The Room of Drawers

I rarely remember my dreams, and when I do I forget them within days. But once in a while, a dream comes with such quiet force that it stays with me for decades.

                                      **********************

I was standing outside a circular room. Jesus was next to me, and I was complaining to him about my sexual abuse.

"Why, Lord? Why did it have to happen? I hate how it has wrecked my life!"

He looked at me with such tenderness. After a long pause, He said, "If you wish, I'll let you choose something else."

He opened the door and I tiptoed in, awed by hundreds of tiny drawers stacked floor to ten-foot-high ceiling. Upon closer inspection, I noticed labels on each drawer.

Marriage betrayal.

Loss of home to fire.

Loved one murdered.

Accident that resulted in quadriplegia.

Loss of child in utero.

Child's addiction.

Infertility.

Witnessed a violent crime.

Child abuse, neglect, or abandonment.

Suicide of loved one.

Violent sexual assault.

Death of spouse far too young.

Accident causing loved one's death.

My heart pounded. The lump in my throat threatened to choke me as tears fell. Every one of these tragedies had happened to someone I cared about.

Jesus' presence at my side was steady, unhurried. "Well," He said as He swept His arm around the room, "which one do you want instead of the sexual abuse?" His tone conveyed gentle compassion.

I gulped. "Uh, none, Lord. I don't think I could handle these."

Jesus: "Did you see me help your friends handle these?"

"Yes. Well, not all of them. But come to think of it, they didn't know You, or didn't believe You could help. But I saw so many of them draw closer to You and learn to trust You with their pain and questions and healing."

Jesus waited. He held my gaze and softened his voice. "Have I done that for You?"

"Lord." I could barely speak. I fell to my knees and grabbed His hand. I whispered, "Yes, Lord. Yes. You've never let me go. You've been so patient and kind as You've healed me."

"I met each of you at your moment of need. None of them would choose your wound either, because they can't imagine surviving it. My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

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My eyes popped open. This dream vividly replayed in my mind. Something was...different. My perspective had shifted.

Gratitude replaced the bitterness about my abuse. Not gratitude for the abuse, but gratitude for Jesus' presence and grace and patient healing.

I stopped asking, "Why me? Why THAT?" Instead I thanked God for never letting me go, for showing me that joy and grief can co-exist, for teaching me that everyone suffers deep wounds and needs compassion.

I thanked Him that because of my abuse, I ran to Him for help and hope, and He accomplished "exceedingly abundantly more than I could ask or think" (Ephesians 3:20).

He never promises us an easy, painless life. But He does promise to be with us through the valley of the shadow of death and heal our wounds.

How about you? Where is your heart today? I invite you to imagine entering the Room of Drawers and having a conversation with Jesus about your soul wound. It's sacred ground. You'll be safe. Loved. Comforted.

Sweet Jesus, help the person reading this to taste and see that You are good. So very good. Heal his or her heart wound and fill it with the gold of Your love. You are the Master Mender. Do Your best work. Amen.