Reflection #3: The Story of Dan

The Story of Dan

When they asked for a volunteer, I didn’t think twice and came forward. The heaviness bubbling from deep within has now surfaced, its full force threatening my very existence. I was good at putting a lid on it for many years, but not at that time. At that moment, the build-up was at the point of no return, amounting to an explosion. Stepping forward was a surrender to the unbearable pressure inside with the hope of relieving it. To this day, I know that neither bravery nor pain moved me to step forward. God’s divine providence propelled me to volunteer that day; I just agreed to submit to His guidance. 

In all sincerity, I have never imagined that I would ever find myself as a volunteer in my Biblical Counseling class at the seminary I was attending. Two days of foundational teachings were followed by hands-on practice. As pastoral counselors in training, we had to start the healing with ourselves. Just like Lord Jesus, we were to become those wounded healers for the healing of many.

Twenty-two of us in the class have traveled hundreds of miles to attend this intensive training. We have never met previously; we only have acquainted each other through sharing about our ministries. The desire to learn the things of God was the single driving force for all of us to work as one. 

The professor called two other students, who at the time served as a pastor and a worship leader in different congregations in different parts of the country. They were instructed to lay hands on me and to listen to the Holy Spirit for direction. The professor began with a short prayer. The sound of his first words opened a flood that swept over me. Just like with King David, in the days passed, God’s breakers and waves were crashing over me at that moment as well (Psalm 42:7). Tears began rolling down my face, and my shoulders hunched low, convulsing under the silent cries. 

The professor's voice resounded, clear and steady, “Heavenly Father, we come before your throne of grace, bringing our friend for your divine healing. He is your earthy vessel. Restore him. Put together the broken pieces of his life. Cleanse him with the power of your blood spilled on the cross. Fill him with your Holy Spirit, sanctify him with your presence, and use him for honorable purposes. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen!” 

The pastor and the youth minister followed with short prayers, but their words bounced back, unable to reach my hearing. My sorrow had shrouded my senses with pain. My tears were now a torrent, matching the turmoil inside. 

Silence followed. Then, the pastor’s voice emerged, gaining strength with each word spoken, drawing my attention, “When the professor prayed of an earthy vessel to be restored, cleansed, sanctified, and used for honorable purposes, I had a vision of a young boy running up and down on a seashore picking up pottery pieces, trying to put them together… but one piece kept falling off. What does this mean?” 

The youth minister also spoke, his voice sounding equally bewildered. “While the professor prayed, I saw hands putting together pottery pieces, and I also saw one piece missing. What is this, professor?” 

My attention was aroused. The visions during prayer were about me. Silence forced itself into the classroom again, this time loaded with expectation. And then, out of the far corner of the room, the voice of a young student rose steady and clear, “God forgave him, but he cannot forgive himself.” 

Everyone understood that the missing pottery piece was my inability to forgive myself. I didn’t know that the disgust with myself over my past life choices had such grave consequences. My battle with guilt and self-condemnation, which was now made public for everyone to see, had just begun.

Ever since my teenage years, I got hooked on a bad crowd. Drugs, alcohol, and parties were my daily routines. The theft was the way to pay for my “extravaganza” lifestyle. I became addicted, and my addiction demanded constant fueling. I did many bad things: I robbed and destroyed property, I did violence, and I hurt people. The cops finally caught up with me and threw me in prison. For twelve long years, I was locked behind bars for good. 

I reasoned that God, who is holy and righteous, cannot overlook my past offenses. With this set of mind, I drowned in guilt, suffocating the joy of my salvation. The prayers' messages took hold of that understanding and shattered it, now exposing my guilt as an offense. The only way forward was my response of contrition, confession, and repentance. The act of turning away from believing the lies of the Devil marked my way to freedom from guilt. Prophet Malachi had accurately described my new state of mind and heart. 

But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings. You shall go forth leaping like calves from the stall. (Malachi 4:2)

At that time, I was the “calf” leaping from my imprisonment to guilt into freedom. This is my most incredible healing story. I testify to the healing because it happened to me. The missing piece was found. It was my guilt. My healing put back together that missing piece and made my vessel whole. God is now using me for the honorable purpose of expanding His Kingdom on Earth.

Identify areas of your life that are plagued with guilt. 

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Write your story of freedom. 

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