The "F" word and the "P" word

"Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed. Truth shall spring out of the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven." (Psalm 85:10-11)

I've noticed that the more God frees me up, the more direct, in-your-face, and no-holds-barred I become. But before I proceed, I'd like to offer a disclaimer. I don't want to poop on anybody's genuine attempt or desire to love or accept me. I simply want to express my opinion as truthfully as possible. I'm not an official teacher or pastor, and I'm not an ordained minister. Spiritually, I'm a shepherd, a big sister, a spiritual mom, a crazy artist who finds Jesus, points to Him, and says, "Hey, people, check Him out." Currently, my journey has involved some excruciating inner healing, mind-boggling soul detox, and a desperate quest to find relief from chronic emotional pain. So, while I'm finding my answers, I hope I can help other people find theirs, too, or at least lead somebody to Jesus' hand so that He can gently clasp onto my friend's hand and tell me, "Thanks, chickie, I'll take it from here."

Hmm. Maybe that didn't make any sense. Hopefully a story will help. When I was a teenager, my church split, and I remember hearing one of the "troublemakers" say something that some of the people around me didn't like. I don't remember her exact words, but I think she basically said, "You can't just accept what people teach you; you have to question it." Her idea and actions back then seemed somewhat scandalous, but now I honestly think I know what she meant. I'm not saying that we should be suspicious of everyone or everything. I'm saying -- from the perspective of someone who lived in spiritually abusive environments for most of her life -- that you don't have to blindly accept every nugget or platitude that everyone feeds you. It's OK to question it. If someone brings you food on a tray that you've never tried before, it's OK to sniff it before you eat it. What if it's spoiled? What if you're allergic to it? As I mentioned in a roundabout way in the previous paragraph, I'm a shepherd. I really think teaching is a black-and-white process: "This is right, this is wrong; this is true, this is false; you can count on abc, but you must avoid xyz." Shepherding is a gray process: "This is how you apply such-and-such teaching; this is how you can find God in your situation; if that didn't work for you, try thus-and-so."

So, that's why I'm blogging about the "F" word and the "P" word. In case you've been burned by abc like I have, perhaps you can try thus-and-so. Also, during the rest of this post, I'm going to be more direct, and I'm going to use a bit of profanity for the sake of description. (Not for the sake of being a bitch.)

Lately, whenever I ask God about any of the emotional-healing issues that He's steaming out of me, He usually tells me to just be honest. I grew up in a house where I was continuously instructed to lie and deceive. So, God has been telling me that honesty has been healing me.

A while back, I tweeted that "family" has become my new "F" word. I like the concept of family. I'm pro-family. I'm glad that God promises to put the lonely in families (Psalm 68:6). I'm exceedingly glad that God adopted me into His family (John 1:12). I'm enjoying my feline family that's drowsily snuggling up to my computer while I'm typing this.

But the word "family" doesn't always give me warm fuzzies (and I'm guessing I'm not the only person who feels this way). For most of my life, here's what "family" looked like for me: Mom is the true lord of the household; from the kitchen to the cleaning to our finances to our very emotions, she is in charge. Dad is the neediest child of the household, even though he's supposed to be in charge, which he compensates for by demanding respect as the official spiritual leader who is to be obeyed without question and who is also the professor who retains the right to lecture at anytime. None of the members of the household are allowed to form any opinions of their own without the approval of Mom and/or Dad. If Mom or Dad disagree, Mom is always right by default, or Dad will pout loudly, unless it is a spiritual matter, in which case Dad is right, unless the issue is honesty, in which case Mom's lies and attempts at deception are right. Loudness is of extreme importance, because the squeaky wheel gets the grease, so this competitive atmosphere squelches most attempts at unconditional love. As a unit, this family is considered to be superior to all other families, because everybody else has problems such as drugs or illicit sexual activity. Our unit is shiny and perfect, and any attempts to legitimately escape from this environment, such as marriage or unapproved spiritual enlightenment, are guilt-tripped and/or punished.

So, I've had an extremely difficult time translating this phrase in the modern church: "We're a family." Is church "family" supposed to look like the paragraph that I described above? No way. Is church supposed to look like the ideal families that you see depicted in Norman Rockwell paintings? I don't know; church people don't usually follow me home or drowsily snuggle up to my computer while I type blog posts. Much of my experience with church people has been more of a laundromat -- a place where people show up once a week to get their dirty laundry clean, and it's often a completely different group of people every week.

As I blogged previously, I felt years ago like I was evangelism's bitch. Lately, honestly, I've felt like I've become prayer's bitch. The modern church, to me -- which I've been told is supposed to be "family" -- has been less of a "Hey, let me get to know you and invite you into my living room" environment and more of a "Pray for this, pray for that, pray for me, pray for us" environment. Yes, as a church, we're supposed to bear one another's burdens (Galatians 6:2). I completely understand that there are zillions of prayer needs out there that need to be presented to my heavenly Father. But for crying out loud, I feel used! I am not your prayer bitch. I do not want you to tie me to my prayer closet and force-feed me request after request without treating me like a person. Did Jesus say that He wanted a house of prayer or a prayer factory? Is His bride destined to live inside a house and enjoy each other's company around the fire, or to show up to a factory and keep placing items onto a conveyor belt?

I have feelings. I have giftings. I have a history. Would it kill you to try to get to know me, even a tiny bit? Do I have to be exactly like you to be worth getting to know? When I hear, "We're a family," but I get treated like, "You are my prayer bitch," it offends me.

Time for me to balance what I just said. I am happy in my church. I've chosen to unpack my bags, settle, plant myself, and let my roots grow as deeply as God wants them to grow. Sure, I'm in a season of major transition and will need to tweak some things here and there. (Perhaps one reason why I've been bleeding out is because my Father has been doing quite a bit of John-15-type pruning.)

And I wrestle with, "So, when they say 'family,' do they mean 'mom-and-dad' family or 'distant-uncles-who-only-show-up-at weddings-and-funerals' family"? Maybe to you, me being available to listen to your prayer requests means that I'm "family" to you. Or maybe you grew up in an enmeshed environment like I did (and are still getting healed from it like I am), and you would only consider me "family" if I were to let you call me twice a week and let you download your entire life to me during 90-minute phone calls. I've quite possibly overanalyzed this beyond belief, but this is the type of stuff I've been thinking through. "We're a family": Does that mean that you get to control me? "We're a family": Then why am I not in your will?

But here's the bottom line. During this particular leg of my tremendously gray journey where "family" is my new "F" word and "prayer" is my new "P" word, I've learned two things to be absolutely black-and-white true. 1) God adopted me into His family (Romans 8:15), I will always be able to count on Him, and He will never disappoint me. 2) I will always be able to count on God's people to hear my prayer requests, whether I text them, email them, or deliver them in person.

Maybe I'm 100% wrong. Maybe I'm overly whining. Maybe I really am just being a bitch. But I don't want to give up on this whole "We're a family" thing, and I don't want to stop praying. I want to figure this thing out, whether I get warm fuzzies or whether I'll just need more therapy later.

So, that's where I am right now in this leg of my journey, honest. Perhaps if I'm just stepping in a pile of bullcrap, hopefully I'll be able to tell the next sheep not to step here. We can figure this out together. Jesus believes in us. I don't think He would have left us in charge otherwise.