Mind if I vent? Yes? You mind? Good. I'll vent.

This blog post contains subject matter that may make you uncomfortable. Reader discretion is advised.

This is the second Sunday in a row that an older lady has sat next to me and chatted pretty much nonstop for about 15 minutes or so. I think each of these encounters has been more of a monologue than a conversation. I'll meet the lady, and then she'll download a large portion of her life story to me and weave in some unsolicited advice. Perhaps if I had signed up for a mentoring program and/or had introduced myself to the lady and tried to initiate a conversation with her and/or had gotten to talking to her over a period of several conversations, I would have relished this type of monologue. However, these ladies unfortunately didn't give me a choice in whether or not I would relish their monologue, their wisdom, or their company.

I was inconvenienced each time -- the first at church when I needed to leave and find some dinner to soak up the generic DayQuil swimming around in my empty belly, and the second at the beautiful coin laundromat when I needed to unload my wrinkling comforter from the dryer. Each conversation started out with me thinking something to the effect of, "Oh, wow, these must be the nursing-mother queens that God promised me in Isaiah 49!" but then turned into, "Oh, crap, they're not asking me questions about myself, or trying to get to know me, or even stopping for breath. And they're forcing their advice on me. I don't feel safe anymore. I can barely even hear God's instructions on what to do over their prattle. I need to escape!" I understand that listening to a person is definitely a way of loving that person. I understand what it's like to feel lonely and about to explode with all kinds of neat stuff to share with people, and suddenly you find an audience, and their listening faces look better to you than a loaded tree on Christmas morning. But I also understand what it's like to be taken advantage of. I understand what it's like to have your time and energy stolen. I understand what it's like to be stifled, forced, and silenced in an unhealthy way.

"Have you found honey? Eat only as much as you need, lest you be filled with it and vomit. Seldom set foot in your neighbor's house, lest he become weary of you and hate you." (Proverbs 25:16-17)

Lately, I've been wrestling with this idea that I've heard from church people. If I'm quoting it correctly, it's "You're as healthy as who you attract." From what I understand, the idea is that if you're an unhealthy person, you'll attract unhealthy people. If you're used to being abused, and if abuse is your normal way of life, then you'll attract abusers. If you're miserable, you'll attract miserable people. If you're emotionally healthy, you'll attract emotionally healthy people. And of course, to a degree, that's true.

But what about Jesus? He's the most healthy Person who ever lived, and He attracted all sorts of people. He wants everybody to be attracted to Him. And yet, He seems to have repelled unhealthy people such as the Pharisees, and He was quite vocal in exposing their hypocrisy. He wasn't self-righteous, so, from what I understand, He didn't attract the self-righteous people.

So, I've been taking a bit of an inventory of my life. The friends I've been attracting lately have personalities that are similar to mine, so I'm very cool with that. I don't have a problem with that.

I've been attracting no men whatsoever. So, if -- romantically speaking -- I'm attracting nobody, that seems to be a major indication that I have major self-worth issues. If I think I'm worthless, I'll attract nothing. (If I think I'm worth being attracted to, I'll probably attract somebody who sees my worth.) Sounds terrible, but it's a majorly important thing for me to be aware of.

In my past, I attracted married men. This was absolutely NOT something I intended, and this was definitely NOT something I wanted. (This is also why I avoid "the appearance of evil" like the plague.) I understand now that the abuse I endured wasn't my fault at all, but I also understand that there was something regarding a familiar/familial spirit that I needed to get rid of. It's gone, and I don't have to beat away dirty old men with a stick anymore. (Also, ladies, if I happen to be sitting or standing near your husbands and I scooch my chair away from him or take a step away from him, he doesn't stink. He's taken. Or perhaps I still have some old defense mechanisms that I need to examine.)

Then there were these weird flirtatious conversations or incidences I had with women who made me feel uncomfortable and unsafe. Those were also unintentional and unwanted incidences that I seem to have attracted. (I hope those weren't all my fault, either.) And those occurred before I fully allowed God to uproot some same-sex issues that I'd been carrying around inside me that I didn't know were still there. But from what I understand, those issues are gone now, and so are the questionable flirtatiousnesses.

But I still have these random, unplanned, unintentional, unwanted episodes of "Hello, nice-listener person, I will sit here and chew your ear off without any warning whatsoever." The two episodes I described at the beginning of this post were only the two most recent ones in my life. This has happened before. I've also had friendships/relationships like this. I'm not talking about having a very long conversation with a friend who I want to be close to. I'm not talking about listening to a good friend tell their story for a long time, and then rescheduling another time when I can get together with my friend so I can hear more of my friend's story. I'm not talking about something that blesses me. I'm talking about something that feels like it's trying to infiltrate its way into my life again, latch on, suck hard, and accelerate my inner decomposition. And lately, it's come from people who I possibly may never see again.

Reader, if you know me personally, maybe you can help me out. Is there something about me that attracts chronic talkers? Do I have a "Unload every opinion you've ever had right here" sign with an X tattooed to my forehead? I don't get it. If I interrupt them during their spontaneous spiel, I think I would be rude. If I encourage them to continue when I don't really want them to continue, I think I would be lying. If I come right out with the raw truth and say, "I really don't understand why you picked my ears to aim your diarrhea mouth at. Can I please get on with my life now?" I think I would invite a punch in the nose.

Perhaps I grew up with this pattern and am still developing the skill of inserting "hold that thought" or "can we continue this later?" or "forgive me, but I must leave immediately" into a torrent of incessant speech. And I've had issues with talking too much and/or being overly vulnerable with people who weren't really interested in my life. I want to be approachable and friendly and loving, but I don't want to be a doormat. I mean, enough is enough. And it's interesting that God is holding my eyelids open (Psalm 77:4) so I can see this particular issue at this point in time.

Later this week, I'm planning to attend a special church retreat where I'm going to let God slice me open all over again and examine my stuffing. Perhaps it will be a mellow beginning to something ecstatically new. Or perhaps it will be a continuation of what He's already been doing inside me. Or perhaps I'll collapse onto the floor in a pile of my own snot and tears. Who knows? But I'm expecting Him to help me become a little bit healthier. Hopefully I'll start attracting people who are a little bit healthier for me than the spontaneously chronic diarrhea talkers. But I'm looking forward to listening to God and letting Him chew my ear off about whatever He wants. He's safe, and He wants to make sure that I feel safe.

The photo I put at the beginning of this post has absolutely nothing to do with this post. I just thought this post should have a photo. That is a picture of my little mixed Siamese cat, whom I call Choochie. Choochie isn't her real name, but that's what I tend to call her, among other things. It's a nickname. She has other nicknames, too. Do you have any pets? If you ever get a pet, you should give it at least one nickname. Well, one problem that I have with my Choochie is that she is a strong-willed little cat. What a beloved little thing, and what a stubborn little thing. There's this spot in my living room behind my TV set where she's small enough to fit, but she's not allowed to go in there, because there are electrical cords back there, but she still sneaks inside there anyway. You know, if you ever get a cat, you should catproof your entire home. It's like having a child. It isn't like owning a dog, because a dog will do whatever you train it to do, but a cat is strong-willed and stubborn and-- Hey, reader, where are you going?!? I'm still venting!!

Childlike

This is a close-up of my little cat who has been through some mysteriously crazy stuff regarding her health. About 5 years ago, during her annual vet visit, the vet announced that my little cat had a heart murmur. I prayed like the Dickens for her, and I'm pretty sure God healed her, because no other vet has been able to hear any heart-murmuring through any stethoscope. She was totally fine. Then one evening last summer, my little cat made mysteriously strange humanlike growling noises before she would vomit intermittently. The growling and the expectoration continued intermittently through the following morning until she vomited bloody crud. That freaked me out. I prayed like the Dickens for her again, and God showed me that this particular vomiting was caused by demonic activity (if you're my Facebook friend, perhaps you remember a Lemonchicky story about tinyfelinelemon puking up lemon paste). After I took care of it, she was totally fine. Then a few days ago, my little cat painfully growled again between puking up little piles of foam, a couple of which were blood-laced. I prayed like the Dickens for her again ("like the Dickens" in this particular context means a tearful "I know this is just a cat, but she's like my kid, and I'm like her mama" prayer), and the puking eventually stopped, and by the next day she was totally fine. During her annual vet visit yesterday, I described the incident to the vet who was very meh about it in a "She's a cat; therefore, she shall puke, but if her weird puking becomes frequent, bring her in, and we can do bloodwork" way. I snapped this photo this evening while she was playfully eyeing the camera strap.

Reader, perhaps you share my love of cats and are grabbing a few tissues from the Kleenex box right now, or perhaps you don't like cats at all and are shrugging in a "One man's pet is another man's dinner" way. I can understand both points of view. But in my point of view, that little cat is my little bundle of joy, the huge apple of my little eye, the delight of my bachelorette heart. And her humongous orange brother, who is patiently perching nearby while I type this (patiently waiting for his midnight snack) has an equally precious place in my heart. (Even though his feline priorities are a tad different than hers.)

Or perhaps you're reading this and wondering, "When is Tirzah going to grow up and stop doting on her cats?" Technically, I'm quite grown up, and I'm still maturing, but I'll possibly never stop doting on my cats till death do us part. I mean, for crying out loud, GOD HEALED MY CAT! Multiple times! (I haven't even mentioned my orange snack-timer cat's scary urinary episode that happened 2 years ago.) That is a very big deal to me, and I hope the magical, mysterious awesomeness won't ever, ever, ever wear off. The God of the universe, the God who created my cat, the God who is extremely busy running the universe and dealing with multitudes upon multitudes of problems and issues and prayer requests, takes the time to listen to my blubbering Dickensian appeal to heal my dangerously expectorating cat, and He does it. He's real, He works miracles, and He cares about me. Why would anyone try to shut me up in my "Oh, my gosh, this is frickin' awesome" moment?

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, 'Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?' Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, and said, 'Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.' " (Matthew 18:1-3)

"In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of His grace which He made to abound toward us in all wisdom and prudence, having made known to us the mystery of His will, according to His good pleasure which He purposed in Himself, that in the dispensation of the fullness of the times He might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth -- in Him." (Ephesians 1:7-10)

"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things." (1 Corinthians 13:11)

According to Vine's Concise Dictionary of the Bible, that word "childish" from 1 Corinthians 13:11 is a Greek word that literally means "not-speaking." I wanted to use verse 11 to prove my point in this blog post, but I may be out of my league now. This verse just became about a zillion times deeper for me. This verse is tacked at the end of Paul's description of love in 1 Corinthians 13, which is sandwiched between his detailed descriptions in 1 Corinthians 12 and 1 Corinthians 14 of how spiritual gifts should be used in church settings. So, Paul is basically saying, "When I became a man, I put away not-speaking things." What the heck does that mean? Well, he just finished writing about tongues and prophecy and knowledge, and he's about to say in verse 12 that "now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face." So, when he was a child, he had "not-speaking" things. When he's an adult, he has spiritual gifts like tongues. When he was a child, he had "not-speaking" things that he would imagine and play with. He would dream. When he's an adult, he has knowledge and reality. "Not-speaking" things. Wow...

Tirzah, snap out of it. You're blogging. Ahem. Anyway, I've often thought 1 Corinthians 13:11 meant something like, "When I was a child, I had little toys that I used to play with, but now that I'm grown up, I've put those little toys away in storage boxes that collect dust in my closet. I don't play with those toys anymore because I'm grown up." More recently, I've thought that it means something more like, "When I was a child, I was childish, but now that I'm grown up, I've put away those childish ways of thinking and acting." In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul writes about how every member of the body of Christ has a spiritual gift. In 1 Corinthians 14, Paul writes about a few spiritual gifts in a huge amount of detail. But between 12 and 14, Paul sandwiches 1 Corinthians 13, which is like hitting the pause button on the whole thing, as if to say, "OK, so these spiritual gifts are really awesome and shiny, and they might make you feel like a superhero. Whatever you do, don't let it go to your head. Whatever you do, use these gifts with love, otherwise your using these gifts is pretty much worthless." Before he became a Christian, Paul was a Pharisee. From what I understand, he was spiritually abusive. He used to seize Christians and imprison them for their faith. I think he probably knew what he was talking about when he was explaining in 1 Corinthians 13, "You can't shove your awesome spiritual gifting down people's throats. You can't be a big baby and force people to accept your gifting or your blessing. Grow up and bless people; don't persecute them." I think Paul was basically, in love, explaining how inappropriate it would be to say something like, "God sent me here to prophesy over you-ah, and I'm a-going to encourage you-ah, and I'm a-going to blesssss you-ah, and I don't care how obnoxious you think I am-ah, because in the name of Jesus-ah, you are a-going to receive this blesssssing-ah, whether you like it or not-ah, clang-clang!!"

Please note that there's a tremendous difference between being childISH and childLIKE. "Childish" has a negative connotation; someone who is childish is immature. Some examples of being childish would be expecting other people to pick up the tab for you whenever you go out to eat, telling the same corny joke for the bazillionth time to the same people who've already heard it a bazillion times and only laughed the first time and expecting them to laugh all over again because you'll pitch a fit if they don't, or launching into a 20-minute story after you've already been having a conversation with somebody who has just told you, "I have to go." I've had issues with childishness that I've certainly been working on while God has been maturing me. (Gasp! I'm "not-speaking" to you would be a childish thing to say... Tirzah, focus!)

On the other hand, "childlike" has a positive connotation; someone who is childlike isn't necessarily immature. Someone who is childlike probably has a vast appreciation for beautiful things, humorous moments, and the fact that God exists and wants to adopt them as His children. I think Jesus had a firm grasp on this concept -- nay, He knows more about it I think than anyone else does -- and taught it to His disciples. In the verses I quoted above, He basically said that you can't even get saved until you become childlike. Paul explained in Ephesians that salvation through Christ by grace is, basically, a mystery. And why shouldn't it be? One Man saving all mankind once and for all with His blood is a pretty hefty thing. Yes, it's a mystery that can be sought after and studied and accepted and cherished and enjoyed and stared at and nestled in and snuggled with and sobbed into and embraced ferociously. But it's a mystery nevertheless. I think Jesus was basically saying, "I won't always fit under a microscope. You won't always understand Me or My ways. But I want you to keep looking for Me. That's how you'll meet Me in the first place. You need to trust Me as a child trusts his or her parent."

Matthew 19, Mark 10, and Luke 18 tell about how people brought children or infants to Jesus so that He could touch them or pray for them. Jesus' disciples rebuked the people who brought the children to Jesus, but Jesus said, "Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God." Perhaps this incident only happened once, or perhaps it happened repeatedly. Reader, if you'd like to indulge me (this may eat up another 20 minutes of your time -- just a heads-up), I'd like to offer my version of how one such scene might have unfolded.

Imagine that Jesus is teaching in a cozy nook of the temple. He has a scroll opened in His lap, and He's become so passionate in His explanation that He's barely noticed that the parchment has begun to slip off His knees. A couple of His disciples near Him have distracted themselves with the slipping parchment and have anxiously wondered how much longer the Teacher will keep talking. Meanwhile, the Teacher ignores the sour glares of the Pharisees in the back of the room and understands that they're ready to rip His every word to shreds. But He knows His word won't return to Him void. Then He shifts His gaze to the second-rate alternate Pharisees and scribes that are sitting nearer to Him than the others. Their gazes have softened during His discourse, and He knows that today will be the day when He'll get to introduce them to His Father, and He longs to tell them how there's nothing second-rate or alternate about them, because He had already chosen them Himself.

Suddenly, juvenile squeals pierce the cozy temple nook, and the sound of running little footsteps culminates in two little boys who run straight into the Teacher's lap and finally topple His scroll to the floor. Their parents follow close behind them, followed by more parents who are carrying infants, followed by still more parents who are toting toddlers. Suddenly, the Sunday School lesson has turned into a daycare center, and academic serenity has given way to organized chaos.

PETER: (to some parents) Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can't bring these children in here!

JOHN: (to more parents) Please don't disturb the Teacher.

JUDAS: (raised eyebrows) You can all purchase a transcript for a small price later, eh?

MAN: (to the disciples) Please, sir, we just want Jesus to bless our children.

WOMAN: (gently rocking her fussing infant) Would you like us to come back later?

PETER: (to the woman) No! We want you to leave, period!

(Jesus gently waves His hand in the air at Peter and motions for the woman to hand over her infant.)

JESUS: Dude! (shakes His head at Peter while receiving the infant) You're doing the clang-clang thing again, My friend. Please let these little children come to Me. Don't keep them from coming to Me. (looks down at the infant and whispers) My Father's kingdom is just like this.

(The infant coos and begins to fall asleep in Jesus' arms. Other children clasp His garment while He gently returns the infant to the woman.)

PETER: (whispers) I'm sorry, Ma'am.

(Another woman cradles her baby in Jesus' arms. The baby spits up on Jesus' robe.)

JOHN: (gasps) Oh, no! Let me clean that for You.

JESUS: (chuckles) Don't worry about it. That's what babies do. (to Judas) There should be some extra wipe-rags in the money box.

JUDAS: (hesitates) Um...

JOHN: (groans and rips off a tiny piece of his own garment) I'll take care of Him.

(Jesus gently returns the baby to the baby's apologetic mother while John wipes off Jesus' robe. During this scene, the Pharisees in the back have begun to gossip. The second-rate alternate Pharisees and scribes near the front have come closer to Jesus and the children.)

JESUS: Well, boys and girls, tell you what. I was just finishing up today's lesson, but --

LITTLE BOY #1: Are You really the One who fed 5,000,000 people?

JESUS: (chuckles) It was 5,000 men, but yes, there were other people there in addition, and My Father helped me.

LITTLE BOY #1: Wow! You are so cool!

LITTLE BOY #2: You are awesome, Mr. Jesus.

(Jesus laughs and motions for the children to gather on top of or near His lap. The second-rate alternate Pharisees and scribes also scooch up nearer to Jesus. The Pharisee gossips in the back have begun to giggle and mock. A little girl also walks up to Jesus. She is carrying a small cat that is limp and glassy-eyed.)

LITTLE GIRL: Mr. Jesus, can You please heal my cat? She's been sick.

JESUS: (teary-eyed) Awww. Poor little thing. Yes, of course I can. (reaches out and gently touches the feline briefly) But you all can just call Me Jesus.

LITTLE BOY #3: Can I call You Teacher?

JESUS: Sure, of course. I Am.

LITTLE BOY #3: My dad used to come and hear You teach, but he stopped because he said You were stupid.

(Peter gasps and places his hand over his mouth.)

JESUS: (softly and teary-eyed) Yes, I'm sorry to hear that, and I remember your dad. How is your grandmother?

LITTLE BOY #3: (quietly) She died. That's why he said You were stupid.

JESUS: (wipes His cheek and speaks with a quavering voice) I'm so sorry to hear that, My sweet little friend.

LITTLE BOY #3: My grandma was sick for a very long time, but before she got sick, she was a really mean lady, and I didn't like her that much.

JESUS: Well, I'm sorry to hear that she was mean to you. You certainly need to be taken care of by people who understand that children need love.

LITTLE BOY #3: That's what my mom kept trying to tell my dad.

JESUS: What do you think about Me, sweet friend?

LITTLE BOY #3: (shrugs shoulders) I don't know. You're nice.

(The group of Pharisees in the back of the cozy nook explodes with laughter. A few of the infants begin to fuss. The second-rate alternate Pharisees and scribes are noticeably annoyed by the Pharisees in the back and also noticeably moved by Jesus' interaction with the children. The little girl's cat leaps down from her arms and saunters over to a small, empty spot by Jesus' feet.)

LITTLE BOY #2: What's today's teaching about, Mr. Jesus -- I mean, Jesus? (giggles and blushes)

(All the children giggle. The cat wildly rubs her cheek against Jesus' feet and purrs ferociously.)

JESUS: (giggles and blushes) I love you children so much. I remember what it was like to be a Child. Life was easier to enjoy, people were easier to love, and moments were easier to understand. (hesitates) Before you all came in today, I was actually teaching about, uh, celibacy.

(Peter squinches his eyes shut, leans his head backwards, and laughs silently. John gasps. The Pharisees in the back of the room snicker quietly.)

LITTLE BOY #1: What's smellibussy?

JESUS: (cautiously) You know how your mom and your dad get married, and then they live happily ever after?

(All the children nod and say, "Uh-huh." Judas snickers.)

JESUS: (smiles) Well, celibacy is what would have happened if your mom and dad had NOT gotten married. Then there wouldn't have been a happily ever after, because you all wouldn't have been here, and now I will tactfully distract you by saying WHO WANTS IT TO BE LUNCHTIME??

(All the children cheer. Some of them sprint out of the temple's cozy nook, others linger in Jesus' presence, and some clasp onto His garments for dear life. The Pharisees in the back of the room scurry out. The little girl grabs her healthy little cat from the floor, walks up to Jesus, and kisses Him on the cheek to thank Him. The second-rate alternate Pharisees sit stunned on the floor, some with tears streaming down their cheeks. After all the children and their parents file out, Jesus lingers to minister to the second-rate alternate Pharisees who have witnessed the first demonstration of love, patience, and kindness that they have ever seen.)

Thank you for indulging me, reader. As a former second-rate, alternate "maybe they'll let me on the field if another player gets injured" Pharisee myself, I've unfortunately squelched other people's childlikeness. I've also had my own childlikeness squelched. On at least one occasion, I remember gushing to a trusted friend/counselor and telling her about how awesome it was that God had answered my prayer. Then she replied cheerfully in a "well, DUH" way, something to the effect of, "You mean, God loves you, and He wants to answer your prayer? How about that!"

Excuse me, but He's GOD. Yes, He puts laws in place, and yes, I have a relationship with Him, and yes, He's adopted me, but He can do whatever He wants. He doesn't have to answer my prayer. I don't have to be in awe of Him or His ways, and you don't, either. None of us do. But He did say that He wanted us to be childlike. Children are innocent. Children aren't supposed to get bored with things that are supposed to be infinitely fascinating. If God heals my cat, yes, I'm going to gush. If He heals me, yes, I'm going to sit at my computer and blog while "not-speaking" for, like, 4 hours. Maybe you've got Him all figured out, but last I checked, His love for me was supposed to remain a mystery, at least a little bit. I remember what it was like to be bored by anything that had to do with God, and I remember what it was like to think that He was obligated to bless me, and I remember what it was like to think that I was supposed to have Him and His kingdom all figured out. And guess what? Being that way didn't lead to life. It led to death. And guess what else? I don't want to be that way anymore. I don't want to be childish. I want to be childlike.

So there.