You do not experience any major results because you are not always ready to receive them.
JEANNE GUYON
"REMEMBER WHEN WE talked about the park, during our first meeting?"
I nod. Buckle your seat belt, buddy. We're takin' off. Her question comes as I'm lighting the candle. No time of silence today.
"I left here that day and went there—to the park. I wandered around the botanical gardens for a while and was awed, again, by the different species that thrive there. Then I went to the bookstore and bought a couple of horticulture books. I went home and had just picked one up to read when"—she shakes her head—"when Gerard had his heart attack."
I nod again, not wanting to interrupt her thought process.
"Anyway, I had some new thoughts in the park that day—thoughts I didn't consider again until last night, after coming back to . . . After returning from the valley."
She looks at me to see if I'm tracking with her. I nod for her to continue, but she is silent. I wait and watch as her eyes widen and fill with tears.
She takes a breath. "I'm not like the park, I'm not . . . thriving."
I see the shadow of shame cross her face again, and man, I hate that. I wait for the Spirit's lead and I'm taken back to the question I asked her during our first session. "Jenna, did all the vegetation planted in the park thrive?"
This time, she shakes her head. "No."
"Why?"
"The conditions were too harsh for some. . . . Through the years, as they replanted the trees of the park, they chose varieties that endured the harsh conditions. Those trees became the overstory—the covering that protected the understory—the smaller, less resilient plants. They needed a protector in order to thrive."
"And you're also living in harsh conditions." I pose it as a statement, not a question.
Her nod is almost imperceptible. "But that's . . . that's where the metaphor breaks down."
"How?"
"I'm not a plant." She smiles, the first since she arrived tonight, though her lashes are still wet with tears.
I chuckle. "Thanks for the info."
"Any time." She smiles again and then looks down at her lap. "Uhm . . ." She sighs.
She's working hard and I know it's intense for her. The humor gives her a moment of relief.
"It breaks down because . . . I should be thriving regardless of my circumstances. Like I said last time."
"Why?"
"Because . . ."
She doesn't offer the pat answer she gave last time. Then I see her shoulders droop. "I don't know. I thought it was because I should be content in all circumstances. But maybe, as you suggested, I'm leaning on my own understanding. It seems like everything that used to make sense to me, doesn't make sense anymore. I'm so confused."
"What else isn't making sense?"
"All those verses about taking up your cross."
Jesus' words in Matthew and Luke. Tough words. Vital words.
"For so long, I've thought my circumstances, the . . . harsh conditions . . . were my cross to bear, you know? But what if"—her brow furrows as she orders her thoughts—"what if I misunderstood?"
Was that hope I saw flash in her eyes?
I reach for my Bible and turn to Matthew 10. "Mind if I read a few verses?" I look at her and she shakes her head—she doesn't mind. I start with verse 38.
"'Anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.'"
She leans back in her chair. "Exactly. That's one of them."
"Okay, let's back up a few verses—read it in context." I look back to the Bible on my lap, and take a deep breath to steady myself. Because, man, God is working. Here and now. These are the exact verses God led me to after Tess told me about Jenna's mother-in-law. And now, just a few days later . . . Awesome!
I pick up the passage at verse 34.
"'Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn . . .'"
Whoa. I look at her and then look back at the Bible and continue.
"'. . . a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law—a man's enemies will be the members of his own household.'"
I look up. The tears are running again. I keep reading.
"'Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.'"
I stop there and look back to Jenna.
"What did you hear in that passage?"
She sits very still, tears still streaking her face. "That Jesus didn't come to bring peace. That sometimes He's divisive. That even the members of our family may become our enemies?"
"What else?" I can see her cogs still spinnin' but then she looks away and shrugs.
"I . . . I don't know."
Give her time.
"But Jesus also said that we're to love our enemies."
I see the confusion on her face. Lord, confusion isn't of You. Bind the enemy.
"So . . . that seems like a contradiction. I mean, I know it isn't, but . . . I don't understand."
I open my mouth to explain, but man, I feel the Spirit holding me back. He's got a bit in my mouth and dude, He's pulling tight on the reins.
So I wait.
Then she whispers, "'Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding . . .'"
"What does that mean to you in this circumstance?"
"To wait. To trust Him. He'll make it clear . . . in His time. Not mine."
Her wisdom is not her own.
"You okay with that?"
"I am." She looks down at her hands resting in her lap and then back at me. Those big baby blues stare me down. "I don't think I'm ready for more."
I respect her honesty.
I respect her.
After she's gone, I wonder about her harsh conditions. She hasn't shared them with me, but she did admit to them today. Man, I'm bummed for her, but also, in a weird sort of way, I'm also excited. I bow my head and pray. "Lord, infuse her with courage. Surround her. Prepare her. Shield her." In my mind, I see a battalion preparing for war. I let the image inform my prayers. "Strengthen her, Father—Your strength, through Jenna. This is Your battle, Lord . . ."
I pray for a long time.
When I say "Amen," I'm filled with a sense of anticipation.
God is working.
And I'm stoked!