The realization startled me today during church, but the truth of it resounded through my body. There are many ways to die, and I did — emotionally and spiritually.
Oh, I was still a breathing human shell — I went to work, I kept the house, I helped on the farm, I bought groceries and paid bills like any other human being you might meet. But for all intents and purposes, I was a walking corpse. My entire world crumbled to ash and life went on without me. My soul had been completely strangled to death.
Today, I feel like Lazarus.
In what I can only really describe as Divine Intervention, the worst hard time of my life slammed against the stone in front of my tomb. The shockwaves of each event rocked it and terrible revelations were like leverage points, inching it farther open. And through it all, it was like God was calling me as loudly as He called Lazarus to life: Come Forth!
And I stepped into the light, the trappings of my old, dead self slipped off like a former burial shroud.
As I stood there in church, the pastor talked about how when you find and accept God, He takes your old heart and gives you a new one. A beautiful, shining new heart that’s ready to be open and trusting and loving and isn’t broken. A vibrant heart that’s ready to Live.
Because I feel it, and I can honestly say that sometimes you have to die, in order to Live.