Breaking up, making up

This post will be like a grab bag of metaphors, etc. Please feel free to grab whatever you like and enjoy. Also, in case you were wondering, anytime I talk about my "Daddy," "Papa," or "Father," capitalized, I'm talking about God. Cuz He's my Daddy. And I'm His child.

"You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing." (Psalm 145:16)

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." (Psalm 23:4)

Speaking of grabbing, I enjoyed a beautiful banquet of breakfast taquitos this morning -- the kind that a little girl is supposed to enjoy with her Daddy on a Saturday morning (especially in Texas, where there's a Whataburger on every corner). The blurred photo at the beginning of this post is Macho my big cat trying to grab one of my beautiful burritos. (Choochie my little cat was in another room commencing her morning nap marathon.) I have to keep a very close eye on him, or he'll eat my meal. And his tummy isn't as big as he thinks it is, so if he overeats, he won't keep it down. So, whether he filches my food successfully or unsuccessfully, it's messy either way.

So, this morning while I was serving myself my Whataburger breakfast, I couldn't leave Macho alone in the room with my meal. If I left my coffee in the kitchen and had to go get it, I'd pick up Macho in one arm and retrieve my coffee with my free hand. Then I'd gently drop both of them off at their designated locations. I had to do this a few times during my morning. At one point, I had Macho in one arm and my coffee creamer bottle in my free hand, and he thought my creamer bottle was food, so he reached out and grabbed it (he has cataracts), and I had to explain to him in his carnivorous-feline disappointment that the bottle was for Mama's coffee.

This morning's breakfast was an adventure, for sure. Daddy and I enjoyed reruns of The Cosby Show, while I ate my taquito banquet, because that's what a little girl and her Daddy are supposed to do: enjoy each other's company. And while I was transporting my breakfast materials in one hand and transporting Macho in the other, that was my way of telling my cat, "I love you, but you can't eat my breakfast," and also "I love you, and I don't want you to get into trouble."

Years ago, I heard somebody explain how shepherds treat wayward sheep, and I've remembered their explanation ever since. If I understand correctly, in biblical times, if a sheep had a tendency to wander away from the flock, the shepherd had to discipline it in a way that the sheep would never forget. The shepherd would break the sheep's legs. That way, the sheep COULDN'T wander off. And while the sheep's legs were healing, the shepherd would carry the sheep around his shoulders. Then after the sheep's legs had healed and it could walk again, it would live the rest of its life extra close to the shepherd, because it didn't know how to live any other way.

So, I'm pretty sure my Papa has broken my legs, at least once, because I don't want to be away from Him or His shoulders ever again.

Last weekend was a special weekend at my church. For me, it was extra special. I sang in our choir while we led worship for 5 services. During the last service, I was hit with atheistic thoughts during the song set. In my opinion, the taking-the-thought-captive prayer for a "God doesn't exist" thought is probably one of the dorkiest-sounding prayers ever, because it's one of the dumbest temptations ever. I mean, seriously. "Uh, Lord, I'm getting tempted with the lie that You don't exist." (I wonder if Jesus would agree with me. Before He lived here on earth, He lived up in heaven and saw His Father, the only true, living God of the universe, with His own eyes. And the devil had the stupidity to walk up to Him in the wilderness and be like, "Hey, worship me instead." What the effing crap? Anyway, it's distracting and annoying, to be sure.) It took me the rest of the day to resolve that. I think the best way to narrate my process is with a stream-of-consciousness paragraph...

...thusly. So, after worship service #5, I drove home and was doing spiritual warfare on myself. I think I was binding the spirit of antichrist or something. And I went to buy lunch, and Daddy was like, "Would you like to listen to music together?" So, I went home and ate lunch and watched Billy Joel videos on YouTube with my Papa. He and I like to listen to "Goodnight, My Angel" together. (The first time I heard it about 20 years ago, I cried. Or maybe I just tried to not cry, since crying was kinda frowned upon in my house back then.) So, then I had to be back at church for a special evening service. While I sat in the congregation, I was very aware that I was still vulnerable to that weird "God doesn't exist" temptation. I was talking to God about it, and I kept seeing this picture of black seeds. I knew that they were inside my heart. God kept telling me that my (ex) parents had put them there. I couldn't shake this image of these black seeds. So, after worship and after the sermon, the preacher was like, "If you're being attacked or are depressed or are discouraged, stand up, and we're gonna pray for you." Of course, I shot up to my feet, and after people prayed for me, the black seeds turned golden. I was like, "What the heck? Am I supposed to plant the seeds now?" And Daddy was like, "I neutralized them." Then later while I was praying for people around me, God was like, "This goes back to rejection and abandonment. You thought I was going to reject you and abandon you, so you decided that if I ever did, you would reject and abandon Me, too." OH. I knew that I needed to get home so that I could pray more thoroughly for myself, because I knew I had some business to take care of. God was like, "I want you to write Me a loveletter." I wanted Him to help me, but He was like, "No, I'm not gonna help you." And of course, I was like, what the heck? Maybe He was doing like this reverse psychology thing on me, or maybe He wanted me to ask Him for help, because while I was driving home, I was like, "Lord, with all due respect, I know You said You weren't going to help me, but I need You. Can You please help me?" And I was crying a lot. So, I got home, and God was like, "Take your shoes off and kneel here." So, I removed my shoes and socks and knelt on my hardwood floor, and I probably spent a wee bit too much time talking to the demons. They didn't talk back, probably because I bound them, but I was like, "I'm sorry I agreed with you. You're wasting your time with me." It was a very angry prayer, probably like the kind you'd hear from a rape victim who finally got a chance to address her abuser. I was like, "You're attacking me with this lie that God doesn't exist, because you're demons WHO WERE CREATED BY GOD." The golden seeds were gone, and I asked God to replace them with His seeds, and He showed me a picture of these big, shiny things, and He said they were pearls and that they had already germinated. Then I sat in my living-room chair -- the same old chair where I sat when I got saved when I was 10 years old -- and I recited a verbal loveletter to my King in front of any principalities or powers or angels or demons who were listening. I explained that that "God doesn't exist" crap was going to end right there. I explained that as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. I got on my knees and gripped the ends of my chair -- kind of as if its ends were horns on an altar -- and I remembered in John 14 where Jesus explains that if anyone loves Him, He and Father will come and make Their home with that person. I want God to make His home with me. He told me that after that night, I wouldn't deal with that atheistic stuff ever again, and He was right.

So, later while I was processing all that stuff that happened last Sunday, I was like, "Oh, that was an inner vow." The Freedom ministry people can explain what an inner vow is much better than I can, but my quirky right-brained definition is "a promise that you accidentally made with the devil." So, I think that's why I kept getting hit with "God doesn't exist" temptations at the most random, inconvenient times. I think the demonic forces were claiming territory in my soul-vow.

I think breaking an inner vow is a lot like breaking up with an extremely unhealthy boyfriend. It's breaking off an engagement with a fiancé who you've suddenly discovered that you're not in love with. You rip his slimy, tarnished engagement ring off your finger, throw it in his face, and rage, "I HEREBY BREAK MY PROMISE TO YOU! IT'S OVER BETWEEN US!"

In my case, Papa has been showing me that I made that inner vow sometime maybe around age 4, when I was suddenly informed that Santa Claus doesn't exist. Years later, I was told that the person who blew my Christmas fantasy to smithereens didn't want me to believe in Santa Claus as a child and then later be told that he doesn't exist. This person didn't want me to be like, "Then, what about God? He doesn't exist, either?" I think this person's plan accidentally backfired on me. Anyway, the memories are vague, but Daddy and I are probably going to work through them.

Hmm. That reminds me. Christmas is coming up in a couple of months. I'm excited for making new memories with my Daddy! Our first Christmas together 2 years ago (that is, my first Christmas with Him as my only immediate Family), I ate pizza and drank root beer, and I spent about 4 hours that day writing Him a song. I think that's when I got that scab under one of my guitar calluses that took months to heal and go away. Dang, that was fun! Totally worth it.

"If a son asks for bread from any father among you, will he give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent instead of a fish? Or if he asks for an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!" (Luke 11:11-13)

God knows what I need. He knows I can't lead people into worshiping Him if I don't believe in Him. (Seriously, it's the stupidest temptation ever.) He knows I was hurt by a severe, neglectful lack of relationship with parents when I was young. He knows the way to heal it is to just be my Daddy, and I'll be His little girl. No, not everybody's relationship with Him has to look exactly like mine. Goodness, no. But this is what's been healing me. I need Him. He's been making up for anything that I didn't get, anything I was supposed to get, when I was a little girl.

I saw the movie Despicable Me for the first time last year. Until I fully grasped what was going on in that movie, I couldn't really understand those "If you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children" verses in the Bible. Just being honest, I didn't know what it felt like to receive a good gift from a father. Despicable Me is about an evil man; the protagonist is a professional villain. He adopted 3 little girls so he could use them to commit at least one crime. But during the movie, something inside him clicks, and he begins to enjoy the little girls. He even disintegrated an amusement-park game to get one little gift for one of the girls. If THAT guy, being evil, knows how to give good gifts to somebody he didn't even father himself, then how much more does MY Father in heaven know how to give good gifts to me? God isn't a professional villain. He's the One who thought me up, meticulously created me, redeemed me, and has been restoring me. (And He'll continue to restore me.)

One day, God was like, "If I have to use a movie to show you how much I love you, that's bad." Yep.

So, today while I was running my pre-breakfast errands, I was telling God that I want Him. And He reminded me of that verse from Luke 11 that I quoted above. In His impression of the crazy soup guy from Seinfeld, God was like, "No scorpion for you!"

Regarding the "God doesn't exist" temptation (which truly is the dumbest temptation ever), as Gru would say, "It has been disintegrated. By definition, it cannot be fixed. Knocked over!" Aww, yeah. That's my Daddy.