Feasting

“He has taken me to the banquet hall, and His banner over me is love.” (Song of Solomon 2:4)

“His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor His delight in the legs of a man; the Lord delights in those who fear Him, who put their hope in His unfailing love.” (Psalm 147:10-11)

I think this is the first time I’ve ever blogged about this topic: fasting. It’s basically when you abstain from something (usually food) so that you can seek God and He can meet you in a deeper way. I won’t go into all the biblical reasons for/benefits of fasting here, but I’d like to share with you a little bit about it from my perspective.

A leader at a former church of mine used to fast a lot, and I remember him saying once that fasting was like a self-imposed trial. I like this definition. Trials are basically things that God allows in our life where He tests our character, squeezes us, and makes us go, “God, I need You! Help!” The same thing basically happens when you fast. You’re hungry, and whether you or not you say it with your mouth, you’re saying with your actions, “God, I need You more than I need food!” Sometimes I can hear Him speaking more clearly when I’m fasting, and sometimes I don’t hear Him speak very clearly until after I’m done fasting. I think the key is to just obey God, seek His face and His heart, and let Him do whatever He wants with you.

Another topic that I don’t think I’ve officially blogged about yet is spiritual abuse. It’s basically when somebody gives themselves too much spiritual authority over you, almost as if they’re God for you, and they make you think that you’re sinning when you’re not, and it makes you feel ashamed, and it makes you feel like God isn’t happy with you unless you do all sorts of “works” for God. Fasting can be one of these “works.” Phew! Spiritual abuse is terrible. It’s something that I learned about for the first time last year. I won’t go into detail about this yet, but to make a very long story very short, I’ve found out that the abovementioned church family was in a spiritually abusive environment. One of the leaders there said once, regarding fasting, “Water will get to the issue a lot quicker.” I think he meant that if you completely abstain from everything except water, God will speak to you a lot quicker. OK, yes, if God tells you you need to fast from everything except water, then that’s what you need to do. Or if you’re so desperate for God to move in your situation that as an expression of your desperation, you fast from everything except water, I’m sure God will see your heart and meet you in an awesome way. But for somebody to make you feel inferior because you can’t do a three-day water fast the way they can is just terrible. Besides -- not everyone is even medically able to abstain from food. People who have certain medical conditions need to eat and stick to their special diets. There are other things to fast from besides food.

Fast-forwarding years later, I was at another spiritually abusive church (aaagh! God is healing me from this junk, and the church I’m at now is non-abusive, honest!) where I believed that God wanted me to fast from non-work-related TV for a few days. At the time, I was working at a media-related job and had to watch TV and movies for my job. But after work, I was used to turning on the TV and watching it for fun. But not during the fast. I figured it would be much easier than fasting from food. Boy, was I wrong! I didn’t know what to do with myself during the evenings, and I would have rather given up food! Anyway, I basically told this to my lifegroup leader at the time, and she looked at me like I was crazy.

No, sorry, but I’m not crazy. If God says to do something, I need to do it. And if I’m abstaining from something, it’s probably something that my flesh is going to want all the more. It’s usually hard to do. Right now, for example, I’m fasting meats and sweets. I thought this was going to be an easy fast. WRONG! I didn’t totally realize how accustomed I’d gotten to grabbing those beautiful little bags of candy from the breakroom at work and munching on it in my cubicle. I WANT CANDY! And a couple of nights this week, I had to grab some quick deli food for dinner. I thought it would be easy to find a non-meat sandwich like pimento cheese. WRONG! I had to get a regular sandwich and eat everything but the cold cuts, which I brought home and fed later to my curiously carnivorous cats. I WANT CHEWY, BEAUTIFUL MEAT WITH SAVORY, BEAUTIFUL GREASE DRIBBLING DOWN MY CHIN! So, anyway, yeah, a meat-and-sweet fast ain’t necessarily all that easy.

But I need God more than candy and greasy meat. I need to be close to Him. I need Him so much, it ain’t even funny. I’m choking up just typing this. This morning, while I was crying on His shoulder, He showed me some important stuff related to my healing. Later that morning, He showed me even more stuff. By the time I got to my work cubicle, I was so satisfied with His food that I don’t even think I craved candy. God has been feeding me what I need, and I need to trust that He’s been squeezing out the bad junk and replacing it with His good things. I like to eat from His banqueting table.

So, if you’d like to learn how to lean on God at a deeper level, try fasting. If you want to cultivate a desperation for God at a deeper level, try fasting. If you want to practice crying out to God and expressing your need for Him at a deeper level, try fasting. Well, definitely pray about it first and make sure that it’s something He wants you to do. (Doing a meat-and-sweet fast in the middle of the summer wasn’t my idea, honest!) The most important thing is that you obey Him and seek Him and love Him.

Tomorrow morning (Thursday) when my fast is over, I think I’ll eat yogurt with chocolate syrup on toast and maybe a side of scrambled eggs. Hmm. On second thought, my tummy doesn’t like the sound of that idea. Maybe I’ll just pour some sugar in my coffee. Sorry, kitties, no cold cuts for you tomorrow!

Eww, what’s that smell? It’s a sequel.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Ephesians 6:12)

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

Last week, I wrote about housecleaning. This week, I found something else to talk about, and I think I can best illustrate my point by NOT sparing you the gory, disgusting details. Warning: I think I’m going to have to rate this blog post PG-13. Ready? Here we go.

Yesterday evening, I was minding my own business at the parking lot of a local grocery store. I had been driving for about 45 minutes, and I hobbled out of my car and was heading for the store entrance. Behind me, I heard a woman shout, “Nasty-lookin’ dyke! Nasty-lookin’ bitch!” It took a moment for it to register that she possibly could have been shouting at me. I felt prompted to just keep walking. I entered the store, and all sorts of things started rushing into my head. Wait -- was that woman really shouting at me? Why would she shout at me? I’m straight. I mean, I was wearing a T-shirt and baggy jeans, and I recently chopped my hair down to the same length that I wore it about 10 years ago. I thought I looked adorable. I mean, what the heck happened? So, I paced the store aisles a little bit and composed myself and prayed and forgave the shouting woman.

I would like to reiterate that I’m not gay, and I don’t want to disrespect anyone who is or who struggles with homosexuality. To read my full opinion on this issue, please refer to my blog post from a couple of years ago. I didn’t see the shouting woman, and yes, there’s a strong chance that she wasn’t even shouting at me, but I felt very unsafe during and after that weird episode. I don’t want to make light of serious situations that have seriously happened, but I think I got a tiny taste of what it’s like to be stereotyped that way or shamed that way or to even possibly be the target of a hate crime. I’m thankful that God protected me from such a thing, aside from the majorly huge, majorly ironic detail -- HELLO, PEOPLE, I’M STRAIGHT!

I forgave the shouting woman multiple times, but her words, even though they may not have been directed at me, resounded through my spirit for many hours afterwards. I spent the rest of yesterday evening and most of today working through it. I lost my self-confidence for a while. Should I not have cut my hair? Should I change the way I dress? Is this why guys don’t ask me out? Does everybody else agree with the shouting woman?

So, what it boiled down to wasn’t the shouting woman. It was her words, whether they were directed at me or not. My spirit gulped them down, I think because I have a history of abuse (long story!), and I’m used to consuming those types of toxic, deathly words inside me. I really need to get un-used to it. Proverbs 18:21 says that death and life are in the power of the tongue. The shouting woman was speaking words of death. The Bible says that the devil is the father of lies. Lying is like a language to him. Unfortunately, I think the shouting woman was letting the devil use her, and she was speaking his language. It was like a fiery dart that needed to be extinguished in the shield of faith.

If I understand correctly, God showed me that the shouting woman was looking for a fight, and she thought I was somebody else. Anyway, regardless of how or why this happened, I hope what I’ve gone through will change me for the better and help somebody else. The truth is, I’m fearfully and wonderfully made, and my soul knows it very well (Psalm 139:14). I’m probably not going to change the way I dress anytime soon. I like my style. I’m not going to try to be somebody I’m not. I’ve almost always been nerdy and dorky, and the more God frees me up, the more artsy-fartsy I get, and lately I’ve been going back to my old punk-wannabe look. Sometimes when I’m in a very good mood, I strut. I’m a girl, but I’m not a girly-girl. Dang it, I like men! (Especially when they’re older, wiser, and starting to get gray! (swooning)) I don’t want to care what people think about me. I want them to get to know me and my heart. I want them to know the One who made me and redeemed me. He loves me, He cherishes me, and He likes me.


Speaking of love, here I am with my little girl cat. Just look at that face. I dote over her. OK, if you squint a little, she kind of looks like E.T. in this picture, but I still love her. (Actually, in some lighting, she looks more like Yoda. Dang it, she’s my cat! I love her!) I believe that God healed her of a heart murmur a few years ago. I took her to the vet, who said that she heard a heart murmur during the examination. I brought my little girl cat back home and prayed and wept over her. Remember when I said that death and life are in the power of the tongue? I was so afraid of somebody accidentally speaking death over my cat that I didn’t tell anybody about her condition for an entire year. At the next vet visit, the vet didn’t hear any murmur! And no vet has mentioned it ever since! Hallelujah!

Back to the housecleaning metaphor. God showed me that the shouting woman speaking words of death was like somebody puking in my closet after I’d just cleaned it. Sometimes when I’m thinking or praying through an issue, I’ll want God to show me what I have to do to fix it, and I’ll treat it like a formula. He’s showing me that it isn’t a formula but a relationship with Him. He also showed me that one reason why I’ve taken so long to learn how to clean house (literally) was because I believed that it was hard. In the past, I was shown that the proper way to clean was to use a certain product and/or tool. But the truth is, cleaning house (literally) really isn’t that hard. Just pick up whatever product and/or tool you have available, and just go for it. If somebody pukes in your closet (literally), maybe after you clean up the actual puke and you spray stain remover on the carpet, you might need to wait for it to dry before vacuuming over the puked-on area. Hmm. I might have too much experience cleaning up puked-on carpets (literally) because I own two cats. And because of other things.

Several months ago when I blogged about equilibrium, I mentioned getting a dizzy spell, and I will now share some details of how sick I got. While I was driving home, I puked on myself. I literally lost my lunch on my car and my clothes. I gotta say, that home ec class I took in high school did NOT prepare me for this cleanup job. Hmm. How to discreetly cover up one’s soiled self while laboring up the stairs to one’s apartment... how to wipe up puke chunks from one’s car with old towels... how to scrape dried puke chunks out of one’s steering wheel a couple of days later after one is well enough to notice that the steering wheel isn’t completely clean yet... how to hope that the old puke stench will disappear by the time one offers someone a ride in one’s car. Nope, I don’t remember reading about any of this in the home ec book.

I think that’s kind of how it is when somebody pukes in your clean closet (metaphorically). Sometimes it isn’t just an unwelcome Christmas present that sits there and takes up dust. It’s a defiling mess that stinks and needs to be cleaned up right away. There isn’t necessarily a verse in the Bible with every one of my specific situations. There isn’t a “Tirzah, when somebody calls you bad names in a grocery-store parking lot, here’s what you do” verse in my Bible. I need to lean on God and let Him show me what to do. He told me to keep walking, so I did. I knew I needed to forgive, so I did. I know that I’m fearfully and wonderfully made, so I need to just be who I was created and designed to be. My relationship with God is the most important thing in my life. I want to depend on Him for everything. He speaks words of life to me all the time, and I need to listen. Sometimes He sends people to help with the cleanup. And sometimes He sends experts with professional, sophisticated, stain-removing equipment. Just as long as it gets clean, just as long as He’s in charge of the cleaning, and just as long as He’s at the center of the cleaning job, I think He’s OK with it. I think He wants the closet to be just like new, if not better than new.

So, tomorrow I plan to heavily gel and spray my hair like usual. My self-confidence is back, my shame is gone, and I might do some strutting. I feel a song parody coming on. Ha, ha, ha, ha, speaking the life, speaking the life. Ha, ha, ha, ha, better than new, better than new.

Eww, what’s that smell? an onion? Nope, a house.

“The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.” (Proverbs 14:1)

“Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain.” (Psalm 127:1)

If you’re tired of me talking about emotional healing, this isn’t the blog post for you. Yep, that’s right! I’ve unearthed plenty more to talk about! And it’s probably going to be one big metaphor!

I’ve heard several people say that healing is a lot like peeling an onion -- it happens in layers. That simile, however, isn’t a very good description for what I’ve been going through recently. Besides -- when I cook with onions, I don’t really do that much peeling. I mostly just chop and hack away.

These past several months, God has been talking to me a lot about houses. I live in an apartment, but for the purposes of this blog post, I’m going to say “house.” For me, this particular season of emotional healing has been a lot like cleaning house -- a house that’s accumulated decades worth of junk, dirt, crap, etc. Yep, that’s right! God is cleaning house.

In the actual physical “house” that I live in and pay rent for, I’ve rarely invited anybody over lately because I’ve needed to catch up on my housecleaning. (Hey, Tirzah, get off your laptop and do some cleaning!) Also because my furniture was built in 1975 and needs to be replaced, but that’s another story.

Yes, I actually did take a housecleaning break after typing that last paragraph. If you’ve kept up with my blog for the past couple of years, you know that keeping a clean house is something I’ve struggled with for some time. (And if you’ve kept up with me on Facebook for the past year, you know that I’m not the least bit domestically inclined. I don’t think my cats mind, though. I’m currently typing this with one arm under a purring feline belly.) I won’t go into the gory details now to explain why, but I’m thankful to report that my house is much cleaner than it used to be. The other night, I almost snapped a triumphant photo of an empty sink... because the dishes were all clean! (ecstatic shock) One practical thing that God has shown me is that I need to clean a little bit at a time (rather than pull an all-nighter to cram in all the cleaning at once). If you’ve ever lived alone, worked full-time, and been very involved with church and socializing, and if you don’t have it in your budget to hire a maid, you understand how truly difficult it can be to keep a clean house. (Mental note: Train cats to scrub shower tiles.)

I have what I call my File Pile, which is a pile of documents (bills, junkmail, notes, etc.) that I need to file away later. “Later” doesn’t always happen. As I was quickly going through my File Pile, I was reminded of events in my life that caused me to put filing on hold: getting laid off, getting a new job, buying a new car, working overtime to pay for the new car, etc. OK, I’ll be completely honest. I have 5 File Piles, some of which with materials that have been waiting for about 8 years to actually be filed anywhere, throughout the house. It’s tempting to just lug in a trash can and say goodbye to my File Piles forever with one fell swoop. I haven’t touched some of it in 8 years, so what have I been missing? It’s garbage, right? Well, I suppose some of it is. But I do have some important documents buried under there somewhere, and I really do need to go through it (someday). I should probably sit down for a few minutes at a time to work on it gradually.

OK, The File Piles are tame. Have you ever seen (or smelled) what happens when you go literally for weeks (or months) without cleaning something like the bathroom or the dishes? I have, and it’s not something I’m proud of. It’s something that happens when you work more than 40 hours a week and feel too tired to do anything besides park your butt on the couch and stare at the TV. You’ll be surprised at how gradually you get used to the mold and mildew that develops, and you’ll be shocked at how gradually you get used to the smell (or convince yourself that it isn’t there). I mean, if nobody comes by your place to check on you, where’s the accountability? If it’s just you and two animals under one roof, the three of you just adjust.

Then there are the closets -- the piles of forgotten junk! Some of the junk were Christmas presents given by people who didn’t know me or my tastes very well, so now they just sit there and take up valuable space. Closets can be scary. When I was moving into my current house, I was stressfully packing up my stuff at my old house; right before I left, I swung open the closet door and noticed in horror that I had completely forgotten to pack the closet. Another pile of crap! (chilling shriek)

Now for the metaphor. The good news is, I don’t own my house. It’s a temple that God owns. He’s the reason for the housecleaning. He’s the One who’s cleaning it with me. And He’s got some serious stain-removing, mold-killing, power-dusting, pile-filing equipment. Sometimes He works really fast, and other times He isn’t in a hurry.

I think I understand one reason why I got so clinically, dangerously depressed 11-12 years ago. My house was dirty. It was filthy, cluttered, dusty, and moldy. There was a stench in the air, I couldn’t quite figure out where it was coming from, and I didn’t completely understand that I was worth investigating its source. The people who frequently visited my house either didn’t smell the stench, or they’d come over with a can of air freshener to cover it up, tell me I was doing OK, and then leave. What none of us realized was that there were some closets that were desperately cluttered to overflowing with sweaty, dirty, old socks that needed laundering. The shower tiles were so mildewy that roaches were making themselves at home in the plumbing. Deep in the bottom of the kitchen sink, somebody neglected to clean a platter after cooking some raw meat, and the dish had been sitting there for so long that the thought of even going near the sink was unbearable. In a sense, it seemed much easier to just declare the house condemned and wait for the bulldozers to come finish it off.

But God is in the business of rescuing houses. He’s in the business of remodeling. He’s in the business of restoration. Sure, there were a few dishes and socks here and there that just needed to be thrown away, and there was a termite problem that’s been taken care of. You’ll be surprised how much junk can accumulate in one place in 35 years. Some of the stuff is junk I brought in myself, and some of it is junk that was given to me like unwelcome Christmas presents that just sat around, took up valuable space, and collected dust. But this house is not condemned. This house is valuable. This house is a place that God looks forward to visiting, spending time in, living in, and enjoying. And He’s more than welcome here. It all belongs to Him. He helps me clean up, tidy up, and sanitize. There are some rooms that are cleaner than others, but there are other rooms that still need lots of attention. There are File Piles that have junkmail mixed in with important documents, and I think God wants to sit down with me and work through it gradually. And yes, sometimes I don’t even feel like a house but an onion that doesn’t get peeled but chopped at and hacked at. But it’s OK. However He lovingly repairs, remodels, and restores my house, I want Him to make Himself at home here.

Back to literal stuff. I really do have company coming over soon, so I do need to catch some Zs, wake up early, and do a bit more tidying up tomorrow morning. Maybe I can bribe the cats to help me out. I’d try using tuna, but I don’t want to ruin how nice and un-stenchlike it smells in here right now. Hmm.

Tirzah’s Travel Thoughts: Oklahoma-Missouri Randomness 2011

It’s been said that variety is the spice of life. I would say, however, that randomness is the background against which I live my life. Last year, I drove through Oklahoma and Missouri to visit my very good friend Liz in Columbia. This year, I embarked on that adventure once again. I thought I would snap and post photos of the beautiful scenery I saw last year, now that I have a real digital camera. Instead, however, I thought I’d share road-trip experiences that were so random that I couldn’t just keep them all to myself.

Can anyone help me figure out why anyone would display this particular monument for all to see on a small-town highway in Oklahoma?

Behold! The rusted mailtruck! *triumphant fanfare plays*

I liked small-town Oklahoma. The people there were nice and friendly indeed. Whoever owns Braum’s was very smart in building an eatery/grocery store at nearly every town on Highway 69. During one such visit, an elderly lady who was wearing what appeared to be an antique football helmet entered the lady’s room and greeted me with “Howdy.” Perhaps she chose that particular headgear for medical reasons, but that has to be one of the most random restroom greetings I’ve ever had.

Then there was the overly excited cashier at a Love’s truck stop just past the Missouri border. “Hello, and welcome to Love’s!” he shouted in a mostly-sincere-but-with-maybe-a-dash-of-sarcasm eloquence as I scurried inside. Later, right before I purchased a Pepsi Throwback and peanuts, I heard him discussing with his coworker how much money he spends every month on cigarettes. Perhaps he owes his near-thespian performance of a greeting to nicotine.

What made me laugh out loud were billboards along Highway 44 that were advertising a Cheese Outlet. My mind was flooded, of course, will all kinds of cheese jokes. What do you do at a Cheese Outlet? Is there a line of children who are waiting to cut the cheese? No offense if you’ve ever visited a Cheese Outlet. Hopefully the cheese was delicious. Hopefully your experience wasn’t cheesy at all. *muffled snickering*

I hope you enjoyed these random tidbits from my travels. If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to get back to the randomness I encounter in my everyday life. (Maybe someday technology will advance to where you can hear my cat purring if you put your ear to your computer monitor. Hark! Feline happiness!)