Beauty from Ashes

I watched as the flames began burning my words; burning parts of my soul that were written on those pages revealed through different colored ink.  Each journal represented different years, different trials and different accomplishments. I knew what every single journal held and as they begin to burn, I could vividly remember those moments. I could remember the prayers and the pleas. These weren’t your typical journals where you jot down what you did that day, but these were sacred journals that held the deepest secrets.

They held truths that no one ever knew.

They held prayers.

They held struggles.

They held feelings and emotions.

They held me.

The very being of who I was over the past seven years that was etched into those books began to disappear right before my eyes. Every so often as the pages would cripple under the heat of the fire, turning into ash, I would catch a glimpse of words and names written on those pages. It caused me to recap moments I knew were hidden deep into those pages. Vivid memories began flooding my mind. But as each memory came up, I allowed myself to remember them instead of quickly pushing them out. I allowed myself to feel. I would catch myself just standing there in a daze, not really being in the moment, but caught up in those memories declaring over my mind and myself, “It is over, It is over.” What once held me in bondage for twenty-three years began burning right in front of my face.

Fears began burning, memories began burning.

What started off as a physical and visual burn, became an emotional burning that would soon create a spiritual flame. It wasn’t just those pages that were burning; it was burning the memories, the pain, and the words/actions that have held me down, interfering with being the complete and free Melinda I was created to be. I could vividly see the inside of my core stretching and moving beyond the prison it was kept in. It was freeing. I had put all but one of my journals into the fire pit. A pink one still sat on the end of the table. I knew exactly what was in it. I wasn’t sure that I was ready to let it go. I picked it up, bringing it close to my chest and gripped the sides of it. The thought of putting it into the fire made me nauseous. What it would entail was something I didn’t think I could handle. Actually, I couldn’t do it myself. I gripped the sides of the book as if I was gripping on to the last bit of hope I had left. I felt the physical pain in my chest of a death. Because that’s what this was. A death; an ending. All the dreams and hopes imprinted into this book were now going to be really gone and it was something I wasn’t ready for. Honestly, it was something I never would be ready for. Who is ever ready for a death? Whether it is a physical death or in my case a death of hopes, dreams, visions…a life, no one is ever prepared for it. Just as a physical death, I couldn’t imagine my life without this a part of me. I still can’t. Even now as I type this, I have a lump in my throat as tears roll down my face. It’s an extremely hard reality to face. I gripped the journal tighter than anything and allowed myself to grieve the loss of what was in this book. Paige’s hand slipped across my shoulder and pulled me in tight, as Tania began praying over what was burning and speaking life into the new life we were declaring would bloom from these ashes.

I couldn’t breathe through the cries and panic. The fear of letting this go were like fingers strangling my neck. Memories I held onto flashed across my mind making the tears and sobs even harder. I couldn’t do it but I knew I had to. Anger began filling every part of my soul. Angry because of how things turned out. Angry because I didn’t understand the purpose of it. Angry because of the relationships I would be losing. I was grieving and I was grieving hard. I didn’t want to let go. I ached for things to be different. I ached for a little bit more hope. I ached for change just as I had in this one journal. I ached over my responsibility. I ached over blaming myself. I ached because I was angry with God for not changing me, for not changing the situation.

I ACHED WITH EVERYTHING INSIDE OF ME.

I didn’t want it to be for nothing and although I knew it wouldn’t just be for nothing (because I know how powerful our God is and what he can do), my mind kept telling me the opposite. I kept telling myself “Beauty for ashes, beauty for ashes, beauty for ashes!” but all I could see were the ashes (literally). After grieving until I couldn’t grieve no more, I put the journal into the fire pit and I set it on fire. Oddly enough, this journal took the longest to burn and I think it represented the depth of the pain and the length of my healing process. I watched every single page curl up, burn and turn to ash. I swirled the ashes around constantly with a stick.

My words were gone.

The books were gone.

Everything was gone.

All that was left were ashes in a pit. No evidence of the journals. A feeling beyond words. How do I describe an incomprehensible ache gently clothed in freedom? I never in a million years imagined that I would burn my journals. I never even considered it. But, I learned Thursday night that it’s not just about getting rid of the journals. It’s about truly shutting the door to the past (thank you Bro Neer) and not opening it back up. It’s about learning to let go and trusting that even if you can’t see through the muck, there is beauty on the horizon for you.

61 The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;

² To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;

³ To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.

⁴ And they shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations.  Isaiah 61:1-4 KJV

And a favorite, verse 7…

⁷ For your shame ye shall have double; and for confusion they shall rejoice in their portion: therefore in their land they shall possess the double: everlasting joy shall be unto them.

I have to remind myself daily (sometimes even by the minute) of these truths that will outshine those darkest ashes. Jesus came to bring me peace, joy and comfort even in the midst of all the muck. Despite my weaknesses, He is strong. Despite how unfaithful I am, He is faithful. Burning these journals meant more to me than I ever thought was possible. How could pages burning grieve you like no other? Once I realized the reality behind what was burning and applied it, I was wrecked. These books held every ounce of evidence of what the enemy meant for evil and what he *thought* he stole from me. Now that they are burned, I even question why I kept them at all. I am leaving my journals, the aches, the fear…everything, in the furnace. I am not saying it will be easy nor am I saying I won’t have bad days, I am saying despite that,

I will continue on.

I will persevere.

I will be new.