Little Boxes

She didn’t make much eye contact and her hands fidgeted with the Bible on her lap as she sat in the front passenger seat. I had just picked her up from a counseling session with a biblical counselor. She made small conversation and still had her sweet smile, but I could tell that there was lot going on in her mind.

In a lapse in the conversation, she said, “I didn’t really think I needed that, but I guess I did.” Not making the leap with her, I had to ask, “Needed what?” “Counseling . . . someone to talk through all these things with,” she replied. “Not that I can’t talk with you . . .,” she quickly added. But I was just as quick to reassure her that it was okay to want to dig deep with someone else—someone who would know better than I how to sort it all out. I shared how I thought it was so important to get all that stuff that we keep way down deep inside and bring it up into the light, sift through it, take inventory of it. Sometimes, it loses power when it is brought out in the open rather than left in the dark.

I remembered a sermon my pastor gave once. It was about a trunk in the basement with damp things that were molding and rotting. Left there, the mold would only spread to other things and the damage would become even greater than it was, destroying the very trunk that held the moldy items. But, brought up out of the basement and spread out across the yard, things would dry out. The mold could no longer grow or spread. The damage was minimized.

So it is with our “junk.” Left in the dark, it has the power to destroy us. Brought to the light, we can find resolution, reconciliation . . . redemption. It was a sermon that has really stuck with me, and I think of it often as some of these women share with me some of the things that have been molding and rotting in their core. These things that lie at the root of so many of the surface issues in their lives. And apparently that’s what the counselor had said . . . they would get to the root of her issues. And I could tell from her expression, that was a daunting prospect, indeed.

After another pause, she said, “It’s like I have made these boxes to keep those things in.” Using her hands to indicate these small, tight boxes. “Not only boxes, but walls around the boxes.” Again, the hands, indicating the walls around her imaginary boxes. I silently wondered what dark secrets she needed to work so hard to keep secret, from others . . . perhaps even from herself.

Another thoughtful pause and she began to share more of what was on her mind. “I need to create a safe place to live while we deconstruct those boxes.” Wow! “Because I want my new place to be strong and secure. I want a solid foundation, no drafts.” The depth and insight of these words were slowly sinking in as I listened, marveling at her wisdom, at her courage.

You see, this woman had been struggling with sin she didn’t even know was sin . . . before she came to know God. But now that she knew him—knew how he would have her live her life—the awareness of this sin and the battle to defeat it was rocking her world! But she was standing at this crossroads wanting to build a new life, on solid rock. On Christ! She wanted to build her life on the truths of scripture, she didn’t want the drafty winds of the culture to sway her from this newfound source of joy, and peace, and hope. If only more Christians were so determined.

Later, as I was processing this conversation, I was thinking of her “safe place.” Her descriptive gestures had indicated it was a temporary place—a place between. Between the sealed boxes and her new home, which wasn’t quite yet finished. Between who she had been and who she was to become. I thought once again of the concept of the chrysalis. The cocoon that shelters the caterpillar as it makes its transformation to a butterfly. This temporary place between the world amongst the milkweed fronds and the world of fragrant blooms, dripping with rich nectar.

In my rush to respond to what I thought God wanted to do with my latest breadcrumb, I had rushed ahead, past the closed doors on the million-dollar properties, to renting houses where these women could be transformed. I was beginning to realize that perhaps this temporary shelter was more likely to be found in relationships, in community. That, more than just a house, I was perhaps a part of this “safe place”—me, fellow believers, healthy relationships, Christian community . . . infused with unconditional love. I was becoming more and more convinced that this, indeed, was the true chrysalis, where shelter would be offered as she deconstructed her old life and got her wings. What an honor . . . what a responsibility. Lord, give me strength. Give me wisdom and courage to match hers as she builds her new home . . . with you.

“There is nothing concealed that will

not be disclosed, or hidden that will

not be made known.”

Luke 12:2 NIV

“He said to them, “Do you bring in a

lamp to put it under a bowl or a bed?

Instead, don’t you put it on its stand?

For whatever is hidden is meant to

be disclosed, and whatever is

concealed is meant to be brought

out into the open.””

Mark 4:21-22 NIV

“And let us consider how we may spur

one another on toward love and good

deeds, not giving up meeting together,

as some are in the habit of doing, but

encouraging one another—and all the

more as you see the Day approaching.”

Hebrews 10:24-25 NIV