“Everything is unraveling.”
This phrase has been spoken in multiple conversations recently, as various friends and family bravely face situations in which things seem to be falling apart.
A piece of information pokes a hole in an illusion that everything was solid.
A confession pulls out the strand that had anchored a web of lies.
An argument disintegrates into the same old issues you thought you’d moved past decades ago.
The one-thing-after-another-ness of appliance breakdowns, a leaking roof, and a bad alternator forces you out of complacency.
The pandemic-related changes in indoor gatherings dissolve the long-dreamed-of wedding plans.
Learning God’s truth about sex shows you that you’ve had it wrong for a lot of years.
New information, a new perspective, new events, and new rules can show us that what we had believed is not the truth or that what we had thought was important is no longer even possible.
At times like these, everything does seem to be unraveling.
We say that like it’s a bad thing. We view unraveling as we would Humpty Dumpty falling off the wall. Or maybe we see it in the way the residents of Jericho viewed the effect the trumpets of Israel had on the walls of their city.
As a not-so-great knitter, I know a lot about unraveling.
After all, I make plenty of mistakes when I knit. I sometimes discover that I missed a stitch many rows ago. If it’s not too far back, I can just carefully unknit stitch by stitch until I get back to the missed stitch.
Recently I was working on a prayer shawl and discovered two gaping holes about ten inches back. Unknitting stitch by stitch would have taken too long, so instead of unknitting, I ripped it back.
In other words, I unraveled the part of the shawl that followed my missed stitches. I inserted another needle just below the bad spots to secure the good section. Then I removed my knitting needles and undid ten inches of shawl. I pulled and rewound, pulled and rewound, until I was all the way back. Finally, I carefully unknit another couple rows stitch by stitch just to make sure I’d gotten to a point where I could rebuild the prayer shawl.
And then . . . I began to rebuild.
In knitting, unraveling isn’t something that happens to us. It is intentional.
Granted, it isn’t fun to discover the new information that points to missed stitches. It isn’t pleasant to unravel and know that I will have to work hard to build a section all over again.
Unraveling may not be enjoyable. It is, however, necessary.
In order to get back to the place where new stitches can take hold and replace the gaps, sometimes I need to unravel—and what grows as a result can be beautiful.
It isn’t pleasant. It isn’t fun. I end up with yarn draped all over the place so much that I’ve been known to trip over it. (Yes, I’m the woman who can trip over yarn.)
Yet when the unraveling is over, I always feel a sense of peace. My knitted piece is back to a place of unfinished wholeness. What I have is healed and healthy. It is something I can move forward with.
When life circumstances create an unraveling, yes, it can be very hard—but the unraveling is also what takes us to the place where we can rebuild and grow stronger.
Unraveling helps to undo what has been done in wrong or unhealthy ways. It helps us work our way back to the place from which we can replace the gaping holes with strong stitches.
When we unravel the illusion that everything was solid, we work our way back to a place of truth.
When we unravel the lies, we travel back to a place where honesty can thrive.
When we unravel the argument, we bring the old issues into the light where we can thoroughly address them.
When we unravel the breakdowns, we recommit to tending to what we have rather than letting things slide.
When we unravel our disappointment in interrupted plans, we create new plans that reflect what is most central and meaningful.
When we unravel our wrong beliefs about sex, we can embrace God’s wonderful and intricate design for sex in our marriages.
In life, as in knitting, unraveling can be a hard thing—and it is also a good thing.
If I hadn’t unraveled that prayer shawl with the big holes, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough to wrap around a friend in prayerful love. But I did unravel it, and then I rebuilt—and that made the prayer shawl able to do what it was intended to do.
Does it seem like something in your own life is unraveling right now? I know it’s hard—but is it also possible that some good can grow out of the unraveling?
The unraveling can take you back to the place from which you can replace the gaping holes with strong stitches.
Just imagine how beautiful that new work can be!
Image credit | canva.com
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The Lord in all His infinite glory and compassion sits on his mighty throne and crosses his arms while the entire world is unraveling before our very eyes. Got it, Chris. Thank you.
Well, you, my friend, know about the unraveling in my life! This post really spoke to me. I trust that things will be stitched back together and better than before. Thanks for the encouragement for all of us, in life and marriage.
P.S. LOVE my prayer shawl. Beautiful! ♥
And just think . . . yours was the one with the gaping holes.
“I suggest to you that it is because God loves us that he gives us the gift of suffering. Pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world. You see, we are like blocks of stone out of which the Sculptor carves the forms of men. The blows of his chisel, which hurt us so much are what make us perfect.“ C.S. Lewis
After rereading both your post, Chris, and my initial impatient response, I was reminded of this quote from Shadowlands. And I wonder….. Is it wrong for us to beg God to just put down the chisel and allow us to rest for a little bit? I’ve told people for years that you will find what you seek. You search for and expect evil in the world, that is what you will find. If you look for peace, love, and grace, you will find that instead. Lately, as God’s soldiers, it feels like Omaha beach during those first desperate hours as we are spiritually getting cut to pieces down here. Like the first eleven verses of Psalm 22.
You gotta keep getting back up off the mat when you are Rocky Balboa and you were just unraveled by a right hook from Apollo Creed. Even when you think you do not have the strength to survive another round in that ring.
I often ask God for rest. And when I truly need it, even in the midst of a great chiseling and unraveling work He is doing in me, I find it.
As an avid knitter, i can identify with unraveling but never applied it like you have. My marriage is unraveling at the moment and i don’t even feel like knitting lately (which was always my stress reliever). I may be going through the motions but sometimes i want to fight for the marriage and other days I do not. The husband I knew was a good man but the one i know today is angry and his only priority is himself and anything i need is unimportant. I know God intended marriage to be forever but I sometimes wonder if he is offering me a way out of this situation with this unraveling. Thank you for your posts, they are a source of comfort to me.
Maybe it’s time to start knitting again, just a few minutes every day. The tangible reminder that one stitch at a time creates a blanket (or prayer shawl, or scarf,or whatever) might help you feel some hope for your marriage.