From Weakness to Wholeness

“They shall build up the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.” - Isaiah 61:4 (ESV)

I live in New England, but I’m not a winter weather person.

And if you know some of my story, I entered an incredibly difficult season only days after coming home from a retreat last year.

So when my church announced a women’s retreat, way up north in the winter, I was resistant. I could have rationalized every reason to stay home from this one. All the way down to the rejection letter I received and my friend’s car issues that happened that day. But God had another plan. There I was, trekking down the path in a windy snowstorm to get across the retreat site.

There’s something special about how God works in our weaknesses. In our defiance and resistance, in our stubbornness and selfishness. He gives us new strength and grace. He gives healing, leading to wholeness. He gives freedom from things that hold us back.

Sometimes we don’t know what to do with that freedom. But the answer is simple. It can be found in Isaiah 61:4:

Let God rebuild your foundation on His promises.

Let Him restore what was in ruins.

Let Him renew your spirit.

For the Israelites, this restoration was spiritual and physical. Isaiah prophesied the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem, which we read the fulfillment of in the book of Nehemiah. As the Israelites returned to reconstruct the promised land in the natural, God was reviving their hearts and spirits in the supernatural. God was turning them towards Himself in places where idolatry led them astray. 

Maybe it wasn’t as much about the Israelites retrieving what was lost in the rubble, but paving the way for the new things to come. Their foundation was always the same. It was always God. But what his people built up would change. The fruit of their work depended on the strength of their faith. They could build up sin-soaked walls of pride and idolatry only to wind up in ruins again. Or they could build their walls in faith, fully trusting in God and not themselves. He would sustain them as they honored him and yielded to his ways.

At the retreat I attended last year, I spent the weekend encountering God and ridding myself of sin like fear and pride. The conference itself was freeing, but the losses that followed were unpredictable and seemingly unbearable. What was I supposed to do with freedom when all I saw was loss? I tried serving in new capacities, making new friends, and changing my routines. I asked God to change things and make it easier for me, but he never did. 

In that, not only was I reminded of God’s sovereignty, but I was able to see first-handedly how this freedom was a blessing. A blessing I didn’t want originally. A blessing that took several months for me to perceive. But God always knew. He knew what was best for me and what didn’t fit in my life anymore. Like Israel in Babylonian captivity, my city walls were destroyed and I felt further from the promised land than ever. Sometimes freedom feels a lot like abandonment when it’s really an open space to let God do a new thing. We just need to invite him in and continue to seek and trust him every step of the way.

For me, this women’s retreat was a full-circle, redemptive time with God. The session topics were all based on healing. It was about God redeeming the hurt and the heartache, the broken dreams, the rejection, and the losses and affirming my identity in Him. Just like Israel coming home to rebuild their city.

One of the speakers, Damaris Medina, explained the difference between being healed and being whole. In both cases, we have to choose to trust in God’s ways fully, or “surrender our surrender.” God heals us until we become whole. Damaris said being healed is being able to say “it’s done.” What happened was real and I’m okay. Being whole is being able to say “it’s as if it never even happened.” I am free from the bondage of my past hurts completely. Both are transformations that only God can do. Healing can be immediate or a process. And it’s something God does and promises, far beyond what anything of this world could work¹. 

My healing has been a journey…a non-linear, messy one at that. While I gave space to grieve and be honest with my emotions, the more I pursued God, the more healed I became. Instead of thinking about what happened or trying to repair what was broken, I looked for more details of what God was doing. But even still, I knew something was out of alignment. It took a while, but I knew I was whole again when I essentially stopped caring about the hurt. I didn’t want it to clog my headspace with negativity. If I thought about what happened, I was disgusted. I no longer desired to fix things. I no longer desired to think about what was once weighing me down. I only wanted more of God. I still only want more of God. Because only he makes me whole.

Like the Israelites, my foundation was the same the entire time. I kept Christ as my center. But last year, I had some cracks in my walls. It was fear. Pride. Anger. Being too busy and not making time to rest. Through this season of loss, Christ remained my center while everything else collapsed. When I took my all to God, he cleansed me and healed me over time. He helped me get rid of the rubble to have a clearer, stronger foundation available for rebuilding. 

From there, I saw things from a completely different perspective. One where God gets the glory for stripping away the things I thought I wanted because he knew they weren’t the best for me. I’ll take a temporary rejection now if it prevents me from greater pain later on. Thank you, God.

This process took time. It wasn’t easy. But God was near to me in it and through it…and that’s the only reason why I can share this story today.

As far as it goes with the winter weather, I didn’t mind it too much. It snowed 5 inches and iced over with heavy winds, which I typically despise. But I braved this weather differently. It was cold, yes, especially for camping up north. (And for someone with vasovagal syncope, I struggle to be outside in extreme temperatures.) The lake froze over entirely, as you can see in the featured picture. I didn’t see this storm as something to complain about, but to be grateful for. 

I was grateful that God allowed the snow to fall on the day I wasn’t traveling. I could look at the snowflakes in the rushing wind as God’s creation to marvel at, not as a dreadful inconvenience. I watched the sunrise and enjoyed the beauty that the winter season can bring. The snow served as a natural reminder of Jesus’ purity bestowed on us. The winter, in a spiritual sense, reminded me that, even in the hardest of seasons, God’s not done. There are still beautiful things to see each day, even if it means looking harder at times. I don’t have to like the season I’m in to appreciate what God has created or what he is doing.

I’m grateful that God knew, saw, and went beyond my resistance. Because it was in that weakness that his grace abounded. God did what only he could. He led me to becoming more healed and whole again.

References:

1.  Medina, Damaris. (2022, March 13). Illume Women’s Retreat. Spofford; New Hampshire.