in that moment of surrender

of vision over visibility

I did not notice the passers-by

and they did not notice me.

-Moment of Surrender by U2

When life weighs us down it is easy to think that God is missing. I mean, we know that he is always there, but sometimes it feels like he really is just up in the clouds somewhere looking down and not interacting. You think, "Why would God put me through this? Why would he leave me alone?" One of my absolute favorite books, The Scent of Water by Naomi Zacharias,  addresses this issue in the most beautiful of ways. Bear with me. I intended to only quote a portion, but I feel as though the entire thing is too beautiful to truly take a portion out. In this section, Naomi is visiting a family in Italy and the father is showing her how he makes wine.

"Giovanni motioned for me to lean close to a large plastic container filled with juice. If he wanted rose wine, the grape skins are removed in a few days. For luscious red, the skins remained a while longer to infuse their color into the juice.

“If the container is not strong, the wine will explode during the fermentation process,” he said. “This is why Jesus said, ‘Do not pour new wine into old wine skins.’ The old skin is a little bit worn; it cannot handle the force of fermentation, and it will break.”…After fermentation, lees—deposits of yeast—create sediment in the bottom of the vat of wine. Giovanni guided me over to another container and pointed to the distinct line along the bottom. “Now I must transfer the wine into a new container and leave the sediment behind. The sediment is a natural part of the process, but it is bitter. If it remains too long, it will not improve the flavor, but will make the wine bitter.” The lees will affect and enhance the flavor up to a certain point, so the kind of wine desired in production determines when wine is separated from the bitter sediment. And so, under the watchful eye of the contadino, the wine is transferred into a fresh container to preserve the flavor.

                When the skins are ultimately removed, they are not thrown away. “You think they are finished, that there is no more juice inside of them, but there is,” he explained. The skins are squeezed carefully again, this time by a press that knows the right shape and pressure, rendering more juice that will become wine.

                “In the book of Philippians, Paul says that every knee will bow and every tongue will confess. How can it be so? There are many people who, if you say to them, ‘ You are created by God to bring glory to him’—they will say it isn’t so. They don’t believe. They will not give him any glory. And it seems there is nothing we can do. But they are like these skins. If you squeeze them with your hands nothing will come out. It seems finished. But when faced with the Creator they will spring forth with rich juice because they are made in his image; they cannot help but reflect his image. Like this, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”…I found it purposeful that the sediment was there at all., that bitter yeast was necessary for fermentation, and that it serve a purpose for a time. Without the knowledge of the process necessary to achieve flavor, an amateur would mistakenly conclude that a bitter taste should be removed immediately or avoided all together. But this wasn't the case. The sediment was part of a necessary process, and the wine was not immediately relieved of its bitterness by the contadino. The process required the careful eye of one who knew when enough time had gone by, when the presence of sediment no longer served to enhance but would instead destroy—but one who also knew enough to risk the presence and potential of something bitter, for its proportion made the flavor true. And within its truth lay the texture and richness that was the very character of wine itself, the difference between a good wine and one that is legendary.

                I have been thinking about my life quite a bit lately, the parts that I wish were not there, the places that still ache. While I do not believe that God caused the harsh things to happen, I do  think he allowed them. The bitter thus far has been potent, and at times it seemed to threaten to ruin the flavor all together. At times I thought it was ruined. Perhaps, like a contadino, God’s watchful eye was on me, and he allowed that which was painfully bitter to infuse something purposeful. Somehow, believing that he would have intervened and said, “Enough,” if it was going to destroy me—or that perhaps he did do that—seemed comforting.

                I am not in a place where I can say I am grateful for all that has happened. Given the choice I still wish very much that it could have been different, that there had been another way to have learned the lessons. I struggle to accept the life that is mine because it is not the story that I wanted. And not a day goes by that I don’t notice it still hurts inside.

                But I can say that if I had to choose between who I was before and who I am now, without being able to alter the path of events, I would pick the now, even with all that it carries. Life was simpler before; I didn't carry some of the same sensitivities, and there weren't the same relational land mines another could unknowingly step into. But now I see the world with perspective; I view people through vastly different lenses and recognize beauty in things that once escaped my notice. God seems more mysterious—sometimes mysteriously confusing, absent, and maddening. But always mysteriously true. If I am honest, life is more complicated, but undeniably richer.

                The truth is, I didn't really like the taste of the wine that had not endured a process. It didn't taste bad. It was just…forgettable. I can tell you what it lacked more than I can articulate what it contained. It lacked fullness and substance and something that made you savor the very essence of a sip even as it trickled down your throat. I tasted the wine that was a deep shade of burgundy velvet—the wine that had undergone the process of fermentation in which sediment had formed and been filtered and skins had fully infused their color, the wine that had accepted the gift of time until it was ready to be tasted—and it was a sip of the extraordinary. Given the choice, I would opt for a life that is extraordinary over a life that is simple. Perhaps I was not meant to be a simple girl."

I'd read this book before a few times, and though I found this chapter to be quite beautiful, underlining a few portions of it, the true impact did not hit me until I realized how much in my own life I had tried to remove the bitterness, to fight with God, and create my own way rather than trusting than trusting the process. 

It's not easy to admit that you're wrong. Pride rears it's ugly head and belittles you a bit, but I think admitting our failures often reminds us of how much we are constantly in need of a savior. We can't do this life alone. For the past few months I have been praying fervently to God and for the first time in ages I felt him respond with full certainty. I told him the desires of my heart and he asked me to trust him, to be still and wait on him. to guard my heart, and to not be afraid.

 He reminded me of these things constantly. I would smile and nod and say, "I got it God I understand."

But did I? Really? 

I still expected things to go the way I'd planned. I needed to be in control and I did not even realize I was holding so tightly until a friend shared his own testimony and I saw the similarities. We knew that we should trust God, we had quite a bit of head knowledge, but our hearts weren't there. I was fighting against the very things I had prayed for.

More importantly, I also just feel like more than anything God is asking me to allow him to work through the bitterness in my life. There is a purpose. I am not done yet. He keeps asking me to wait and trust him and I know that I should, but I am not doing it. So I’m  stepping aside trusting that God will point me in the direction he wants me go. I am confident that he will make that clear when my time comes and in the meantime I will struggle with patience and trust, setting fear aside.

I’m excited about all that he is doing in my life right now even if I don’t always like it because I know in the end the outcome will be more beautiful than I can imagine...even if that is not in this life.

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Click here to purchase a copy of The Scent of Water. I highly recommend it!