Grandes éxitos

This blog post is rated R for brief instances of childish profanity. It is also rated M for excessive use of metaphors.

This is a photo of my cat, of course. You may wonder what the heck he's doing, because the snapshot is so vaguely open to interpretation. Is he meowing? Is he yelling? Is he speaking English? Is he singing opera? Is he snarling and about to devour the photographer in classic horror-movie style? Well, the only way to know for sure exactly what's happening is to ask the photographer herself: me. When I was taking this picture, I was trying to get some cool shots for the blog (as usual), and Macho was meowing because he was hungry. Perhaps the most accurate caption for this photo would be "Hey, Mom, put down the camera and feed me some Purina."

Over the past 3 years, if you've read my posts here or anywhere else online, or if you've just interacted with me in person, and you've wondered "What the bleeping heck is happening to her? Is she normal? Is she tetched? Is she about to eat somebody?" Well, from what I understand, you simply saw one of my Photographer's snapshots. I would like to share with you what I believe His caption would be: "She is going through a really long Kairos."

There's a department at my church called Freedom ministry that specializes in handling emotional/physical/spiritual healing, etc. My quirky right-brained definition of Freedom ministry is "a drive-thru hospital," but you can get the real definition here. In a nutshell, they offer classes on various healing/therapy subjects such as forgiveness, boundaries, rejection, etc. They offer individual counseling sessions. And they offer a two-day event called Kairos. (There's also Kairos 2, which I thought was extremely awesome.) If you have deeper, more serious issues that Freedom ministry can't address, I think they'll refer you to a mental health professional.

From what I understand, "Kairos" is a Greek word that basically means "something special happening at a specific time," basically like the different types of "seasons" that are listed in Ecclesiastes 3. I attended the two-day event of Kairos in October 2010. The preparation for this event, in a way, sparked the bonfire of this extended WTF emotional-healing journey that I've been on. Actually, I think "journey" is way too nice of a word to describe what I've been walking through. Nay, crawling through. Nay, oozing through.

If I remember correctly, in April 2012, God told me, "You're halfway through your Kairos." I don't think He meant the two-day event I attended in October 2010. He meant that I completed a year and a half's worth of my 3-year "journey." That means that my Kairos will be officially over in approximately one month. I am writing this post one month early as an expression of faith and, well, because I think God likes it when I blog. It's kinda like an extended hangout session for us.

"Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?" (Song of Solomon 8:5a)

So, here's the best analogy I can think of to describe my 3-year "journey." One of my favorite TV shows is Untold Stories of the ER. This show broadcasts dramatizations of actual crazy incidents that happened at real ERs. In one episode, a male bodybuilder visits the ER because he has an inhumanly humongous boil on his leg, near his butt. I believe they said his boil was a side effect of using steroids. The only way they could treat it was to lance it, but for some reason they couldn't use anesthesia. Lancing this boil would be pretty darn painful, because the boil had grown so huge (it looked like a shooter marble) that it was purple and gross. So, the bodybuilder was all decked out for his bodybuilding performance, but he couldn't go on with the show because he was afflicted with this boil. The ER doctor had the idea that his pretty nurses could distract him with conversation while the doctor would sneak in and lance the boil. The procedure turned out to be a great success. The bodybuilder's flirtatious conversation with the pretty nurses went something like "Hey, how YOU doin'? Do you think after this, we cou-- AAAAAGGHH!!!" Lance, lance, drain, drain!

For the past 3 years, this has pretty much been my life. Some people get to go on retreats to experience inner emotional healing. But God lanced my boil while I was all decked out and living my everyday life. There wasn't any anesthesia. Trying to keep it together during this process was no easy task. "Hey, everybody, how's it goin'? Ah, I see you're here with your fami-- AAAAAAGGGGHHH!!! Oh, would you look at the time? I have an appointment with my couch and a Kleenex box." Lance, lance, drain, drain!

Oh, my goodness. I experienced a ton of healing, a variety of healing, an all-you-can-eat buffet of healing. At the beginning of this process, God told me very excitedly that He had been waiting for this season. He rolled up His extremely beautiful, extremely holy sleeves and went to work.

For starters, are you familiar with the stereotype of the Mexican macho man? I've learned that we women with Mexican heritage can be quite stoic as well. During my Kairos, I went from NO emotion to ALL emotion. I would rarely cry, and if I did, it was this confusedly simultaneous laugh-cry. Now I cry at the drop of a hat, quite hard, sometimes for extended periods of time, sometimes with a church camera pointed at me while I'm trying to sing. One time, while I was repenting of a certain sin, understanding what the freakin' heck I had done, and feeling the shame and remorse, I cried so hard that Jesus showed up. Except He didn't really look like He does in the paintings. He had a concerned look on His face, and He told me to breathe and eat something. Yep, my God is a very practical Person who won't let me (literally) faint.

And when I say that I saw Jesus, I don't mean (at least, from what I understand) that the literal, tangible glorified body of Jesus -- which is in heaven at God's right hand -- was in my living room. At least, I don't think that's how it happened, because I'm still alive and breathing on this earth. Maybe it was a "vision." Or maybe my spiritual eyes saw something happening in His dimension, because He really was telling me quite urgently to breathe and eat. I'm not a theologian, so maybe I'm explaining it wrong, but I'm pretty sure it was my Jesus. (God my Father is bigger and hazier.) He also showed up one night next to my bed while I was crying. He was comforting me because I was experiencing a grief that was so soul-ripping that I'm surprised my skin is still holding my internal organs together.

And I saw angels. God was talking to me one evening after I had done an excruciatingly difficult task, and He opened my spiritual eyes and showed me the angels that were looking after me. I also saw demons. At least one of them afflicted my cat and made her sick. I heard the devil talking. I stared him down and told him to bring it on. I heard him squeal like a little girl and scurry away like a dog. I saw a really funky-looking demon one night next to my bed that called me a whore and a bitch.

I repeatedly encountered God my Father. He boxed with me in my living room. He knocked me down and won. He would tuck me in at night and nibble on the ridge of my nose, affectionately. He would stroke my cheek and burn my skin because, well, even in His gentleness, He is a consuming fire. One time, He let me see a tiny flash of His glory while I had my eyes closed, and my eyes and skin still burned. He showed up in my living room while I would sing songs to Him on my guitar, and angels would show up and sing along. He invited me to enjoy meals with Him (although technically He wouldn't eat, because He never gets hungry). He would comfort me while I would drive home from work and wail like a 3-year-old, and He would let me get ice cream and talk things out with me like a good Daddy is supposed to do. I invented a Facebook alter ego named Lemonchicky so that I could express some of these events from my life to other people without imploding or being committed.

Speaking of profanity, when I was about 8 years old, I walked into my house and asked my (former) parents immediately, "What does 'fuck' mean?" My (former) father answered, alarmed, "That's the ugliest word in the English language." Sorry to freak you out, but I was just trying to figure out what the kids at school were saying. So, during my really long Kairos, God my Father encouraged me to be as honest as possible, even if it meant using profanity. Psalm 62 is not kidding when it says that God is a refuge when you pour out your heart to Him -- even if you have a lot of "fuck" or "shit" in your heart. I remember during a car ride one morning, I was quite actively waving my middle finger, and it wasn't because I was driving. It was because I was thinking about somebody who had hurt me previously, so I was praying a forgiveness prayer. You're supposed to forgive people from your heart, right? Well, my heart was livid, so that particular forgiveness process happened slowly but surely. God was there every step of the way, and even though He would correct me, He wouldn't seem alarmed or surprised at all by the bleepity bleep that would tumble out of my mouth.

I experienced grief like I had never experienced it before -- probably because I had never really been given permission to grieve before. At the deepest, most crushing level, I experienced what it was like to let go of something precious and think, "Oh, my gosh, this is gone now. It's just gone. It will never come back. Life will never be the same." And all that was left to do was feel the grief and cry. Heck, I'm crying while I'm just thinking about it and typing it. The One who was always there for me and who let me cry on His shoulder (not literally, otherwise I think my head would burn off) was God.

So, God showed me that I had been hurt in relationships -- or, rather, by the absence of relationship. He healed it by giving me His relationship. We made new memories together. There are worship songs that I'll never hear the same way again. One was playing on repeat on my stereo while I was crying on my couch with Him, and another was playing on repeat in my head while I was crying on my pillow with Him.

Speaking of relationships, God showed me that I had a ton of them that were unhealthy, so I gradually had to get rid of them. Some of these were my decisions. Others were situations that God spoke more specifically about. There was one person who I was praying about (because she told me to), and God was like, "She's clingy; be careful with her." There was another person who God was like, "She's sharpening her fangs," and a few days after I heard Him say that, I received a long, hateful email from her that stung deeply and took a while to recover from. And this is just a tiny sampler of what the spirit of Jezebel tastes like.

I won't go into great detail here, but I will say that the spirit of Jezebel is basically a principality that's extremely controlling and gets her hooks into a person in extremely subtle, scary, manipulative ways. Here's my definition: "Ooh, can I please be your friend? Yay! I'm your friend! NOW YOU WILL DO EXACTLY AS I SAY! I WILL CRITICIZE EVERYTHING YOU DO! I WILL EMOTIONALLY PUMMEL YOU TO WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR SELF-WORTH, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING!!!" Sigh. That felt really good to type. Anyway, the spirit of Jezebel can be extremely difficult to unhook from a person's life, so the healing and restoration process after a successful unhooking can be a very long one. There are many resources out there that explain the spirit of Jezebel very nicely (and better than I do), but you're getting my quirky right-brained crash course here. In a nutshell, a Jezebel spirit can begin to take root and grow in a person through a rejection wound or an abandonment wound. (I guess the thought process behind it is "People can't reject me if I control them"?) It festers and grows in isolation.

Recently while I've thought about my life and puked out my heart to God, I've said, "Fuck my talent; I want a family" and "Fuck my power; I want people." Of course, during the correction process, I said something to the effect of, "I'm sorry; I really do need my talent, and I want it to grow." And God said something to the effect of, "You probably don't want power, but you need power. It's like broccoli. By the way, you're also free from a Jezebel spirit. Congratulations." Because if you have a Jezebel spirit, power is as addicting as crack. Fortunately, I've also discovered that God's peace is also as addicting as crack. (I've never done crack. It's just an expression.)

Why am I setting off F-bombs in God's presence? Well, during this process of uprooting unhealthy people out of my life, adding healthy people has been an extremely slowgoing process. I've battled loneliness to a degree that I never dreamed I would battle it. I've also learned that I'm not as popular as I thought I was.

"Look on my right hand and see, for there is no one who acknowledges me; refuge has failed me; no one cares for my soul." (Psalm 142:4)

Some Bible verses are awesome to live out, like "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13) or "I can run against a troop... I can leap over a wall" (Psalm 18:29). However, living out Psalm 142:4 can really really really really really suck. It isn't that I'm never around people. It isn't that I haven't tried to reach out to people. It isn't that I'm not friends with people who care. It's just this Kairos that I'm in right now. Back in 2011, I blogged kinda lightheartedly about really heavy Bible verses that I ended up experiencing firsthand during my 3-year Kairos. I had lived most of my life in abusive, enmeshed environments with codependent people (including myself) who wanted to be around me because I was just as unhealthy as they were, and because they wanted to abuse or use me. Now that I'm healthier, I've chosen friends who are so healthy that they are usually busy spending time with their families and NOT me. So, how do I deal with the soul-crushing loneliness? I have to have a relationship with God, and I have to remember extremely important things that He's told me about this season.

Before I even moved to this part of the state, He showed me Proverbs 17:1. The way it's hit home for me is that my dry crust is me living life with just me, God, and my cats. That, with peace and quiet, is better than the abusive, enmeshed, codependent feasting with strife. I wonder why people aren't knocking down my door on Friday nights to hang out with me, and then I remember people like the ones that God removed from my life and told me to be careful to avoid, and my dry crust suddenly tastes really good.

I understand that this is for a season, and I also remember Him telling me that during this season, I need to see who sticks. There are many people who have either walked away or who I've unfriended, and I don't even think they've noticed yet. Working through this disappointment has been extremely painful. But getting to know the people who I can really trust, seeing the friends who have consistently shown interest in me, and realizing who will more than likely walk with me in the long haul has been eye-opening. It's interesting to see who's still around after I puke out my true colors. Hmm.

God has told me that I'm currently in a friendship wilderness and a friendship famine simultaneously. It's dry and hot out here. My shoes are gone. (I'm not talking about the preparation of the gospel of peace; those are invisibly shod on my feet.) I don't know if somebody stole my shoes, if I lost my shoes, or if God hid my shoes from me, but I'm walking barefoot in the scorching hot desert, and my feet sting. It's important to keep moving while it's this hot out here; otherwise, I could shrivel up and die. It's important to know where and Who my shelter is; otherwise, I could get dehydrated and die. It's important that I keep moving; otherwise, the sun could cook me, and the desert creatures could eat me alive. It's important to know where I can find the grain storage houses, or I could starve to death. It's important to eat the manna that God provides for me, or I could starve to death. It's important to keep looking for the Living Water, or I could die of thirst.

God is showing me that if I have a headache, of course He can heal it, and of course I can believe Him to heal it, but it's also OK to take some Tylenol. If my brain is frying from all my issues, it's OK to chillax for a little while and enjoy some healthy entertainment. Another opportunity for hangout time with Him!

Otherwise, I could put myself in somewhat dangerous situations. Lately, I've caught myself comforting myself with cynicism. That's a red flag, because I don't want to harden my heart.

But something else is possible. Today, I discovered that I'm a lot like a pregnant lady. Yep, I'm probably spiritually pregnant, and I'm probably around week 36, spiritually speaking. Pregnant ladies can quickly respond the wrong way if they're told the wrong things. I guess that's just the nature of pregnancy. "Aww, God won't give you more than you can handle!' "THAT'S EASY FOR YOU TO SAY, MISSY!! YOU TRY HANDLING A 20-POUND BASKETBALL IN YOUR BELLY!!" "Well, God saves the worst trials for His best children." "OH, YEAH, MISSY? I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRIAL THROUGH 50 POTTY BREAKS A DAY WHILE A GIANT HEAD SQUASHES YOUR BLADDER!!!"

I've almost lost it. There have been several very close calls. I've almost cussed out and flipped off everybody on Facebook simultaneously, quite a few times. But knowing where I am and Whose I am have been more helpful than anything else.

Because if I heard God correctly, my 3-year Kairos is almost over. I'm almost out of this wilderness/famine/journey. And I look forward to seeing the results.

I'm almost certain that I'm going to go into songwriting hibernation when this is all over. By "hibernation," I mean that if I sit down to write a song in October, I'll probably wake up on New Year's Eve and wonder what the heck happened. Creativity is crazy-wonderful like that, if you let it overtake you properly. I mean, God took an entire day off after a six-day creation extravaganza, didn't He? Maybe I'm completely wrong about this. Or maybe I really am crazy. Or maybe my cats aren't really cats after all. Maybe they're spies from Planet Aquiestoy. Ah. Ya comprendo. Do all the people on your planet have curly hair and an obsession with The NeverEnding Story? Fight against the sadness, Artax!

People used to tell me, "Wow, Tirzah, you're always smiling!" They don't tell me that anymore. But maybe after my Kairos is completely over, they'll start saying that again. Or maybe they'll start saying, "Wow, Tirzah, you look like you always have it all together!" instead. I can tell them about my 3-year Kairos, and maybe they'll reevaluate how much they value outer appearances. Because you never know what might be happening behind a smile. You never know what might be all-together painful.

"Who is like a wise man? And who knows the interpretation of a thing? A man's wisdom makes his face shine, and the sternness of his face is changed." (Ecclesiastes 8:1)

The title of this blog post is the Spanish translation of "Greatest hits." Or perhaps you could translate it "Greatest successes." Or perhaps you could even pronounce it in English as "Grahn-days exit-os" and imagine me making my grand exit out of my Kairos. However you choose to pronounce or interpret it, I truly appreciate you reading through the highlights of my "journey" and learning about what was drain-draining after the lance-lancing. I hope it helps you understand me a tiny bit better. I truly hope it helps you if you are going through a similar experience. And I definitely hope it helps you hear about how eternally, wonderfully awesome God is (well, He's actually ALWAYS awesome) while He's been carrying me through what was probably the most excruciating season I've ever known. (A season I wouldn't really wish on anybody, at least not like this.)

And that's definitely not to say that God won't still keep doing some healing in future seasons, because He's a Healer. It's just a seasonal thing. In the summertime, the sun is out for an extremely long time, and it's excruciatingly hot. Ooh, wait. I see sprouts of grass here and there. And a shrub-- gasp! It's the singing bush! And the invisible swordsman. "I'll come back some day." "Why?"