Conflict reminds me of a washing machine. We servants are the clothes, available to be used by the Lord, but often soiled from the battle and in need of cleansing. The Holy Spirit's water softens us, and God's detergent, His Word, scours out even the deepest stain. There we are, rolling and tumbling through the cleansing cycles: slapping up against each other, all being sanctified together, squeezed and dried out, then refreshed with another anointing of the Spirit. We get confused, thinking the pain caused by the zippered jacket colliding into us is its fault, when really it's all part of the cleansing cycle powered by the Sovereign One who threw us in there together in the first place.
When my husband and I were more than halfway through our second term of church planting in a Middle Eastern country, I experienced conflict's wake-up call. Since our arrival six years earlier with our five-month old baby, I had learned the language, had two more children, hosted Friday night seeker meetings, hosted Sunday teas for 40 people, started Sunday school for the local children, and led two people to Christ. Having seen a church planted during the first term, a subtle sense of pride settled in our bones; and behind closed doors, we questioned aloud why others hadn't been as "successful" as we had. I never expected the jolt God had in store, His blow to my gut that kept me doubled over for a long time.
Three weeks before Christmas our team leaders delivered to us a six-page letter outlining our problems, and the news that we were being sent off the field indefinitely for counseling. The blow intensified when they said we should leave before Christmas. That meant getting rid of our household goods, taking our children out of school, moving to an unknown location, and enrolling our children in a new school – all in less than a month.
Conflict reminds me of a washing machine. We servants are the clothes, available to be used by the Lord, but often soiled from the battle and in need of cleansing. The Holy Spirit's water softens us, and God's detergent, His Word, scours out even the deepest stain.
My humiliation and the huge tasks at hand weighed so heavily on me that I found myself crying every ten minutes. In my pain, I regressed to my childish approach to Bible study. I let the Book fall open, determined to read until God spoke to my heart. Graciously, God spoke immediately; and the bleach of Psalm 52 poured over me.
"...The loving kindness of God endures all day long..."
I was reminded that in God's love and sovereignty, He allowed this to happen.
"...Your tongue devises destruction..."
Yes, my tongue was only too ready – poised to exaggerate the offense and destroy my leaders for mistreating me.
"But God will break you down forever...He will snatch you up, and tear you away from your tent..."
Ouch, ouch, ouch! Wasn't this what was happening to my family?
"Behold, the man who would not make God his refuge, but trusted in the abundance of his riches..."
Riches galore filled my past: my aptitude to learn a second language, my ministry successes, even my Bible knowledge and ability to make friends fed my inflated self-confidence. But only God produces fruit that lasts. I couldn't take the credit away from God.
As I sat before my Heavenly Father, tears streaming down my cheeks and my heart breaking with the impact of His truth, God nudged me to finish reading the Psalm.
"But as for me, I am like a green olive tree in the house of God...I will give thanks to Thee, because Thou hast done it."
No one can remove the self that rules our hearts and chokes the Holy Spirit residing within us. God must do this for us by exposing our sin and leading us to confession, thus conforming us to the beautiful image of His Son.
An illustration from C. S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia series came to mind, an excerpt from his third book The Voyage of the Dawn Treader that I never understood. The great lion Aslan, by his claws, pierced through young Eustace's dragon skin, removing the ugly skin that Eustace could't take off himself. Through my painful trial, I came to understand that illustration. No one can remove the self that rules our hearts and chokes the Holy Spirit residing within us. God must do this for us by exposing our sin and leading us to confession, thus conforming us to the beautiful image of His Son.
I remembered the words of a dearly respected local believer. His response to any frustrating or humbling experience was, "Praise God, let the 'old man' die." My heart sang Hallelujah!
During that second term, God turned our washing machine dial to "heavy soil/white," a hot-water wash and rinse, and taught us that all He needs to reach the world is "clean cloths." The sooner I'm softened by the Spirit, scoured by the Word, and cleansed of all my stains, the sooner I'm out of the machine and ready to be worn by my owner again.
We did eventually return to the mission field where my husband and I worked alongside the people with whom we had been in conflict. And if you were to ask them, they would probably tell you that they came out of the machine a little brighter too!
~ By Devri Wickwire
