Chapter One
Tattered Hearts,
Topsy-Turvy World
If I had to choose a logo, one that represented my life, it would
have to be a U-Haul. The only folks I know who have moved as
frequently as my family are the Israelites from the Book of Exodus.
Through almost forty years my husband, Les, and I have hauled our
belongings from one dwelling to another at least every five years in
search of, uh, manna, I reckon. People ask why we've relocated so
often. I've learned to quip, "To keep down the dust bunnies."
The truth is the Exodus bug bit my hubby at a very young age, and he
just loves to wander. Oh, we never go far-we've lived in the same
town most of our thirty-nine years of marriage. But Les just goes
and goes and goes. Like the famous pink rabbit whose batteries keep
his furry feet padding around life's landscape, he gives new
dimension to the term "bunny hop."
Early in our marriage I didn't mind the hopping around. In fact, it
felt like an adventure. But after the first fifteen moves, I grew
weary of cardboard boxes and broken stuff.
Honestly, I've never had a move, no matter how close by, that we
didn't lose, break, or damage some of our belongings. I've become
quite adept at repairing skinned furniture, gluing chipped
figurines, and patching fabric tears. Inevitably tables are jammed
against doorframes, glass is cracked in transport, and protruding
thingamabobs snag cushions.
Once, in a family effort to move our items into a home, we formed a
bucket brigade between the truck and the new house to pass along our
belongings. In the handoff a world globe was being tossed from one
set of youthful hands to another, when it tumbled to the ground,
jolted down the driveway, and crashed into the mailbox post. The orb
split in two, right along the equator.
"You've broken my world," I whimpered.
The helpers rolled their eyes at my acute case of melodrama.
"Don't worry, honey. I'll glue it back together later," my husband
assured me.
Sure enough, after a few days Les, the mobile fix-it man, repaired
the cracked globe. Although I must say it never sat properly on its
axis again, and I noted, even though great effort had been taken,
the hemispheres didn't match up. Also, some noticeable scars were
left across the earth's terrain from the raucous journey.
Perhaps your world has been broken in a similar fashion. Perhaps a
job loss, a divorce, a serious illness, or a death has split your
heart in two.
Ah, herein lies the premise for this book: Can one exist in a
fractured world with any sense of a fixed reference? If our hearts
and dreams have been broken or scarred by life's journey, how might
we recover? Must we be ongoing victims of rocky circumstances,
careless people, and deliberate potshots hurled by our enemies? How
can we experience comfort in the midst of heartbreak? I know I've
asked myself these questions.
Tattered Hearts
Twenty-five years ago, as a young adult, circumstances felt as if
they had spun out of control, and I was so emotionally frayed that
everyday activities (such as washing dishes) overwhelmed me.
Depression, insecurity, fear, guilt, and anger dominated my terrain.
And the hemispheres of my brain didn't seem to match up, which left
my thoughts scattered and my heart scarred.
My world was reduced to the four walls of my home-actually to the
size of my mattress, for I feared to leave the safety of my bed. I
waited for God to rescue me. And he did. But not at all in the way I
expected. I'll tell you more about that later in the book, but
here's a little glimpse at how I still have twinges of aftereffects
from that time, when my heart was so damaged.
Last November I spoke at a conference held on a Caribbean cruise
ship. Since this was my first cruise, I was a bit apprehensive about
leaving land so far behind. I mean, what if we were in surround-sea
and I wanted to get off? I don't swim, and I wasn't sure how far one
could dog-paddle nor did I want to find out. I'm grateful that, once
we set sail (I've always wanted to say that), I loved the sea, and I
found even the vigorous waves added a pleasing rhythm to the ride.
At one of our ports, I signed up for a small submarine excursion 125
feet below the water level. When I read about it in the brochure, I
thought it would be an adventuresome thing to do, but as we boarded
the minuscule, bobbing vehicle, I was having second thoughts. Inside
the sub were two long, wooden benches where the passengers sat
shoulder-to-shoulder with those next to them and back-to-back with
those behind them. Quite cozy. Reminiscent, actually, of sardines
tucked ever so friendly-like in an oily can, minus the oil. We all
faced windows that allowed us to view the undersea world. As the
craft descended, I realized, ready or not, I was committed. Glub,
glub, glub.
We witnessed schools of darting fish, strange eels sticking eerily
out of the sand like crooked sticks, various sea urchins, and hills
and valleys. I was enthralled. I hadn't realized how many dimensions
the ocean's terrain offered or how fascinating I would find it to
see underwater life skimming by. One of my greatest delights was
when a large turtle wafted past us. Those creatures might be
bulldozers on land, but in the water they are wondrous sea-angels.
Before I realized it, we were surfacing, and I climbed out, pleased
for the experience. But on the way back to the cruise ship, I was
surprised to hear comments from some of the other sub participants.
"Well, that was disappointing." "I didn't think it was worth the
price." "I thought it would be more colorful."
"Dull, if you ask me."
I was amazed. Why, I would have paid the price many times over for
the watery show. But then I realized that the greatest part of the
experience for me was that I had done it at all. Twenty-five years
ago, I had collected a myriad of fears and had become an
agoraphobic. And even though since then I've traveled a long, open
road of freedom, I still have fears to face (like stuffed submarines
descending into the ocean). So, while our submarine ride was just a
side note for others, for me the excursion was an exhilarating
victory. As Louisa May Alcott said, "I am not afraid of storms for I
am learning to sail my ship."
Nowadays I travel around the country speaking to thousands of people
about the God who sets prisoners free, mends broken hearts, and
comforts the hurting, the lonely, and the lost. And I ought to know.
Today I believe in miracles. Out of brokenness can come good:
Character can be deepened, relationships can be restored, emotions
can be steadied, and a mind can be healed. Now, isn't that
miraculous?
Please note: I'm not a counselor or a pastor; I'm merely a cracked
pot seeking superglue for my own heart in this topsy-turvy world. As
a matter of fact, last year, when upheaval revisited my life, I
turned to Scripture in search of healing for my tattered self-image
and for counsel regarding some damaged relationships. In the Book of
Nehemiah I discovered insight, instruction, and encouragement. In
fact, I found it so mentally stabilizing, emotionally comforting,
and spiritually enriching that I wanted to share it with others-I
wanted to share it with you. I pray that together we can draw from
the trying experiences of Nehemiah's people to help us all-even when
our world is askew.
Topsy-Turvy World
This broken world is full of hazards and dangers; our daily lives
are filled with examples.
"Hold Mommy's hand, and don't let go," a young woman sternly
cautioned her wide-eyed child at the grocery store.
"Did you lock the car doors?" a wife quizzed her husband as they
entered the neighborhood post office.
"Whatever you do, don't set down your briefcase even for a minute,"
a coworker reminded her traveling companion at a bustling airport.
"Cover the keypad while you dial," whispered a father to his teenage
daughter in a restaurant.
"We'd better stick our packages in the trunk," prompted one shopper
to another when they stopped for coffee.
We live in a day when vigilance is necessary even in Small Town,
U.S.A., lest we become the next victim in this fractured world. And
it only takes one time of being threatened, cheated, or worse,
accosted in some harmful way, to cause one's heart to fill with fear
and dread. One brick through a windshield, one psycho driver on the
freeway, or one desperate gunman, and we are reminded how vulnerable
we are.
Recently a woman in her late fifties approached my book table at a
conference where I was speaking. She was using a cane, and obviously
she had trouble getting around. I noted her struggle, and I figured
she had gone through hip surgery. But as we chatted, she told me
that she and her husband were dragged from their car, beaten, and
left for dead by young men trying to qualify for a gang. She said
her husband was still facing several surgeries to fuse his spine. I
was stunned at how torn their hearts must be as their world was
brutally ripped apart.
Yet it doesn't take strangers, gang members, or thieves to teach us
our defenselessness, does it? A reckless parent, a thoughtless
teacher, a well-meaning friend, or a beloved child can leave a trail
of pain across our tender hearts. Not to mention our own foolish
choices, inappropriate responses, and sinful tendencies. Then add
life's calamities such as fierce storms, financial reversals, and
loved ones' deaths. No, we don't even have to stray out our front
doors to find life can be brutal, people can be dangerous, and often
we add to the problem.
"Golly, what's the good news?" you ask. "Hurry, please."
Yes, we live in a hazardous world, where jolts and crashes leave us
whiplashed and broken. But I believe we will learn from Nehemiah
some liberating truths that will enable us to shore up our interior
strength, renovate our minds, repair some breaches, and guard our
vulnerable hearts. Also, we will enter into victory celebrations,
which in contrast to this jagged-edged world, is good news-yes, good
news indeed!
Before we begin our journey, let's set the stage for the time period
we'll be looking at. Nehemiah lived during the reign of the Persian
king Artaxerxes, which was from 464 to 424 B.C. Even though Nehemiah
was in the upper echelon of servants because he had access to the
Persian king and queen, he was a servant nonetheless. Born into
captivity, he had known no other life yet had a deep passion for his
Jewish homeland and his people. Jerusalem had lain in ruin for about
150 years, its walls destroyed by enemies, its gates burned, its
homes and temple plundered. Its people were too demoralized,
fearful, and scattered to attempt to rebuild the city. The broken
world of Jerusalem lay heavy on the heart of this servant man, who
longed to see the city restored and his people gathered together
again. Nehemiah's destiny was established in his name, which means
"Jehovah comforts." Jehovah's hand obviously was on Nehemiah as the
servant became not only the leader of his people but also a
comforter to them.
The story of how Nehemiah brought God's people together and brought
comfort to their war-tattered hearts is found in the Old Testament.
Nehemiah's book is situated between the Book of Ezra, who was a
priest, and the Book of Esther, who was a queen. A priest, a queen,
and a servant . yes, God uses individuals from different walks of
life to bring solace to his people. And Nehemiah's book, believed to
be taken from his personal journals, is written with great warmth.
From his emotional response to his people's needs, to his
determination to rebuild Jerusalem, we find that Nehemiah, like a
well-built wall, was a man of strong convictions and fortitude.
As we enter into Jerusalem's broken world, we'll see how God kindled
a passion and a vision in Nehemiah's heart and raised him up not
only to rebuild a city and a people but also to touch our troubled
hearts.
To help accomplish that purpose, at the close of each chapter, I've
written a section called "Heart Menders" that will offer questions
designed, first, to help us personally to consider the scriptural
truths, drawing them into our minds. Second, the questions are
written to stir our hearts toward healing, that we might know God's
comfort.
Perhaps you, like me, often are tempted to skitter through material
instead of taking the time to pause and reflect on what was said and
how it fits inside you. The "Heart Menders" will slow us down for
some contemplative moments. If, while you're reading, you feel a
twinge of interest in a particular story, quote, question, or
Scripture, rest there for a time and ask the Holy Spirit to
illuminate your mind. He may want to guide you to a new pinnacle of
truth, lift your face to the Father, or enfold you in his tender
mercies. And who would want to miss that? Not me! When we are quiet
before the Spirit of God, we are far more likely to be aware of his
holy nudges, his gentle stirrings, and his tender counsel. I pray
that, instead of only gathering information, we would integrate
truths into our lives, receiving godly insight, divine healing, and
blessed comfort.
NEXT
Nehemiah's world temporarily is turned upside down to reestablish
the direction of his life. Hmm, you mean the disastrous can work out
to be the miraculous?
(Continues.)
