“Be alert; the devil prowls like a lion looking for someone to devour.” ~ 1 Peter 5:8
It was the call she’d been
dreading, but expecting. Her Dad was
homeless; an alcoholic miscreant who once served his country with honor.
“I’m so sorry, Sofia,” Mom said. “He’s gone.”
He’d been found unconscious in an alley after a heart
attack. A part of her had always remained
hopeful; maybe he’d change, find God, find anything. It never happened; his demons always won.
For weeks after his funeral, she
remained consumed by grief. You’d think that
she’d been used to his absence. Sofia
ached for happy memories. All she saw
was Drunk Dad – absent from birthdays, holidays, everything. Yet her mind remained heavy with regrets; so much
left unsaid, guilt that she should’ve done more.
Their last conversation offered
a ray of hope - he’d just moved into another shelter. Finally, a roof over his head. Maybe he could find a job … teach his
grandson to fish ... come for Christmas.
Then, just as before, it all went south.
Dad returned to the streets.
Sleep had become a rare phenomena as her grief mounted. Would it ever lift?
But tonight, she was dreaming.
She noticed a figure under a baseball cap hidden behind
layers of filth; eyes fixed on nothing at all.
Sofia couldn’t tell who it was until they looked up: the image was of
her own self.
But Sofia couldn’t move her arms, legs, nothing. As her fear registered, breaths became shallow. She wouldn’t waste air on stupid things like crying or screaming.
From behind, Sofia sensed a
presence. Her body still immobile, the spirit
approached and lifted something from her back.
Slowly, then all at once. The
force that’d been weighing her down came off as easily as a blanket.
She stood upright, stretched her
arms and searched for whatever had freed her, to thank them, to ask it questions.
But it had vanished … as quickly
as it arrived.
Her eyes snapped open.
She sat up in her own bed; morning sun peeking through the blinds. Everything was as she’d left it. Yet something was different - the burden
she’d felt since Dad’s death was gone.
The most reassuring sensation
took its place. Dad was okay! He was at peace. He was loved.
He was finally free. And Sofia was
too!
There are two kinds of guilt. One’s a friend who leads you to contrition
and forgiveness. The other is a relentless
foe who taunts and condemns. False guilt
arises when you blame yourself even though you’ve committed no wrong or when
you continue to blame yourself after you’ve confessed and turned from your sin.
No psychotherapy could ever compare with God’s Word (“I will
remember your sins no more!”), to clear the conscious of guilt, shame, and condemnation
of past sins.
Loving Father, however deep our pain,
however fierce our anger, and however numbing our grief, we know You are there witnessing
our sorrow, holding out Your loving arms, and taking our pain upon Yourself. Thank You
