My Inheritance

How could I get so upset over a box of junk? I just found out that my husband threw out a box of things that my grandmother had left to me. When I said something to him about it he defended himself by telling me it was a box full of garbage. A box full of garbage, this is what the only things that I had left of my childhood amounted to.

We attend a bible study once a week at a friend’s house. We are currently working through the book Forgotten God. It talks about the Holy Spirit. Each week we go through a new chapter and watch a short video that goes along with the chapter. Last night at the study the video had Francis Chan, the author of the book, talking about each of his children and how he loves them each differently because they all have differently love languages and needs. He talked about how God is a good god and how He loves each of us as His child. After the video the question was asked, “ What is the difference between a slave and a son?” Immediately, several people responded with their answers. “A slave makes me think of chains and a son is free”, one person said. Another said, “A son is loved. A slave is owned.” My husband quickly spoke up and said, “ A son has an inheritance.”

In that moment something in my heart broke. I had never thought of it before but I didn't understand this concept. I grew up in a broken home, in many broken homes. My mother had been married several times. My father was not even around and even the short times he was, the abuse was so bad we prayed for him to leave. I would have no inheritance. The only thing I was inheriting was the vicious cycle of a broken home that only prayer and the blood of Jesus could break.

It's funny how the Holy Spirit moves and breathes and lives throughout our lives. I pray that He consumes me like a fire and then next thing I know I am arguing with my husband over a box of junk and trinkets. It's funny how God can use the mundane to uncover a hurt so deep. I had been holding onto a box of worthless things, lying to myself, saying that I was just like everyone else. That I had an inheritance, that my childhood had been normal, that deep down, all the hurt was gone and I was fine, but when I heard the words "It's just a box of garbage", all my pain came to light.

My childhood had been garbage. There was nothing really beautiful or sacred to save and pass on as an inheritance. If anything, I would be better off to forget it, but little did I know that God has a greater glory. God has a beautiful inheritance for me, the wonderful gift of eternal life in heaven, with Him, my heavenly Father, who loves me extravagantly. As my husband wrapped his arms around me, I cried, and as I let go of the dusty box of junk, I made room for my real inheritance. I invited the Lord in to heal all that has been broken.