{when you've been kicked out of the Garden}

Imagine Adam and Eve walking with God in the Garden. Enjoying the cool of the day, talking, communing, loving and being loved. A perfect intimacy. The Garden reality. Adam had been created for a purpose, appointed and anointed for his work in the garden.

I remember that feeling. Of knowing I was exactly who God created me to be. Hearing His voice. Enjoying His company. Walking with Him in the cool of the day. There was work, but the work was alongside Him and for Him and so that work seemed as rest to me. That work was where I found contentment and pleasure in loving Him and loving His people.

I remember

I remember that intimacy.

I remember encouraging others that just as Adam walked with God in the cool of the day, so can you! That the “Garden reality” is still available to us today… intimacy. Knowing. Loving and being loved. Walking bare before Him and NOT EVEN RECOGNIZING your nakedness.

Not even recognizing your nakedness. Your vulnerability. Your failures. Being so close to Him that you feel the covering of His perfect love. That you rest beautifully, perfectly, in the comfort of His presence.

I remember what that was like.

Walking with God in the cool of the day.

But then there is also THIS. This place that I’m in now. This place that is so difficult to articulate. This place of knowing what a good, loving, purpose-filled God He is… this place of remembering intimate moments worshiping Him in my living room- Misty Edwards blaring and hands waving and tears streaming and a heart EXPLODING with adoration… this place of remembering those things as though they were both yesterday and a lifetime away.

And I wonder

I wonder if this is how Adam and Eve felt when they were kicked out of the Garden? Did they look back at those times of intimacy? Did they have this eternal longing to be again in His presence? Did they understand what had been lost? Did they even know?

I have to believe they did. Because I do. As hard as I try to push back that remembrance of what once was, I cannot escape it. I cannot escape it and…

And I understand

I understand what it feels like to be alone. To feel like you can’t even hear His voice. To be so wrapped in darkness you aren’t really sure how to pursue the Light you once danced in so freely.

I understand.  I understand what it is like to be so vibrantly and painfully aware of your nakedness that your only instinct is to hide.  To hide from others, to hide from yourself, and when you hear His footsteps in the cool of the day… to hide from Him.

I understand. I understand what it is like go from the confidence of knowing you have been anointed and appointed for a work to being crippled by the fear of failure.

To be afraid to open the pages of your Bible because you are TERRIFIED of what that mirror is going to look like.

To avoid His people because the weight of their judgment, real or imagined, is too much to bear.

To leave a stack of cards from one of the most beautiful hearts you have encountered unopened because you simply cannot face the promise that you know lies within them. The encouragement. The Truth.

I understand

I wonder

I remember what I do not want to recall in my darkness. I recall a passage of Scripture, studied deeply, etched into my heart for such a time as this, a time when His Word lay dormant on my end table.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you. Psalm 139:11-12

And in that, a gentle whisper from the other side of that Garden gate… a voice into my darkness saying,

I still see you. 

{when i gave up on my marriage}

I remember the days when I was ready to give up. When it was hard to love you. When it was hard to love me. I remember loud, violent fights. I remember throwing things and screaming in your face. I remember slapping you trying to evoke a response.

Such a bitter wife you had, Jim. Such a broken, confused, bitter wife. Full of sin and sadness and hatred.

I remember words that tore you down. Cut to the quick. I remember betrayal. I remember hurt. I remember chasing anything that might make me feel whole... or that would numb the pain I knew inside.

I remember giving up. Knowing in my heart that we weren't going to make it. That there was no way. Imagining what it would be like to not have my children on the weekends.

And then, oh then… the unexpected.

Then I bumped into Jesus.

Looking back, He had been there all along, pursuing, wooing, calling… but this time I realized it was Him. This time I was ready to relent. This time I was ready to give up and give in and throw my heart into His hands…

And slowly He began to heal the hurt, the hate, the bitterness… the brokenness he found there.

You didn’t understand what was going on. You saw me going to church on Sunday and yet during the week I was still this mess of a wife sometimes. It was such a struggle between who I had become and who I was becoming. I walked out my fledgling faith so poorly before you at first.

But things were changing at the heart level.

And even that day when I stood in our empty house with tears streaming down my face saying  ”God, this is IMPOSSIBLE! He hates me now! I have ruined everything!!! Tell me God, how in the world can we NOT get divorced?” Even when everything in me said there was no way, we had gone too far, said too much, hurt too deeply… I wanted to turn that sinking ship around and find shore before we drowned.

It seemed impossible. Everyone could see it. Our family, our friends, our children.

And then, there are the prayers of a three year old. There are the prayers of a three year old girl in her bed that no one knew about until last year… there are prayers of a little girl saying “God, please don’t let mom and dad get divorced.”

And God was listening.

Slowly, I learned what it meant to really follow Jesus. How to love like Him, even when it was hard. How to bite my tongue when everything in me wanted to argue or nag or convince. How to walk as a Godly wife, in submission even to one who did not yet believe.

And then, I gave up for real. I  realized that I couldn't fix what I had broken, only God could do that. I couldn't undo the hurt I had caused, only God could do that. I couldn't make my husband fall in love with me again, only God could do that.  

It was not me, but Jesus in me… refining and teaching me through this marriage.  It was Jesus fanning the flame of my first love and giving me the want to to make it work. It was Jesus listening to a little girl’s pure and simple prayer to keep her family together. It was Jesus teaching me how to love my husband with His love.

Jim, it was hard. It was hard to know what a bitter wife I had been to you. It was hard to know that the words you spoke out of hurt, came from wounds I placed there. I am so sorry, babe… I am so sorry.

And then Jesus called this one with so many words to live a quiet life before her husband. To love you well, even when it was hard. To let you lead, even when I thought I knew a better plan. He told me to get so completely out of the way, that He would have direct access to your heart. I was learning how to love you like Jesus does.

And we began to fight again. Not with each other, but for our marriage.

We fought with the tools of compromise and apologies and patience and perseverance.

Ours is truly a love worth fighting for. When I’m driving down the road and I think about the way your smile explodes into your eyes… I still get butterflies. When you sneak behind me in the kitchen and kiss my neck… there is still electricity.  The love I have in my heart for you has never been this big or this pure or this full of admiration.

You amaze me, Jim Boyles. You amaze me with your quiet love. You amaze me with your quiet service. You amaze me with your gentle care of me. The way you flirt with me and make me feel pretty. Figuring out how to make all my favorite foods gluten free.  Giving me the space to chase hard after Jesus. The way you care for others: building bedrooms for dreamed-of-children, mowing lawns without ever being asked, rescuing from the side of the road, coaching little men in so many more things than baseball and football- but also character and integrity and sportsmanship.

Thank you for not giving up on me. On us. On our family.

Friends, if you are at the end of your rope… ready to throw in the towel and walk away. Know this… God is able. He is able to take something that is broken and hurting and make something beautiful. He is able to take a marriage that is coding and bring new life. He is able to take your bitterness and replace it with love, your anger and give you gentleness, your hopelessness and give you HOPE. He is able. If He was able to take the mess that was Jim and Becky Boyles and create the beauty that we now know, truly He is able to do anything. 

I won't sugar coat it and tell you that the journey was easy- it was not. There were few steps forward and many steps back. But when I look over at the man driving us to church on a Sunday morning, my heart explodes with praise to the God that restores. I thank God that He gave me a heart of surrender in my marriage! I thank God that He showed me how to love this man well...