Day 41: the Underrated Beauty of a Basement

“Blessed are you who are hungry now, because you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, because you will laugh.” Luke 6:21

Some years ago I lost two people who mattered very, very much to me. I was also diagnosed with cancer during that same time frame, which made for a sad fall season. I felt like my feet had been knocked right out from under me. By God’s grace the cancer ended up being a “non-invasive, no big deal” situation because a surgeon was able to excise it with outpatient surgery. But the death of my stepdad coupled with the death of another long-term relationship were the straws that broke my emotional camel’s back.

I’d always been a pull-myself-up-by-the-bootstraps kind of person, but I lost my ability to be self-sufficient on the heels of those losses. Over the next few weeks—as I was desperately trying to dig myself out of the deep, dark hole I found myself in—I kept hearing the Lord tenderly whisper to my battered heart, “Lisa, you’ve been running scared from sorrow for far too long. So I’m going to take you down to the basement of your life and sit there with you in the dark until that fear doesn’t own you anymore.”

Little did I know the beautiful, redemptive, joy-saturated, season that I’m standing in now would begin in an emotional basement. Because during those pitch-black nights of the soul I realized that my old habit of not entrusting God with my grief had also greatly hindered my capacity to access His compassion. I finally learned that one of the most valuable gifts we can give the world around us—a culture that’s obviously wrestling in the dark with deep pain—is to quit pretending like we’ve never ached, and instead authentically testify to God’s ability to heal us. To meet us in the dark and to help us find our way forward.

I’ve often heard my dear friend Christine Caine use an illustration about how the most flavorful oils and wines are produced through a crushing process to emphasize the value of hardship in our lives when it’s sifted through the hands of God. And I’m convinced that if I hadn’t been through my own crushing season, I never would’ve experienced the oil of gladness that came with the much deeper bonds I have with friends and family now, nor the indescribable joy of getting to be Missy’s second mama. Trusting God with my hurt stretched my heart in such a way that it could carry a lot more love. In my experience, the loveliest blooms grow in soil that has been softened by tears.

• What blooms have you noticed in the tear-soaked seasons of your life? Do you think anyone else noticed them?
• Do you need to go with God to your emotional basement in this season? Why might you be afraid to follow Him there?
• Do you believe God is powerful enough to meet you in the dark, and help you find your way forward? How have you seen Him do this already in your past?