I Knew, Anew

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.