I scribbled the question posed by the spiritual director in three different places, so every time I sat down, I’d feel the gentle nudge to think on it. It’s a simple question, but I didn’t immediately know how to answer it.
“How has God been working in your life in recent months?” he’d asked.
I knew this wasn’t the kind of question I could respond to with five minutes of thought and a hastily written list. I’m of the forgetting kind–the kind whose brain swims full with details and words and images and feelings. It allows little room for particularities to float to the surface.
So, I set aside some time in a quiet house to hold this question with open hands. And I waited. And I waited some more. And a single phrase rose to meet me.
“The Balm of Gilead”
I sat with this too, wondering what this could possibly mean to me. I had read a novel recently with this phrase woven throughout, and I’d thought nothing of it. It was a simple plot device in a book with a story so wildly unlike my own, I couldn’t make any logical connection. But I felt the words rising again and again. The balm of Gilead. A balm. The balm.
I wrote the words down in the margin of my notebook, and I sat some more.
…..
In recent months, I have found myself in a season of significant conflict with more than one person in my life. I’m generally conflict averse, and these experiences have been no exception. Others are unhappy with me. Conflicted with me. Calling out behavior they dislike in me. It has felt like standing in the ocean as wave after wave pummels me senseless. Just as I collect myself from the ocean floor and wipe my eyes from the burn of salt, another wave approaches. Each one has come as an unpleasant surprise on an otherwise calm day.
These waves of conflict have left deep wounds, injuries not easily brushed aside or band-aided over. They’ve caused me to question my core values, my faith, my relationships, and my work. I’ve fasted and prayed for guidance and, to be honest, my prayers have gone unanswered in the way I’d hoped to see them resolved.
As I sat with the spiritual director’s question, I began to think that any work God may be doing in my life has felt imperceptible in the face of this overwhelming conflict. But, the longer I sat with the question, I saw how the answers I’d hoped for wouldn’t necessarily have healed the wounds I’d experienced. They wouldn’t have led me into deeper relationship with Christ. They wouldn’t have changed me.
Where I desired a shield, a refuge, a rear guard, I discovered God’s quiet presence–an understated with-ness. Where I was hurt, I found strength to wipe my eyes and stand up again. Where I wore the wounds of conflict, I felt the sweet balm of God’s love healing me.
How has God been working in my life? He has been the healing balm in a hard season.
Had I not been asked the question and taken the time to sit with it, I might have missed the answer. I might have taken another wave, another wound, and believed myself to be alone with them. I wrote the words The Balm of Gilead in my notebook because I want to remember. I wrote them next to the question that can only be answered in stillness and silence.
“How is God working in your life in recent months?” he’d asked.
God has worked through his quiet presence as the Master Physician. He is the medicine, the soothing ointment, the cure.
