I walk through the field, alone. So much of it seems familiar, so much past and empty future. The field of brokenness, the field of tears, the field of trials, the field of pain. It is worn. Though it presses in around me, I cannot touch it. I cannot reach it. I walk through it, but not in it. I am beside it, but not a part of it.
I am confused as I reach to touch the old buildings, but can’t. I see the splintered wood, but cannot be pierced by its tattered edges. I run my fingers through the brush, but cannot feel its death. What is this place that I can see, but cannot grasp? How am I here, but unable to feel it?
All around me, loneliness crowds the air. Something so strangely familiar pushes me to my past. Something so strong, so vile, so wicked is pressing me down, and my breath is caught between my racing thoughts. I stand in the midst of this desolation. I turn slowly and all around me is broken.
And I remember.
These are the fields of my past. These are the fields of my sin. These are the fields of my pain without hope, my tears without peace, my trials without comfort. These are the fields of my forgotten grace. These are the fields I’ve chosen to blind my heart to. These are the fields that trapped my wicked soul, before I was rescued by my Savior. These are the fields that I had forgotten.
I cannot touch the fields, because I have been forever redeemed. I am set apart from the sin that resides here. I am brought here to simply remember the grace that I have forgotten. My broken layers of hypocrisy and self-righteous actions shatter from my spirit. My selfish achievements fall like death in the fields. This part of myself had been long forgotten. Because, I was so sure that I was perfect. I was so sure that I was good on my own. And this surety became my blinding weakness.
I fall to my knees as I remember my desolation. I remember my loneliness, my obsession with sin, my trapped anxiety, my abandoned heart, and my fields that stored my broken past. My fields that emptied me of a future worth living. These fields used to be my heart. These fields used to reign supreme. They used to be alive. Their vivacious wickedness blackening my heart in deeper and deeper shades.
Then, I was redeemed!
But awhile after my redemption, I started to live believing that I was the righteous one. After the consuming grace of my Savior, I started to forget. I lived as though I was the hero. I was the savior. And I was the perfect one. By my actions and my self-righteousness, I began to believe that I had good in me. I had holiness. I believed the lies that I was the all in all.
I am brought to these fields to remember. I am brought to this place to reflect on what I have been rescued from. And my Savior’s redemption is everywhere evident in this desolation.
I fall to my knees. I see my sin, but I do not feel its weight. I remember my wicked past, but its darkness does not break me. I stand in the midst of fields that once trapped my soul, but can no longer touch me.
I am redeemed.
And I remember.