Nekiyah Baruch

It was after I realized that divorce was imminent that I chose to move out and find my own place. My kids came along. Those early weeks and months were so very hard. Some days unable to function; other days avoiding people of any kind. On my worst days I would grab some DVDs and head downstairs. I told my kids that I’d be unavailable for a while. I’d lie on the couch and just watch movie after movie after movie. 

This past Wednesday as I was out on my very early morning walk with Max, I was listening to Lectio365, my morning devotional. The focus was on the story of Jacob wrestling with God and then coming out of the fight with a new name. A story that I have heard probably a hundred times, yet this time I began to cry. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I was crying, but tears just kept streaming down. I did my best to pull myself together as I went inside my apartment building and headed for my door. And then once I crossed my apartment threshold, the sobs began.

Deep sobs. Sobs filled with pain and guilt over decisions and mistakes that I had made in the past and have made in the present. I listed them all as I, apparently, was crying out to God. And I just kept going and going and going. For a good 20 minutes. When I was done, my voice was strained and all that was left was a whisper. And I just said one thing. “Could I have a new name? Would you give me a new name, Lord?” All I heard him say was, “Go turn on music today, your worship music.” Which I did, and then got in the shower and continued on with my day.

The next morning as I awoke I felt different. I tried to recall all that I had cried about the day before, but my mind was blank. It was as though none of it had ever happened, it had been erased. I couldn’t locate the pain or the loss or the guilt or the shame. It was and continues to be gone. And I think that this fast of screen entertainment had something to do with it.

Usually, just like when I headed downstairs to avoid the pain of my divorce, I usually resort to the same thing no matter how little or big my current pain is. TV and Social Media and Amazon are and have been my escape. It’s been the only way that I can turn off my thoughts, turn off the guilt. The replay in my mind is endless so I turn on any and all screens to find relief. 

This week it all came up. Every last incident and mistake and decision. It all came. And following it was a freedom of thought that I have never truly known before. And for the next two days I continued to play worship. Two songs on repeat. Singing in my car at the top of my lungs. “Washed” by Elevation Rhythm and “God I’m just Grateful” by Elevation Worship with Chandler Moore. Because these songs expressed my joy and my relief so beautifully. 

“I’ve been washed in the water, washed in the blood. I’m as good as new. Oh Hallelujah. I’ve been washed in the water, washed in the blood. All because of You. Oh Hallelujah!”

“There was no way until You made one. Grace upon grace, Hallelujah. Even though I don’t deserve it, You did it. Even though I couldn’t earn it, you give it. Who am I that You keep me on your mind? God, I’m just grateful for You. God, I’m just grateful for You. All my life, You’ve been right here by my side. God, I’m just grateful for You. God, I’m just grateful for You.”

Truer words have never been spoken…or sung. I play them once a day now, but then return to quiet. And, in all honesty, it’s a pleasant quiet. I’m not in a battle with boredom anymore nor am I in battle with memories. Except the memory of God’s goodness. 

He didn’t give me a new name, except maybe he did. Because two words, one from each song, just keep coming to mind. And as I think about it now, I can’t think of a better new name than those. “Nekiyah Baruch” in Hebrew. In English? “Clean and Grateful.”