Anniversary

I got a small wound on my finger a little while back. In this photo, you can see it -- mostly healed up -- next to my tiny mole-freckle. It hurt when I first got it, and it took a couple of days for the swelling to go down completely. But I nursed it and kept washing it out as best I could, and now I forget that it's there. I think my finger will be completely back to normal in no time.

Wounds are funny like that. When you first get them, they hurt like crazy, and all sorts of weird things go through your head like, "Oh, my gosh, I'm going to get an infection and lose my finger!" It's irrational, but it's a real fear. (I'm a writer and a musician. I need my digits.) Enter a magical substance called hydrogen peroxide. This miracle liquid permeates the wound, ironically causing it to hurt even more for a little while, and then as it flows out of the wound, it brings all the impurities out along with it. After several of these treatments, the wound shrivels up and dies as the surrounding healthy tissue regenerates and takes over. (Actually, that might not be the accurate scientific explanation for what really happens, but I'm gonna stick with it anyway.) Yeah, that's right. Life wins... again.

"He sent from above, He took me; He drew me out of many waters. He delivered me from my strong enemy, from those who hated me, for they were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the Lord was my support. He also brought me out into a broad place; He delivered me because He delighted in me." (Psalm 18:16-19)

14 years ago today, I attempted suicide. I've written plenty about it before (especially on this previous post), and it is kind of a strange anniversary to celebrate, but I think 14 is kind of a big deal. I've been told that 7 is the biblical number for perfection and that 14 is double perfection. And in the Bible, didn't Jacob work for his father-in-law for 14 years so that he could marry Rachel? I think that's pretty darn romantic. "Baby, I love you so much that I'm going to do back-breaking labor for you, for as many years as it takes to grow a teenager."

So, in 14 years, I've learned a lot. Pardon my French, but I've learned a hell of a lot. Or rather, perhaps I've learned a lot from hell?

"The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly." (Jesus talking in John 10:10)

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. Resist him, steadfast in the faith, knowing that the same sufferings are experienced by your brotherhood in the world." (1 Peter 5:8-9)

"Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle -- my lovingkindness and my fortress, my high tower and my deliverer, my shield and the One in whom I take refuge, who subdues my people under me." (Psalm 144:1-2)

I heard a pastor teach once that the Bible says the devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy -- not to annoy or bother. She's right! The devil is serious about stealing, killing, and destroying, and he doesn't play by any rules. He doesn't care if God is about to break through or if God is about to "use" you for something big or that he's so scared about God's plan for your life. You can try to analyze the devil's activities if you like, but my experience has been that the devil doesn't care about any of that. I don't even think he waits for us to accidentally open any doors for him. I think maybe he tries to pry doors open unless they're cemented shut or unless we allow God to use explosives and blow up the door to smithereens. I think maybe sometimes the devil tries to build a trap door and attack from below. I think maybe sometimes he disguises himself as a damsel in distress, like the villains sometimes do in the movies. I think he's an expert at any type of evil you can think of, any type of evil that hasn't been invented yet, any type of anything that will steal, kill, and/or destroy anything that moves. He just plays dirty, period. I think he just attacks us because he hates us, and he's the devil, period.

Take my life, for example. I was a victim of adultery while I was inside a church building. I attempted suicide while I was in missionary school. And I was bombarded with suicidal thoughts for the first time in years as soon as I came home from Kairos (in 2010). Seriously, what the heck kind of slimeball attacks a chick with atheistic, suicidal thoughts while she's minding her own business, worshiping God on her guitar, right after she's returned home from a Freedom ministry event? The devil, that's what kind of slimeball.

I hate demons. I hate the devil. I hate his guts so bad, and I hope people get saved just from reading this.

Spiritual warfare used to creep me out, but it doesn't so much anymore because I've had lots of practice slapping my armor on (or whatever type of weapons I could find on extremely short notice) and charging into battle... or at least swinging my fists at the demonic forces that were belching in my face. As a result, I'm a very sloppy fighter. I pray very sloppily. But it's sink or swim, ya know?

And yet, I probably shouldn't give the devil all the credit for the misery I endured. I had plenty of issues, made plenty of bad decisions, and experienced plenty of pain that kept me plenty weighed down, depressed, and struggling to surface for air. Sometimes when you're drowning, you don't really have time to analyze why you're drowning. You just need help. I repeat: Sink or swim.

But I digress. Over the years, my healing process has had SO many ups and downs. I think perhaps my issues took root very gradually and very deeply, so my healing process also had to be very gradual and very deep. In my particular case, God strongly urged me to not rush anything. He is definitely the most patient Person in the entire universe. I had many close calls along the way, as you have perhaps read about. But God has been faithful... no. Well, yes. But "faithful" isn't a big enough word to describe God, in my opinion. Faithful? More like Stubbornly, Lovingly Insistent On Never, Ever Letting Go Of His little girl Who Often Has Trouble Knowing Which Way Is Up And who Is Usually Way Too Weak To Walk On Her Own; He Props her Up, Holds her Together, Covers and Protects her, Clears The Air For her, And Refuses To Stop Pursuing her, Because He Knows That she Is 100% Helpless Without Him. There. If you can smush all that together into one brand-new adjective, I think that might be able to describe Him a teeny-tiny bit.

So, during this long, gradual process of healing the wounds that drove me to suicide 14 years ago, God has been nursing those wounds in a similar way that I was nursing my finger. Enter a Powerful Being called the Holy Spirit. I think He can sometimes operate like hydrogen peroxide. He flows through the wounds and stirs them up, ironically causing them to hurt even more for a little while, and then as He flows out of the wounds, He brings all the impurities out along with Him. There were several occasions where, after I would internally writhe in agony, God would smile, pat me on the shoulder, and be like, "Feel better?" Oh, my gosh. He doesn't use anesthesia when He operates.

But it works! His ways are the best ways!

Over time, the wounds shrivel up and die as the surrounding healthy spiritual tissue regenerates and takes over. (Metaphorically speaking in my artsy-fartsy way.) Yeah, that's right. Life wins... again. And again. And again. And again. Times fourteen.

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28)

In my opinion, it's way too trite and, frankly, immature to say that when bad things happen, it's God's will, or when trauma occurs, it's because God has a purpose for it. "God wanted you to be molested so that you could have a wonderful ministry to victims of sex trafficking later on." Um, really? Um, no.

In my opinion, it's more like my life is a junkyard. God is walking through it and looking for stuff that He can "use." Maybe He'll find something disgusting, raunchy, and unrecognizably defiled, pick it up, smile, weep, and say, "This is terrible. This is horrendous. I don't like to look at this. And yet, I can't take my eyes off it. I want to take this thing home with Me and recycle it. I want to make something beautiful out of it. Maybe someday, My little Tirzah will be able to see My handiwork in the finished product."

God didn't hurt me. But I think He has used many of my hurts to help me understand how His heart beats and how to help other people. I can accept other people because I know what it's like to be rejected. I can be kind to other people because I know what it's like to be abused. I can avoid "the appearance of evil" like the plague because I know what it's like to participate in evil secretly while people in the other part of the building were trusting you. I can treat people like human beings because I know what it's like to be treated like an object. I can walk deeply with a person because I know what it's like to be ignored and blown off. I can love and protect people because I know what it's like to be hated and attacked. I can honor other people because I know what it's like to be shamed. I can relate to a person who is mentally tormented and confused because I know what it's like to endure a living hell inside my head... and I know what it's like to survive it.

And I know I didn't do it alone. God was with me every step of the way, just like He's with me now, just like He will be throughout eternity. He's the One who reshapes how I think, how I feel, how I exist.

Yes, it is kind of a strange anniversary to celebrate, but I think 14 is kind of a big deal.