The Surrender of a Brokenhearted Rock
This post is written by Gloria, an attendee at the 2017 Clear Creek Women’s Retreat,
and is a testimony of God’s work in her life throughout the retreat weekend.
I really did not know what to expect. I have not been to an event like this before. I do not really know anyone at Clear Creek that well. I was mostly scared honestly. I had hoped that I might make a friend, I had hoped that I might meet God there somehow, but was afraid to really hope too much for anything. But I went anyway, with a backup, run home plan for Saturday if it turned out to be just awful!
On Friday night, everyone was welcoming. I was thrilled to see that the subject would be “Surrender”. I knew this was an area that God has been working with me on. As we worshiped that night, I sat in my seat and cried. I thought, “God I love you so much, but there is a hardness, like a brick wall, that I can’t break through. I want to serve you, but I just keep hitting my head against this brick wall.”
Tara then spoke about her kiddo who noticed that even the trees praise God as they wave their branches. Someone, I think Tricia, talked about how she felt like a rock, but if we didn’t praise God, even the rocks would cry out. I thought “This is how I feel, like a rock!” She described me! I also remember feeling relieved that maybe I was not the only one who felt so hard inside.
The evening went on, we played games late and I laughed like I haven’t laughed in months, maybe years.
Saturday came. We had our quiet time and I tried to search for God, but didn’t really feel like I got very far. I did find a very nice scripture in Romans that applied to my fear, but still I walked away from it feeling more defeated than filled.
That afternoon though, I went for another walk on the beach. I like to beach comb. I like to take things I have found and add them to the collection in my bathroom. I am a confirmed Beach-a-holic. I was actively searching for something that maybe God would have for me that would bring substance to my thoughts, or offer peace of some kind. I did not know what that might be. I saw a couple of pretty shells; perfect, unlike me. I found a pretty rock, I felt like a rock, but not a pretty one. I saved these, they were still nice.
Then, I found a black rock, shaped like a heart with a crack in the middle, looking like an old scar. I kept this too. It was interesting, and maybe this WAS me. But I did not know how such a thing was going to bring me any peace.
“Great, I am a broken heart rock! Thanks God!”
Now we come to Saturday night. Seemingly, almost from nowhere, Starla shares the song, “For All You Are”from Casting Crowns. I heard the words “I lay at Your feet, my broken heart and I’ll find my healing in your scars. All of me for all you are.” All I could think was, “Wow.”
I began to get it! The words about “Surrender”. The questions about how that should look. It began to come together for me. Jesus was showing me, through my special rock and through this song and through the words of our gracious speakers, what, for me, surrender needed to look and feel like.
Sunday morning, as we worshiped, a picture that had begun the night before materialized more fully in my mind. The Cross of Jesus, bloodstains dripping from where His hands, feet and crown of thorns had been. My Broken-Heart-Rock at the foot of the cross, crying. Yet, even though there were tears, the Blood of Jesus was dripping. It would cover the blackness, it would heal the hurt.
As I drove home a little later Sunday, I stopped at a park. A place I had only been to with my family and my recently lost Mom. I began to cry, what I call a “Momma” moment hitting me. I heard Jesus’ voice reminding gently, “Remember Gloria, to lay your broken heart at my feet.” Jesus, in His incredible grace and mercy, even brought me to this place where I could feel and experience what it meant, what it felt like, for me and my heart, to lay the hurt down at His feet.
I needed wipers on my eyes, as well as my windshield, on that ride home. But they were cleansing tears and tears of joy for the amazing grace and love poured out to me from my Savior, through all that the ladies, who planned this event, did.
Written by Gloria Jackson