Too long I have lived in the shadows of
shame
Believing that there was no way I could
change
But The One who is making everything new
Doesn’t see me the way that I do
I am not who I was, I am being remade, I am
new
Dead to the old man, I’m coming alive
I Am New, Jason Grey
August 22, 2010.
I stood in a house with a group of people in a relationship
on a street in an unfamiliar neighborhood.
July 21, 2011.
My Pontiac followed his silver Altima from Pho Saigon to
a neighborhood next to the Liberty Bowl.
He pulled into the driveway of his home and I gracefully followed
behind.
As my eyes traced the street I recognized the neighboring
house.
I turned off the engine of my car and slowly closed the
door. My mind raced to retrace the
moments inside that house—to find the girl I was a year ago, to reexamine the
life that was mine then.
I remember that night as if it were yesterday. Tory killed a moth. I had an apple juice from Kroger. I met Taylor for the first time. All the girls were wearing blue. Tabitha and Allie spoke of starting a book
study.
Beneath the still waters of my smile stirred the torn
current of my heart. I was
miserable. Wracked with insecurity and
sadness, I sat among fifty people, but felt indescribably lonely.
I was part of a church, but felt homeless. I was in a relationship, but felt alone. I was lost in a search that outweighed my own
understanding.
“What is it?” he asked, walking to his front door.
“I’ve been here before,” I said. “Do you know your neighbors? Who lives there?”
“I don’t know, they just moved in about a month ago.”
I followed him up the stairs into his house, admiring the
neighboring porch on which I had sat last summer. It seemed no coincidence that God placed his
home adjacent to a house that represented a Jamie from a different time.
New tenants, I
thought.
I imagined walking through their door, through the living
room, through the kitchen and stopping at the backdoor.
I knew this house,
I would think.
I know this house.
Same walls, same rooms, same stairs, same porch, same pool. But different.
Different.
It always escapes me how much can change within a
year. Within a month. Within a week. But God always gently reminds me that change
is all around us, within us, without us—everywhere in every way.
As I thought of that house, a fondness grew within
me. I remembered the girl I once was,
and where I once stood. I admired her
and prayed for her, and hurt with her, and rejoiced with her.
God tore away at the misplaced things within her. He ripped away the poison, banded the broken
beams, painted the walls with hope, and filled the empty rooms with His gifts.
I suddenly dreamed of her inviting me in. Walls that shimmered with the touch of His
love brightened her eyes. Her closest and
most genuine friends lined the walls, smiles upon their faces. Her brokenness bandaged, she trusted and
relied on her Landlord to tend to her.
A completely different space.
A different girl.
Hours later, when I departed from my friend, I looked at
the old house with the new tenants. And
smiled.
Appreciation rose and my heart pounded with praise.
Anew.
