Deluge and Deliverance

Last night I had one of those zombie-style, half-thought-half-dreams.

I was living alone confined to the house (some other house, not one we currently own). For whatever reason, I could never go outside. In this house the faucets dripped constantly, both in the bath and kitchen. Over a period of years the drips turned into dribbles, and over decades the dribbles became great gushing streams. At first, the constant flow seemed a minor annoyance and inconvenience. But as the volume of water increased, it eventually overwhelmed the drains until they could not keep up.

Water overflowed EVERYWHERE. It ran through the halls day and night, and covered every floor. It dripped from the ceilings, ran down the walls, and accumulated in the downstairs at levels of a foot or more.

The flow of water never let up, but, in fact, only continued to increase. I bailed with buckets and mopped and mopped until I was blue in the face, but couldn’t control the water levels and subsequent damage. The whole house smelled like mildew and rot, and many of my furnishings were destroyed and completely unusable. I waded all day in the water with cold feet and lay down on a soggy mattress every night. Because of my isolation, I was unable to clear out any of the damaged goods that continued to decay and make conditions close-to-intolerable. My possessions just sat there and deteriorated as I watched.

Every now and then well-wishers called on the phone or tapped on the window. “God’s strength is made perfect in weakness,” they’d say. Or, “God won’t tempt you beyond what you are able to bear.” Or, “Tribulation works patience, and patience, experience, and experience, hope. So be hopeful!”

Finally one day I lost it. The confinement, sickening stench, threat of ever-increasing amounts of rushing water, and chill of dampness to the depths of my soul – it all sent me to the only high ground I could access: the roof.

Hurrah! There I could finally breathe without fear of contamination, bask in sunlight, and feel the wind in my face. However, I realized I had absolutely no necessities or protection from the outdoor elements up there. How could I keep my balance with the steep pitch, let alone possibly LIVE on a rooftop?

I’d stood on the roof only a very few minutes when it mysteriously began to shudder beneath me. I lay down so as not to fall off, and the portion where I lay was let down, slowly, BACK INTO THE INTERIOR OF THE HOUSE.

Down inside once again in the midst of the flowing water and general mayhem caused by water damage, I was shocked to be greeted, as in the story of Mark 2:1-12, by Jesus Himself. “Your sins are forgiven. Pick up this piece of roof (your mat) and be willing to live at home.”

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My interpretation? The water is my tinnitus – a very private, chronic, sometimes-bone-chilling rush of inner noise that threatens to control much of my life. I conversely try to control it and/or escape, but can’t – it only escalates and becomes more insistent as time passes. Other people encourage me with correct and optimistic admonitions, and yet my flesh is weak. When I retreat and seek relief, I never win and end up stuck in the same spot…only in this case, I ended up in the presence of Jesus who promised to cleanse and empower me RIGHT THERE in the midst of my disabling circumstances.

Moral? This only reinforces what I’ve come to know in recent years. Jesus offers healing IN THE MIDST OF pain. Restoration is not somewhere else, or some other time, but in the present moment in the form of spiritual graces – something I cannot manufacture or fake.