Delayed reactions, part 10

I feel the need to share some more scratching-my-head-and-going-what-the-heck-in-hindsight type of thoughts.

1) So, several of the people that I ran around with for a few years were politically moderate and now support government-run healthcare. (Please understand that I don't wish to spark any political debates right now; I'm just trying to process through some things therapywise in my head.) They support their ideas about healthcare because they experienced government healthcare firsthand while they were living overseas, and they liked it. However, they don't like America. Which is ironic, because lots of Americans were supporting them financially while they were serving as missionaries overseas. I'm still trying to understand how these people who want to "lead people to Jesus" in foreign lands think we Americans are stupid. They grew up in America; in fact, they're quite white. Perhaps they had bad experiences here. But why are they thumbing their noses at the land of the free and the home of the brave -- the land that is home to their financial supporters? That, to me, is stupid.

If you don't like where you live, move away. That's what I did. No offense if you live in West Texas, but I didn't like it there, so I moved away to a different part of the state as soon as a door of opportunity flung wide open. I'm much happier here. Life isn't perfect, and I have plenty of miseries to resolve, but I enjoy living here much better.

So, these people who I described a couple of paragraphs ago -- these people who used to counsel me and disciple me spiritually -- well, I really don't want to believe the things that they taught me anymore. Hmm. So, that means that reading a novel to temporarily escape your everyday life is OK. So, that means that expecting me to reach out to people ministrywise, even if I'm not reached out to ministrywise, is not OK. So, that means that standing by idly while people grabbed me, carried me out to a swimming pool, and playfully dunked me in, despite my loud protests, and despite the fact that I can't swim, was not OK. So, that means that we Americans are not stupid if we decide that government-run healthcare is a load of malarkey. So, me wanting to earn more money and being proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free, and I won't forget the men who died to give that right to me -- that is OK. That doesn't make me stupid.

2) Years ago, I heard a missionary speak about how he sought God very seriously about whether or not he should pack up his entire family and move them overseas. His laidback expression of surrender was "God, whatever." He was basically saying, "God, please do whatever You want. God, please put me wherever You want me to be. God, please have Your way and just do whatever pleases You." I thought he had an awesome attitude.

So, when I adopted this attitude and shared it with a spiritually abusive mentor/friend, and I told her that I was like "God, whatever," she freaked out. I don't remember her exact words, but she was like "It's not whatever!" OK, OK. Sorry. Maybe your god is much more specific than mine. Maybe your god dots every i, crosses every t, and gives you 30 lashes every time you make a mistake. My God wants me to be pliable, so I'll be pliable. You know, whatever.

3) When I read the Bible, sometimes I form mental images to help me picture what's going on. (It's especially fun while reading through genealogies.) So, if you're reading a verse that talks about Pharisees talking to Jesus, or Jesus talking to Pharisees, then it's easy to form a mental picture of a group of Pharisees migrating around town together like a huge clique or maybe like one of those sororities that charge through college campuses and leave a perfume cloud behind them.

But I've learned that Pharisees don't always migrate around in a group like that, and they don't wear clothing that identifies them, like hats that say "PHARISEE CLUB" or anything like that. They look just like you and me. (I myself used to be one, and I hope I'm not one anymore.) You never know when you'll find one, but if you look hard enough, listen closely enough, and smell deeply enough, you'll locate one. Just look for the fruit flies.

One minute, a Pharisee will tell you you need to trust the Lord, and then next minute he'll throw a temper tantrum because he can't find what he's looking for at Walmart. One minute, a Pharisee will tell you that life is made up of people and how we have to love them, and then next minute he'll yell at a clerk across a crowded store, calling him a turkey in Hebrew so no one else can understand what he's saying. One minute, a Pharisee will tell you you have to "take the Bible at face value," and then next minute he'll tell you that the Holy Spirit stopped moving the way He moved in 1 Corinthians 12 and 14 because the Bible is canonized now. One minute, a Pharisee will tell you that you're supposed to be a virgin when you get married, and then next minute she won't do anything when you catch two unmarried teenagers making out horizontally on a bed in her house. One minute, a Pharisee will gossip with you about somebody at church and criticize every teeny decision they make, and then next minute she'll hang out with them at church as if they were best buddies. One minute, a Pharisee will guilt-trip his family into gathering for a two-minute family devotional so they can read the Bible and pray together, and next minute he won't let your younger sibling give you some privacy when you're trying to read the Bible for yourself. One minute, a Pharisee will criticize a neighbor for mowing the lawn on a Sunday morning when they're supposed to be at church, and then next minute he'll knock loudly on the bathroom door and interrupt your Sunday shower to ask you how to mail something to a customer via FedEx. While you're in the shower. Nowhere near a computer. On a Sunday, when everyone in the house is supposed to be observing the Sabbath. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, I WAS TRYING TO TAKE A SHOWER! LOG ON TO THE INTERNET AND DO THE RESEARCH YOURSELF!

Sigh. It felt good to type that.

So, Pharisees can be sneaky to identify, but they are identifiable indeed. And Jesus seemed to yell at them unabashedly. And He offered them a way out of their Phariseeism.

So, I'm proud to be an American citizen, but I'm even more excited about being a citizen of heaven. I like getting to know my Jesus who is full of grace and truth, who doesn't whitewash over everything or invent crippling new rules for every new life situation that comes along. He's the answer to whatever you need, period.

Delayed reactions, part 9

I found some more stuff to puke out. Thanks in advance for reading. I'll try not to splatter.

1) The spiritually abusive environment that I was involved in for many years kept telling me that I wasn't supposed to be surprised when God would answer my prayers. Perhaps this is one reason why I have so many issues with prayer today and why I often have trouble enjoying intercession. They also told me I wasn't supposed to love God because He was good to me; they said I was supposed to love Him because He was God, period. They belittled the concept of what they called "911 prayers." Hey, spiritual hotshots, have y'all ever read the Psalms? Psalm 136 says to give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy endures forever, and then it lists ways that He was good to Israel; I don't think it says, "We love You because we're supposed to." Hey, spiritual robots, Psalm 50 says to call on God in the day of trouble, i.e., as if you were dialing 911, and that will glorify Him. Hey, spiritual prudes, have you ever noticed that Psalms is the longest book of the Bible? It's 150 separate expressions, some long and some short, of emotions. Some of these artistic expressions are prayers. Others are verbal pukings. And still others are expressions of people (mostly David, I think) who were so thankful that God answered their prayers, so surprised at how powerfully He swooped down from heaven and rescued them, so enamored and in awe with His ways that God liked their expressions, inspired their expressions, and canonized them so we could use them to slice through spiritual forces while we do battle and snuggle up to God when we're looking for a shoulder to cry on. That last sentence I typed is about 5 lines long, but I don't care. When you're in love, you become crazy-expressive, and the psalms were written by people who were crazy-in-love with God, and perhaps one reason why your hands would shake involuntarily when you would counsel me or why you developed a stress-related heart condition a few years after establishing your church might have something to do with the fact that you've never allowed yourself to express your emotions properly to God. Perhaps you should review what the greatest commandment is: to love Him with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. Perhaps God knew this was a healthy way of living the life He gave you, in addition to receiving the incessantly surprised, unending awestruck love gifts from His children, from His bride, from His creation who makes His heart beat faster with just one glimpse from their eyes. Just a thought.

2) I noticed recently that my legs comprise about half the length of my body. There isn't anything in the human legs except bones and muscles, etc. (I think there are also joints and tendons and ligaments, but I'm an artist, not a scientist.) My legs don't have a heart or a liver or intestines or a brain. All they have are materials that are necessary for moving my body from one place to another. I don't think it's an accident that God designed the human body this way. I think moving is important to Him. There are 2 spiritually abusive environments that come to mind that I should have used my legs to escape from much sooner than I did.

One church that I was involved in offered a Sunday School class that was taught by a married couple, mostly the wife. They were mostly nice, and I felt welcome there, but I should have seen the red flags much sooner than I did. After being involved there for about a year, I was praying and trying to figure out what was going on, and I was unhappy and aching inside. God showed me that I was a sheep without a shepherd. (Technically, Jesus is my Shepherd, as the shepherd/songwriter of Psalm 23 so eloquently points out, but He was just helping me express what I was feeling.) These nice Sunday School teachers were teaching me material every week, and sometimes they would hug me and tell me that they loved me, but they were neglecting me. They did almost nothing to get to know me. Should I have been surprised? After inviting us to their house to eat lunch, the wife would proudly announce that she would never clean house (which explained the layers of dust on the furniture). After talking to us about how they were trusting God with their finances, the husband would bootleg copies of sermons and hand them out to us; one time, He gave each of us a copied copy of a music CD, and He gave me a copy even after I told him I didn't want it (and I recently threw it away). So, you're too busy to clean house for whatever reason, and you have the nerve to invite dozens of people to your dustpile? So, you're stealing sermons and music, and you have the nerve to ask God to bless your finances? I should have used the legs that God gave me to move out of there so much more quickly. But then again, would you have let me go? After I stopped attending your class, you spotted me in the church cafeteria and announced to everybody, "HEY, TIRZAH! I THOUGHT YOU STOPPED COMING TO CHURCH!"

And that's another thing. The pastor of this particular church was a nice guy, but in retrospect, he may have had his head stuck up his butt. Perhaps he could have used some accountability. I'm sorry, but telling one of the worship leaders to button his jacket in front of everybody, during the invitation at the end of the service, wasn't appropriate, even if you were his "father in the Lord." I don't think it was a coincidence that that worship leader and his wife stopped attending your church shortly afterwards.

So, this pastor had an awesome testimony of how God healed him physically. He used this testimony incessantly in his sermons. Then after I finally left his church and was flipping TV channels just out of curiosity and saw his TV show, I saw this pastor STILL talking about his testimony, and he said that he was tired of talking about it. Hmm. I wonder why? I was tired of hearing about it, but instead of being bored with God's miraculous power, and instead of being tired of telling the same testimony over and over and over again, why not seek Him for something new? God isn't boring; He's exciting, and He restores you and gives you strength, like it says in Psalm 103. It's OK to bring a little spice to a relationship. If your relationship with God bores you, and you're supposed to shepherd people into having a relationship with God, they'll probably get bored, too. It's OK. Just seek Him for something new. He likes that. I think it's one of His specialties. Wait. Does He have any non-specialties? Hmm.

3) Is it any wonder why a spiritually abused pastor's daughter stayed at this church for as long as she did? Did she not know that it was possible for her spiritual covering to be wrong, sometimes severely wrong, from time to time? Did her parents not understand that just because God commanded children to honor their parents and obey their parents, that did NOT mean that He gave them free reign? that they did not have a blank check for unlimited power to use however the heck they wanted, especially without accountability? This daughter should have used her legs to run away as soon as her father/pastor used his pulpit to preach a sermon series to reinforce the unbiblical stuff he had been puking on his daughter at home. I'm curious if any of the members of the congregation noticed that he was looking right at his daughter while he was preaching much of this series and that it was more than likely being preached because she wasn't honoring or obeying. She was bringing shame and disgrace.

What's worse: disobeying your parents, or obeying your parents when they tell you to not do anything when an usher is committing adultery with you inside the church building?

Hmm. Perhaps I splattered after all, but I'm glad to report that my legs are in good working order now.

I wasn't planning on blogging on September 11th, so this is completely off topic, but I pray that everyone who lost someone precious on September 11, 2001, would enjoy sweet comfort from the God of all comfort today. God bless America!

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?"

Wait. Do I know you?

Whoo-hoo! It's a holiday weekend! Here's my weekend crew. They're mine, and they know it.

Reader, I hereby invite you into my obsessively artistic imagination while I retell a story. The following is my dramatic version of Matthew 25:1-13, the parable of the 10 virgins. Jesus tells this story, and I think it's an analogy of His relationship with His bride and also with people who... anyway, I don't want to give its meaning away all at once, because as an artist, I like to keep things vague on purpose.

Fortunately, Jesus is usually much more direct than I am, as I hope you'll see in my artistic interpretation of His parable and its backstory. This post is very long, so please pop some popcorn or brew some fresh coffee or take a seat in your favorite chair and enjoy!

(The Bridegroom is sitting quietly, with a huge smile on His face, in a chair across from a table from Virgin #1. She is chitchatting almost incessantly in her usual way, which delights the Bridegroom immensely.)

VIRGIN #1: So, my job is going really well, and I know that I have You to thank for that. You provided an awesome place for me to use my skills, You put me there for a reason, and I really feel welcome there.

BRIDEGROOM: Excellent. I'm glad to hear it.

VIRGIN #1: Which brings me to the reason why I wanted to talk to You. I had a conversation with one of my coworkers, and she's going through a really, really hard time. Seriously, I don't know how she can even find the strength to drag herself out of bed every morning and crawl into her cubicle. I mean, it's like a deluge of trials that just keeps hitting her like a firestorm from heaven or something. I know I'm mixing metaphors here, but--

BRIDEGROOM: (laughs) No, that's all right. I know exactly what you're talking about, and I know exactly who you're talking about.

VIRGIN #1: Anyway, I'm rambling, but I don't know how I can help her. Can You please show me what to do? Give me some ideas? Lead me or nudge me or something? I feel kinda lost in this whole situation. I don't want to accidentally say something that would make her feel worse or get involved in something that I shouldn't get involved in. You know what I mean?

BRIDEGROOM: I know exactly what you mean.

VIRGIN #1: So, what do I do?

BRIDEGROOM: Just wait until the next time you talk to her. You'll know exactly what to do.

VIRGIN #1: (after being speechless for a moment) Huh? What do You mean, Lord? I'm confused.

BRIDEGROOM: (still smiling) I just told you what to do, buzzybee. CoughcoughNudgenudgecoughcough.

VIRGIN #1: (light bulb) Oh! (laughs) I get it. You're so funny. OK, so I'll just wait until the next time I talk to her. (hesitates) When do I get to talk to You again, Lord? Please come back again soon.

BRIDEGROOM: (whispers) Yes, it will be very soon. Please wait for Me.

(The Bridegroom is sitting quietly at a kitchen table while Virgin #2 prepares dinner. Chicken, gravy, steamed vegetables, and rice are all cooking simultaneously on 4 burners.)

BRIDEGROOM: Are you sure you don't want any help in there?

VIRGIN #2: (hurriedly rummages through a utensil drawer) No, thanks. Just need to find a bigger spoon.

BRIDEGROOM: Please be careful.

VIRGIN #2: (still rummaging) Uh, I know. Can You please just leave me alone and let me handle this myself?

(Suddenly, she accidentally stabs her finger with a knife in the utensil drawer. She screams in pain, puts her finger in her mouth, and runs for the sink. While she turns on the cold water to wash her bleeding finger, the Bridegroom rushes to her side and miraculously heals her finger. He tries to comfort her, but the rice boils over, and she pushes Him away so that she can turn down the burner.)

BRIDEGROOM: (quietly) Why won't you let Me help?

VIRGIN #2: (barks) You can help me by finding my big spoon!

BRIDEGROOM: (winces slightly, then chuckles) No problem. I know exactly where it is.

(He calmly walks to the utensil drawer and locates the spoon immediately. He hands it to her, and she bursts into tears and collapses into His arms.)

VIRGIN #2: I'm so sorry! This is so hard!

BRIDEGROOM: (tears up and strokes her hair) I know. Tell Me more.

VIRGIN #2: (sobs and releases herself from His embrace) I just wanted to make the perfect dinner for You. Everybody keeps telling me that I have to be perfect for You and that I have to do everything perfectly for You. (points at the snot trail that is forming under one of her nostrils) Look at me! I can't even cry perfectly for You!

BRIDEGROOM: (chuckles and wipes the tears from His eyes) Well, I think "Everybody" is full of it, because you look perfectly beautiful to Me right now.

VIRGIN #2: (quietly) Really?

BRIDEGROOM: Most definitely, trooper.

(The smoke alarm beeps loudly because the chicken has begun to burn. The Bridegroom grabs a washcloth and vigorously wafts air at the alarm while Virgin #2 turns up the exhaust fan and begins to flip each piece of chicken in the skillet. The smoke alarm stops beeping.)

VIRGIN #2: (chuckles) You would have been perfectly happy with fast food tonight, wouldn't You?

BRIDEGROOM: Honey, I would have been perfectly happy staring at a brick wall with you and shooting the breeze.

VIRGIN #2: Maybe we can do that the next time You come. You will come back again soon, won't You?

BRIDEGROOM: Yes, very soon. Please wait for Me.

(The Bridegroom is jogging on a college campus sidewalk in an attempt to catch up with Virgin #3, who is nearly sprinting to get to her next class.)

BRIDEGROOM: Hey! How's it going?

VIRGIN #3: (clutching her backpack) Oh, my gosh! I can't believe I missed our appointment this morning. I am so sorry.

(The Bridegroom increases His trot to catch up with her. He offers her His arm. She accepts it, and they both continue jogging on the sidewalk.)

BRIDEGROOM: That's no problem. I know what it's like to be busy.

VIRGIN #3: I want to make it up to You. Maybe we could reschedule for tomorrow morning? We could spend double the amount of time that we usually do.

BRIDEGROOM: We could do that. But why can't I come with you now?

VIRGIN #3: What? To my statistics class? You would be so bored.

BRIDEGROOM: Try Me.

VIRGIN #3: (laughs and smiles) You mean, You wouldn't mind sitting with me for a 50-minute lecture?

BRIDEGROOM: I would love to. Maybe I could chat with your professor, too. I know Dr. Elesmijo. I won't throw spitwads at you or do anything to embarrass you in class.

VIRGIN #3: (laughs) Well, sure. I'd love to have You in class with me.

BRIDEGROOM: You know, our time together doesn't have to end after class.

VIRGIN #3: (slows down as she approaches the math building) What do You mean? You'd want to come study with me at the library, too?

BRIDEGROOM: (holds a door open for her) Sure, why not?

VIRGIN #3: You wouldn't be bored while I study Spanish? I'm gonna be using my flashcards.

BRIDEGROOM: (smiles) Será un placer.

VIRGIN #3: (stops sprinting, stands in the middle of the hallway while other students walk past her) How did I ever live my life without You? I know You won't be here forever, but after You leave, You'll come back soon, won't you?

BRIDEGROOM: (whispers) Sure, brains. Indubitably. Sooner than you think. Please wait for Me.

(The Bridegroom is seated on a living room couch next to Virgin #4, who is about to begin reading His Book.)

VIRGIN #4: (imitates a radio announcer) And on today's edition of The Word, we have...

BRIDEGROOM: (imitates a trumpet fanfare) Firrrrst Samuel! (hisses so as to imitate an audience cheering)

VIRGIN #4: (hears a wrestling-music techno synthesizer in her head) Annnnnd in chapter 15, we have...

BRIDEGROOM: The errant sparing of King Agag!

VIRGIN #4: (looks closely at Book) Wait. Is that supposed to be pronounced "a-GAG"? Like, a "gag"?

BRIDEGROOM: (quietly) If you do, it will be good foreshadowing for verse 33.

VIRGIN #4: Oh. (flips over to verse 33) Gross!

BRIDEGROOM: (laughs) Spending time with you is so much fun.

VIRGIN #4: Thank You. But I think You're funner.

(She reads the chapter calmly for a few minutes. The Bridegroom stares at her and smiles while she reads. Suddenly, she becomes alarmed when she gets to verse 22.)

VIRGIN #4: Wait. What do You mean, to obey is better than sacrifice?

BRIDEGROOM: (completely engrossed in her presence) Huh?

VIRGIN #4: Well, right here, it says that You want obedience more than You want sacrifice. Am I doing something wrong? They always keep telling me I'm doing something wrong.

BRIDEGROOM: Huh? Who's "They"?

VIRGIN #4: Did I miss something? What was I supposed to have sacrificed?

BRIDEGROOM: Just you. And you're still alive, so you did it right.

VIRGIN #4: (looks up from The Book and wildly looks Him in the eye) Am I disobeying You?!? What am I doing wrong?!?

BRIDEGROOM: Calm down, sweetie. You're not doing anything wrong.

VIRGIN #4: Oh, no. I think I'm going to have another panic attack. I thought I was supposed to be cured already!

BRIDEGROOM: (adjusts His approach) OK. You're supposed to obey Me, right?

VIRGIN #4: (taking deep breaths) Yes.

BRIDEGROOM: OK. Kiss Me.

VIRGIN #4: What?!

BRIDEGROOM: Kiss Me.

VIRGIN #4: But I'm supposed to be reading Your Book right now. I don't want to disobey You.

BRIDEGROOM: (whispers) Kiss Me. There's nobody around but you and Me. You can read My Book whenever you want, but right now I want you to kiss Me. Please.

(Virgin #4 throws The Book on her coffee table, jumps into His embrace, and showers His face with kisses. When she is finished, she wraps her arms around His neck and laughs.)

VIRGIN #4: Wow. You should come over more often.

BRIDEGROOM: (smiling) I could arrange that.

VIRGIN #4: (whispers) Please come back again soon.

BRIDEGROOM: (whispers) Yes, of course. Very soon. Please wait for Me.

(Virgin #5 falls to her knees in front of the Bridegroom's door. She melodramatically pounds on the door with her fist and screams.)

VIRGIN #5: Please open up for me!! Please let me in!! I need You!! I want You!! I have to have You!!

(She continues to pound. She waits a few seconds, and then she repeatedly smacks the door with both of her open palms. She is wailing at the top of her lungs.)

VIRGIN #5: Where are You?!? Do You want me to die out here?!? Open the door!!!

(She continues to scream and smack on the Bridegroom's door until her palms almost start to bleed. Then suddenly, she feels a gentle tap on her shoulder. She twirls around and sees the One whom she has been so anxiously seeking.)

BRIDEGROOM: I'm right here. What do you need?

(Virgin #5 clasps His ankles and sobs very loudly. He squats down and pulls her into His embrace. He quietly begins to weep with her.)

VIRGIN #5: (into His robe) I was so worried that You would never open Your door to me again.

BRIDEGROOM: (sniffling) Baby, I'll never shut you out. I've been right behind you this whole time.

VIRGIN #5: (looks into His eyes, despite her vision blurred by pools of tears) Really? This whole time?

BRIDEGROOM: Sure. I've got your back.

VIRGIN #5: Then why didn't You tell me where You were? Why didn't You say something sooner?

BRIDEGROOM: (smiles) Well, it wasn't so that you would freak out. Sometimes I like to wait for you to come looking for Me.

VIRGIN #5: Really?

BRIDEGROOM: Sure. Don't you like it when I come looking for you?

VIRGIN #5: (gasps) Would You like me to leave and then come looking for You again? (smiles) If that's what You like, I can go now if You want.

BRIDEGROOM: (chuckles and tightens His grip on her arms) Whoa, tiger. There will be plenty of time to look for Me again later.

VIRGIN #5: (smile falls) You have to leave again, don't You?

BRIDEGROOM: Sure, tiger. But don't worry. I'll come back soon.

VIRGIN #5: Promise?

BRIDEGROOM: Yes, I promise. Please wait for Me.

(Virgin #6 is sitting cross-legged on her bed. She is filing her nails and listening to music that is playing on her stereo in the background. From the adjoining hallway, the Bridegroom stands at the threshold of her bedroom and knocks on her open door.)

BRIDEGROOM: Hello. Remember Me? I'm the Bridegroom. A friend of Mine said you might be interested in meeting Me.

(Completely ignoring Him, Virgin #6 continues to file her nails.)

BRIDEGROOM: Um... (awkwardly chuckles and waves His hand) Hello. Look, I'm not going to be rude, but there isn't much time left. Did you still want to meet Me? Maybe you and I could schedule some hangout time together.

(Virgin #6 stops filing her nails, looks blankly at the wall for a moment, and smiles.)

VIRGIN #6: Hangout time! What a great idea! (reaches for her cellphone and dials it) Kayla, how's it going? Ah, nothin' much going on here. Hey, do you want to hang out sometime?

BRIDEGROOM: (sighs) Look, I really want to meet you someday, but I'm not going to force my way into your life. Please listen.

VIRGIN #6: (into her phone) Yeah, that's my stereo. It's Rodney And The Hotpinks. Wanna hear it? (turns up the volume on her stereo)

BRIDEGROOM: I'm not going to yell at you, but I really want you to know that My invitation won't be open forever. But I'm coming back.

VIRGIN #6: (into her phone) I know, right? I've been so bored this weekend.

BRIDEGROOM: I love you, and I want you. Goodbye. (walks away, crestfallen)

(Virgin #7 is kneeling and bowing her head on the lush carpet of a beautifully decorated living room.)

VIRGIN #7: Hear me talking to You about my family. Hear me talking to You about my church. Hear me talking to You about my neighbors. Hear me talking to You about all the poor people on the streets who do not have clothes for their backs, jobs for their daily bread, or nourishment for their bodies. Hear me imploring You earnestly for their welfare, not to be confused with their welfare checks, but for the common good of all men. And finally, hear me talking to You about our government, our leaders who steer us at the helm of this great nation which You so generously bestowed upon us with Your eternal, amazing grace. How sweet the sound. It saved a wretch like me.

(Suddenly, the Bridegroom appears in her living room. He is sitting cross-legged in front of Virgin #7 so as to catch her eye.)

BRIDEGROOM: Hello. Have we met? What's your name?

VIRGIN #7: (still kneeling, head still bowed) I once was blind, but now Your lighthouse has illuminated my ship, and now I see.

BRIDEGROOM: Well, that's what I came here to talk to you about. You can't see Me yet.

VIRGIN #7: (opens her eyes and peeks at a nearby alarm clock, then bows her head again) Oh, sweet hour of prayer. Hear me talking to You for 45 more minutes. Record my 15 minutes in Your holy book of life.

BRIDEGROOM: (sighs) I'm sorry, but it doesn't work that way. Please listen to Me. My Father heard some very confusing messages from you, and He asked Me to clear some things up for you.

VIRGIN #7: Bless the beasts and the children. Give them shelter from the storm.

BRIDEGROOM: OK, but you're ripping off The Carpenters. You can use your own words.

VIRGIN #7: Keep them safe. Keep them warm.

BRIDEGROOM: Please listen. You're running out of time.

VIRGIN #7: (opens her eyes and glances at the alarm clock again) Yay! I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I resist all evil, for You give me my daily bread. (bows head)

BRIDEGROOM: Please stop resisting My invitation. I'm coming back, and I really want us to be friends. We could have actual conversations together.

VIRGIN #7: In the richness of Your abundance, You bestow the steadfastness of Your holiness upon the fields of your antiscientific flockness algorithmflamboyanceness megalomanianicclowder.

BRIDEGROOM: (crestfallen) I love you, and I want you. Goodbye.

(The Bridegroom is sitting on a living-room couch. He is waiting for Virgin #8 to return home from work. When she finally unlocks her front door, she slams it behind her, throws her keys on a nearby table, and screams.)

BRIDEGROOM: Hello. You look like you've had a terrible day. I would like to talk to you about it. What's your name?

(Ignoring the Bridegroom, Virgin #8 flops onto her couch and turns on her laptop, which is sitting nearby.)

BRIDEGROOM: Listen, your mother has been talking to Me about you a lot. She really wants you to meet Me. And I would very much love to meet you, too.

VIRGIN #8: (logs onto an IM program and chuckles) I've got all the friends I need right here.

BRIDEGROOM: Please listen. I could be the best Friend that you never, ever could have dreamed of in all of your wildest dreams. Please. I know exactly what happened to you at work today. I know exactly how to fix it. I know exactly what to say that would help you feel better.

VIRGIN #8: (types) Ah. Larry's online, too. He knows what I'm going through.

BRIDEGROOM: (sighs) OK, well, I'm not going to interrupt you. But please listen. There's an expiration date on My Friend request. Please accept it as soon as you can. Please don't block Me. I want to chat with you, too.

(Virgin #8 half laughs, half cries while she chats online with Larry.)

BRIDEGROOM: (crestfallen) I'll be back soon. I love you, and I want you. Goodbye.

(Virgin #9 is at a church service. Even though she is dressed to the nines, she is bored out of her skull during the sermon. She only forces herself to attend because she heard somebody say that only people who attend church services will get to meet the Bridegroom. She squirms in her pew and crosses her legs. The Bridegroom happens to be sitting right next to her, but she does not see Him.)

BRIDEGROOM: Hello. Have we met? What's your name? How long have you been coming here?

(Not hearing Him, Virgin #9 grabs a nearby hymnbook and flips through it so as to keep herself awake.)

BRIDEGROOM: Look, I understand how difficult it can be to find Me here. The pastor means well, but he has always been clueless about how to deliver a sermon.

(Virgin #9 keeps flipping through hymns and stifles a scream.)

BRIDEGROOM: Are you really interested in Me? I'm interested in you. I'm not boring, honest. Please listen to Me. There isn't much time. My invitation won't last forever. But I'm coming back.

(A family of 4 quietly walks down the aisle and exits the sanctuary. Virgin #9 looks at them longingly and wishes she could be brave enough to follow their example. Then she receives a text message from her boyfriend asking her what she's doing for lunch. She sighs and decides to escape.)

VIRGIN #9: (under her breath) I ain't coming back here no more. Good luck, everyone. (walks out)

BRIDEGROOM: (crestfallen) I love you, and I want you. Goodbye.

(Virgin #10 is sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor with her eyes closed and her palms open. She is extremely relaxed, and she is seated in front of a table that is adorned with a small statue. She is uttering a constant, low groan. The Bridegroom suddenly appears with a panicked look on His face.)

BRIDEGROOM: What are you doing? I heard you say you wanted to follow Me, but you never introduced yourself to Me. Please tell Me your name.

(Virgin #10 continues relaxing and opening up her consciousness.)

BRIDEGROOM: (points at her statue) Wait. Who is this guy? Is this who you want to follow instead?

VIRGIN #10: (giggles and smiles) Whee...

BRIDEGROOM: (waves His hand in front of her face) Please come back! The longer you stay in his embrace, the harder it may be for Me to find you! Don't you remember hearing My invitation? It isn't a permanent one! It isn't plan B! It's the only plan that will work! You don't have much time!

(Virgin #10's constant groan becomes louder.)

BRIDEGROOM: (sobs) Oh, baby, you're breaking My heart. You don't have to come to this guy. Are you looking for peace? I'm the Prince. Is your soul thirsty? I know of the most wonderful river in existence. Are you starving on the inside? I can be your food, and I can give you whatever you need. (sighs) You're on his turf now. I don't want to force My way in. Please, just know that I'm coming back, I love you, and I want you. Goodbye. (walks away, crestfallen)

(After some time, Virgins #1-5 hear about the Bridegroom's invitation to a rendezvous -- the party of all parties. They dress up in their finest attire, pack all the supplies they need, and meet up with each other to wait for Him. During this process, Virgins #6-10 also hear about the party and feel entitled to attend. Virgins #1-5 allow Virgins #6-10 to tag along and hope the Bridegroom will let #6-10 join the party also. All 10 virgins meet at the proposed location. Their adrenaline high eventually wears off, and they fall asleep waiting for the Bridegroom. Suddenly, they hear a voice shout, "Hey, He's back! He's on His way right now!" All 10 virgins excitedly wake up and trim their lamps.)

VIRGIN #7: (shakes dim lamp) Uh-oh. My lamp's gone out.

VIRGIN #6: Oh, shoot. Mine, too.

VIRGIN #3: (to Virgin #7 and Virgin #6) Did y'all bring enough oil?

VIRGIN #7: (slowly) No. What for?

VIRGIN #3: Well, the type of lamps we're using tonight require the use of oil in order to work properly.

VIRGIN #9: (shakes dim lamp, speaks under breath) Gee, thanks, professor.

VIRGIN #3: (to Virgin #9) Meaning that if you don't have enough oil, your lamp won't work. If your lamp won't work, you won't be able to see.

VIRGIN #4: 'Cause it's really dark out here.

VIRGIN #8: Duh.

VIRGIN #10: (to Virgin #3) So, give me some of your oil.

VIRGIN #3: No way. I only brought enough for myself.

VIRGIN #10: (scoffs) Well, then, you're selfish.

VIRGIN #5: No, she just has good boundaries. And so do I. At least, I do now.

VIRGIN #9: Well, how the [bleep] are we supposed to see the Bridegroom if we don't have any oil in our lamps?

VIRGIN #4: (singing) Keep it burning. Burning, burning.

VIRGIN #9: (to Virgin #4) Shut up!

VIRGIN #1: (to Virgin #9) Please don't yell at her. OK, I think I know how to solve this--

VIRGIN #10: Yes. Give us your oil.

VIRGIN #1: No, no, no. This might sound harsh, but anyone here who does not have enough oil for her lamp is going to have to just go out and buy some.

VIRGIN #8: What?! Where are we going to find oil-sellers at this hour?

VIRGIN #2: Actually, Herbie's Oil-O-Rama is open 24 hours, and it's just down the road.

VIRGIN #7: Oh, thank goodness.

VIRGIN #2: If you start walking now, you could probably get there in about 20 minutes.

VIRGIN #8: What?!

VIRGIN #5: Look. Everyone just stay calm. I think that sounds like the best solution. We 5 can stay here and wait for the Bridegroom, while you 5 can go on your oil-run.

VIRGIN #9: But that could take forever! I'm so tired of waiting already!

VIRGIN #3: Ladies, it sounds like there's no other alternative. Anyway, why didn't you bring enough oil in the first place? (slowly) If you really knew the Bridegroom...

VIRGIN #4: You'd know that we'd probably be waiting here forever. (smile falls) Uh-oh. I hope I didn't accidentally offend Him.

VIRGIN #1: Well, no, not forever. He'll be here any minute.

VIRGIN #5: (laughs) He's probably right behind us.

VIRGIN #9: (raises her hand) OK, no time to wait! Let's go!

(Virgins #6-10 scurry down the road. Virgins #1-5 socialize for a few minutes and swap Bridegroom-encounter stories. Finally, the Bridegroom appears and beckons to them. Virgins #1-5 squeal with delight while He holds the door open for them. They file in one by one to join the party.)

BRIDEGROOM: Hey, there, buzzybee. Such a pleasure to see you again.

VIRGIN #1: (kisses His cheek and squeals) I knew You'd provide a way for me to join the party! (scurries inside)

BRIDEGROOM: Hey, trooper. I've got a brick wall with your name on it. How are you holding up?

VIRGIN #2: (kisses His cheek and hugs His neck) Much better, thanks to You. (walks inside)

BRIDEGROOM: It's the brains! I missed you. Have you been keeping them in line?

VIRGIN #3: (kisses His cheek and chuckles) Claro que sí. (jogs inside)

BRIDEGROOM: (imitates a sports announcer) Annnnnd My sweetie has reached the finish line!

VIRGIN #4: (hisses so as to imitate an audience cheering) And the crowd goes wild! (jumps into His arms to cover His face with kisses for a moment, then jumps back down and runs inside)

(Virgin #5 slowly approaches the Bridegroom and lingers in His presence.)

BRIDEGROOM: You're worried that I'm going to shut you out, aren't you, tiger?

VIRGIN #5: (takes deep breath) I shouldn't be. You've never, ever let me down.

BRIDEGROOM: (smiles) Please take as long as you need. I'll wait for you.

(Virgin #5 hesitates for a brief moment as she gazes into the Bridegroom's eyes. Then she melodramatically throws her arms around His neck and passionately kisses Him fully on the lips. Then she releases her crazy grip on Him and gleefully runs inside.)

BRIDEGROOM: (smiles) Heh. That never gets old.

(The Bridegroom shuts the door, and the party of all parties begins. After a few minutes, Virgins #6-10 return from the oil-sellers. They knock loudly on the party door, but the door remains shut.)

VIRGIN #8: Hey, open up!

VIRGIN #7: Lord! Speak now, for Your servant is finally ready to listen to You!

VIRGIN #6: Please, Lord, let us in!

VIRGIN #9: Come on, Bridegroom! We don't got all night!

VIRGIN #10: Please open! I need this!

(Slowly, the Bridegroom opens the door a crack. Dance music is playing loudly in the background. His hair is slightly disheveled, and His face is flushed.)

BRIDEGROOM: Whew! It is crazy-wild in there. The ladies are about to form a mosh pit and everything.

VIRGIN #9: (smiling) Wow, that sounds like fun! Please let us in!

VIRGIN #6: Yes, Sir! Let's all have some crazy-wild hangout time!

VIRGIN #8: Yeah, Lord, let's chitchat.

VIRGIN #7: You are a wonderful conversationalist.

VIRGIN #10: I need You!

(The Bridegroom blinks. Then He gives all 5 virgins a sweeping blank look.)

BRIDEGROOM: Wait. Do I know you?

VIRGIN #6: Um, yes.

VIRGIN #8: Of course You do. We all just spent $29.95 on a quart of lamp-oil for You.

VIRGIN #10: Just for You.

BRIDEGROOM: (smoothes down His hair) No, you did it for you.

VIRGIN #9: No fair! Why didn't You tell us we had to bring extra oil?

BRIDEGROOM: (slowly smiles) The stuff that's burning in your lamps right now is artificial. The stuff that's burning in the lamps of My virgins is oil that they stored up while they were getting to know Me.

VIRGIN #7: But we know You. We spent so much [bleep]ing time with You!

(The Bridegroom maintains His smile, and His eyes glisten with love.)

BRIDEGROOM: I'm sorry, but I'm being honest when I say that I don't know you.

VIRGIN #10: Say what?!?

BRIDEGROOM: (whispers) I do not know you.

(He closes the door with a quick, swooping motion that causes wind to whip through the air. The virgins' artificial lights flicker out.)