I think we can all recall a time when we lost a bit of our childhood innocence. Maybe it was the first time you were hurt by someone you trusted. The breakdown of your parent’s marriage. The death of a close loved one. The death of a dearly-held dream…
When I think of some of my own times of innocence lost, the memories come in fragments. The cold touch of a loved one’s embalmed hand under my fingers. The newspaper article chronicling a former schoolmate’s rape and murder. The sound of the zipper on a body bag after fruitless attempts at resuscitation. The numb feelings of depression during dark winter months. The aftertaste of medication. Watching for the rise and fall of an infant’s chest – and realizing he was gone.
I have been more acutely aware of my loss in this season of carrying our newest child. I so badly crave the optimism and joy that many others seem to experience in pregnancy. But alas, my first trimester was about checking for bleeding and hormone levels, not merely surviving morning sickness and dreaming of names. My anatomy scan had little to do with gender and instead focused on examining and measuring every inch of our precious one’s head and skull. In these last few weeks, my focus is on resting and preventing preterm labor. The nursery will have to wait. I want to be the glowing, pregnancy-unicorn you see all over your Instagram feed… Instead, I’m more akin to an anxiety-riddled orangutan. What’s a girl to do?
It’s in those moments of acute seeing that we realize the world isn’t quite as beautiful as we thought before. The feeling is akin to losing a layer of skin- the darkness feels a little too close to the soft underbelly of your heart. I wonder if this is why we so often reminisce on our childhood in golden overtones and wistful smiles. Do we really miss riding stinky school buses, having to learn to eat vegetables and slaving over arithmetic homework? Somehow I doubt it. Maybe (and to me, more likely), we just simply miss our own innocence. The close-eyed optimism of not knowing or comprehending the cruelty that so often surrounds us. We were told the world is good, and for that brief time, we believed it. Until layer by layer, the innocence is lost and we are left vulnerable and unable to hide behind the not-knowing; scared at what new atrocities we will be forced to reckon with before our time here is done.
My point in sharing these things is not to needlessly invoke macabre images, sympathy, or despair. Rather, I want you to realize the depth of my feelings when I share what’s next. God in His Sovereignty and love has deemed fit to take many of my walls away. By the ripe old age of 27, I can oft times feel wizened, hardened and raw beyond my years. And what scares me the most is that if the Lord tarries and so do I, there are many layers of innocence He could yet take away. If after a hard seasons and forced awakenings, you too have felt the same, these next words are for you:
Innocence is a poor substitute for an abiding faith in God’s all-powerful and gentle love and protection for you and me.
You see, when I long for innocence, I really long for the days when faith was easy. I want it to be easy to believe God is good and that redemption is right around the corner. I want to walk by sight. Seeing is believing, right? But when my eyes are opened, when the forbidden fruit of knowledge is pressed onto my lips, it is then that my nakedness is most apparent. I am standing defenseless and easy prey to the temptations and darkness that would overwhelm me. Robbed of my youthful optimism, I see a need in myself and the world around me so deep, it feels like I’m drowning in it.
I finally see my need for my Savior.
And as uncomfortable as that is; for as much as I long to float to heaven on “beds of flowery ease”, I realize that with this loss of innocence comes a beautiful awakening. Because in my greatest hour of grief, when my heart is bleeding from the pain of myself and others, it’s then that I can truly comprehend the enormity of what Christ did for me that day on a hewn-down tree. Christ said “He who has been forgiven much, loves much”. In the same strain, we who have lost our innocence are awakened to the magnitude of the gift we have been given. Isaiah’s dream of “no more tears” isn’t very exciting until you’ve cried until you ached and the drops kept falling. Healed bodies don’t sound heavenly until your earthly one fails. Restored relationships, even the promises of damnation for the wicked, mean little until you’ve felt the true decay of sin on these things.
So as I sit with these feelings of disappointment and disillusionment, the Lord gently reminds me that the optimism and innocence that I loved so much… they were a facade. As C.S Lewis so aptly describes “He always knew my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize that was by knocking it down”. Trusting in the positivity of the past has no spiritual merit and is quite frankly ridiculous. My precious bad experiences no more predispose me to grief than good experiences can inoculate me from it. The only cure for fear and hopelessness is resting in the goodness of God. And I can only learn to do that when my other crutches are removed.
It’s common, expected and even applauded to mourn the loss of innocence in our world. But we are not of this world. We have access to a Strength that can carry us with eyes wide open into His glory one day. Instead of wasting time bemoaning the loss of youthful naïveté, let’s use our costly and precious new sight to more clearly see the Savior. Burn the old crutch of blind optimism and look to the One who will redeem it all.
“Turn your eyes upon Jesus- Look full in His wonderful face! And the things of earth will grow strangely dim- in the light of His glory and grace” – Hellen Lemmel
With Love,
Kelsey
Miracles Enough 