Journey to Repurposed
As years go by and we make all the mistakes and learn all the lessons, our experiences graft into an indelible gift—our one-of-a-kind story. We could keep that gift all to ourselves, using it to learn and grow and get by, maybe even heal. Or . . . we could choose the challenging, but powerful, journey of admission and authenticity, by sharing our story with others, offering each word as an opportunity of hope. I choose the challenge. This is my journey to A Repurposed Heart.
Life is too short to not give all you can. Aim high, hold on tight, learn to let go, and love them anyway. Whatever you are led to do, do it with all your heart.
Chapter One
The questions started early. The lies were not far behind.
As a childhood queen of curiosity, my favorite pastime was searching for the answers to everything. From one why to another, I served up thousands of questions before I had even finished filling out the birth certificate for my favorite yarn-headed doll. I was a kid with five dollars in quarters who just heard the sound of the ice cream truck. I was on a search for a sweet reward of truth and understanding.
But as I grew older, I spent more time searching within myself for answers, and I began catching up with less truth and more lies. My mind was authoring assumed responses to the whys of pain and struggle. “Because no one cares” and “you are alone” and “you have to do everything by yourself” played on a loop, drowning out the sound of invitation. I could no longer determine what direction the music was coming from. In a solution of self-sufficiency and pride, I sprinted full-speed down every road, searching for the relief that would deliver something to comfort my soul. But I could not find the source, so I stored up what I had been given and hid it away.
As words and knowledge piled up inside like spare change in my piggy bank, they begged for a place to be spent. Enter the world of story. I had found something that made sense. I disappeared in a gift of discovery, creating stories that brought me comfort and described my pain. Somehow, when I was writing, the lies were quiet . . . but only for a while.
Choose Your Own Adventure
Post-college, years of heartache and bad decisions caught up with me, and none of my words could make it better. I gathered my broken pieces and carried them to the foot of the cross. I surrendered, picked them back up, and walked right back into the lies. I chased that truck with the truth in my back pocket until my legs could carry me no more. Once again, I gave in and got back up, but this time I marched home with the stories of the Bible in my right hand. Everyone had assured me His story had all the answers I would ever need.
I retreated into the safety of home and sanctuary of the church walls, closing the blinds to keep out the world while I saved up more knowledge in my bank.
I spent my days gathering up rules, routines, and positions. The ice cream truck sat in my driveway, its happy chimes silent as the anticipation disappeared. I had God and a big book of stories. I was sure I could go get the ice cream anytime I wanted, so why bother going outside in the heat, unless I had to.
I had all the purpose I needed and it was time for childish things to be put away. I put down my pen and let my story fade into the shadows of regrets, putting responsibility as the only goal on the table.
But it sure got dark inside. And lonely. I was a believer who believed what the enemy said about me was true. As long as I kept my head down in judgement and prayer, everything would stay quiet and safe. I had it all under control. But every once in a while, somewhere deep inside, a tiny speaker, distorted from years of weather, would break the silence and creak out a familiar loop.
I dismissed it, sure that it was silly to even consider chasing something that made me take so many wrong roads. But yet when I looked in the mirror, I was confused at the Christian before me. Why wasn’t I happy? Didn’t I have everything I needed? Had I not checked all the boxes? Why was I still struggling if I had all the answers?
I can’t remember which episode of hypocritical behavior finally drove me out. But one day, it was too much to bear. I carelessly ran into the light and threw open the doors to that truck, knowing the understanding and evidence I needed must be inside.
It was empty. So was I.
A New Chapter
The discovery broke everything I knew to be true. Questions poured out of me and the search returned, beckoning back beauty and creativity. I left the lies in the dark, grabbed my Bible and my pen, and moved into the truck. It wasn’t enough to just know about freedom, I wanted to live out the promises for real. And the only way to live free was to live inside the source of the music that had been calling me my entire life. Turns out the truck has a really good driver.
My understanding of the search had changed. The purpose could not be found in my story without Him and couldn’t be shared in His story without mine. Both had to be present to witness the sweet reward.
Now I live free. Riding around wherever He drives me, singing along with the music in praise. I use all those coins of information and knowledge to stock the truck and then give as much as possible to all the souls I find running up and down the roads. I even make house calls and deliver to those safe inside, so they also can rejoin the search.
Someday, I pray they will get an ice cream truck of their very own, but until then I give every inch of my repurposed heart in telling them His story through mine.
I pray I never return to the walled-in darkness of a “safe” Christian life or the reckless abandon of a life lived without Him. It is for freedom that I have been set free. And I am gonna let my little light shine.
The Story Lives On
And after that life was perfect! Nope. I have a little secret for you. Repurposed isn’t perfect. The joy I discover, the wisdom that I gain, the hope I hold on to, and the light that I find often slips right through my hands. There are days the trouble of this world and the critic in my head overwhelm me and leave me sitting right back in the dark. The only thing I can do is renew my mind, stand back up, and try again. To renew the search with the tools I have been given. No matter how hard the enemy chases me, I will still be here, authentically telling about the battle to stay in the light. I pray every day I can pour from the overflow and give some to you, perfect or not.
Shannon Leach
What light can you find today?
Search the Story
Tell the World
Shannon Leach
Are you ready to search for the light in your story?
Search the Story
Tell the World
A Little Light to Read By
Search for more light in some of Shannon's recent releases.
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