A ReStoried Testimony

We were all thankful for the respectful distance the screen allowed us and yet so anxious to understand and be understood. Ten women. All carrying such deep wounds for so long. Most of us were not young, and life has not been kind. Gentle testimonies. Tearful recitations of seasons of deep, complex pain.

And so much Jesus. Each of us, hanging to the hem of his robe praying it would be enough to sustain, to heal, to bring hope when the cost had already been so high.

And then the moments of shared reality — "You too? You have that scar too? Oh dear Jesus, thank you. I thought something was wrong with me. I had no idea. Will you pray for me? Can I pray for you?” The relief of being loved and known in the darkest parts of who we had become to survive. The work was sometimes exhausting and difficult, but walking with broken company brought a comfort hard to explain.

And the voice of our counselor would echo The Counselor: “We must learn to lament and have joy in the same body, the same soul, often within the same hour. He created your spirit with emotions and a memory that can both bend and break with pain. Bring it all to him, but know that you don’t have to bring it alone. I’ll go with you.”

Please don’t let me go, Jesus. I’m too scared to dare hope for healing.
Even the darkness is not dark to you.

The demons still nip at my heels. The anxiety still overwhelms me. My energy is often drained and my mind still engages memories my body struggles to forget. But the unrelenting fear is slowly melting under the heat of truth, a community of believers, the tenderness of an authentic love, the unwavering strength of my children. And mostly the Love of Jesus that I had always struggled to understand without a mountain of effort preceding it. I will always fight wondering if I am enough. But now I know to ask — enough for whom? His answer is always unwavering: "You are known, you are loved, you are my daughter, and I will not let go." I am such a long way from home, but it is quieter, more restful, and I increasingly hear His voice speak louder than the painful noise of life.

And the voice of my counselor echoes The Counselor: “Healing is hard work. There will be days of great release and days when you will fight the bondage. But you will not be alone. You will not be despised on the hard days or exalted on the good days. You will simply be loved all the way through. You are an image bearer of our good and gracious King. You are safe. You belong. You are loved.

Jesus, please hold my fragile faith. Be who you say you are. Make my life a steady and gentle reflection of your unrelenting love for me.
Even the darkness is not dark to you. I want to walk in the light.

— Written by Kristi, a former ReStoried participant