A three braided cord is not easily broken; the three of us walked, side by side, on that cool fall day.  Krista was pouring out her encouragement over me like the melody of a sweet song, gentle and loving; reminding me of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.

“Kristen, you don’t smell like smoke.”  She gently touched my right shoulder and looked at me square in the eyes.

That lump in my throat meant I was holding back tears.  I hate to cry.  I closed my eyes and let her words wash over me; covering all the shame.

“You are standing in the middle of the fiery furnace and you don’t even smell like smoke!”

I was drawn to Krista and Christy the first time I met them, but we weren’t close.   I’ve never had many close female friends; past betrayals encouraged me to hide my heart.  I was fine by myself, thank you very much; I could take care of myself.

Yet, our daughters were close, very close.  Camp buddies, friends from church.  And between the three of us, we had nine girls.   It was sweet Krista who sent me this verse in a text during my marriage struggle.

The Lord your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.   Zephaniah 3:17

I love this verse.  The whole mighty warrior image gave me a sense of being protected; my God who would fight this battle for me.  The thought of God delighting in me poured out like salve on a third degree burn.

But the “singing” over me part, that struck me as funny, even silly.

What does that mean, He is singing over me?  My practical, logical self couldn’t quite grasp this notion.  I decided to ignore the singing over me part and I drank in the rest of the verse.

As I considered her words, the Bible story from the third book of Daniel played in my mind like a record from my childhood.  I remembered these three men with the peculiar and unpronounceable names who were thrown into a furnace.  They refused to bow down and worship a statue of their King.  Taking their stand and standing firm for His Plan; willingly stepping in to risk failure, even if that meant their own death.

I too had taken a stand.  A stand to fight for my marriage.  A stand for the promise I made to my God, regardless of the outcome.

For a year, I waited, prayed on my knees and begged God for help.  I refused the idea of a Divorce, I refused to fail.  A Divorce is failure…that was the only thing that ran through my head.  God hates Divorce.

Despite all my striving, praying, begging God, in the end, the divorce would come.  Terrified, I was driven to that day with absolutely no control.

As I walked into that mediation room, memories of our wedding day burned in my fragile heart.  Standing at the altar, during our prayer together sweet tears, wet and cold, on my cheek from the man I would marry.  Our marriage that began with such hope and promise would end on this day.

The mediator entered.  She seemed kind, but I hated her.  Not really her, but where she would be leading us.   The man that was still my husband sat somewhere in another office, just steps away, but I would not see him.

It was wrong, like a cold sterile business transaction.  I am familiar with business transactions; closing a deal and negotiating tough situations.  The end of my marriage was not something I wanted to negotiate.  Like a caged animal, I desperately wanted out of that office; running away would be easier.

Each time the mediator would enter with more negotiations; the room grew smaller and smaller, slowly suffocating me.

I used to think people who got divorced wanted to be divorced; they had given up.  But no one enters a hope filled marriage, gives of themselves wholly and expects someday that they will see its destruction. Who would sign up to endure this kind of pain?   How could I ever think anyone would really want a divorce?

Unable to escape, I stood and peered out the window, waiting for the next round, watching all the people below running around like ants; living an everyday normal life.  I longed to be one of those ants, marching along about my business.

As sunlight warmed my face, I closed my eyes and pretended I wasn’t doing this.   A familiar song began to play in my head.

Love Does

I remembered the Zephaniah 3:17 verse.  I thought, He is “literally” singing over me; like He and I had our own little inside joke.

For weeks leading up to my divorce, I had been peppered repeatedly with this song, LOVE DOES, by Brandon Heath.  I was not alone in the furnace; someone was trying to get my attention.

I had an internal drive, almost as if I was pushed to read this book!   After reading the first chapter of the book, I knew why.   Let’s just say, Bob is an “outside the box” kinda guy!   And as I’ve already revealed, I am not an “outside the box” kinda girl.

Truly…the first chapter gave me hives just thinking about someone who could operate so far outside of MY comfort zone.  I soaked up the final chapters, the day before my divorce mediation.  This was no accident, not a coincidence.

The second to the last chapter is a called “Palms Up.”  Palms up means full surrender; even with our enemies and even when we’ve been terribly wronged.

As an attorney, Bob Goff would instruct his clients during deposition to sit with their palms up under the table.  He reasoned that people with their palms up are more honest, calm, accurate…nothing to hide…nothing to lose.  People with clinched fists are defensive and afraid.

Jesus died on the cross, palms up.  

Looking out that window, I began agonizingly reciting in my head, “Lord, your will not mine, but take this cup…take this cup.”   And at once, I remembered “palms up”!  It was as if a light switch had turned on.  Taking my place at the table, I forced my hands open underneath that mediation table.

It was time for me to surrender all to HIM. 

My hands stayed open for the next thirteen hours, as I trudged through the negotiations that would be the end of my marriage and the total ripping apart of my family.   I still cried, my heart still physically ached and for sure I didn’t want to be there, but God was with me.

By the time it was time to sign the final document; my eyes were so blurry I could no longer focus on the paper.  I simply signed my name.

But I had taken my stand, not knowing the outcome; doing everything I could think of to save my marriage.  I did not smell like smoke.  I stood blameless, honoring God and believing that everything satan intended for evil in my divorce, God would use for good; for HIS glory.

It is incredibly hard, terrifyingly scary, to surrender when we don’t know the rest of the story.  This is true no matter what obstacle are facing.

In the end, it didn’t work out the way I planned, my divorce still happened.  Destruction came but that isn’t the end of the story.

As I was seeking Him and His will for my life, with my whole heart, He’s been singing over me.  Blessing me; pouring out His love over me.  And I found HIM.

When you come looking for me, you’ll find me. Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I’ll make sure you won’t be disappointed. Jeremiah 29:13 MSG

Stepping out and risking failure for God means not knowing the rest of the story.  He’s building my faith; securing my foundation, one brick at a time.  I am unafraid, to try again, to step out and trust HIM for the outcome.

That’s what it means to surrender.  HIS plan and not mine; that’s Palms up!  Our complete dependence on Him.

I now sit and rest in a new place, a place of thankfulness.  Exceedingly thankful for the hard things in life because it was in this very hard thing that I met my God, face to face.

He is rescuing me, making beauty from ashes and making all things new!