You
I thought I would reprise a write-up I contributed to a book my wife wrote years ago.
Every home has closets. Each closet has a purpose. Some closets are useful for storing clothes or cleaning supplies. Other closets become catch-alls for all sorts of junk—items we just can’t admit we’ll never use again and hold onto. Just like homes, our hearts have closets. Instead of T-shirts, tennis shoes, suits, belts, and junk, these closets hold actions, emotions and memories. Sometimes these closets have only one purpose: to hide the failures, struggles and pain built up over the years. For these, there is no thrift store drop box where we can discard items no longer useful to us. Instead, they become vivid reminders of things that keep us defeated. We spend much of our lives trying to forget these rooms even exist, while attempting to live life as normally as possible.
Recently, I ran across one such closet in my own life. For the previous twelve years, I had been storing pain, failure and defeat in a hidden room in the back of my heart. None of these situations ever seemed to have a resolution, so I stored them away like dirty laundry in a dark closet. I turned off the light and closed the door, hoping to never lay eyes on those problems again. There in the dark, they mildewed and rotted. I continued to try to live life normally. Every day was a struggle to overcome the fallout from the failures I had tucked away. In my heart, I often heard a voice echoing that I needed to stand up, take charge and clean out that storage area. Instead of doing so, I pushed the voice away and did all I could to forget that room existed. I became afraid of that room. I knew what responsibility lay within. The pain alone was more than I could ever handle again. I could never relive those moments, I thought to myself.
The problem with trying to forget about a closet like this is that sooner or later, the contents are going to begin to smell really bad. Eventually, things will begin to ooze out from under the door and affect other parts of our lives. It becomes harder and harder to ignore. Left long enough, the contents of that closet will overtake every corner of our lives. God, in His wisdom, knows what is locked in that dark room. He has a way of urging us to deal with our closet contents. He backed me into a corner with a loving, but stern, “Deal with this, or else!” For months, I resisted God’s urging. “I can’t!” I replied. I begged God to deal with it for me. I knew what was in there. I had packed away all of the emotions during the times I’d been rejected, deceived, and when I’d lost everything I’d owned. No Disney storybook happily-ever-after ending was ever written to wrap up all the shame and grief I had hidden in that room.
One day, I saw myself standing staring at the aging door. I heard the voice of the Holy Spirit say, “Open the door.” I had tried to wish and will that room away. I was overwhelmed by the stench and responsibility stored inside. I was weak and drained from the battle of hiding and ignoring my closet. I knew I had to overcome it, regardless of the cost. If I did not, it would defeat me. Its contents would control me for the rest of my life. As I turned the knob and pushed the door open, I was brought to tears. There was even more stuff in there than I had remembered. Every painful emotion had been perfectly preserved for the past decade.
In the physical, I was dialing the phone. I was reaching out to admit defeat. I knew I needed to find someone to help. I could not allow fear to rule or allow the attacker to win. Not this time. I needed to solve the problem and see the victory, even though the odds against me seemed insurmountable. As I began to speak to the person on the other end of the line, peace began to settle on my heart. I was no longer able to hold back the years of tears I had stored up. My mind went back in the closet as I remained on the phone. I felt alone, overwhelmed and defeated. I pictured myself beginning to fill trash bags with the crud from the closet, when suddenly, I felt someone with me. It was Jesus. I was surprised to see him there. How could He stand to come to such a vile place? He began speaking to me . . . words I needed desperately to hear: “Unless you are willing to clean out this room, you will never be free.” In my vision, I saw myself digging into piles of the mess that lay before me. I scooped out large armfuls, placing them in the trash bags. The emotions resurfaced again, even worse than I remembered them. The pain, once again, was unbearable. The task at hand was daunting. I chose, however, to embrace the pain and hit the problem head on, and felt hope begin to shine in that dark place. I heard Jesus speak to me again, saying, “It’s going to be okay.” And for the first time in a very long time, I knew that it was.
A few moments later, I retrieved the words from my email box I had longed to hear for so long. “Yes, I can help you.” That day changed me. I realized that the closet I had feared and avoided could be tamed and overcome. Not by me, because when I had tried before, I had failed. Jesus was the only One who could do it. It’s now easier to enter that closet. Little by little, it’s getting cleaner. Regardless what was in there that had tried to defeat me . . . as miserable and disgusting as the place had looked when it started, I found Jesus there. That made all the difference in the world. I can’t wait to see what He will turn my closet into when the process is over.
I will . . . make the Valley of Achor a door of hope.
—Hosea 2:15
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