I recently visited Iowa for the first time. I stayed with friends who live in a world surrounded by a sea of corn. It was beautiful and creepy all in the same sentence.
Those fields brought back memories of when I was a small small child, the corn field across the road from my house, long gone now, where we would go in the fall to steal an ear of corn for tick tacking.
Early one morning, I decided to walk into the corn field, to see what I could see. The sun was rising slowly into morning. I got into the third row and stopped, the stalks towering over my head, silk tops waving in the breeze. I couldn’t go further, leave the last visages of land. I knew if I lost sight of land, I would be lost forever (or a few hours at least).
I have a story to tell. It has all the elements that make for a good drama. Death. Abuse. Lust. Intrigue. Murder. Perseverance. Determination. Survival. Love.
The kicker? It’s the story of my life. It’s not made up.
I’ve been struggling with how telling my story could possibly do any good? For me in the re-telling. For you who have never heard it before.
Some of it goes down into such deep caverns, I fear I may get lost in the darkness. You see, I was lost down there before. It’s so dark you can’t even see your hand a millimeter in front of your face.
But then another friend reminded me
Sometimes we need to invite people to look at the wounds we’ve had so that they can believe.
This time I’m not going into those deep caverns alone. I’m bringing a Light to shine in the darkness.
I know Jesus was there the first time. Yesterday, today, and forever. I believe this. I didn’t see him then. I didn’t know who I was looking for.
But now I know. Now I can remember safely. I can enter the shadowlands, like the cornfields of Iowa, keeping my eyes on the Light who will lead me back to safety.