In this very long post, I thought I'd throw in some of the stuff that I've been
learning lately into a big wok, stir it up, and create something that hopefully
makes sense. Or maybe a casserole dish. Or a soup cauldron. (Warning: I might
get so real that I may end up using rated PG-13 language.)
Speaking of soup, during our recent churchwide 21-day fast, I did a
soup fast. In other words, I ate only soup (breakfast, lunch, dinner) for 21
days. This was the first time I'd ever done a soup fast. Frankly, it kicked my
butt. I suspected that my meals wouldn't be all that filling, but I had no idea
how hungry I would get. (Or how into McAlister's Deli I would become.)
I've fasted for about the past 22.5 years (as God has led me
and/or as church people have told me to), but I think this was the first time
that I didn't hide all of the non-fasting food in my home... so as to reduce the temptation
to break the fast early. (Above, I've shared a photo of my pantry as my fast
was winding down.) Which is strange, because I think I've only broken maybe one
fast early in my lifetime. So, during this fast, God showed me that He trusts
me and that I can be legalistic when I fast.
Dang it. I hate it when my ultra-religious past creeps up on me.
"Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land, and feed on
His faithfulness." (Psalm 37:3)
In this particular fast, I didn't really do much of the stuff that
you're supposed to do during fasts. My schedule is extra busy, and I'm not
really much of a one-hour-prayer-time intercessor, so I didn't spend oodles of
hours in prayer. I proofread devotionals for a living, so the last thing I want
to do when I get home is read another devotional; so I think I only got to like
day 8 or 9 of our 28-day church devotional. I didn't get caught up in any deep
visions or get visited by a swarm of angels.
But I did meet with God. And I also noticed that I cried a lot more
easily than usual. Was it physical hunger? Was it spiritual hunger? Was it
exhaustion? Not sure it really matters, because I feel like I obeyed my God,
and He met with me.
He showed me that this particular fast was about faithfulness. It wasn't
about me legalistically obsessing over whether or not I should have crackers or
bread with my soup. It wasn't about me spending hours in prayer or combing
through the devotional or becoming an excessively spiritual woman.
It was about me sticking to a fast for 21 days even though it was kicking
my butt. And I'm OK with that.
I felt like I needed to furnish my new place during this fast. So,
while I was out and about, getting acquainted with deli menus, I bought an
ottoman. I visited a few stores and replaced some of the stuff that I had
gotten rid of (like rusted silverware and dishwasher-ruined plastic bowls) when
I moved. I bought some new cookware that I got to try out after I broke my
fast.
See how practical God is? Since I grew up in an abusive, very
codependent home, I'm still learning life skills at age 40. And I'm bonding
with my Father in the process.
When I was in my 20s (that time of life when you're supposed to learn
how to take care of yourself), I was way too busy being involved with a
missions-focused, spiritually abusive church to understand that it's OK to take
care of myself. Everything was always so melodramatic. We were taught that
everything worldly (even if it was something as simple as watching TV by
yourself on the weekends) was wrong. It was drilled into our vulnerable heads
that we were supposed to do dangerous things for God all the time; otherwise we
would be selfish. (One missionary spoke to us and told us that he wants his
headstone to be engraved with the words, "He didn't play it safe.")
Um, OK, that's all nice for you. But what if God designed me to live a
different life than what He designed you for?
He's been telling me that I'm a "home base" type of person. I
ache to settle in one place, nest there, and just stay there forever. I'm a cat person, for crying out loud. Cats thrive best when you give them one
territory to live in long term. I don't even think I've left the Metroplex for
like the past 14 months -- not even for a day trip.
I'm happy here. There's nothing wrong with being happy. There's nothing
wrong with obeying God when He wants you to "dwell in the land and feed on
His faithfulness," like it says in Psalm 37:3.
One thing about 2017 that God showed me is that I would be bored this
year -- but in a good way. One thing I've learned about faithfulness is that
it's boring -- in a good way. Since I grew up in an abusive home, I'm addicted
to turmoil (as I learned in my last round of psychotherapy). Chaos used to
follow me around like seasonal tree pollen: I knew it was coming, and there
wasn't much I could do about it, so I just learned to live with the stupid side
effects.
But life doesn't have to be that way. I can stay close to my Father and
enjoy life with Him, however He wants me to live it.
"As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds His people
from this time forth and forever." (Psalm 125:2)
I'm a worship leader, so I constantly wrestle with the concept of
leading people into God's presence, entering God's presence myself, the
ceremonial aspect of it all, the genuineness of it all, whether or not I'm
being a fake about it, etc., etc., etc. He's shown me that the reason I wrestle
with it is because it involves relationship -- my relationship with Him and
other people's relationships with Him. I'll be wrestling with this for the rest of my life, and I think it'll be healthy for me (and for the people I lead).
"Relationship" is complicated, and it's just supposed to be a
complicated concept in general. Anytime you deal with people, things are going
to be complicated, and that's OK. Otherwise, you'd be dealing with a robot. Who
would want to have a relationship with a robot? "Do you love me,
MachineMan?" "Yes. I. Do." "Hug me, please!"
"That. Is. Not. In. My. Programming. Language." "You suck, you
bucket of bolts!!" "Technically. I. Am. Not. A. Bucket. Have. A.
Nice. Day."
I still wrestle with how to have a quiet time, and God still keeps my quiet times simple, short, and mellow. One thing He's been impressing on my heart lately
is, "Don't rev up the Hummer if you only need a golf cart to get
there." Hmm. He's right.
Why should I be all melodramatic about entering His presence if all I
have to do is say, "Daddy?" and He answers with, "What do
you need?" If my little cat meows (if I'm in a position to respond), I
usually drop everything to see what she needs (which is usually some playtime
or snuggletime). If I relate to a tiny little 6-pound feline like that, how
much more does the Lion of Judah relate to me -- a chick who He went through
all the trouble of choosing and adopting? (See Matthew 6:30-ish.)
"And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My
strength is made perfect in weakness.' " (2 Corinthians 12:9a)
Speaking of relationships, another thing that He's impressed on my
heart lately is something to the effect of, "If the horse is dead, don't
keep beating it; just let it decompose in the field and leave it alone."
I think there are several dead horses in my life that are still in the process
of decomposing in my field... so I shouldn't beat those dead horses. (Even though it's hard not to.) Maybe after
the painfully long decomposing process, the resulting new soil will let
something else grow. Maybe it could help somebody else later.
For example, take my addiction to turmoil. God hasn't been eager to
take that away. (Actually, I think He wants me to keep that emotionally
volatile side of myself and use it on the demons from time to time.) So, I've
had to just learn how to control it. Lately when I start my day, I've prayed,
"Help me to not be a bitch today." That is a genuine petition, and I
hope everyone around me is glad that God answers prayer.
I used to be a doormat. I used to be a people-pleaser. But in recent
years, as I've worked through some stuff, I've become pretty rough around the
edges. I'm a survivor; I'm a badass. And I think God likes me like that. If He
puts me in charge of a group of people, I'm pretty fierce about protecting them,
and any demonic forces that may try to come against them know that I don't have
a problem sending their fallen-angel tails to hell.
But that's what God does. Sometimes He removes problems and obstacles,
yes. But other times He uses them to shape you into someone useful.
The turmoil-addiction thing is a dead horse that's probably almost done
decomposing. But there are other dead horses in my field that are taking
forever to go away... and they've been there so long that they're pretty
stinky... and I think my nostrils are finally getting used to the stench...
because the rotting carcasses might actually stay there forever.
People make a big deal about how holidays can be difficult times for
people -- specifically they mean Thanksgiving and Christmas. But I love those
holidays; they really aren't hard for me. The holiday that I hate with a
fiery-red passion is Valentine's Day. Forget politics, current events, or
hot-button issues. If I ever hit the streets to protest something, it will be
so that that stupid holiday would be obliterated from the calendar.
Every year, I think I'm going to keep my cool and not let it bother me.
And every year, I get angry enough to rip out a person's esophagus from their
throat. It's bad enough that I haven't had a date in 22.5 years. You're going
to patronize me by mailing me a Valentine's Day card, even though you're
related to me? Or by going out of your way to "love" me because I'm
single? You've gotta be kidding me. My singleness is a huge source of
bitterness for me, and I have to work my butt off just to keep my heart in
check. Just don't mention that stupid holiday at all, and I'll be happy.
But let me put on the brakes here on my heart-rant. I've noticed that
all those years of heartbreak, pain, and disappointment that I've endured have
actually been pretty useful.
For example, in recent months I've been taking singing lessons. These
lessons require me to emote -- to put some emotion behind what I'm singing
instead of just spouting music like a little robot. Can you guess what type of
songs are usually the easiest for me to emote with? Breakup songs.
I knew a guy named Juan for about 14 years. I fell in love with him, for real. But he broke my heart into a zillion pieces. God has healed me from
that to a degree; but I still go back to my heart-pieces, like a morbid
treasury, and use them. Every time I sing a breakup song, I'm able to draw from
that experience. It's pretty cathartic and fun. (And I'm glad it's finally
coming in handy.)
But that's life. Juan is never going to want me the way that I wanted
him. People are always going to wish me a Happy Valentine's Day. That holiday
will always be on the calendar.
My friends are always going to marry guys that I have crushes on and
then wave their engagement rings in my face. People are always going to want to
talk about my singleness and then offer ridiculous suggestions like 1) try online
dating 2) try prayer or 3) be encouraged by the testimony of somebody who
didn't get married until really late in life -- their 30s. That's life. It's a
dead horse that I shouldn't waste any energy beating, because I have too much
life to live. And that's OK.
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore
we will not fear, even though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be
carried into the midst of the sea..." (Psalm 46:1-2)
I used to think God was boring. Then I got to know Him, and I
discovered that He's pretty exciting. Then I got to know Him even more, and I
discovered that He actually is very boring, but in a good way -- because He doesn't change. He's always
there for me, like a mountain that faithfully surrounds me and who's always
available to meet with me. He's always there to help me. He's always there. And
that makes me happy.
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