Diary of an Answered Prayer

Sunday, August 28, 1994

This morning’s worship service was powerful—there was such a prophetic flow among the congregation. One member read from Matthew 23:25–29, the passage where Jesus rebukes the Pharisees for being clean on the outside while remaining corrupt within—whitewashed tombs, appearing beautiful outwardly but filled with death inside. Another person shared a vision: a dark, cave-like place where chipping began. At first, small droplets of water appeared, then a trickle, and finally, a rushing flood poured forth. The vision spoke of cleansing and renewal.

As I listened, I realized that while I don’t feel aware of anything “dirty” within my heart, Scripture reminds me that “the heart is deceitful above all things.” It would be arrogance to assume I am completely clean. Still, I believed there wasn’t much that needed cleansing.

So I prayed for that flood. I invited it. I even made a bold declaration to the heavens, announcing before all creation: “I will be clean by the power of God.”

Tonight, I feel so righteous—so sure of what God is doing in me.

Monday, August 29, 1994

Today is my 39th birthday. Birthdays are sacred to me. They are not just days on a calendar but reminders that life itself is worth celebrating. The day of one’s birth is uniquely ours—no other day holds that same significance.

Years ago, on my 20th birthday, I vowed never again to wait for someone else to celebrate me. I decided that my birthday belonged to me—and I would honor it every year, no matter what.

But today feels different. The children went out of town with their grandfather, and my husband decided we’d celebrate tomorrow. There were no gifts, no breakfast in bed, not even a simple acknowledgment.

I am angry—furious, really. I can hear venom in my own words, bitterness flowing like a toxic river. My mind knows this isn’t fair. I gave the children permission to go. I know better—but knowing better doesn’t stop what’s pouring out of me.

All day, my anger consumes me. Every word toward my husband is sharp, cruel, and unloving. He receives it all silently, patiently. I feel like I am watching myself from outside, horrified yet unable to stop.

Tuesday, August 30, 1994

Morning came, but nothing changed. The anger, the resentment—it’s still there, heavy and unrelenting. I feel trapped within myself. I know that if I try to suppress this with willpower alone, it will poison me and destroy everything I love.

So I cry out to God, desperate: “What do I do, Lord? How do I get rid of this? I know You’ll forgive me—but how do I cleanse this poison from my heart?”

As I weep, a verse I memorized long ago comes to mind—1 John 1:9:“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

For the first time, the word cleanse stands out. Forgiveness I’ve always known—but cleansing, that’s what I need now.

I gather my courage, swallow my pride, and go to my husband. I confess my selfishness and pride. He forgives me with grace, and suddenly, the bitterness begins to lift.

After nearly thirty hours of internal torment, love and gratitude begin to return. That evening, to celebrate my belated birthday, my husband and I drive to our special spot in the wilderness north of Sun Valley. We share a picnic by a stream beneath a tree, surrounded by quiet beauty. Peace returns, and all feels right with the world again.

Wednesday, August 31, 1994

My little “vacation” is over, and I’m back at work. As the day goes on, I realize that much of the conflict I’ve been having at work may come from the fact that I’m in a unique position—one that others simply don’t understand.

At lunch, I share this insight with my husband. He doesn’t agree. He doesn’t think my situation explains the conflict. I bristle at his response—what does he know anyway? Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t understand me either.

Thursday, September 1, 1994

Back at work again today, I notice something new. My coworker’s behavior—what I’ve been reading as opposition—actually seems defensive. They’re not attacking me; they’re protecting themselves from me.

And in that moment, I have to smile. Maybe—just maybe—my husband was right.

Epilogue

God’s Cleansing Process

1. There is a difference between being forgiven and being cleansed by God.

2. Forgiveness of sins was accomplished by Jesus at the cross and, for us, is relatively painless.

3. Cleansing is a process that takes place within the heart and requires exposure. This process can be somewhat painful

Exhortation

Cleansing and the Path to Righteousness

When we ask the Lord for cleansing, we often imagine a gentle, refreshing experience — like cool water washing over our souls. Yet the process rarely begins that way. Cleansing can feel painful, even violent at first, though in truth it is an act of mercy and love. What seems harsh in the moment is, in hindsight, the tender hand of God removing what brings death.

Scripture says, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). But confession requires awareness. If we are blind to sin, we cannot confess it. If we are comfortable with sin — if we believe we can manage or control it — we have no motivation to be rid of it. Only when sin becomes unbearable, when its stench of death fills our senses, do we truly desire to be free.

Many misunderstand the way God cleanses. We pray for deliverance from sin, expecting it to simply disappear — never to face it again. But when God begins His cleansing, He often brings that sin to the surface. Our awareness of it intensifies; our self-control seems to vanish. This exposure is not failure — it is grace. God allows us to see sin for what it truly is, that we might despise it, turn from it, and be healed. This is the heart of repentance.

The Steps Toward Righteousness

1. Seeing our sin. Our hearts are deceitful, and the essence of deception is that we do not know we are deceived. Only the Light of Christ reveals what is hidden.

2. Hating our sin. Sin carries its own pleasures and rewards. As long as we love it, we will not abandon it. True change comes when the pain of remaining the same becomes greater than the pain of change.

3. Abandoning our sin. The desires that once drove us must be replaced by a greater affection — the Kingdom of God and our relationship with the King. When He becomes our first love, joy gives us the strength to forsake sin, and His peace crushes the enemy beneath our feet.

Ultimately, it is the love of God that leads us to repentance (Romans 2:4).

As we walk through the cleansing process, we must not fear exposure. The price for sin has already been paid, and no one can pluck us out of His hand. Sin thrives in darkness, but we are called to walk in the Light, as He is in the Light (1 John 1:7). The Light does not condemn — it transforms.

Cleansing is not punishment. It is the gentle unveiling of God’s mercy, drawing us closer to Himself until His likeness is formed within us.