I woke up with this aching in my feet. I rolled over and looked at the clock. 4:45 am. The last time I had looked at it, it had read 4:23 am. This had been a long night. The two wounds in my feet were infected, that was for sure, and I was unsure if I could even bear weight on them. I was tempted to roll back over and try to regain a few hours of the sleep that had evaded me most of the night.
But it was our last morning here in Pensacola. It was the last chance I would get to watch the sun come up over the ocean, and we had a magnificient location right by the water. I had to make it down to the beach.
I tried to muffle my initial reaction to my feet touching the ground. I didn't want to wake my husband. He wasn't a morning person, and he had the 20 hour drive home ahead of him that day. I slipped on my flip flops and shuffled out of the room.
100 yards to the beach. It may as well have been 100 miles. Every step hurt. Every shuffle begged me to turn back. This was too hard, too painful, too unmanageble. I'd seen sunrises before- would this one really be that different? Considering I had just descended all the stairs to the road that kept me seperated from the beach, I figured I was too far in to turn back, so I trudged on.
The street's surface allowed me to put more weight on my toes than on the midpart of my foot where the pain was the worst, the sand took away any attempt at lessening pressure points. I had come so far, but wasn't sure I could make it the rest of the way! Step by painful step I advanced, til finally I reached the water's edge and triumphantly planted by behind on the sand and kicked off my sandals.
The ocean was swirling beneath the barely lit. sky. The sun was beginning it's slow ascent into our area, and it's far reaching beams of light hit the clouds above the horizon in a blaze of glory. Pink clouds began as a soft shade, and then became more vibrant as oranges reds and yellows accompanied. The sea below churned purples, greens and dark blues.
It was a sight to behold. It was unlike any sunrise I had seen. It felt like a personal showing of God's immense beauty and grace and love for his creation.
And I almost missed it.
I almost chose to stay in bed, where it was comfortable. My desire to avoid pain, nearly caused me to miss this treasure of a moment. It was hard to get there, but it was worth the battle!
The choice to tell my story wasn't an easy one. I could have healing without sharing my past. But what would I be missing if I chose to stay comfortable? When I step into the unknown of going public with the hard parts of my story- I run the risk of being criticized, rejected and judged. But if I don't say a word- I miss seeing what God will do with a story like mine. I avoid giving life to something that the enemy only meant for death.
That day, as I watched to sun come up, and saw the vibrant colors come into view, it dawned on me that the very things in the atmosphere that make those colors possible are not beautiful things. It's dust and water droplets and pollution. But when the light hits it- God does something amazing. I can assure you that I was not the only one seeing that sunrise that morning. And when I choose to share my story- I am not the only who benefits from God's healing.
In Jesus' ministry He encountered many who were changed by Him- most of them being the marginalized and the outcasts of society. In a shocking move as Jesus elected to journey through a Samaritan town, (Samaritans and Jews were like oil and water), He met a woman who had a dark past. She was at the well in the heat of the day, which would be an indication that she was on the outside because the women would all come to the well in the cool of the morning. She is dumbfounded that Jesus would even speak to her- she's a woman AND a samaritan. But, His truth and love dismantle her walls. In an instant she has a revelation of who He is and what that means. The condemnation of her past seems to fall off in an instant.
John 4:28: Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the messiah?” And because she left her fear behind and allowed her life to be illuminated by the light of Jesus we read in John 4:39: Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I ever did.”
If we could forget our pasts, or heal from them and move on, who would be the ones to speak to those still in their messes. Who would be bold enough to reach down and say, "I've been there, too!"
Our testimonies fill the gap of what is known, to what is possible.
