• freedom stories

    Only One Thing: Carly’s Freedom Story

    “No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us.

    And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” -Romans 8:37-39 NLT

    On this Good Friday, I’m honored to share with you Carly’s Freedom Story about the one thing that remains even when everything else in life is uncertain or has the potential to be removed from our lives. 

    – – –

    When I’d first discovered that my ex-husband was having an affair I actually thought it was going to be the thing that would catapult our hard marriage into the healing it had needed for a long time. That does happen. And it makes for a really beautiful story. A story I was hoping would be mine. But that isn’t what happened and that isn’t the story I got. When things crashed, they crashed hard and ended swiftly. I woke up one morning and the life I’d been living for the past ten years was gone. The life I’d been planning, dreaming of, and working towards crumbled in my hands, and I watched the pieces slip right through my fingers.

    It was over and I wasn’t sure who I was anymore or what exactly the point of being alive was. I’d devoted my life, as I’d always wanted to, to caring for my three young children. I’d poured everything into them, and was even homeschooling them at the time. Now I was supposed to throw them into school and find some sort of a job when I’d spent those career building years building kids. I was back at square one with three mouths to feed and special needs to consider. As a mom who hadn’t spent a lot of time away from my children, I was also looking at a significant amount of time without them because of shared custody. Not only was this devastating and unfathomable to me, I knew it would be for them. And that part tore me to shreds. I was deep into an adoption ministry that I carried loads of passion for. It was my mission, my calling, the assignment God had given me. I had big plans and big dreams, ones I was sure were from him. In a blink I no longer had the capacity to manage any of it and it was gone too. I was no longer wife, no longer the good mom, and no longer living my passion for adoption.

    A few months before my divorce I remember sitting in church. The pastor was talking about our identity. Who we are. And he asked a question. He said that the way we could tell where we found our identity was by asking ourselves what things, if they went away today, would make us feel like we weren’t ourselves anymore. I immediately tagged my marriage, my adoption ministry, and being a good mom. If those things went away I really wouldn’t know who I was, what my purpose was. And none of those were bad things. In fact they were all really good things to want to be successful at. I tagged those things and pondered them for a long time. It was like I’d written a quick little list in my brain and it was tacked up in the corner somewhere that I could see it, all the time. So when with one single blow each of those things vanished right before me, I knew. I knew that the God of the universe had spoken straight to me in that moment. He had been preparing me for what was to come. And when all the things that I thought mattered most, mattered to God even, dropped straight out of my life I knew there was one thing that never could, that never would. Jesus.

    And I discovered that all the things, even the good ones can go away. And I’m still me because Jesus is still Jesus. He is the one and only thing that will never go away. He will never leave. Never forsake. All the things I thought I could never live through. All the things I couldn’t see a way into or a way out of. All the things I clung to, even the good, God things. They can all be taken away from me. My life and everything in it can be gone in a blink, but nothing and no one can separate me from the love of Jesus. It is who he is and it is who I am and it is the only thing I can cling to. It is all I can count on. Just him. No one and no thing can change the fact that I am loved by him. Nothing can take that away.

    I’m not saying I didn’t feel the searing ache of the loss I faced in that time. I questioned. I cried. I wailed. I kicked. I screamed. I swore. I begged. But I realized that I could stop clinging to all the things in my life. The weight of doing it all right. The measuring up. The striving. The fear and anxiety that goes with trying to be all things to all people all the time. The heaviness that comes with just trying to live a life. I saw how very little control I actually had over any of it. How I could do my absolute best to do all the things and be all the things and I could still lose them all in a heartbeat. And when the dust settled and all I had left was the love of Jesus, I knew it was all I actually needed. A freedom washed over me. I’ve never felt freer than I did in that moment. When I saw that I don’t actually have to be or do anything. My pathetic efforts to be a good wife, mom, and minister just kind of blew away with the storm. I didn’t need to give Jesus a reason to love me. In fact, all my flailing around trying to find one for him was as weak the fall leaves in the winter wind. My eyes were opened and I could see just how wide, and deep, and long the love of God actually is for me. The freedom of that knowledge is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

    Life has moved on from that moment, from the deep waves of grief to the constant drip of life with shared custody, caring for children with special needs, and all the other life things. I’ve remarried. I’ve learned to live with the needs of my children. I’ve learned to live with the ache that comes with periodic separation from them. I have been given so many beautiful gifts, like tiny cactus blossoms amidst the sharp spines. But the gift I hold tight to. The gift I know can’t ever be taken away. It’s the one God gave me when he met me at my emptiest. When he loved me at my most unloveable. It’s the knowledge that there is really just one thing. And his name is Jesus.

    – – –

     

    Carly Webber is wife to Dustin and mom to four littles (by adoption and birth). Life has thrown her a few curve balls (including divorce and special needs children) and her heart is to encourage others who also feel sidelined by life’s tough blows. She believes there is life and joy right in the midst of all the hard and she wants you to believe it too. You can read her words at carlybethwebber.com and connect with her over on instagram too (@carlybethwebber).

     

     

     

     

     

    P.S. Want to read more Freedom Stories of hope and encouragement? Check out 30 other stories about finding freedom through Christ and authentic community here. And special thanks to Photo by Ylanite Koppens from Pexels for the plant image to accompany this post.