divine joy in helping us remove?
Upon arriving at Lazarus' tomb, Jesus commands that the stone covering the entrance be removed which reminds me of his declaration that "he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised..." Our walls result from our hearts breaking, they leave us captive in many ways, they can also blind us in life and yes, our pains leave our spirits, minds and hearts bruised.
But what I find so interesting is that Martha resists this command, saying that her brother had been dead for four days. In my mind, I cannot help but wonder how often (symbolically speaking) we stand in front of the tombs surrounding our wounded hearts and minds and spirits while the Savior lovingly asks us to remove the stones that stand in the way so that He may heal our hearts. "But no! No, Lord, I can't do that!" we cry. "It is too dark, too damaged, too hurt, too awful in that tomb. I can't let you in!" And so, we resist. We push against the enclosed parts of our heart to keep them closed, while the very God of Israel reminds us, "I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die." Like a small child who cries out and fears a loving parent's attempt to remove an offending sliver, we panic and seek to find ways to seal our inner tomb's all the more fiercely.
But we cannot. How can we, mere mortals, resist the loving care of the Master Physician, of He who broke the very bands of death and overcame every sin, every hurt and every trial we may face? In these moments, as we try all the harder to hide our pains, our sins and our fears, I imagine his scared hand reaching up to rest on our shoulder. Tears fill our eyes and peace begins to fill our hearts. We, like the storms he so often calmed in his mortal life, begin to be still. Slowly, ever so slowly, we know what we would not know before: that He is there to heal, to comfort, to make whole.
As we let our resisting strength fade, His mighty voice calls into the deepest, darkest, scariest and most painful parts of our souls with a thundering cry, "Lazarus, come forth." And those "dead" parts of our heart, those Lazarus-aspects of our faith and spirits begin to come forth again. We find confidence again, we return to Church again, we repent, we open ourselves to love again and find brightness in hope once more.
I do not know what burdens weigh on your hearts today. But I do know this: that if you will allow Him in, the Master Healer will fulfill the prophecy found in Revelations 21:4 to, "wipe every tear from (your) eyes. There will be no more death" in the walled and entombed places of your soul, but rather in its place you will find life; Life abundant, life eternal.
God bless, my friends.
Read Other Essays in This Series:
- Essay 1: The Savior, the Singles and the Woman at the Well
- Essay 2: The Lord, the Leper and the Less-Active
- Essay 3: Divinity, Discipleship & Decisions That Define Us
- Essay 4: When a Loved One Leaves by Suicide
- Essay 5: Breaking Down the Walls