(If you'd like to read my two previous blog entries that are dedicated
especially to my delayed reactions, please check out the posts from June 21 and
June 26.)
Hey, Tirzah, you used to be an enmeshed, codependent, abused, abusive
people-pleaser. Shouldn't you be in therapy? What, and miss all this blogging
fun? No way. Well, it's just that you dialoguing with yourself in cyberspace is
a little bit, uh-- Demented? Well, yeah. This is a really Looney Tunes way of
handling your past. What would you know about my past? And why should I take
advice from you? You had all this stuff happening under your nose all those
years, and you didn't do anything about it. Correction: Whenever you'd try to
do something about it, somebody who could yell louder than you would verbally
pin you against a wall and spiritually rape you. Eww. Why do you gotta use the
"r" word? Well, wake up and smell the Counselor's couch. Now's your
chance to get your therapy right. And last time I checked, blogging was free.
OK, OK. I'll sit back, take a deep breath, and let it all out for my free
Counselor to hear. Um, will this session be recorded?
7) After I was released from
the psych hospital nearly 13 years ago, I was required to a) get a job, b) get
into therapy, and c) get into a lifegroup (be in one, not lead one). Finding a
lifegroup at my church was challenging. But it was good that I had a strong
support system of friends to tell me what to do and tell me where to go, right?
When I accompanied a friend to her friends' house, and I knew that the people
at this house led a lifegroup, I thought I had found a new circle of friends.
Things were going to change for the better, and my new life was going to go my way, right? However, my friend told me later that her
lifegroup-leading friends' group would not be the best one for me. They did not
have many people in attendance, and other groups that had other singles in them
would be a better route for me to take.
My reaction then: Oh.
Bummer. I guess my friend knows what's best, because she's older than me, she's
wiser than me, and I have to obey my friends' advice, right?
My reaction now: Wrong! The
Bible says that in a MULTITUDE of counselors, there is safety (Proverbs 11:14).
That's not to say that my friend was wrong to offer some advice; that's what
friends are supposed to do (Proverbs 27:9). But telling me where to go and
where not to go was crossing the line. Choosing a lifegroup to attend was
supposed to have been MY decision to make. I interacted with the leaders, and I
liked them. They seemed to like me. Who the bleep cares if the attendance has
dwindled? Wouldn't MY attending have helped solve that tiny little problem? Why
should you choose friends for me? If I'm perfectly comfortable finding a tiny
little group of friends, rather than a huge house full of singles, shouldn't
that be my business? They seemed perfectly harmless. You, however,
unfortunately, I have unfriended. I hope you can understand why, and I honestly
wonder if you even noticed that I left.
8) About 11 years ago, a
friend from church helped me find a job. I became one of his coworkers.
Unfortunately, his conduct on the job usually was not Christlike at all. I
became especially concerned when he became engaged to another coworker, and my
boss began to complain about his behavior on the job. Wanting to make sure I
did the right thing, I called my mentor at the time and talked to her about it.
She insisted that I confront him about his behavior (even though it was more of
an intuition-type feeling than overt ungodliness) and report back to her after
my confrontation. I hung up the phone, and I eventually decided to not take my
mentor's advice. I think she completely forgot about the whole thing.
My coworkers ended up postponing their wedding, and I honestly don't
know if they stayed together at all after that. My company went through crazy
stuff that I won't elaborate on here, and I don't work there anymore. And my
mentor, who talked to me during that particular phone conversation as if I were
a child, never followed up on this situation.
My reaction then: Whew! I'm glad
I don't have to explain to my mentor why I chickened out and didn't do the
confrontation.
My reaction now: No, I don't
owe that unfriended mentor any type of explanation. When I called her, I was
trying to process a situation that I wasn't used to processing. I think that's
what females usually do -- they share their lives with one another. But for
some reason, she clicked into male mode -- she solved my problem for me. What
the bleep kind of way is that to solve any problem? All she got was my side of
the story, OVER THE PHONE. She didn't go to work with me every day and see
firsthand what was happening or not happening. And she didn't have to make me
feel like a child. Speaking of, she has children of her own. I hope she
remembers the advice she gives them and follows up on it.
Regarding my un- Christlike coworker, um, Tirzah, wake up and smell the
worldliness. When you first met this guy, what was he doing? Yeah, that's
right, he was yelling at another guy in a very childish manner. So, why would
his behavior in the workplace surprise you? You've encountered religious
hypocrites plenty of times before.
9) About 14 years ago when I
was struggling majorly with depression and I thought my apartment was full of
demons (which, honestly, it probably was), a few of my friends/mentors agreed
to come over and pray over me and my apartment. During the prayer time, a
friend prophesied over me that I was a spiritual mother; she also prophesied --
with the disclaimer that she thought this next word might be from her and not
from God -- that I would also become a mother physically to many children. She
also asked me in front of everybody if I dealt with a certain sin. Drenched in
shame, I said yes and cried in front of everybody.
My reaction then: I am so
humbled beyond words. I am so glad that I have friends who take care of me. I
really hope I can be at peace in my apartment now.
My reaction now: For crying
out loud! What the bleep kind of friends were these?!? I really wish they would
have empowered me to pray over my home myself instead of doing it for me. And
regarding that friend who I've since unfriended, I think she should check her
prophecy radar for glitches. First of all, I don't appreciate her confronting
me about a sin in front of my other friends; I think a private sin should have
been dealt with in private. Jesus doesn't stomp on people while they're down;
why should you? Second of all, I think she should have quit while she was
ahead. Yes, I'm a spiritual mother. But, um, regarding me having lots of
physical babies, I'm 37 years old. Unless I get married tomorrow and have
several sets of twins, that might not happen. Maybe you should have waited
until I found Mr. Right to start wishing good thoughts for me in that
particular department.
Also, until you wake up in the middle of the night to a sci-fi-looking spiritual
presence calling you a whore and a bleep, you ain't got no idea what it's like
to fight demons in your apartment.
10) As I've mentioned before,
I was heavily involved for many years in a spiritually abusive church in which
almost everybody was a) a missionary, b) a missionary wannabe, c) a supporter
of missionaries, or d) all of the above. There's definitely nothing wrong with
any of that. But many of us, quite frankly, were spiritually raped -- sometimes
on multiple occasions -- into believing that missionaries were supposed to be
placed on pedestals and treated as kings and queens. The more illegal
Christianity was in certain countries, the higher the pedestal. These
missionaries, who would not get paid salaries, would "covet" our
prayers and our money. Anyone who was not involved in missionary work was
silently considered inferior to everybody else. Everybody had to be
"called" to a "nation" unless God had "called"
you to do something else. As a result, most of my friends were missionaries. On
a whim, I started a prayer group for some missionary friends of mine. This
group would meet weekly in the church's prayer room. Once, random people who
were simply passing through the prayer room on their way to another part of the
church building met me and my guitar while I was waiting for my meeting to
start. I told them that the meeting that was about to happen was for a
missionary team in XYZ country. The random people cheerfully asked me,
"Oh, are you called there?"
Incidentally, this church environment only had boys with guitars lead
worship most of the time. I was only a woman, so even though I graduated college
with a music minor, and even though I had been leading small-group worship for
several years, I was very rarely permitted to help lead worship in large-group
settings. My mentor from #8 above allowed me and another veteran worship leader
to be replaced by a brand-new boy with a guitar during worship meetings. He was
a nice guy who played the guitar well, but he ironically called me to ask for
tips and music, etc.
Once, I told the ex-friend with the glitchy prophecy radar in #9 above
that what I really wanted (as opposed to the missionary stuff that I was constantly
told I was supposed to do) was to visit Hillsongs in Australia. I wanted to
learn how they do worship music. My ex-friend sarcastically remarked something to
the effect of, "Glad you want to make that sacrifice for all of us."
My reaction then: Hahaha! My
friend is so funny. And I am such a lazy Mexican for wanting to be a worship
leader when all the rich white people are making the real sacrifices by
becoming missionaries and earning peanuts of support per month.
My reaction now: I'm not
even sure where to begin. I'm pretty sure I was a victim of gender
discrimination, and possibly ethnic discrimination, while living in this
spiritually abusive environment. Sometimes I remember how the worship pastor
had me right under his nose all those years, and I wonder why he did nothing to
help me or mentor me other than allowing me to play on his team a few times and meeting with me once to answer some songwriting questions.
Then I remember how sometimes man's rejection is God's protection. Sure, I was
greener than a Christmas tree, and I had lots of pride issues to work through.
But it's nice to be mentored or at least treated nicely by people who believe
in you.
Being a missionary is a calling, just like anything else is a calling.
Being a missionary isn't an excuse to be lazy or mooch off people for money or
prayer. It isn't a cop-out because you don't want to find a regular 8-to-5 job.
It's a serious act of obedience when God says "Go," and you say,
"Yes, Sir, where to?" It isn't a game for college graduates to play
because some pastor with a business degree got the revelation that there's more
to life than making lots of money and living in a nice house and driving a
fancy car. And guess what? If everyone in your church becomes a missionary, who
will be left to support them? Who will be around to start prayer groups for
them? Incidentally, I hope my ex-friend who scoffed at my desire to check out
Hillsongs appreciates me starting a prayer group for her work in XYZ country.
Not everybody is "called" to be a missionary vocationwise.
However, everybody has plenty of opportunities to go on a short-term mission
trip whenever they feel like God wants them to. Nobody should ever be
spiritually raped into thinking that they're supposed to be something other
than what they were designed to do. Some of us want to check out churches in
other countries because we're called to be WORSHIP PASTORS, not missionaries.
Please don't make us think that we're at the bottom of the barrel just because
we're musicians. Biblically, we're actually on the front lines.
Wow, Tirzah, you got a little cocky there in that last paragraph, don't
you think? No, not really. Knowing who you are is called humility. But these
people invested in your life for years. Why are you publically dissing them
like this? The Bible says to give credit where credit is due (Proverbs 3:27).
Well, it also says to not honor a fool (Proverbs 26:1).
And why have you been on such an unfriending kick for the past couple
of years? Well, it's just the season that God has me in. He's remodeling, and
sometimes you gotta empty out a room before you can scour it clean and bring in
new furniture. But you've taken this too far. I mean, your grandfather passed
away a couple of weeks ago, and you didn't even go to the funeral. Whattup with
that? Well, a lot of things. I decided long ago that I would not attend his
funeral. Quite frankly, and quite sadly, I liked him better when he had a
temporary case of dementia and he didn't know who I was. He was a nice person
who seemed interested in getting to know me. When he went back to his old self,
well, he went back to the way things were. I was the black sheep, and he was
the scary guy who didn't have a problem picking a fight with another motorist
while he was driving me to school in the second grade. Hmm. Is this the kind of
person I really want to honor as a relative? this mocking maniac who the
community put on a pedestal as a pastor and a Bible salesman? No, I don't think
so. Some doors, once closed, are best left shut.
No comments:
Post a Comment