All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. Psalm 139:16b
A couple years ago, I had a love/hate relationship with my phone. I had this cute little T-mobile Sidekick. I wasn’t as cool and trendy as all these touch-screen phones, but it had what I needed: Full keypad, web access, email, camera, messaging, etc. I’m pretty sure it did more than that, but never took the time to figure it out.
During one strange season, my phone began having email issues. I used to get all my email from both accounts easily. But T-mobile had some server problems and things just were never the same. My work email just didn’t come through at all (which was good AND bad), but my Yahoo account was the most perplexing.
One day, my Yahoo account started coming through to my phone again. But instead of updating the new incoming emails, it gradually began bringing in old ones. It literally started with messages from when I opened the account back in 2001 and five, ten, twenty, fifty at a time, started working its way forward. I think it had made it up to 2005 last time I checked.
To say that the ten years have been eventful would be an egregious understatement. The growth, the change, the victories, the defeats, the tragedies, the celebrations. I began reliving them all a few subject lines at a time for several weeks. And it was exhausting. I finally got worn out with it, logged into my Yahoo account on the computer and just started deleting. Twenty-five emails at a time, select all, delete, select all, delete, select all, delete. Again and again and again. Starting with 5500 emails, I worked my way down to around 3500 at a pretty fast clip. Then I came to a screeching halt.
December 2006. I watched the subject lines and dates close in on the birth of my daughter. Then I couldn’t help myself. I opened a message from my dad, containing pictures of my girl and me in the hospital. I know I have all those pictures saved somewhere else, but I just couldn’t delete it, and temporarily walked away from my elimination project.
Yet the old ones still continued to appear on my phone. So what did I do? I just deleted the account on my phone, so then I got ZERO emails. I probably could have really used that feature. Just couldn’t quite figure out how to do it right then. So I’m pulled a Scarlett: I’ll think about that tomorrow.
In this explosive season of growth, I’ve come a long way in trusting God with my future. There was a low point a couple years ago when tomorrow was just impossible to think about because it took everything I had to survive today. But gradually in my healing, God allowed me to start dreaming again. And in no time at all, my dreams had gotten too big for anyone but my King. So I surrendered them, just out of necessity. God knows my future. He’s looking at it right now. And He’s allowed everything that’s in it, which means somehow, it will be for my good and His glory. (And this is the pep talk I give myself on a regular basis.)
We had just finished Beth Moore’s Esther study in my Ocala Bible study group. One of her most poignant lines to me was “You can’t amputate your history from your destiny. That’s what redemption is.” And what a relief that was for me to hear. I knew my past was important. It’s where my testimony comes from. It’s what gives me wisdom, empathy and depth. Even though parts of it trigger just crippling pain, I know that struggle was for a good purpose when I’m able to use it to minister to someone else. Therein lies the redemption of my history.
But it took me a while to realize that it wasn’t MY job to redeem my past. Once Beth gave me permission to see it as valuable, I turned around and embraced the whole big mess with open arms. And being the packrat that I am, I insisted on trying to drag it around with me. Like a hopeless hoarder, I reasoned that I shouldn’t get rid of any of that stuff. It’s REDEEMABLE! God may want to USE it someday. I better hang onto all of it, just in case.
So while I could look to the future with relative peace and freedom, I was still carrying around my valuable but burdensome history. Until God convicted me of that, demanding that I surrender that as well:
Yes, My child, I want your future. Yes, I want your past. I want all of your days. Your life, in My hands. Only I remember every last detail of what was. Only I know every moment of what will be. And only I know how all the pieces fit together into that masterpiece I told you about. I will bring hungry souls to you to glean precious truths from the field of your past. I will lead you to those who can speak My words to you from their experiences. Eternity is a grand and glorious picture that I behold. Believe Me for it.
So there you have it. Yes, it’s redeemable. But only in His time and His ways. And He has to hold it in the mean time.
I have since abandoned (but not deleted) my Yahoo email account and have updated my phone. My older, wiser sister said that every time you go through a significant life change, you need a new phone. And I’m not sure why, but I think she’s right. I got my new Gmail account about a year ago when my last name changed again. And now I’m on a family plan with Sprint and a new little Samsung something-or-other. It’s got apps and stuff. Again, I’m sure it can still do much more than I use it for, but I don’t care enough to figure it all out.
My past is still back there somewhere. Occasionally, it still sneaks up on me and, every once in a while, crashes over me like a rogue wave and I feel like I’ll never come up for air. But I always do. God pulls me out before I drown, dries me off and we walk on. Because every moment of my today is a moment away from being a part of my tumultuous, precious past.
And it is redeemed.
