There was a time I experienced what I fondly call a season of stripping.
Being stripped of my counterfeit supremacy in twelve months. Left naked. Exposed.
And finally realizing the need to be clothed.
It began with my father’s sudden death. At the scene of his motorcycle wreck, I took authority. Demanding I enter the ambulance. Moving a police officer aside when he refused to accommodate me. Insisting by-standers make use of their time by laying hands on the ambulance and praying. Yet, as much as I strived, I had no control.
At the hospital, I refused to enter the emergency room through the visitors’ entrance, ran to the emergency personnel only door and wheeled my father into a room along with the medics. When told to leave, I stood my ground. When told my father was dead, I questioned the physician’s credentials. When told it’d be best if I not linger in his room, I declined and waited to depart until I felt the warmth leave my father’s body. In spite of my best efforts, though, my daddy was gone. I had no control.
Arriving home that night, I had to somehow tell my father’s best friend, my oldest son, his grandfather would no longer be a part of his life on this earth. Camden’s reaction was nothing less than excruciating. I had never seen my son in such vehement anguish. Nor had I ever before heard such sorrowful moans escaping his body as I did while holding him closely throughout that first night. Having bandaged many wounds in Camden’s young life, I was now helpless to heal this gash to his heart. I had no control.
Shortly afterwards, my already shaky health began to decline rapidly. Natural remedies were no longer working. And doctor’s prescriptions were ineffective, as well. A physician wrote orders to have my driver’s license suspended. I was confined to my home, for the most part. I had no control.
Just a few months later, after much prayer and deliberation, my husband decided to enroll our oldest son in public school after seven years of homeschooling. Camden was eager to play football, and we lack even a slight resemblance to competitive, organized sports for homeschooled children in our area. I was faced with having to trust other adults with Camden’s safety and education. I had no control.
As each layer of imaginary power was peeled away, I was gradually being exposed.
Completely disrobed of delusive dominion. Stripped of mistaken sovereignty.
In this humbled state of insufficiency, I was finally able to step closer to fully trusting the Sufficient One who is in control.
The One who does rule and reign with power, dominion and sovereignty.
Being stripped naked allowed me to be clothed in peace by the Designer of my days.