An Overnight Sensation

This afternoon, a friend complimented the significant progression of my spiritual and personal growth this past year. Considering where I was, emotionally speaking, exactly one year ago, it amazes me how far I have come. 

Yet, at the same time, I cannot help but to compare myself to so-called “overnight sensations”. Ever pay attention to the so-called “overnight sensation’s” response to being called an “overnight sensation”? It is usually some version of sarcastic reference to “overnight” taking (fill in the blank) number of years. 

I am no celebrity, but I do understand the sentiment. I have been making a conscious effort at improving myself for eight years and six months. However, it does seem as if the distance between progressive steps has gotten shorter and shorter in the past year. It feels like I stepped on an escalator three months ago and have been rising higher, faster ever since. I feel like an “overnight sensation” who has been working toward this goal for years and years and years.

I used an illustration of the journey of a Christmas ornament during my last sermon entitled, “Think About Joseph.” I am beginning to see myself and my own journey in this illustration. 

1.      The Firmly Routed Tree:

Imagine walking through a forest. What do you see? Everywhere you look, you are surrounded by big, majestic, firmly rooted trees. They are breathtakingly beautiful to behold. Their roots run deep. They are the glory of the forest. 

What happens when an ax swings its claws into the tree’s trunk? Chunk after chunk is carved out until the tree can no longer stand, and gracelessly topples over. 

That is what happened to me when my marriage unraveled. Who I thought I was – who I thought I wanted to be – came tumbling down with a giant thud. 

Joke – if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound? 

If you are that tree, it doesn’t matter what anybody did or did not hear. You felt the ax. You felt the impact of the fall. 

2.      The Piece of Wood:

Now, imagine becoming cut down from a majestic tree to a small piece of lumber or limb. Imagine resting in a pile with other lumber in a workshop or barn.

You think you have found a new purpose. Smaller, yes, but content, comfortable. Then, you are pulled down from your perch. You hear a saw whine in the distance. The sound grows louder and louder until the blade’s teeth bite through you, splitting you in two. Other tools, sharp, consistent beat you and chisel you and pound you and sand you. Over and over and over again. No relief in sight. No obvious purpose for the pain. 

For me, this constant and consistent beating was cancer, what happened between me and my best friend, losing two girls I loved like daughters, four years of looking for work and finding nothing permanent or sustainable, being called to ministry without being given direction – I can go on and on with all the seemingly pointless hurts and failures. The vulnerability. The shattered dreams. Feeling lost and alone and worthless. 

3.      The Wooden Ornament:

Finally, the woodworker lays down his tools. The project is complete. You, the once majestic tree with deep routs have been reduced to an object which can fit in the palm of a hand. But, one look in the mirror and you know all that pain and suffering was worth it. You see what you were destined to become. You see the reason for the ax and saw and all those other tools of the master woodworker. You have a new purpose. You will now decorate another tree. You have a new purpose, and you may no longer be what you once were, but you are once again majestic. 

Before my fateful phone call inviting me to begin the process of becoming a hospital chaplain, I consoled myself by reminding myself that I may never know my purpose. I took my cue from Abraham. God promised to make him a great nation, but he never lived to see the outcome of that promise. He simply believed. 

Sometimes, however, we are fortunate enough to be able to see the end result. Sometimes, God allows us to see the purpose of the axes and chisels in our lives. The phone call which set my new life in motion is not the end. I know that. There will be other axes and chisels in my life. There is still a lifetime of improvement and growth to be done, more “ornaments” to be made. 

However, I am fortunate to have been able to see the purpose of this particular journey – all the whys – I can look back at it all and almost all of it makes sense. I see its purpose in shaping me to be ready for that life changing phone call. 

I had a very hard day the other day. After work, I went to the store. As I was checking out, I thought to myself how much easier life would be if I just took a job at that store. The thought was fleeting because even before the thought was complete, I knew I would never be satisfied. The day was hard and I am sure harder days are in my future, but I am even more certain that I am where I belong. 

I am where I belong. Hmph . . . what a beautiful realization. 

I have spent most of my life searching for a place to belong. I cannot describe how wonderful it feels to finally be certain that I know my purpose – at least one of my purposes (I still have other hopes and dreams) – and to no longer feel lost. 

Hello. My name is Renee. I am a Christian and have loved Jesus for as long as I remember. Still, I have spent most of my life feeling lost. That dilemma, my friend, is not reserved for those who are spiritually lost. We God-fearing folk have our struggles, too! 

And, I think it’s okay to feel lost as long as we keep moving forward and don’t give up or give in. As my friend-mentor-father figure once told me, and I paraphrase, “Even when you can't see where you are going, keep putting one foot in front of the other and trust that the Rock is there.” 

Inspirational ornament courtesy of my very talented friend, Jimmy Lewis.