Jesus had pursued me; now it was my turn to pursue Him. With the prayer and support of several leaders, I chose a corner of the chapel as my berth. I began on my knees, bent over by sorrow, expecting God to arrive and make His presence known.
“Yes, Lord,” I prayed aloud, with honesty, humility, “I want to live, and I want your joy again.” I started by forgiving the abusers, the traitors, the taunters, the thieves, the murderers of my dreams—every adversary I could remember throughout my life, so I could then receive forgiveness myself from the Lord. But I was not done.
“I feel homeless, Lord. I want to come home,” I cried. I saw myself, the prodigal daughter, running to Him as He ran to me, embracing me with joyful tears, ready to celebrate my return. I got up from my knees, lifted my head, and began to shout praises to Him. He was drawing me in, asking me to take an active part in my salvation and transformation. I responded in faith, step by step, each person who helped me and each choice I made like footholds by which I scaled that blasted iron gate, my spiritual climbing wall, throwing off the burdens of my past.
Then suddenly a roaring thunder filled the room, as if the enemy was now waging war to keep me bound and chained. As loud as I could, I rebuked him in Jesus’ name and told him he has no authority over me! There I stood having reached the top of the iron gate, where I myself lifted it and called the King of Glory to come in and let His light fill every space that had once been dark (Psalm 24:7).
But I still did not feel that joy in my own heart, just sadness and shame for having left Him in the first place. I yelled out, “Lord, I’m not leaving til I’m laughing!”
And so, He simply beckoned me—“Surrender, Holly!”—and I fell to the ground into His arms of grace. I lay there on the floor enveloped by His Spirit. Then as someone began to read over me from Psalm 51, His gentle voice echoed in my spirit with familiar words of comfort (vs. 1-17):
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are proved right when you speak and justified when you judge. Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me. Surely you desire truth in the inner parts; you teach me wisdom in the inmost place. Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice. Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity. Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will turn back to you. Save me from bloodguilt, O God, the God who saves me, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.
And all at once, the joy of my salvation was, indeed, restored! My lips had been opened and had declared His praises, so I could finally laugh for my freedom and for the weight that had been lifted for the first time in my life. The King of Glory had come into my heart and purified it, making me whiter than snow! I felt like a newborn baby, fresh and innocent and clean! I laughed as though I had never laughed before! I laughed as I rested in His peace there on the floor. Giddy as a schoolgirl, I felt drunk with His Spirit and could not even stand up on my own. As the leaders raised me to my feet, all I could say was, “My ‘yes’ really is ‘yes’!” over and over again! They carried me to my bed, and there I rested all night long as if nestled against His chest listening to His heartbeat.
Come that Sunday morning, I found myself a character in Jesus’ life, as described in Luke 13: 11-16:
Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And there was a woman who had had a disabling spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said to her, “Woman, you are freed from your disability.” And he laid his hands on her, and immediately she was made straight, and she glorified God….”Ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?”
Another translation says she was “crippled by a spirit,” just as I had been crippled by depression for 18 years. I was that very woman—bent over and deformed, staring at the ground and never able to look at others in the eye, unable to overcome this bondage myself, rejected because of my “disability.” But Jesus, in His great compassion, called me over to Him, laid His very hands on me, and in the Greek, He literally “untied,” released, freed, straightened and loosed me from the grasp of Satan on the original Sabbath Day (Saturday)! How could I help but to glorify God?! He had delivered me from depression!
That Sunday morning, I woke up a hundred pounds lighter and could literally stand up straight for the first time without the heavy weight I had always carried. It was obvious to everyone around me that I had met face to face with God as they looked upon my new face and truly transformed spirit. In fact, some people did not even recognize me, I looked that different!
To be continued.
The Art of Choosing True Life 