Stripped: Trusting God When He Allows Others to Hurt Youಮಾದರಿ

Roughly six years after my stripping, I planned a last minute momcation to a country I had been drawn to for years: Iceland. I am pretty obsessed with the northern lights, and had the last window of opportunity to spot them in early April. The country’s incredible landscapes exceeded my expectations and moved me to tears.

They felt like a visual display of my biography over the last decade: a land of contrasts. There were harsh volcanic areas and topography that resembled the moon’s surface—but there were also indescribable, breathtaking sceneries that reminded me of God’s tenderness and care. A vivid example of being “blessed in the land of my suffering.”

Each day brought new experiences, laughter, and tears of joy and gratitude. My plan was to circle the entire island, but as I headed north along the east, everything changed. The bright day turned into a snow storm and I found myself driving deeper into snow-covered mountains, unable to see the road for hours due to the amount of ice and snow compacted on it, surrounded on all sides by steep mountains covered in more snow.

If there was an avalanche, I feared being buried alive since no one would find my white rental car under the snow. Tension gripped my body. I had two more hours left to drive up the winding, slippery road and I was scared.

Suddenly, the road disappeared into a tunnel that cut right through the heart of the mountain.

Inside the tunnel there were occasional parking spots or pullouts, in case a car broke down or for any emergency stops. I considered parking there to wait out the storm, but knew that was not a wise solution. I just wanted the storm to be over! Under other circumstances, that tunnel may have made me feel claustrophobic since I don’t like being in confined spaces. But at that moment, the tunnel was a welcome shelter.

That’s when the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart: The tunnel you have despised for years, yearning to see the light and way out, was the safest place for you to be in. I was shielding you from a worse storm.

I wept and thanked the Lord for my tunnel, understanding that those long years of going through what seemed like the core of the earth, were evidence of a God that was jealous for me. If He allowed me to go through the tunnel, it was because He was sparing me from something worse I was not able to foresee or understand. The tunnel was His mercy in disguise.

After driving under those conditions for hours, I found a small town where I decided to spend the night. The hotel I originally reserved was another 30 minutes away and the road conditions to that town were worse. Continuing the loop around the island was impossible, since portions of the road were closed to traffic for regular vehicles.

My stomach tightened and my hands trembled with fear when I realized there was only one solution: drive back the same way I came the following morning. Early the next morning, right as I departed, it began to snow. I have never seen such big snowflakes! They were the size of a quarter. To avoid panicking, I prayed and listened to the book of Joshua as I drove. “It’s easy, simply don’t die. Keep driving because tonight the Aurora Borealis is waiting for you,” I reassured myself despite being terrified.

The second encounter with the tunnel triggered tears, “Ah, the tunnellllllll (picture ugly crying and broken voice)…thank you, God, for my tunnel.” I drove on weeping and laughing at myself.

Shortly after exiting the tunnel, it seemed I had been transposed to the northern coast of Puerto Rico; the view was astounding! The ocean was deep blue, the sky was clear, and the mountains imposing. The picture-perfect image of the calm after the storm.

And once again, the Holy Spirit whispered, Karenlie, you didn’t reach the destination you thought you were going to, but I am bringing you back to the place you were before and where you need to be.

I thought about my life and the plans, destiny, and dreams I believed God had for me, and the route we were on to get there. It was miles away from what I had imagined. Much like in Iceland, I’d been through storms, valleys, volcanoes, wind, rain, snow, and tunnels. Yet, not for a minute did He abandon me. He was always with me, providing for me, caring for me, shielding me from things unknown. When I got to the hotel I booked for that night, I was overcome with gratitude for the beauty of the journey. I had no idea how important the next few minutes of the trip would be.