Journal 2019

I learned some disturbing news last night, and I immediately tried to push it out of my mind and not dwell on it. Does this mean I am letting it go, or am I trying to suppress it? I do care, but I can’t carry the weight on my shoulders for this person.

I see my friend entering a long, dark tunnel. I want to slap police tape across the entrance and yell, “No, no, don’t do it!” Reluctantly, I agree to go into that tunnel with her.

It’s spacious but dark and sloppy wet in here. I inch along the sides, terrified I’ll fall into the center where the train tracks run. I see her ahead of me, running toward the light. She seems to be okay, but I am not. Cold, wet, and miserable, I get the sense that this place of fear is familiar. I don’t have to stay here; I can see the light as well. I have a choice to make, but I feel paralyzed. There are handholds on the wall, and I’m grateful there’s a guard rail on the tracks side so I won’t fall in. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of now—maybe bats?

The tunnel is a metaphor for when I felt miserable. Yes, I lived through it, but I guess I need to acknowledge it, not bury it. I watch my step and keep walking. Suddenly I hear the roar of rushing water crashing toward me. A flash flood. I can do nothing but hold on and float. I lose my grip and fly backward toward the entrance of the tunnel. I’m shaken up, but unharmed. Now what?

I thought the water would make the tunnel pure and spotless clean, but the most it’s done is swept out the years of mud and sludge in the bottom. The rails are rusty, and the concrete walls are rough and old and pitted. Much repair is needed. This tunnel needs to be torn down and rebuilt with slick steel sides that release grime like Teflon.

And so I watch as a large work crew enters the scene to demolish the old and erect the new. It’s not perfect, but then neither am I. We are all a work in progress.

It’s easier to get through the tunnel now, and Jesus is with me, but I still have questions. This feels like a metaphor for life with birth on one end and heaven on the one. The old tunnel is the old man and the new one a rebirth. The restrictions of time and space while here on earth can be clean or dirty. Our vessels need to be honorable and pure to be conduits of His love. Living water passing through will restore, not harm me.