Soul-dancing

Disclaimer: I'm about to share my opinion, my experience, my soapbox. Currently, I'm not an ordained minister, a licensed therapist, or a church employee. I'm an artist who has opinions. My blog is very much like a "my life is like an open book" public journal. I hope what I share here will help you on your journey, or perhaps help you voice something that you haven't been able to put your finger on yet, or perhaps just entertain you while I share my perspective. Oh, look -- a picture of my cat! Happy smile. She only thought she was taking a nap. But she was actually pre-posing for a spontaneous photo.

"Now the Lord is the Sprit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." (2 Corinthians 3:17)

In terms of living the Christian life, going to church, walking with other believers, etc., it is my opinion that teaching is a process that is separate from shepherding (or pastoring). It is true that teachers shepherd people. It is also true that shepherds teach people. But in my opinion, teaching is a black-and-white process while shepherding is a gray process. When a teacher teaches, he or she often speaks in very black-and-white terms, i.e., "this is right," "this is wrong," "aim for this," or "stay away from this." When a shepherd shepherds, he or she often has to put out a fire or, frankly, fix what a teacher may have accidentally messed up. Or a teacher often has to speak truth into a situation that a shepherd may have accidentally messed up. In other words, if you go to a church and hear a sermon or attend a class, you're hearing a teacher teach. When you try to process what you heard at church, and you find somebody to help you digest the information, you're letting a shepherd shepherd. During this process, perhaps the teacher shepherds by leading you to a certain place that you weren't at before. Or perhaps the shepherd teaches by speaking truth into your life that you haven't heard before.

I hope this makes sense. I think the processes of teaching and shepherding are intermingled, but I also think they're two distinct processes. As a shepherd, I've had to help people sort through a teaching they heard and show them how they can apply it to their lives. This is a gray process because perhaps a person's heart was in the right place, but perhaps they received the teaching in a way that made them feel like they were doing something wrong. This has happened to me, too. As a sheep, I've needed people to point me to some teaching where I can get some truth. This is a black-and-white process because when you're hungry, you need to sit down and eat. We need teachers and shepherds simultaneously.

So, all that to say -- especially as a chick who's been getting healed up from spiritual abuse -- what you do with what you hear is important. Not everything you hear at church will apply to you; or maybe all of it will apply to you, and you need someone to help you know how to apply it.

And Jesus is the Ultimate Shepherd and the Ultimate Teacher simultaneously. Yeah, that's right. I dig Him ultimately.

I've talked a tiny bit before about the concept of "Freedom," especially in this blog entry and this blog entry. In terms of church curriculum, I've noticed that Freedom ministry does not always help me. It's been a wonderful launching pad. It's been an awesome vehicle in which to connect to my God. But it hasn't always helped me. Sometimes, it's unintentionally hurt me. For example, take the teaching "Self-pity is a sin." Uh, that doesn't help me feel better about myself. As another example, take the teaching "You're only as healthy as who you attract." Uh, does that mean that I'm nothing? because I haven't been attracting anybody. And yet, it's helpful to be aware of the fact that self-pity can be a sin and that if I'm attracting jerks, I probably still have lots of issues to work through.

See what I mean? Some of it helps me, some of it doesn't, some of it helps me sometimes, some if it helps me often. Maybe the variable is ME. Or maybe I've thought too much about the differences/interminglings between/of teaching/shepherding because I grew up in a professor/pastor's house. Oy vey! Will it never end??

Ahem. Happy smile. One thing that has sunken in quite thoroughly recently is 2 Corinthians 3:17 that I quoted above. Where God's Spirit is, there is Freedom. So, is Freedom something you get when you attend a Freedom class? Probably. Is Freedom something you get when a Freedom minister prays for you? Probably. Is Freedom something you have while you've been enjoying a year's worth of sobriety? Probably. Is Freedom something you have when you separate yourself from somebody who is harmful and who refuses to change? Probably. Is Freedom being in God's presence? Definitely.

One phrase in Christianese that bothers the heck out of me now is "practicing the presence of God." I think that's way too fancy of a way to say "hanging out with God." If you call a friend and say, "Hey, can I practice your presence?" they might have you committed or file a restraining order. Good grief. You call a friend and say, "Hey, can I hang out with you?" That's better. I think maybe the Christianese inventors probably realize that God can technically be anywhere at anytime, and meeting with Him isn't always exactly like meeting with a tangible human being. I'm not a theologian, so maybe I'm explaining this wrong. From what I understand, Psalm 139 says that God can be everywhere you are. (The Book of John further explains that this can happen especially after you accept Jesus' sacrifice for yourself and are eternally reconciled to God.) I'm not a teacher, so hopefully my black-and-white explanation didn't mess anything up for you. Please feel free to consult your local shepherd for your personalized dose of gray. Oy vey!

All that to say, here's what Freedom has meant to me lately. If Freedom is wherever God's Spirit is, then I'm walking in Freedom when I'm joyful, peaceful, or loving, and I'm interacting with God. If Freedom is wherever God's Spirit is, then I'm walking in Freedom when I'm having a severely crappy day, and I'm interacting with God.

If 2 Corinthians 3:17 is true (and it is), then I think that means I was walking in Freedom all those times I was literally bawling like a 3-year-old while I was driving through rush-hour traffic with tears streaming down my cheeks and I was talking to God and He was talking to me. If 2 Corinthians 3:17 is true (and it is), then I think that means I was walking in Freedom that one time that I had dangerously dark thoughts stuck in my head and the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit showed up in my bathroom with really concerned looks on their Faces (which I'll never forget) and asked me if I was OK. If 2 Corinthians 3:17 is true (and it is), then I think that means I was walking in Freedom that one time when I was reading a chapter in 2 Samuel and it clicked for me that the Bible isn't boring -- it's a real, living Book that was written by an exciting God -- and I fell to my knees and wept while I was talking out my revelation with my God. If 2 Corinthians 3:17 is true (and it is), then I think that means I was walking in Freedom all those times I told God I was hurting, often with tears, and quite often telling Him how bad I thought things sucked, and Him talking with me about how the things that bothered me were supposed to bother me.

I believe 100% firmly that Jesus is the only Way to connect to God, because He was the only One who lived a perfect life and who was qualified to be sacrificed for all humankind. So, I believe 100% that everybody needs Jesus (especially me). I also believe that God created everybody differently, with different giftings and personalities, so He probably interacts with everybody differently.

So, church teachings help different people at different degrees. I personally lately have had it up to "here" with teachings. I'm sick of theory. What I want is to practice what I've learned. What I want is people.

But that's just me, and that's where I am right now in my journey. I'm in an excruciatingly difficult leg of my journey where, quite frankly, life is a 24/7 suckfest except when I'm asleep. What makes life bearable is Freedom. That is, what makes life bearable, survivable, conquerable, is being connected to my God. I have to -- no, you don't understand -- I HAVE TO interact with Him, or I'll die. I am not exaggerating. He is my Life Source. I need Him, or I'm a goner.

That's why I can make a happy smile and my smile will be genuine. I can't ignore my pain (doing so is extremely unhealthy), but I can talk to my Daddy (God) about it, and He'll talk to me about it, and we'll hang out together, and we'll chitchat together, and I'll sing to Him, and He'll sigh, and we'll enjoy each other's company, and we'll enjoy our own little Eden right here in the middle of the 24/7 suckfest. He is my Life. He is my Love. He is my Freedom. He is my Power-Giver. He is my Helper. He is my Rescuer. He is my Restorer. He is my God.

For me, it's a lot like dancing. In that sense, God is my Partner. When you dance with a Partner, you have to move where He leads. You have to move how He moves. You have to watch Him, wait for Him, anticipate Him, trust Him, give yourself over to Him. You're at His mercy. You're enjoying His company, His nearness, His fragrance, His joy, His peace, His comfort, His safety. He's got you. You're good to go. All you have to do is hold on, let Him hold on to you, and follow. And enjoy the dance.

For example, I was about to head out to the beautiful coin laundromat this afternoon, but I felt like God my Dance Partner wanted me to blog instead. (I'm planning to venture to the laundromat later. This chick needs clean towels!) Knowing where He leads is always important, because I put Him in charge of my life. Knowing where He moves is always important, because I don't want to go anywhere without Him. Knowing where He is is always important, because I don't want to die -- no, you don't understand -- I NEED HIM. I dig Him, yes. I love Him, yes. I like Him, yes. I NEED HIM, HECK YES.

Now I understand more than ever why God had me soul-dance away from people who told me that I can't encounter Him the way Bible characters encountered Him. I was accidentally soul-dancing into my enemy's arms. I'm not saying that teaching isn't needed, or that shepherding isn't needed, or that discernment isn't needed, or that wisdom/prudence/understanding isn't needed. Quite the contrary. I've just learned the hard way that if anyone wants me to stay away from my God or explain Him away, I think that's a huge red flag. What I want and NEED to do is soul-dance into the arms of God my Dance Partner, 24/7.

By the way -- if you ever decide to dance or soul-dance a tango, I highly recommend Julio Iglesias.

Click, click, click

This blog post is rated R for... uh... trust me. It just needs to be rated R.

I'm about to offer a disclaimer that might be longer than the actual blog-post content itself. While God has been majorly healing my heart, overhauling His temple (aka me), and restoring me, it's been a wild ride, and I've had to hold on tight. Stuff has happened that I was expecting, and stuff has happened that I was absolutely not expecting at all. But He's known about all of it ahead of time. He's a very efficient God, and I think He likes to tackle several issues simultaneously. I guess it's kinda like when you take your cat to the vet for a procedure that will require general anesthesia, and the vet asks if there's anything else you'd like to have taken care of while your pet is unconscious, i.e., blood samples drawn or nails clipped.

However, I don't think God has offered me anesthesia, and I have been quite conscious during every adjustment. It's my pain to handle, and I can take it because He can strengthen me and help me take it. Dealing with truth that has been bubbling up out of the ground Psalm-85wise has involved me having to be honest about things that I never dreamed I'd be honest about. All along, things were right under my nose that I didn't smell properly. But my nose seems to be working fine now. What I don't want to do is smear other people in the process. In this post, I will need to talk about specific people, and I'll need to be as vague as that headbanging photo of my cat that I displayed at the beginning of this post.

She isn't actually headbanging. She's trying to play with my camera strap, as usual. I wanted to have a picture with this post, but since I don't own any web-ready pictures of Freddie Mercury, I decided to take a picture of whatever was near my camera. Choochie wins!

Yes, I'm going to talk about Freddie Mercury again. I would like to reiterate that I highly respect him as a musician and as an artistic genius. If you'd like to catch up on what I said the last time I blogged about him, you can check it out here. If you don't know who he is, he was the lead singer for the rock band Queen, and he died of AIDS in the early 1990s. From what I understand, he was openly bisexual and almost openly gay, but if you'd like more information about him, the internet has lots of it for you to research for yourself. So, all that to say, I'm going to talk about Freddie Mercury (whom I admire posthumously), and I'm also going to talk about other people (whose identity I choose to paint vaguely).

"O you afflicted one, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay your stones with colorful gems, and lay your foundations with sapphires." (Isaiah 54:11)

Sometimes healing can be wonderful and ooey-gooey, but sometimes it can be severely brutal. During severely brutal moments/hours/days, I'm not always in a place where I can openly cry out to God. I'm sometimes not in a place where I can openly cry tears. I'm sometimes in a place where I have to stare at a computer screen and maintain my composure. So, very recently while I was trying to keep it together while staring at a computer screen, I was internally screaming out to God, and I pulled up Bible verses on the internet. For example, if I remember correctly, at one point I used my computer's cursor, highlighted the part in Luke 15:31 that says "you are always with me, and all that I have is yours," and I basically told God, "I want this to be enough for me."

Sometimes during these externally calm-looking, internally storm-raging times, I need to find an outlet for heart-lightening or humor or emotional catharsis. Very recently, during one of these times after I had already internally screamed out to God and calmed down with some scripture, etc., I decided to listen to some Queen on YouTube. (I'm extremely picky about the kind of music I listen to, so when I discover "new" music, it's usually from the 70s, and it's usually from Europe, because this artsy-fartsy chick likes complex chord progressions.) I selected "Another One Bites the Dust," which was written by the band's bass player (not Mr. Fahrenheit), from the band's official YouTube channel. I saw the beginning of the video, and then I let it keep playing in the background while I continued with my day. I had definitely heard the song before, and I had seen the video before, but this time when I saw part of it, something clicked. In this particular video, Freddie Mercury slaps himself (I think just in the thigh) and does his usual flamboyant performance. But this time, his mannerisms reminded me of somebody I used to know, and I affectionately smiled.

As I proceeded with my day, I noticed after a while that I was enjoying lots of peace again, and I was enjoying the calmness that God created in my day. I talked to Him about it later, and I think I asked Him what the turning point was in the day. He said it was when I saw Freddie Mercury slap himself.

Some people go on retreats and get glorious inner-healing revelations. Some people talk to therapists and cry into Kleenex boxes while professional counselors tell them lifechanging things. But I got my breakthrough while I saw Freddie Mercury slap himself on YouTube. I know God knows exactly what I need, but I think sometimes when He plans it ahead of time, He's like, "Yep, My little random chick is definitely gonna need something random for this. Why walk through the front door when you can fly through the roof on a submarine?" Yes, of course it makes sense. To me. So, while Freddie Mercury slapped and strutted his stuff, he reminded me of another man that I used to know.

This other man was also a very flamboyant, hyper, quirky person, especially with those closest to him. I can't speak for everybody, but I can speak for me. Speaking for myself, oh my gosh. It was so obvious. How could I have missed it? This person's homosexual tendencies were right under my nose, and I didn't see them because I grew up with them, and probably also because this person was constantly on a pedestal. You'd also be amazed how much whitewash can temporarily cover up.

So, during this very gradual download, God slowly pulled me back and helped me see the big picture. I really think these people who I was around most of my life had major sexual, emotional, mental, and enmeshment issues. I was (literally) exposed to things and situations that a little girl should NOT be exposed to. These were situations that a little girl should be protected from. You can't just let a little girl think she's going to watch a grown man take a shower and then laugh hysterically at the misunderstanding before anything catastrophic happens. You can't just tell a little girl to nap topless in the same bed where a grown man is napping. You can't just allow a grown man to walk around carelessly naked in the same house where your grown-up little girl lives. You can't just allow a little girl to watch a grown man receive an injection on his butt. You can't just micromanage a little girl's urine sample when she's old enough to pee in a cup for herself at the doctor's office. You can't just assume that your little girl will grow up to allow you to be a surrogate mother for your own grandchild.

In short, eww.

I mean, oh my gosh. No offense, but no wonder you don't have any grandchildren. How incompetent do you think we are, that we supposedly can't even bear children without you? I'm sorry, but I don't think the world has enough whitewash to cover up the disgustingness of... I don't even know what to call it. I'm getting nauseous just typing about it.

I think maybe God was getting nauseous, too, when He finally said, "OK, that's enough," reached down, and pulled me out of the cesspool. He's been in the process of washing me off, deodorizing me, and drying me off ever since.

And another one bites the dust.

So, something clicked when I began strutting to the beat of this tune in my head. Yes, those of us who are done being victims and are learning how to be more than conquerors, we strut. We have a very "Don't mess with me, you [insert name of enemy here], 'cause I'm going to win no matter what you hurl at me" attitude.

" 'No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me,' says the Lord." (Isaiah 54:17)

I feel vindicated. I feel like I made a good decision to leave a harmful environment, and I feel like it's been confirmed. God rescued me from a bad situation, permanently. He knew what He was doing. Just today, I noticed that Job lost everything, and even his health was threatened, but his life was spared, and God made sure from the very beginning of the Book of Job that Job's life would be spared. So, living out a Job-like trial has been excruciating, but I've still got a pulse, I'm still in one piece, and ain't no sound but the sound of his feet, machine guns ready to go. Are you ready? Are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?

I'm still learning to know the difference between pride (which I don't want) and confidence (which I need), but God will teach me. He's brought me this far, and I know He's gonna finish what He started. Jesus was stripped of everything when He was dying on the cross for me -- He lost friends, family, and dignity in a way that I worship Him for enduring. If anyone knows what I'm going through, it's Him. I want to learn from Him.

Click.

God

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength." (Deuteronomy 6:5)

Many years ago when I was involved in what I now feel was a spiritually abusive church, I attended one meeting in a room that was full of young women in their 20s. I don't remember exactly what the occasion was, but I remember one woman had recently gotten married, and I think the rest of us were still single, so one of us single women asked the recently married woman a very important question. I don't remember exactly what her words were, but she basically asked, "How do you separate your love for your husband from your love of God?" She was basically asking how this recently married woman could love her husband when she already loved God. We were in a charismatic, very weird church that put very few boundaries on anything. I won't go into details here, but suffice it to say that I was relating to God in a very weird, sometimes rated-R kind of way. So, we young women in our 20s were wondering, in a sense, how the heck it would be OK to have the hots for a guy without feeling like we were cheating on God. So, in a very gracious, grownup way, the recently married woman explained to us confused women in our 20s that God gives you a love for your husband that's different than the love He wants us to have for Him.

In the verse from Deuteronomy that I quoted above, God explains that He wants us to love Him with all our heart, soul, and strength. Technically, it doesn't say to love the Lord our Father with all our heart, soul, and strength. It doesn't say to love the Lord our Friend with all our heart, soul, and strength. And it doesn't say to love the Lord our Husband with all our heart, soul, and strength. It says to love the Lord our GOD. Currently, I'm learning that even though technically, God is Father, Friend, Husband, Counselor, Teacher, Helper, Redeemer, Restorer, Provider, Healer, Warrior, Peacemaker, Comforter, Creator, Devil-Destroyer, Heartmender, etc., He wants to be more than just all that. He wants to be God.

"For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is His name; and your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel; He is called the God of the whole earth." (Isaiah 54:5)

"A man who has friends must himself be friendly, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs 18:24)

"Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, yet I will not forget you." (Isaiah 49:15)

"A father of the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy habitation." (Psalm 68:5)

God is a rated-G Husband, yes, but He wants to be more than just a lovesick Guy who writes loveletters and sings love songs. He wants to be God. God is the closest Friend that any human being could ever have, yes, but He wants to be more than just a faithful Friend who tells compelling stories and sometimes leaves early so He can go to work the next morning and other times stays with you for hours because He wants to keep hanging around you. He wants to be God. God is the most nurturing Mother, because from what I understand, He's technically genderless, but He wants to be more than just a strong shoulder to cry on or a gentle-yet-firm voice who will tell you that He wants to fix your boo-boos one minute but insists that you clean your room the next minute or who charges at your attackers like a crazed bear with sharply accurate fangs. He wants to be God. God is the most loving Father, yes, but He wants to be more than just the Best Advice-Giver in the Universe or the Most Fragrant Bosom in existence or the Most Entertaining Storyteller Lap ever known or the Wisest Being in all existence. He wants to be God.

God is holy. God is pure. God is big. God is good. God is powerful. God is merciful. God is kind. God is gentle. God is faithful. He is the only Life Source. He is the Most Worthy Being in the Universe. He Himself created the Universe. He is a consuming fire. He deserves for us to drop to our knees and/or fall on our faces anytime He's around. He deserves for us to drop everything and focus all of our attention on Him completely. No one is more beautiful than He is. No one is more perfect than He is. No one is more intoxicatingly enrapturing than He is. He wants to be worshiped. He wants to be prayed to. He wants to be feared. (I guess you could say "respected" instead of feared, but if He created hell and has the power to send beings there, maybe "feared" is the most accurate verb to use after all.)

Yes, God is my Husband whom I gaze upon like a lovesick puppydog, who I dream about writing power ballads to, and who makes me giggle like a schoolgirl. Yes, God is my Friend who doesn't have a problem hanging out with me whenever, wherever, and who listens to my incessant chitchatting, and who has fun making me laugh. Yes, God is my Mama who calms me down when I wail in pain, who has stored gallons of my tears in His bottle collection, who has roared like the Lion that He is to scare my enemies away, and who doesn't have a problem spanking me. Yes, God is my Father who tucks me in at night and tells me stories and sings me songs and gives me nicknames and speaks identity and makes everything better and takes care of me and makes me cry just thinking about Him. But He wants to be more than just that.

He wants to be God. I think that means that regardless of where I am and what I need, He wants to be in charge. He wants my best. He wants my worst. He wants all my heart, all my soul, all my strength, all my mind, all my being. If I have a job, He wants to help me do it. If I have a hobby, He wants to play along with me. If I have entertainment, He wants to hang out with me, too. If I have an errand to run, He wants to run it with me. If I have a decision to make, He wants to be in the middle of it. If I have a catastrophe, He wants to walk me through it. If I have fun, He wants to enjoy it with me. He wants it all.

He wants to be the first Person I interact with in the morning and the last Person I interact with at night. He wants to be near, over, beside, between, among, hovering, soaring, resting, triumphing, weeping, shouting, quiet, here, there, then, now, later, forever, always. He wants to be my reason for existing. He wants to be God.

I hope that doesn't sound weird. He fixes weird. He doesn't want to be a category. He wants to permeate the categories. He wants to be in charge of the categories.

He wants to be Husband, Friend, Mother, Father, whether I already have a husband, friend, mother, or father or not. He wants to be in the center of all those relationships. He wants to be those relationships to me. He wants to be the Ultimate Relationship that I will ever or could ever have. He wants to be it. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. He is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. He is God.

Wait for it

Disclaimer: I'm not an ordained minister, and I'm not a licensed therapist. I'm just a chick who's been trudging through life lately, and I've gotten some blisters along the way. And I've learned and experienced a lot of stuff that I'd like to share with you. Well, at least, that is my opinion. Are you hungry? Here's an oven-baked entree. Parts of it may be undercooked, and other parts might be overcooked. I hope I stirred it correctly before I baked it, and I hope it doesn't taste bitter. If it tastes nasty and you suspect that it might make you sick, of course feel free to spit it out. Thank you for dining.

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep." (Romans 12:15)

I've learned that rejoicing and weeping can be subjective. Maybe "rejoice" isn't always a literal jumping up and down and hollering with extreme cheerfulness; maybe "rejoice" can be a simple "way to go" or "congratulations" or showing up to someone's party. Maybe "weeping" isn't always a literal episode of tears squeezing out of your eyes while you grab a nearby friend and insist that they weep on your shoulder; maybe "weep" can be a simple "I'm sorry" or "bummer" or "that sucks" or a sympathetic pat on someone's shoulder.

But I also think there are appropriate and inappropriate responses to situations that require rejoicing or weeping. For example, I've had the idea that during Father's Day or Mother's Day, I should rally my Facebook friends and have an anti-Father's Day or an anti-Mother's Day to celebrate what abused children REALLY want to express on those days. But I decided against it because, well, Father's Day and Mother's Day are days in which fathers and mothers are celebrated. Pooping instead of rejoicing would be inappropriate, even if all the picturesque holiday scenery of parents and children enjoying one another can make you want to hurl something (literally and metaphorically). As another example, James 1 says to count it all joy when you have various trials. It would probably be extraordinarily inappropriate to walk up to somebody who's had a miscarriage and say something like "Whoo-hoo! Your baby's dead! God must really like you, 'cause He just gave you a megahuge trial and will give you megahuge patience!" Um, no. This would be a situation in which weeping, literally or metaphorically, would probably be the most appropriate response.

And maybe sometimes rejoicing and weeping are activities that can be very time-consuming. I think in some cultures, wedding parties (rejoicing) can last for a week. If somebody is genuinely grieving, they might still be hurting for months or years after the funeral (weeping).

In terms of weeping, I think the type of sympathy and/or comfort that can be offered to a person can also have levels of appropriateness. For example, if I were to tell you that I have a papercut, would you respond this way: "OH, MY GOSH, YOU POOR BABY! THAT'S TERRIBLE! LET ME PRAY FOR YOU!" I propose that that would be an inappropriate response. Why would you gush all your weep-tears onto a papercut? But if I were to tell you that I just got all 4 of my limbs amputated in a freak accident...

Wait for it...

"OH, MY GOSH, THAT'S TERRIBLE! I'M HURTING JUST LISTENING TO YOU TELL YOUR STORY! LET ME PRAY FOR YOU! MY SHOULDER IS YOURS FOR THE CRYING! DO YOU NEED A RIDE TO ANY OF YOUR DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENTS?"

There ya go. That's appropriate. Following up on a papercut accident weeks after the fact would be overkill, because papercuts heal quickly and are very surface-level. Amputations are severe and catastrophic, and their effects are lifelong.

How about this scenario? "Hey, I just sat in traffic for an hour, and--"

"OH, MY GOSH, YOU POOR BABY! THAT'S TERRIBLE! LET ME PRAY FOR YOU!"

Uh, no. Probably just a "that sucks" will do just fine. Wait for it...

"Hey, I just lost my best friend, my job, and my house."

"MY HEART IS RIPPING WIDE OPEN FOR YOU. WOULD YOU LIKE A KLEENEX? DO YOU NEED A PLACE TO STAY FOR THE WEEKEND?"

That's better.

How about this? "I just watched a movie in the theater by myself, and--"

"AWW, I'M SO SORRY! YOU COULDN'T FIND ANYONE TO GO WITH YOU?"

Uh, actually, I'm an introvert, and I went by myself on purpose, but thank you for accidentally making me feel bad about myself. May I please cash in on your kind words the next time I have a real crisis? Wait for it...

"I spent half the weekend crying on my couch in a fetal position because Sunday was my first Mother's Day without a mother."

"I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE, BUT I AM SO SORRY THAT YOU'RE HURTING. WOULD YOU LIKE A HUG?"

That's better.

Just being honest, while I've been walking through my excruciatingly (I use that word because it's the strongest one I can find) hard season, I've had to work through a lot of anger toward the church in general. At several points, I didn't feel like they were doing their job. If I say something like, "Hey, I have a prayer request; the other day I was tempted to abuse the prescription drugs that are just sitting there in my medicine cabinet, and the temptation freaked me out," maybe I would like to see you fight for me, at least in prayer, instead of doing nothing.

But I've learned that I can't force anyone to respond the way I want them to. Sometimes I have to accept whatever is offered to me. If I'm starving for a fresh loaf of bread, and you offer me a plate of croutons, sure I'll probably get very angry because I feel like you failed me. But if I'm genuinely starving, and I realize that the croutons are all that are available for me to eat, I'll grab a spoon, a napkin, and a glass of water, and scarf it down, because I'd rather have that than nothing.

And, of course, there's stuff I've needed that only God can give me. Wait for it...

Yes, I have face-to-face conversations with God (if Moses did, why can't I?), I see angels come and go in my apartment and my cubicle (they're God's servants, so they're available to me because I'm His little girl), and He tucks me in at night and serenades me with original music videos in my heart-head-eye (you'll learn how to hear His voice real quick when He's the only one around for you to talk to).

And I've also learned that if I'm expecting people to rejoice with me and/or weep with me for some really wacky things, I probably need a major adjustment. If I say something like "Yay, I don't want to cut myself anymore!" or "Yay, I resisted the temptation to go to a strip club this weekend!" or "Yay, I've chosen to not kill myself!" people will probably sit me down and have a serious heart-to-heart. "What the bleeping heck is wrong with you, Tirzah? Do you need medication or something?"

Maybe. But I hope you didn't laugh too hard during that last paragraph, because those are true battle-victories that I've won recently. It is kinda hard to classify them, though: Are they things to really rejoice over, or are they reasons to slap Tirzah upside the head?

"The heart knows its own bitterness, and a stranger does not share its joy." (Proverbs 14:10)

Usually when I'm at church and I see people on the worship team with a non-smile, or they seem really uncomfortable, I've gotten a wee bit ticked off because, I mean, they're living out their dream on a worship platform. Why shouldn't they have a genuine smile plastered on their face? But I'm learning that everyone's life is different. Everyone has a different load to carry. Maybe they're not smiling and uncomfortable because they don't know the songs, or their feet hurt, or they're having technical difficulties, or their ear gadgets are hurting them. I probably shouldn't compare my struggles or my desires to theirs.

I often wonder why the heck married people with children complain about being so busy all the time, because they have dozens of peers, tons of support, and, well, they're living out their dream while they're surrounded by people who love them. What are they whining about? But they truly might be about to crack, and cracking in their situation would be especially dangerous because of the innocent little lives their cracking could affect. I probably shouldn't compare my struggles or my desires to theirs.

I understand what it's like for someone to compare their struggle with mine. I'm not talking about relating or matching experiences or empathizing in a healthy way. I'm talking about minimalizing my struggle when I'm coming to somebody for support. "Yeah, I've been thinking about how my mo--" "What? Your mother didn't hurt you. MY mother hurt ME. Let me tell you about MY hellish life, bla, bla, bla..." Um, thank you for listening?

Like I've said before, rejoicing and weeping can be subjective. "I'm going through a hard time" can mean different things to different people. One person's "I'm going through a hard time" might mean that they have to work 48 hours this week instead of 40, that they only got to see their kid for 30 minutes each night instead of 4 hours, or that they have to wait 3 whole months to see their mother. Simultaneously, another person's "I'm going through a hard time" might mean that they absolutely hate their dream job, that they can't convince any of their friends to hang out with them, or that they will never see their family ever again. Which scenario seems more severe? Which one do you empathize with? Wait for it...

The latter scenario is probably more severe, but both are difficult and more than likely painful. Each scenario probably merits different levels of weeping and/or rejoicing. But to the person who's living through it, it's a season of excruciating pain. I can relate to the latter scenario and could probably offer some specific words of wisdom and tears to whoever's going through that. But it would be extremely inappropriate of me to tell whoever's experiencing the former scenario, "Get over it, you whiny baby. That ain't pain. Pull up a chair and listen to MY story." Um, thank you for trying to be Christlike, Tirzah? I could probably at least offer a "bummer" or "that sucks."

I hope I'm making sense. I'm learning that everyone has a different hoe to row, and maybe some people need more support than others, but everyone definitely needs rejoicing during their triumph and weeping during their sorrow.

So, the photo I displayed at the beginning of this post is a picture of my beloved cats. I consider them to be my furry family, especially since they are the only ones (besides God and any angels that happen to be hanging out with Him) who are waiting for me when I come home. To rejoice or to weep: That is the question.

Wait for it...

Sure, I'd rather have actual human beings waiting for me when I come home, but I really like my cats. Would you like to hear what I'm thankful for? That orange one on the left is almost 14 years old. I've owned him for about 12 of those years. When he was a kitten, he taught me things like Psalm 34:10 and about how awesome felines can be. That mixed-Siamese one on the right has been mine for about 13 years. She's used up probably most of her 9 lives, but she's a fighter and a quick healer. She's also not afraid of getting in your face and being her affectionate self. I guess you could say she has set an excellent example for me, even though she's feline and I'm human.

See? If you take the time to hear more of the story, your response of rejoicing and/or weeping will be more appropriate. Well, at least...

Wait for it...

That is my opinion.

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?"