I Can’t Find God, but I Can’t Deny Where He’s Been
How acknowledging my “ebenezer” moments brought me peace in the storm
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The adult convert
You have undoubtedly seen her — bright-eyed, tears streaming, leaning forward in her seat lest she miss a drop.
She is a sponge. She’s gone most of her life without this amazing joy, this unexplainable peace, this counter-cultural hope. She’s been captivated, plucked out of the darkness by the jaws of life.
She is the adult convert — the believer the cynic can’t dismiss. The woman with education, success and life experience. You can’t put this down to naivety or childhood indoctrination. No human convinced her.
She believes in Jesus because of Jesus.
Nothing more, nothing less.
The stories of people walking away from their faith are lost on her. No one could look away from this Light she has found. She’s warned against “dry patches” and the testing of her faith. She is dismissive.
No, I have met the God who created all things. I can talk to Him without an appointment, and He listens to me.
She will never be the same again.
This is me, plucked from the pit of despair by the only One who could help me — and help me He did.
And He has not left me for a moment since I came to believe, nearly 5 years ago. Not once.
I, on the other hand …
This was me, 4 1/2 years ago when, in a state of complete brokenness, I had my “Damascus road” experience and radically and completely ran into the arms of Jesus.
I was His, from that moment.
Life is not perfect
And now, not even 5 years later, it feels like my life is falling apart.
I’m a mess. I have PTSD as a result of the treatment I endured from my first husband, who emotionally and sexually abused me for most of our 18-year marriage. My adult son, who is severely disabled, lives with his dad, and I cannot see him.
I am heartbroken.
The abuse didn’t end when I left the marriage and, over 4 years later, after realizing that the abuse was just continuing to intensify and it would never end, I made the agonizing decision to go “no contact.”
It was the only choice I had left.
In all this grief and trauma, I am struggling to see the hand of God — the hand I have had my eyes fixed on since that amazing moment at 4 AM on 15 March 2015 when Jesus met me in my pit of despair, and I became His.
I’m in a storm.
I’m intrigued by why so many of those who despise the Christian faith use the pain and suffering in the world as some kind of evidence for the absence of God. Yet, He never says “come to me and your life will get easier.” In fact, He says quite the opposite. One of the most important verses for my life is John 16:33 (ESV):
I have said these things to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.
Jesus doesn’t save us and whip us off to the land of milk and honey for a blissful life. In fact, He promises that our life will be exactly the opposite.
So, I’m being battered about in the storm, imagining Peter and John watching Jesus sleep on a cushion, and praying for Him to show up and rescue me.
But there is help
Enter Ken Gire’s amazing book, At Peace in the Storm.
Before I came to faith in 2015, I had been down numerous dead-end paths in search of fulfillment. I was very much into New Age stuff. I had books on the law of attraction, affirmation cards, crystals and all sorts of other paraphernalia. When I came to know Jesus, it all went straight in the trash. I refused to give it away, lest someone else fall for the deception.
Then, I went and pretty much bought out my local Christian bookstore. I guess I’ve always been one of those people who likes to do things “properly,” and, to me, “properly” meant having all the right “stuff.”
Most of those books still sit unread on my bookshelf. All I’ve wanted for the last 4 plus years is God’s word. Nevertheless, last weekend I felt drawn to my bookshelf, and this practically jumped off the shelf at me.
This isn’t a book review. I’m only up to chapter 3. I look forward to reading the rest of the book. But what I needed to hear was right there in the first chapter.
Like the Hebrew people, I am able to look back at my journey and recognize a number of shipwrecks in the storms of my life. I have not, however, drowned. I’m still here. With the grace of God and the kindness of friends, I have made it through those storms. (page 14)
The author goes on to explain the fear that was crippling the Israelites as they faced the approaching Philistine warriors at Aphek, the site of an earlier devastating defeat. The Israelites had, in the lead-up to this battle, turned from their idol worship, repented of their sin, fasted and worshiped.
Against the odds, God’s people were triumphant over the enemy.
1 Samuel 7 tells how Samuel erected a stone memorial and called it Ebenezer (which means “stone of help”), so that when God’s people looked upon the memorial, they would be reminded of what God had done for them. This was new teaching for me; I haven’t read much of the Old Testament.
The writer goes on to encourage us to reflect on the ebenezer moments in our own walk with Jesus and to use those in times when He seems to not be responding to our groans. In that way, our seemingly little faith will be strengthened, and we will allow Him to bring the peace that only He can bring.
My ebenezer moments
I have experienced many significant moves of God in my relatively short walk. But, for this story, I cannot go past the moment of my conversion.
I suffered terribly in my first marriage. My first husband suffers from narcissistic personality disorder. I truly mean that he suffers. I’ve realized this just lately.
I have escaped (at a very high price that I have written about in other pieces), and I am slowly regaining my life. It is highly unlikely that he will ever change. Narcissism robs him of his joy. Tragically, it robs those around him of their joy, as well.
One of the many ways in which he used to torment me was to deprive me of sleep. Night after night, he would wake me at 1 AM and rant at me till morning.
This went on for years.
In early 2015, I made a new friend — a Christian. I went along to this friend’s church a few times. I liked it, but I found the whole thing a bit far-fetched. I wanted to believe, but I didn’t.
My then-husband was actually OK with me going to church, which was weird given how much control he wielded over my life. I later found out he thought it would “do me good” — in other words, make me obedient.
Then, in mid-March, we went through a really bad patch, with the night wakings happening every night.
I was exhausted — physically and emotionally.
On the night of the 20th, he was standing over me, ranting, telling me he was going to kill himself, that it would be my fault, and that I was not to cry at his grave.
He would not stop. I was trying to reason with the unreasonable. I was arguing with him, trying to get him to see sense.
And, while I was talking, I was saying in my head:
OK, God. If You are there, tell me what to do.
He instantly took away my voice. I was stone, cold mute.
I’m serious. For 10 minutes, I was literally speechless.
My ex stood there; I sat there. He said nothing; I could say nothing.
I wasn’t afraid; I was in awe.
After a few minutes, I stood up, hugged him and walked away — back to my room (we had been in separate rooms for years).
And I knew that all this stuff I had been listening to in church over the past few weeks about Jesus was true.
I became His.
I have never been the same.
Ebenezer Moment Number One.
It’s quite a stone monument on which I can reflect in the storm and remember just Who is in the driver’s seat, and what He is capable of.
There have been many others since
The others were not as dramatic, but they were faith building, all the same.
But we are already at a 7-minute read, so I’ll save them for another story.
What are your ebenezer moments?
I have learned, thanks to Ken Gire, to hold on to my ebenezer moments in turbulent times.
We cannot always calm our own storms. Sometimes we are called to endure, experience His peace, and wait in faith. I am learning, as I endure, to
remember the wonders He has performed (Psalm 105:5, NLT).
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