I believe that every person who has ever lived is within the reach of God, his rescue, his redemption, his salvation & healing, and his love. Each person has the God-given right and responsibility to receive that gift, if and when he chooses. I’m the most needy of all, so I don’t share from a one-up attitude; I’m sharing about how frustrating it is to know what God has available to us (I’m always discovering there’s more than I knew of) but not seeing much receiving going on. What frustrates me is that though God makes a gift available, he doesn’t force the receiver. He woos us, lights things up so we’ll give it a look, take note, consider. His gift can be refused, even when the choice to deny it is a guarantee of harming others. What can be done? Anything? Nothing?

I’ve wrestled with this for years; really, about 12 years now and found that I could do nothing to make anyone desire to receive God’s gift. He does the inviting in His own time and in His own way. The wisest place for me to be is in the middle of His will, and in this case, that’s with my hands-off. Out of the respect of others and their freedom within the context of relating to God and living their best life, sometimes God asks us to let things go. In the case of the closest relationships, letting go is really, really, really painful. It’s excruciating. I never realized before what an idol I had built in my heart and how much I had invested in keeping a dream alive. Alone. And it didn’t work. It doesn’t work.

Remember the story of Lot’s wife, how she didn’t take seriously God’s command to leave the city, turned her gaze back at the home she loved and didn’t want to leave, and turned into a huge block of salt? Remember that? I always thought, wow, what a loser! Why did she do such a stupid thing? Why would she look back at all? Now, when I read about that day I think I have an idea. I think she may have loved that crazy city, and her heart was dying inside over the loss of her home there. We don’t realize how our reluctance to let go and our longing gaze back for something can really screw things up. Do you think that maybe one reason Lot and his daughters didn’t turn around and look back was because of the freakish event of watching Mrs. Lot change into a huge salt-sculpture? It would have convinced me! I’m no dummy. But when it comes to my own life and leaving something very significant behind, my way of life, my dreams of my future, I’ve been even more reluctant. And I’ve looked back more times than the grains of salt she became.

My divorce was final in December, ending 19 years of marriage. I’m well into the healing process since we’ve been separated almost 2 years now, but I’m numb and aware of acute pain at the same time. I experience anger, frustration, compassion, forgiveness, regret, and sorrow in the same hour. Rollercoaster doesn’t satisfy the need for a metaphor. Storm, maybe. Tornado or tsunami or earthquake, even, but rollercoaster is much too mild. No wonder our society is a mess with all of us divorcees living among you. Time-bombs everywhere! Be careful who you cut-off in traffic, you know?

Divorce recovery materials say you can’t really put a time limit on someone’s healing process. It sort of relates to how much the marriage meant to you, and although I’m fine with acknowledging that it meant the world to me, I really don’t want to be hurting the rest of my life about this. I want to walk through this and arrive at a different destination. Whole. That journey looks like a long road to me right now. It helps that we’re still caring friends and have been able to love our kids without the bitterness. It helps quite a bit. But the sadness lingers.

I have a little diversion on the subject of Mrs. Lot of Genesis in the Bible. By doing this I am in no way comparing my marriage to life in Sodom (lest anyone try to make that connection.) But I am relating to the state of this woman’s mind and how she had no idea what the consequence of her actions would be. I bet no one’s ever written a tribute to her, so here you go, Mrs. Lotta-Salt.

I think I may understand you. I understand that even as messed up as your home city was when God called you out, you had grown to love your life there. I’m not saying I would have agreed with you about the reality of the living situation. Obviously your daughters were in danger if your husband offered to prostitute them to the sex addicts at his door, but other than that, you know, it was probably a nice place, chock-full of culture and great places to eat and be entertained. I understand how it had become your reality, how you may have lived in a fantasy-world to make your life survivable. You may have even believed that you were completely obeying God by remaining there with Lot. Heavens, I know if I had previously lived a migratory life it would have been nice to park there for awhile. It’s in our nature to nest down and make a home, right? I recant having labeled you a fool and a loser. You were human, a woman who wanted a home and had become attached to a very unhealthy environment. I hope that when Jesus was in the grave and went to those who were asleep/dead before his coming, when he preached to you and told you about whom he was and how he would provide a rescue for you and the whole world from our sin; I hope you ran to him. I hope you believed. I hope you accepted the gift.

When I get to heaven, if it’s possible I want to meet Mrs. Lot and tell her that if I had been her, I probably would have done the same thing. I’d also tell her how thankful I am for the Savior, who forgives our looking back, our idol-making hearts, and takes us and makes us the good salt of the earth. I guess that’s where I land today, praying that this idol-worshipping life of mine begins to be good salt and a taste of what life can be when we receive God’s gifts for us fully.

May there be plenty of salt on your table this week! And may it remind you to trust God’s lead. He doesn’t ask us to look back, He asks us to follow and love Him with all our hearts. If our treasure is loving Him, there’s nothing behind us that can compare. Next time your heart is weak and you start to look back over your shoulder at some empty promise the world has offered, I challenge you to answer, “No, thanks. Moving forward, moving on.”

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