The Jagged Boulder

Not too long ago, in one of my counseling sessions, something popped up and kind of side-swiped me. The funny thing is, I didn’t realize this burden from my past was still affecting me. I thought I was over it. I truly, honestly did. But as I talked about this particular situation with my therapist, it took everything I had to hold it together emotionally. My heart hurt sharing this story with her. And not just a sad remembrance of what was, but an aching angst that was difficult to get through.

One thing I’ve realized over the past five years or so as I’ve spoken at various retreats and conferences is that if I still have a hard time getting through sharing a traumatic event in my past, it usually means I’m not ready to share it yet. It’s also a red flag to me that I still have work to do in that area. 

So when I struggled to get through talking about this particular situation with my therapist, I knew I was going to need to do some work. 

I walked out of my therapist’s office, and as soon as the door shut behind me, I burst into tears. I looked down at my feet, flustered, and ran to my car, where I could freely let the tears flow. I sat in the driver’s seat, blubbering away and feeling incredibly alone. It seemed as though a mini bomb had just been dropped on me, and I didn’t know which way to turn next. I sat there for a few minutes until I calmed down a bit, and then turned my car on and drove home. 

It was a long, arduous day with the kids as I tried to focus on being present with them while also dealing with the freight train of emotions that was flying through my soul.

That evening, I went for a run. Have you seen the movie Chariots of Fire? In it, Eric Liddell says, “God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.”  Well, God didn’t make me fast, but since I started using running as my time of worship a few months back, I truly do feel His pleasure. It’s like I am enveloped by His Spirit when I am running. I don’t know how else to describe it except that it’s as though I am immersed in God. When I’m not running, I’m often thinking about how I can’t wait to run so that I can feel that closeness with Him.

As I ran that evening, I asked God to show me how this particular thing in my past was affecting me, and potentially even my relationship with Superman. And not just that, but what I needed to do about it. 

Not too far into my run, I was overwhelmed by God’s presence. It was as though the atmosphere changed. I stopped where I was on a back country road, turned off my worship music and just stood there. It was a magnificent evening. The sun was just starting to touch the horizon, and it shot stunning pinks and oranges and yellows through the sky. In the silence, I heard a choir of birds singing, and my heart skipped as though I was about to encounter my deepest love after a long time apart. 

Suddenly, a picture filled my mind. In it, I was standing with a huge, jagged boulder in my arms. It was almost too much for me to bear, but not quite too much. In front of me, God’s outstretched arms reached toward me. He said, “Just give it to me.” I gladly heaved the boulder into his waiting arms, and as soon as it hit his hands, I could see how the weight was nothing for Him. It was like…styrofoam. He quickly took the boulder and tossed it into a beautiful, pristine lake that sparkled and danced. 

When the boulder hit the water, it didn’t sink. It dissipated. Vanished. Like nothing. I immediately felt an incredible sense of release. Relief. Contentment.

And then the picture was gone. 

Just like that, I was back on the country road, with the sun quickly setting beyond the hills. It seemed as though hours had passed by. The birds were quieting and I could feel the calm of night settling in. 

I started running again, feeling lighter, sprightly, almost whimsical as I approached home.

Later that evening, I doubted. 

Did you really take that away, God? I wondered. Surely, there must be a process for me to go through in order to break the bond that this memory has on me. It can’t be that simple. I must need to do something…right? 

And He replied, Shanti, there will be times when I have you walk through a process in order to get through something. But not everything has to be a process. There will be times that I ask you to just give me your burden. And when you do, it will be gone. It will disappear. You just gave me your burden a few hours ago. It is gone. You do not need to do anything. 

I learned something important that night. We don’t always have to do something. Yes, we need to be ready to work when He calls us to. But sometimes, He just wants to take our burden and toss it into the lake. And when we truly and completely hand it over to Him, it won’t sink to the bottom where it could one day be uncovered and resurfaced. It will disappear. Evaporate. Be gone. 

Is God saying to you, “just give it to me”? What is He asking you to heave into his waiting arms?

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