Part One: Daughter, Get Up!

I woke up covered in sand, sore, and severely dehydrated. I didn’t have any energy to move. I tried to roll on to my back, but then I would have to face the sun—so I rolled the other way and rested my head on the sand.

I asked the wind to finish the work, to pull the coarse granules of glass over me like a blanket and let me sleep. The finer the sand, the older it is—my wounds felt ancient.

“Daughter, get up,” God said.

I turned away and grabbed the sand until I had fists full. I just wanted to be left alone. I let the sand slip out of my fingers and shielded my eyes from the sun so I could look around. There didn’t appear to be anything for miles—just a vast lifeless desert.

“Get up! Why are you lying on your face like this?” He asked. (Joshua 7:10)

God knew why I had fallen—he watched me take the emotional beat down all those years. He grieved because his daughter was so wounded. I ran from him anyway.

It is a specific pain that a woman feels when the people who were supposed to protect her, become the people that hurt her. The betrayal reaches up like hands from a grave to pull you down—they have no mercy, only lies that grip your soul. Once they succeed at pulling you down, they have the audacity to tell you to get up…

WICKEDNESS WILL TELL YOU TO GET UP

The Book of Judges has a story about a young woman from Bethlehem who lived in a time when there was no King over Israel. A Levite purchased her to be his concubine, but the young woman found him repugnant, and she escaped to her father’s house.

The Levite found his young concubine and made several attempts to bring her back to his home. Her father tried to postpone their departure, but there was nothing more he could do. She belonged to the Levite, and he insisted that she return with him.

Their long journey required a respite, so they stopped in the town of Gibeah, named from the Hebrew word for “the hill.” An old man who found them in the city square offered to host them overnight, according to their custom.

That evening a group of men went to this house with wicked intentions. The old man offered both his daughter and his guest’s concubine to satisfy the mob’s lust for violence. The Levite, aware of the dangers, grabbed his concubine and forced her to go with them.

Scripture tells us that the mob of men assaulted her through the night. The next morning, the Levite discovered his concubine sprawled out on the doorstep of the house with her hands holding on to the threshold.

“Get up!” he commanded, “We are leaving.” (Judges 19:1-28)

But there was no response. The young woman died at that threshold. Her life taken and her name erased from the account. We only know her as the Concubine. The story is referenced by Jewish scholars as the “Sin of Gibeah.”

While in the desert, I thought about that young woman; how she was unable to escape from the hands that reached up from the grave to grip her life; how she took her last breath at that threshold on the hill.

There is another story in 2 Samuel that took place when Israel was ruled by King David. David has a scandalous story of his own, but in between the pages, we are introduced to his beautiful daughter Tamar, her brother Absalom, and their half-brother, Amnon, oldest son and heir to the throne of Israel.

Amnon fell in love with his half-sister, Tamar. However, his affections turned into covetous lust. His desire for her motivated a wicked scheme to lure her into his bedroom where he pretended to be sick. He asked his father, King David, to send Tamar to care for him.

Tamar fell into the trap. Amnon sent away all the servants and ordered Tamar to get in his bed and submit to him. When she refused, he assaulted her. Scripture tells us that Amnon immediately despised her once his thirst was satisfied.

“Get up!” he commanded, “and leave!” (2 Samuel 13)

Tamar was so filled with shame that she couldn’t get up. Amnon had her physically thrown out of his room and locked the doors behind her.

Two years later, her brother, Absalom, avenged his sister and murdered their half-brother. He assassinated the heir to the throne of Israel, clearing the way for the future King Solomon to ascend. Solomon, the son of Bathsheba—the married woman David slept with, and whose husband he murdered so he could have her for himself.

King David’s scandals rolled down to the next generation like a waterfall plunges over rocks and crashes down to the basin. In the same way, we are all susceptible to inheriting generational curses.

While in the desert I thought about Tamar and the hands that reached up from the grave to grip her soul. A daughter of a king, no more protected than a nameless concubine. These are the women I thought about when I sank into the sands of my desolation. The women left unprotected and powerless.

These are the women I thought about when I sank into the sands of my desolation. The women left unprotected and powerless.

THE FATHER WILL HELP YOU TO GET UP

Still in the sand, I laid there weak and angry that God would allow me to thirst to death. All I could do was pray. I prayed from my broken heart and fractured faith that He would free me. In truth, I wasn’t the only one stranded and dying of thirst, my children were dragged into the desert with me.

I cried out like Hagar when she was cast out to a place of desolation with her son, Ishmael. Hagar had no water to give her son and she couldn’t bear to see him suffer. That was me. I thought I had nothing left to give my children. I watched as my little ones thirsted for the joy they once knew. It was my responsibility to provide for them, and I had nothing left.

“Get up,” God called out to Hagar, “help the child up and take him by the hand…” (Genesis 21:18)

Hagar trusted God, so she got up for her child. She had to. God enabled Hagar to see a well and made a way for her to provide her son with water. Through it all, God was with the child. I wanted to get up for my children— I had to.

In this foreign place, far from home, God led me to the Prophet Ezekiel. The Hebrews found hope from Ezekiel’s visions while exiled in Babylon. God said to me what he said to the Prophet:

“Get up and go out to the valley, and there I will speak to you.” (Ezekiel 3:22)

I didn’t know if I could find the strength to make the journey. My soul ached from an explosive battle; Divorce—The grenade that shattered my world and scattered emotional debris in every direction. I got cut wherever I stepped. The granulated pieces of my former life became the desert surrounding me.

But God heard me. He turned His face towards me, helped me get up, and walked with me. He did not leave my side as I sank a little into each step. His angels guarded me, and His Grace protected me from the heat and wind.

We traveled a long distance together out of that desert until the ground beneath me began to slowly transform from sand to soil. The firm cool ground made walking a lot easier. I turned to God for direction and the voice of Ezekiel declared, “I got up and went out to the valley; And the glory of the Lord was standing there, like the glory I had seen by the Chebar River, and I fell facedown.” (Ezekiel 3:23)

By God’s Grace, I made it out of the desert and into a valley. Finally, I could see evidence of life. Finally, I didn't thirst. God provided a river where there was nothing but wasteland. It was just as Ezekiel described. Glorious.

"Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." (Isaiah 43:19)