I think I'm just
spiritually dry-heaving again, and I hope this will be the last entry in this
non-intentional blog series. It's interesting the types of things that will
come to mind when you're healing. For instance, currently my gums and jaw are
still healing after I had my wisdom teeth extracted about a month ago. The
healing has been very slowly but surely. Once in a while, my jaw will surge
with pain while new bone forms, and I'll need to address the pain with my new
faithful friend ibuprofen. Other times, I'll hear a gurgling on one side where
food is trying to bubble out of my cavernous gum-hole.
I hope this photo isn't
TMI, but this is a picture of another new friend: the dental syringe that I use
to flush food particles out of my gum holes (where my 2 bottom wisdom teeth
used to be) with saltwater every night. This procedure isn't painful anymore,
and it's pretty darn fun, but this wasn't my dental-hygiene routine a month
ago. This is my new normal.
It sure is better than
my old normal: wisdom teeth that would flare up in my gums every few months. I
totally thought I could hang on to my unnecessary teeth, but I'm very glad I
got them pulled, and I'm very glad that I won't have to deal with them ever
again. I guess if something grows and rots inside your mouth for long enough,
it will become so familiar that you won't even consider that it isn't supposed
to be normal.
I think living life in a
spiritually abusive environment can be the same way. Spiritually speaking, now
that the deep-rooted, rotting teeth have been removed and new growth is happening,
sometimes I have "how the bleep did this get stuck inside my
gum-hole?" moments while I watch the food flush out forever.
1) Years ago, I was part of a church group that was expected to
attend a weekly prayer meeting at 6:30 a.m. I arrived one morning and began to
answer the usual "How are you" greeting questions. I guess I was
comfortable enough with one guy to answer honestly, so I told him I was tired. If I remember correctly, he said, "Isn't it good to know that we can rebuke our bodies?" I'm
pretty sure he was insinuating that I should rebuke my body for being tired.
Um, dude, it was 6:30 in the morning. I'm a woman who likes to get completely
ready before I venture out the door each morning, so I was probably awake at 4
a.m. Of course I was tired. There's no need to rebuke anything or anybody, because nobody was doing anything wrong. That is, unless...
Why the bleeping heck
couldn't you have shown a tiny bit of sympathy? If your wife goes into labor,
do you rebuke her body for doing its job and causing discomfort during the
birthing process? Rebuking an illness is one thing, and taking authority over
one's body is certainly acceptable and pretty darn awesome. But to rebuke a
body for being tired after getting only a few hours' sleep is just a disconnect
from reality.
2) Speaking of, I'm uncool with how this preoccupation with
Pharisaical rules and ideals has made me extremely insensitive to other
people's pain. Over the years, some people have mentioned various people in
their lives having cancer. When I heard about it, it either went in one ear and
out the other or I just didn't care. I feel terrible about this. I'm truly
terribly sorry for not caring. I have no right to feel meh about cancer.
Not to shift the blame
-- because I really do want to change -- but to give you an idea of the type of
self-righteousness that was my old normal, here's a conversation that happened once
between me and the guy who raised me. Knowing that I was involved in a ministry
for single people, this guy asked me with the usual condescension in his voice,
"Why do they call them single parents? Why don't they just call them
illegitimate children?" I replied, with my backbone, that if he and the
chick who raised me hadn't gotten married, I wouldn't appreciate being called
"illegitimate." (Um, I'm a legitimate person, thank you very much.)
Gee whiz. If this is the type of attitude that churches ordain nowadays, is it
any wonder that people have trouble believing that a loving God exists?
3) Several years ago, I was driving home from work, and I was
supposed to have met some friends to go to a carnival. On the way home, I got in
a car wreck. I had to call my friend and tell him I couldn't make it because I
had had a wreck. I wish I had heard, "Oh, my gosh, are you OK?"
Instead, I heard, "Oh."
I guess maybe it was
this same spirit of meh that afflicted one of my past spiritual leaders/abusers.
A past friend told me once that she had had a car wreck on the way to church.
It traumatized her, of course. So, she called our spiritual leader/abuser and
explained that she had had a wreck. "Are you still coming to church?"
the leader/abuser asked dryly with zero sympathy in her voice.
"Bleeping heck!
What the bleep is the matter with people?" asked the ex-spiritual-abuser
while she typed up her blog post, as if she didn't know.
I don't think it's an
accident that Jesus commanded us to love one another. Love suffers and is kind.
Love doesn't allow other people to keep engaging in harmful activity. But love
girds itself and jumps into the trenches with people who are hurting. Love
doesn't puke on other people's sincerity. Love doesn't grow coral reefs around
a person's heart. Love makes a heart hurt right alongside another person.
I've typed up this post
in the most awkward positions ever with my laptop because, well, I'm trying to save
my tail. (Literally.) I think months of sitting cross-legged on the floor like
a college student have finally caught up with my late-30s butt, because my tailbone
has been very sore these past few days. But it's gradually been getting better.
This weekend was perfect for standing up at church for several hours on end
because it's been painful to sit down. But it isn't a situation where I can
"rebuke my body." I've prayed over it, sure. But what am I supposed
to say? "I hereby rebuke thee for not being as strong as thou used to be
in days of yore, o thou unbelieving vertebra?" I don't think so. What
about my aching feet? "I hereby rebuke thee for not enduring mine weight
properly during hours of standing in dress shoes in the holy sanctuary, o ye
sinful foot-bottoms?" Heck no.
I hurt because I'm a
human being. Whether I'm hurting physically, emotionally, or spiritually, I
have access to Jesus my Healer, who will take care of it and heal me because He
cares. He isn't a jerk like I used to be. He's completely incapable of being a
jerk. He endured probably more physical, emotional, or spiritual pain than I
ever will, so He knows exactly what I'm going through, and He cares. He won't
lecture at me for being imperfect or ignore me for walking through a hard time.
He walks right along with me, and He hurts with perfect empathy, and He
comforts in a way that only the most legitimate Parent ever could. And I want
to learn from Him.
Heh. Put that in your
dental syringe and flush it.
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