Stepping into the Light

computer generated image by Billy AlexanderAfter a recent marriage maintenance group breakfast-slash-counseling session which my husband and I facilitated, I got to thinking about the pain people put each other through. I thought about how much it hurts to have one’s heart broken and wondered why some people who’ve been through it don’t work harder to avoid it happening again.

From personal experience I can testify that a broken heart is almost indescribable. The closest explanation I can muster for the abysmal state of brokenheartedness is to evoke pain like a rushing river into which you’ve been thrown. As you’re breathlessly struggling to escape the river’s cold current you notice the shore is made of broken glass, so you wonder if you shouldn’t just let the river kill you, except that you’re inexplicably not heavy enough to drown. The river seems to be separating you from love forever and your grief is so great you can’t see around it.

Later that day, back at home, I picked up a pen and notepad to try writing a cohesive commentary on why I need Jesus. I’d given myself that assignment a few days earlier and didn’t think anything I’d come up with was compelling enough to convey the passion Jesus deserves. As I ruminated on the refuse He’d swept from my soul and the way His love had changed the quality of mine, I wrote down, "From what did Jesus save me?"

From what did Jesus save me? The stock answer to that question is that He saved me from an eternity in hell. But what does "hell" mean? Then it hit me―a broken heart. Jesus saved me from an eternally broken heart, because that’s what hell must be―knowing you are separated for all time and beyond from the One who loves you unconditionally; never again to be aware of the presence of El Elyon, The Most High God, not even in the scent of a rose or the tender warmth of spring sunshine on your skin.

What’s even more amazing, at least the way I see it, is that Jesus died not only to save my heart from breaking eternally, but also to save me from breaking the heart of God.

We’ve all heard of parents (even if not ours) saying to their children before meting out punishment, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you." That’s hard for a kid to understand perhaps, but most parents do hate having to administer the consequences for their children’s misdeeds and wish more than anything that their offspring would never give them reason to reprimand.

How much would it hurt most parents to raise children so rebellious that they simply take off running, never to be seen by their parents again? How much more would it hurt God for you or me to take off running straight into hell? Well, I don’t know about you, but that’s exactly what I was doing (quiet as it was kept) until the love of Jesus stopped me and turned me around seven and a half years ago. That’s the definition of repentance―to stop and turn around.

Jesus gave his life so that once I turned around I could enter into God’s presence―into the Most Holy Place (Exodus 26:33-34). I can talk to God in my own words. People may turn their backs and break my heart, but no one can separate me from God (Romans 8:35). That’s why I need Jesus.