War

Today when I found out that U.S. women will be allowed to fight in Army combat, at first I thought about posting a link to the news article and making a big stink about it on Facebook. But then I remembered that our fallen world is just getting crazier and crazier, anyway, and that no one in their right mind would actually draft me for actual Army combat, and that I'm actually already at war, anyway -- not natural-realm U.S. Army war that people make hero movies about. Mine is the invisible spiritual-realm war that people make horror movies about. So, here's my disclaimer, reader. This blog post is rated R -- not for language but for graphic violent images that I'm going to imagine so that I can illustrate my points to you as best I can. (And I'm also going to use some real-life images.) War is graphic, violent, messy, gross, and scary just because of its very nature -- whether it's natural-visible war or supernatural-invisible war. (While I'm typing, I would like to say a genuine thank-you to readers who have actually fought in natural-realm-visible battles on my behalf. Thank you, veterans, truly, for your service and for protecting me and my right to express myself here however I like.)

"And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force." (This is my Jesus talking in Matthew 11:12.)

"The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly." (This is Jesus, the Faithful and True Shepherd, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, talking about His enemy -- and my enemy -- the devil in John 10:10.)

"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ..." (From what I understand, this is Paul talking about spiritual warfare in 2 Corinthians 10:3-5.)

"Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand." (Ephesians 6:10-13)

That last passage I quoted above is (from what I understand) Paul talking to Christians and showing them how to live holy lives here on earth. While we're here, we're at war with our enemy the devil. This war and its battles may not always be as obvious-looking as, for example, a psychic opening up her store for business at a shopping center in broad daylight. The devil is a thief. Thieves are stealthy. Thieves often attack -- which can involve stealing and/or killing and/or destroying -- when they're least expected, and they often seem to prefer to carry out their activities unseen and without any witnesses. They don't really like to get caught. And since part of the war involves "taking thoughts captive," that means that much of the war is fought in our minds -- for real, not imagined.

That passage above from Ephesians 6 is part of a very classic, very helpful list of spiritual-warfare weapons that's straight out of the Bible. Since we're at war, those of us who are in Christ have an entire set of mostly invisible armor available for us to fight the mostly invisible war. We've got a helmet of salvation to guard our heads, a breastplate of righteousness to protect our hearts, shoes to cover our feet so that we can carry the gospel of peace with us wherever we go, a shield of faith so we can quench the devil's fiery darts (yes, he plays dirty, and he's serious), and a sword of the Spirit (that's the word of God -- check out the following.)

"For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." (Hebrews 4:12)

This Book that I've been quoting isn't just a collection of random historical stories, even though it's got plenty of stories that actually happened. It's a weapon. It's a sword. Sometimes when you read it, it's as if something invisible just sliced through something invisible that was inside you, and then you smell the infection and the puss, and you feel the hot blood trickling invisibly over your invisible insides, and you realize that Somebody just started performing surgery on you while you're prostrated helpless and completely at His mercy on His operating table, and you hear yourself screaming, and you realize that that Somebody who's performing invisible surgery isn't using anesthesia. But I digress. My point is that the word -- the Bible -- is a sharp, powerful weapon that's very available, very handy, and very effective.

Jesus knew that. He's quite a Surgeon Himself -- the Best One, in fact -- but He didn't use His sword to operate on the devil, because the devil is already doomed beyond repair. Jesus used His sword as a weapon against the devil while He was fighting a spiritual battle. Hebrews 4:15 says that Jesus was tempted in every way -- IN EVERY WAY -- that we are tempted, but He didn't sin. That means that He knows how to resist temptation, and He knows how to win. And He can teach us how to resist and win, too. Perhaps this is one reason why Romans 8:37 says that we're MORE than conquerors through Jesus. He conquered once and for all, period. So, those of us who are in Christ get to enjoy the victory that He won for us. He can lead the way, and we can follow Him.

Matthew 4:1-11 has a very classic example for us of spiritual warfare. Jesus was fasting, and from what I understand, He was by Himself in the wilderness, and He knew He was going to be tempted, and so the seriously dirty devil attacked Him. In this passage, the devil tempted Jesus three times with very specific things -- and he even used Bible verses against Jesus. But each time, Jesus used His sword, and He won. I find it particularly interesting that the devil basically tells Jesus in Matthew 4:6, "Hey, TRY TO HURT YOURSELF, and God's angels will stop you." And Jesus basically says in verse 7, "It is written that I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO TEMPT GOD into protecting Me from doing something extremely terrible to Myself." Finally in verse 10, Jesus told the devil to go away (I believe "Get behind Me" is one way of translating what He actually said). He basically submitted to God the Father and resisted the devil, and the devil fled, which is what James 4:7 says is supposed to happen.

So, that's what I basically consider to be very classic spiritual warfare: The enemy attacks with a half-truth or a lie, the lie is recognized right away while you're wearing your armor, and the fiery dart is quenched in the shield of faith that you're holding in one hand while you swish your two-edged sword and slice through the enemy's lie by quoting scripture and basically handling the weapon of truth.

However, lately I've been learning that not all spiritual-warfare battles are very classic like the ones I've previously described. Some of my battles have been pretty grungy, gory, and ugly. War can get very messy. Sometimes the enemy doesn't take the time to light a fire, ignite a dart, and aim for my shield of faith. And sometimes I don't have time to sharpen my sword while the enemy is flying at me with his slimy, sharpened fangs and aiming for my innocently vulnerable throat. And I've found more not-so-classic weapons and methods of attack in the Bible, too.

"Then he took his staff in his hand; and he chose for himself five smooth stones from the brook, and put them in a shepherd's bag, in a pouch which he had, and his sling was in his hand. And he drew near to the Philistine." (This is David getting ready to fight Goliath in 1 Samuel 17:40.)

"Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle..." (This is David singing in Psalm 144:1 about the God who taught him how to fight.)

"He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler." (This is talking about God -- who is the Best Protector in the universe -- in Psalm 91:4. I dig how truth is a belt in Ephesians 6 and a shield in Psalm 91.)

"For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory; no good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly." (This is Psalm 84:11, and I like how it says that God IS a shield, and He's even like a flashlight that shines when it's dark.)

"After him was Shamgar the son of Anath, who killed six hundred men of the Philistines with an ox goad; and he also delivered Israel." (This is Judges 3:31, my new favorite Bible verse about a studly-sounding guy who I unfortunately have yet to meet. Hmm. Maybe in heaven... Focus, Tirzah! So, Shamgar won his battles using what was basically a cattle prod.)

"Then Jael, Heber's wife, took a tent peg and took a hammer in her hand, and went softly to him and drove the peg into his temple, and it went down into the ground; for he was fast asleep and weary. So he died." (No, this isn't from a horror-movie script; this is Judges 4:21, so this is a story that actually happened in real life.)

"So Ehud came to him (now he was sitting upstairs in his cool private chamber). Then Ehud said, 'I have a message from God for you.' So he arose from his seat. Then Ehud reached with his left hand, took the dagger from his right thigh, and thrust it into his belly. Even the hilt went in after the blade, and the fat closed over the blade, for he did not draw the dagger out of his belly; and his entrails came out." (This is part of a story in Judges 3:20-22 where, from what I understand, the King of Moab was attacked and conquered while he was doing his business in the bathroom. Wow, the Bible really hits close to home. And it provides an awesome transition into my next paragraph.)

Here in the U.S., I know that I have the right to bear arms, and I'm thankful to have that right, but I hope I never have to use it. I don't own a gun, I don't know how to shoot a gun, and I actually haven't been officially trained in any form of natural-realm-visible combat. But God has given me a survival instinct that kicks in once in a while. At the beginning of this post, you see a photo of my toilet-paper holder. Perhaps it caught your eye in an artistic, satirical way, but I don't usually use my toilet-paper holder to hold clean toilet-paper rolls. I usually use it as a redneck-ingenuity garment rack, and I just dressed it up with toilet-paper rolls for the purpose of snapping this blog photo. My routine-oriented, naturally curious cat happened to magically appear for this photo opp. ("Mom, why are you using the garment rack to hold toilet paper?")

I'm a grown woman who belongs to an eternally protective God, but I live alone. Once in a while, my survival instinct will take me to places in my mind where perhaps only horror-movie scriptwriters usually go. If I hear strange voices outside or if I hear yelling in a nearby apartment or if a strange man tries to unlock my front door while I'm inside my apartment (which happened in broad daylight yesterday), I won't usually think, "Oh, no, woe is me, I'm going to die!" or "Why am I a helpless little single woman without a husband to protect her?" or "Aw, it's too bad I don't own a gun, because now I'm a goner!" Nope. I usually think something like, "Well, I think my toilet-paper holder is heavy enough to crack somebody's head open if I swing it hard enough" or "That fireplace poker could probably cause some major damage to an unwelcome visitor in case of an emergency" or "Oh, good, my nails are long and buffed enough to gouge somebody's eyes out if I ever needed to." Yes, sweet little Tirzah understands that she is worth defending herself if necessary. (Although I truly hope it would never be necessary.)

When I watch movies (not the gratuitous-violence movies but the high-fantasy movies that have choreographed sword-clanging), I don't usually see neat little classic warfare written into the scripts. I see unforeseen problems that create the need for immediate self-defense. Perhaps the movie protagonist is a brand-new soldier who's clumsy with a sword, and the sword breaks or flies out of his or her hand, and then the protagonist becomes a hero when he or she adapts to the battle and conquers his or her enemy with something besides a sword. Maybe he or she steals the enemy's sword. Or maybe he or she throws a Chinese star or breaks a glass wine bottle or uses a nail gun instead. So what if he or she is a little sloppy? The enemy loses, and the hero wins.

Perhaps this doesn't happen with everybody, but for me I can say that similar things tend to happen in my real-life unplanned unofficial spiritual-warfare battles. The enemy doesn't always attack in a nice, neat little predictable "hi, I'm the devil, and I'm here to attack you" way that will enable me to defend myself in a nice, neat little "it is written" or "thus saith the Lord" or "ooh, hold up, mr. devil so I can get my sword" way. Sometimes, I'll get ambushed, and I won't have my sword handy, or maybe it'll be too heavy for me to lift in my weakness, or maybe I'll already be exhausted from fighting all day... so a toilet-paper holder will catch the corner of my eye, and I'll grab it and swing it. Or I'll remember that I just bought a brand-new canister of air freshener, and I'll run for it and hurl it 'cause it's heavy and can cause bruises. Or I'll just talk to my Faithful and True Shepherd Jesus, who will tell me to chill and that He'll fight for me.

I think maybe Jesus fought His spiritual battles in similar ways sometimes. For example, in Matthew 16:21-23, when Jesus is talking to His disciples and telling them about what was going to happen to Him (i.e., that He was going to go through lots of pain, die, and rise from the dead on the third day), Peter I think accidentally cooperated with the devil during spiritual warfare. He took Jesus aside and rebuked Him, saying that what He just said wasn't true. (Perhaps anyone who thinks that the devil only attacks people when they're alone hasn't read this passage. The enemy can also attack through other people, even close friends and family.) Then, from what I understand, instead of gently sitting Peter down and saying, "Well, bro, it sounds like maybe you've been believing a lie; let's pray together, and I'll wait on the Lord and see what I need to bind and loose here," He busted out suddenly with "Get behind Me, Satan!" Jesus basically recognized that His battle wasn't against flesh and blood (Peter) but against principalities and powers (the same enemy that attacked Him in Matthew 4), and He came out swinging in a very no-nonsense way and basically said, "Hey, shut up!"

Sometimes when I realize that I'm in the middle of an attack, I don't have time to pray a certain prayer or even remember what I'm supposed to be doing. Sometimes when I take a thought (or a flurry of thoughts) captive, I'm not polite with an "I hereby declare that this thought is taken captive to the obedience of Christ." Sometimes, I just exasperatedly yell, "Hey, shut up!" Sometimes it's out loud, and often it's silently (but still powerfully) in my head where the battle has already been raging. Today, for example, when an innocent-bystander coworker walked toward me and politely ignored me, I heard the thought in my head, "Yeah, that's right, I'm insignificant." Was it my thought? Maybe. Was it the enemy disguising himself as my thought? Possibly. Was it a lie? Most definitely. But I didn't have time to analyze this process while I was going through it. As soon as I heard, "Yeah, that's right, I'm insignificant," I immediately thought back, "No, I'm significant to God," and the attack stopped, and what had actually been a truly crappy battle-long day stopped and became a truly pleasant, peaceful evening. Or maybe it wasn't an attack but a stronghold that took over. I'm not sure. I really just know that "No, I'm significant to God" isn't an actual Bible verse that I'm aware of, so I'm not sure if I was using my actual sword. I think I just reached for the nearby toilet-paper holder and took care of business swiftly and effectively. And I have my God who trains my toilet-paper-holder-grabbing hands to thank for that.

Spiritual warfare isn't always just being on the defense. Sometimes it's being on the offense. The Holy Spirit is kind of like a radar who can show you where the enemy is vulnerable and where/when/how you can launch with your invisible attack. It usually involves prayer. But it's extremely important to listen to Him, because He's the One with the battle plan.

I think the story in Judges about Ehud shows a nice (albeit disgusting) example of a surprise natural-realm attack to a natural enemy. "Hi, uh, I have a message from God for you. And that message is... SURPRISE! I'M LEFTHANDED, AND I'M HIDING A WEAPON ON MY RIGHT THIGH! AND NOW YOU DIE! Maniacal laughter!" Similar things can happen spiritually, kindasorta. Like if you're driving through town... do-do-do... and you happen to have praise/worship music playing on your car stereo... do-do-do... and you happen to drive by a temple where somebody else besides Jesus is worshiped... do-do-do... not to be disrespectful, but you could happen to roll down your windows while you're minding your own business driving down the street and then happen to crank up your music and WORTHY IS THE... LAMB WHO WAS SLAIN... HOLY, HOLY IS HE! Ha-yah, air-demons! Take that victory in your face! Maniacal laughter!

As another example of not-so-classic spiritual warfare, if I understood Him correctly, my Father was showing me that generational curses can die in a similar way that Sisera died in Judges 4. Jael didn't use a sword. I think she used some rather unconventional weapons: a tent peg, a hammer, and hospitality.

"Aww, poor little stronghold-wonghold. You're getting all chased up in your wittle battle."

"Whew! Woman, I'm SO glad I'm welcome in your tent."

"Yes, wittle stwonghold. Come inside and west your wittle head."

(Walks into tent.) "You and your kin have always been so good to me, woman. Your friends, on the other hand, have been trying to bind me all day. I am kinda thirsty now from all the fighting and fleeing."

"Wittle stwonghold want a wittle bit of milk?" (Wraps him tightly in a blanket.)

(Sighs.) "That's good. Just keep me safe here, woman, like you're supposed to." (Falls asleep and begins to snore.)

(Tiptoes extremely clandestinely. Is surprised at how steadily her hands reach for a hammer and tent peg. Wonders if any more strongholds are going to jump her at any time, but as she hears the iniquity sawing some serious logs into the air, and as she knows that his peripheral vision has been compromised by that soft blanket, she knows her opportunity is now. She whispers.) "See, stronghold, that milk that you're digesting... He's the word... And He's my victory... And He's made me... MORE THAN A CONQUEROR!" (No longer whispering, she nails the iniquity's head to her tent floor, and it dies immediately.) "Yeah, that's right! You ain't welcome in here no more, and you ain't gonna bother any of my kin no more, either! Maniacal laughter!"

Sisera's death in Judges 4, from what I understand, ended 20 years of oppression for Israel. This was a major victory and was cause for a major celebration. So, in Judges 5, Deborah sings a song that was written about the event. And, of course, the song had to mention Shamgar. Sigh! He used an ox goad!

You might be stronger than you think you are

I started buffing my fingernails again. Perhaps you can't see the new shine in this photo, but I can see the shine just fine from where I'm typing. (And yes, I happen to be typing the first draft of this particular paragraph at a beautiful coin laundromat.) Buffing fingernails is a very interesting self-manicuring process. It isn't nail-polish-painting, which is a temporary decoration that peels off, discolors the nails underneath, and needs to be alcoholically removed before applying a fresh coat to cover up the discoloration. Buffing requires the tiny application of a cream and a vigorous 30-second friction-application with a nail buffer. Perhaps you've been accosted at the mall by a particular nail-buffing salesperson who will try to sell you a $40 kit, but you can buy similar, less-fancy stuff at a beauty supply store for about $10. (Someone who used to do my nails and cut my hair taught me that very handy tip.) Why am I spending so much time writing about nail-buffing? Perhaps it's because I forgot how much I like its shiny results, even though the 30-second buffing per fingernail can be a bit painful.

Have you ever heard of an open heaven? Basically, it's a time and/or place on earth where heaven meets earth very obviously and kind of dramatically. Perhaps under an open heaven, people who are sick will be healed instantaneously, or perhaps miracles will happen quite easily, and the only explanation is that heaven met earth -- that God did all the good stuff that happened under the open heaven.

I'm not an ordained minister, but in my opinion, the opposite of an open heaven is an open hell. (Other people might have called them "the dark night of the soul" or "the valley of the shadow of death.") Yes, that would be a time and/or place on earth where all hell breaks loose, but in a very targeted, extremely unfair spiritual attack. The devil steals, kills, and destroys, so anything under the open hell would be unfair/fair game for stealing, killing, and destroying. According to this particular definition, I would say that the three times that I experienced an open hell were 1) 12-14 years ago when I was very depressed and suicidal, 2) last summer for about 3 months when I wrote most of my Lemonchicky stories on Facebook and God prompted my good friend Powerhouse to pray for me, and 3) during the past 3 weeks or so, ending I think sometime today.

Reader, I feel the need to give you a disclaimer. If I reached out to you during the past 3 weeks and asked you to pray for me, thank you so much for praying! If I didn't get in touch with you, no worries, I know that you love me. God designed me to "feed sheep," so sometimes I need to be careful about which food to serve. Sometimes the meal needs to cook in the crockpot a bit longer. Sometimes, I've only got a special stash that's reserved for a few extremely trusted mouths. I've also noticed that sometimes when I share with other people what I feel that God has been showing me, it's kinda like a giant, Psalm-34-style "See what happens when you mess with My little girl? she tells people what I did for her" from God to the devil; and the more gloves-off, no-holds-barred honest I am, the more effective I seem to be. So, I might be kinda morbid or graphic in this post, depending on your taste. And my intention isn't to make people feel ashamed or inferior. On the contrary, my intention is to maybe help people feel like valid human beings and to definitely spotlight what I think my Father wants to spotlight. (Sorry, no cat photos this time.) And if you feel a bit seasick, it might be because I'm trying to balance out what I've said previously.

Regarding my opinion about an open hell, yes, I very recently just came out of a season of spiritual attack that targeted Tirzah's very existence. I didn't overtly consider suicide, but it was very difficult to shake the temptation, and it was very scary how quickly the crap-clouds gathered to hover over my head. This time, I did NOT seek professional help because it didn't seem necessary. This time, I did NOT write Lemonchicky stories because my struggle seemed beyond anything that Lemonchicky could assist with. (I'm flattered when people ask when Lemonchicky will become a book, but honestly, she was never intended for broadcast beyond Facebook. Her allegorical stories really were my status updates. If I was "going through hell," I wasn't exaggerating, and Lemonchicky was at the threshold of the incinerator and being attacked by the vermin boss.) This time, I saw my Father with me every step of the way, and He was the main One that I received help from. We ate fast food together. (Technically, He didn't eat, because He doesn't get hungry.) We saw a theater-movie together. (He made sure I had an entire row to myself way up front.) We danced together. (I let Him lead.) I came to the end of my rope several times. While He was pruning me, unwarping me, and straightening out some crooked places inside me (which He's still continuing to do), He showed me doors I needed to close and things I needed to tweak. He taught me some very interesting things.

One hard lesson I learned was that the church is NOT equipped to handle every problem. Jesus is the answer to every question, yes. The gates of hell will not prevail against the church, correct. God opens His hand and satisfies the desires of every living thing, definitely. The Holy Spirit is the Best Counselor, of course. But if you walk into a church building, you may find a first-aid kit, but will you find a pharmacy? You may meet someone who's trained in CPR, but will you find an ER? There may be a prayer room or a healing room, but will there be an operating table?

During my open hell #3, I learned that if anything were to happen to me, yes, people would miss me, because they love me. But they wouldn't necessarily notice right away that I was gone. Yes, people would attend my funeral, because they value and respect my existence. But they wouldn't necessarily know about the existence of the funeral.

I remembered a shocking family time many years ago when a maternal cousin passed away. He was single, he was in his 50s, and he was an artist. But the fact of the matter was that he lived alone, and nobody knew that he had died of a heart attack until they found him dead in his apartment sometime later. I remembered an awkward family time a couple of years ago when I found out that my step-grandfather had passed away. About a couple of weeks after the funeral, we received a note stating that he had died, and I tracked down the gravesite and drove all the way down there myself to pay my respects, and it was a very good time to also visit my grandmother's grave, and I didn't miss the opportunity to write to our relatives and say as politely as I could how I didn't appreciate not knowing about his death or funeral. But the fact of the matter was that we weren't close to that section of the family, and it was probably natural to not think about us right away.

I remembered a disturbing time this past summer when I found out that a member of my lifegroup committed suicide, and I didn't find out about it until after I had been sent a link to his obituary. At first, I felt guilty about his death, because technically as someone who had attended my group, he was under my care, even though he had only attended twice. But the fact of the matter was that his issues were way out of my league, as I found out when I saw video footage of the news media coverage surrounding his death. Pretty much anything that would involve contacting the authorities would be out of any church-leader's league.

"Beware, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief in departing from the living God; but exhort one another daily, while it is called 'Today,' lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin." (Hebrews 3:12-13)

"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, for he has no one to help him up." (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

I think it's interesting that the above verse doesn't say, "He who is struggling alone should reach out to a church counselor" or "He who is struggling alone should call a suicide hotline." It says "WOE." I don't know the Hebrew word for that, but I think "WOE" means "THIS IS TERRIBLE STUFF THAT PEOPLE MAKE HORROR MOVIES ABOUT." In Genesis, before God created Eve, He said that it is NOT good for man to be alone. Yes, He was talking about marriage. But I think He was talking about being alone in general. Loneliness in and of itself can be a liar sometimes. Yes, Jesus is Immanuel -- He is God with us -- and in that sense, anyone who is in Christ isn't ever alone. But there's something dangerous about being alone that I think the devil knows about, and he doesn't hesitate to play unfairly, and he aims right below the belt and pummels whatever's underneath until it's destroyed or until he's stopped. Sometimes it just takes one word, and he's stopped. (The Name above every name is "Jesus," by the way.) Sometimes it takes a word of encouragement from somebody else to help the otherwise-alone person who's just fallen. Otherwise, WOE.

In case you are reading this after following my blog for a few years and thinking, "Gosh, what the bleeping heck is wrong with Tirzah? I thought she had already had all this healing!" in my defense, I think the psalmists of the Bible had more than one soul-crisis, and I also found a passage in Judges to be very intriguing.

"My eyes are ever toward the Lord, for He shall pluck my feet out of the net. Turn Yourself to me, and have mercy on me, for I am desolate and afflicted. The troubles of my heart have enlarged; bring me out of my distresses!" (Psalm 25:15-17)

"Thus my heart was grieved, and I was vexed in my mind. I was so foolish and ignorant; I was like a beast before You. Nevertheless I am continually with You; You hold me by my right hand. You will guide me with Your counsel, and afterward receive me to glory." (Psalm 73:21-24)

"Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties; and see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." (Psalm 139:23-24)

"Then Adoni-Bezek fled, and they pursued him and caught him and cut off his thumbs and big toes." (Judges 1:6, random verse totally quoted out of context, but it will hopefully make sense here in a bit)

I've been in churches pretty much my entire life, so I've seen and heard all kinds of church stuff. Sometimes, hearing other people's inner-healing stories can actually be discouraging. For example, I've heard people say things like, "God took 4 whole months to heal me after I'd been through such a terrible ordeal" or "I spent 6 whole months listening to a cd, and God healed me" or "I went to a class, and God spoke something that set me free." Then you go to 2 counseling sessions, and the counselor says that you're OK and that you don't need to come anymore, but on the inside, you know something is still off. Then you take a few steps, fall, and viola, you're in a psych hospital. But the fact of the matter is that some issues can just take a heck of a long time to heal. Can God say "Let there be healing" and you're healed instantaneously? Yes, of course! Can God say "Hold My hand and let Me walk you through this, and it's going to be OK" and you're healed in a decade and a half? Yes, absolutely! Which one is better than the other? As CreatorOfTheLemons would say, "Does it matter?"

The fact of the matter is that someone like me who grew up in an abusive environment might need to spend some extra time getting extra healing. Honestly, if you grew up in an environment where an adult throwing a yelling temper tantrum was normal... or where an adult regularly giving you detailed instructions on how to lie was acceptable... or where pouring hydrogen peroxide on your non-wounded fingers on a semi-regular basis wasn't grounds for an instant psych evaluation... or where placing an entire screeching parakeet's head inside your mouth and then hitting her innocent little feathered head as punishment for biting the inside of your mouth was tolerated... then let's face it. You probably need some majorly serious inner rewiring. If words come out of your mouth or thoughts roll around in your head that leave a bad taste in your mouth or leave a nasty slime inside your head, it might be time for a spiritual tune-up, even if your good, heavenly Father trusts you enough to go through open hell #3.

I'm not a doctor, but if I have post-nasal drip, the mucus that flows in the back of my throat will collect in my chest and then solidify so that I can cough out the infection later. (I currently have a cold while I'm writing this, so I'm, uh, inspired.) If the infection doesn't flush out right away, perhaps it could turn into bronchitis or pneumonia. I think similar things happen spiritually, too. Perhaps if you were in a church where everything seemed to be going fine until suddenly you find out that the pastor had an affair or that the youth minister kept porn in the church bathroom or that innocent children were molested under the church's roof and nobody did anything about it... perhaps God didn't diss you. Perhaps whoever was in charge just had spiritual pneumonia, and they didn't know they needed some healing.

God is patient with us, and He loves us, and He's full of grace and forgiveness for us, but He's also a God of justice. He's serious about keeping His house clean. That random verse I quoted earlier was part of the beginning part of the Book of Judges. Again, I'm not a professional Bible-study-er, and I'm a bit under the influence of generic Sudafed, so you're going to get Tirzah's version of this particular story. So, the Israelites were already in their promised land. God had given them this land. It was a land that they had been waiting for. But they still needed to claim it. They still needed to obey God, and He had specific instructions on enemies that needed to be driven out of their land. From what I understand, each Israelite tribe needed to drive out specific inhabitants, but they weren't completely successful. I tried to be all Bible-study-ish with Judges chapter 1 and count how many enemies weren't driven out of the promised land, but I lost count. So, in chapter 2, God was like, "I told you to drive them out. Why didn't you obey Me? Now I won't drive them out for you, so you'll be stuck with them." But the story in chapter 1 that stuck out to me was the one where one of the kings was captured by the Israelites successfully, so they chopped off his thumbs and big toes. And he died, of course. I tried to be all Bible-study-ish and find out the symbolism of the cutting off of the thumbs and big toes, but, uh... all I could find was common sense. If you chop off your thumbs and big toes, uh... you can't function.

I think that's kinda what God was doing with my enemies, metaphorically, during my open hell #3. Metaphorically, in many ways, I'm in my promised land right now. At least one of my enemies was captured (I think it was a fear of death), and its thumbs and big toes were chopped off, metaphorically, so that the enemy couldn't function anymore and died. Gory but cool. I want God to do that for me -- keep cleaning me out and cleaning out my promised land. There ain't no shame in that. I'd rather do that than have spiritual pneumonia. That wouldn't be cool for me or for anyone within puking distance.

"For in the time of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion; in the secret place of His tabernacle He shall hide me; He shall set me high upon a rock." (Psalm 27:5)

Do you remember me talking about how being alone isn't always good? Here's the balance. Sometimes we have to be alone so that God can hide us and do some stuff inside us that other people don't need to see. At least, that's what happened with me during open hell #3. During open hell #2, I learned how cathartic it was for me to share what was happening to me while it was happening (or at least figuring out a way to explain it long after the fact, even years later) in an artistic form. During open hell #1, I learned how important it was to simply be weak if I needed to be weak. And during open hell #3, I learned that I'm probably stronger than I thought I was.

I've never been athletically inclined, so when I was growing up, P.E. was absolutely NOT my favorite class. One of my LEAST favorite tests in P.E. was the chin-ups. From what I can remember, we had to at least do one chin-up and simply hold our chin there on the bar, with the entire class watching. During one such test, I didn't feel like I could hold myself up there with my chin on the bar for even one second. But after I jumped down from the bar, my P.E. teacher showed me something I'd never seen before. She observed that instead of simply letting go of the bar and falling instantly to the ground, I slowly eased myself down to the ground. She said that it took a lot of strength to do that. I was strong, so I COULD hold myself up there with my chin on the bar. She was right. I couldn't do 20 chin-ups like an Olympian, but I was strong enough to lift myself up to the bar and hold my chin there for at least one second.

I had an ex-friend who had been diagnosed with several mental illnesses (bipolar, severe depression, BPD), and she was convinced that she couldn't hold down a job because she couldn't focus for long periods of time. But she didn't seem to have any problem focusing on our 90-minute phone conversations, which frankly seemed more like monologues. She was ill and needed treatment. But she was also highly intelligent and highly capable. She wasn't unfocused. I think she was really stronger than she thought she was. (Perhaps the taxpayers who paid for her disability would agree.) She mentioned during one of our conversations that she was advised during her illness to praise God. She disliked this advice. Since I had been through open hell #1, I empathized with her. I mean, how could anyone who is stuck in Psalm-40 mire praise God Psalm-97 style?

"I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well." (Psalm 139:14)

Perhaps something simple such as looking down at one of my newly buffed hands and remembering that a healthy river of blood pulses through it is enough to remind me of a reason to praise God: I exist. He made me. He designed that hand to do good works -- not to earn my keep or to be shinier than everybody else or to impress Him. He just made me, He has a plan for me, and He wants me. I'm good to go.

So, after I had driven to work this morning with my face set like flint, my newly styling clothes, and my freshly buffed nails, and I had arrived at my cubicle on time, I felt a strange sensation that I had felt before, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Was it pride? Was it arrogance? Was I hardening my heart?

"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say, on the Lord!" (Psalm 27:13-14)

I think those of us who grew up in abusive environments have known things like shame, anxiety, and powerlessness to be normal. But in God's Kingdom, things like joy, peace, and courage are what are REALLY supposed to be normal. This morning while I was beginning a new day, I didn't feel hardness. I felt strength. I had been encouraged. Prayers from encouraging friends definitely helped. But I think I had also encouraged myself in the Lord (not in a weird, forced "schedule times to encourage yourself in the Lord" kind of way -- long story). And I know that He had definitely encouraged me.

If you're strong enough to hate yourself, then you're strong enough to learn how to love yourself.

If you're strong enough to reject yourself, then you're strong enough to reject the devil's lies.

If you're strong enough to plan your own demise, then you're strong enough to plan out the rest of your healthy future.

If you're weak enough to interrupt the pastor's benediction at the end of a Babb-dist church service and confess in front of the other 50 people in the pews on Sunday that you "slacked off in your faith" by feeling sorry for yourself on Saturday, then you're weak enough to crawl between your heavenly Father's shoulders and have an excruciatingly good cry -- the kind that involves tears, puffy eyes, and a snot-congestion headache afterwards.

But if you're reading this post, and you genuinely need professional help, please, please, please go get the help you need. God loves you. You're worth being helped, regardless of what you believe.

So, during open hell #1, I used my last $2 to purchase a knit cap instead of a toothbrush, so I had gone an entire week without brushing my teeth because I didn't believe that I was worth doing basic things for myself. During open hell #2, my writing got much better, and I learned that I could move people emotionally with my words. And while open hell #3 was on its way out, I buffed my nails to a new shine (painful but worth it), washed a few dishes, went to bed early, woke up early, and lived to tell about it all. Sigh. Crisis over. Devil loses again -- always. God wins again -- always. The Holy Spirit is the hydrogen peroxide that bubbles up all the gunk that's been flowing inside my infection -- aww, yeah. Jesus is my Hero -- always and forever. I'm getting all warm and fuzzy now. Hmm. And I haven't even taken my NyQuil yet.

(P.S. To whoever's faded-black sock I accidentally brought home from the beautiful coin laundromat: Uh... sorry.)

I Can Totally Relate to the Life of Joseph

Reader, if you wouldn't mind indulging me, I would like to solidify a vagueness that's been rolling around in my head. I've been thinking about Joseph from Genesis 37 and 39-50, whose life went something like this:


"Hey, everybody, guess what? I've been dreaming awesome things lately!"

"You know what? We hate you. Now we will strip you, throw you away, and recycle you elsewhere as a slave. We'll lie to your dad and tell him that you're dead."

"This isn't the awesomeness that I'd been dreaming about. What the heck? I need to trust God, anyway. Aw, check it out. I've got a job in an important person's house, and he's put a lot of trust in me."

"You know what? You've had such a hard life, and you're so good-looking. I'm going to tempt you to do intimate things with me, and you'll feel much better. Nobody will see. Nobody will hear. Nobody will know."

"No bleeping way. I gotta stand up for what's right."

"You know what? Now I will unjustly accuse you. You're just a slave who's destined to rot in prison for life."

"This life is becoming increasingly unawesome. What the bleeping heck? But I still need to trust God, anyway. I have no idea what's going on, but I know when I was younger, I dreamed of awesomeness, and I still know that my God is awesome. He's with me, even here in this prison. Check it out. Even the prison officials seem to trust me. Oooh! My fellow prisoners have dreams, too. I can help them figure out their dreams. Hey, guys, I'm living out a prison sentence that was given to me very injustly. Could you please put in a word for me with the king? I would love to get out of here ASAP."

"Nobody's going to remember you. Nobody cares about you. You don't matter."

"This totally sucks, but I'm still breathing, and I know that my awesome God wants me. Awww, check it out! The king needed help with his dream, and after I helped him, he decided to trust me to help run his kingdom. Now a whole bunch of people are being helped because of me. I'm getting married, and I'm having two kids, and life is moving forward. There's a major famine in the land, but I get to help people and show them what God can do when everything seems dark."

"Hi, uh, Joseph, uh, sir. Uh... remember us? Heh, heh. We're your brothers who totally partnered with your enemy and totally dissed you. Could you please not kill us?"

"Oh, I'm in charge now. You think I'm going to miss an opportunity to mess with y'all? Chill out. What y'all intended for my death, God has been working out for my life. He's awesome, and He helps me, and now I'm going to help you. Hmm. My life hasn't been very dreamy, but it turned out to be awesome after all."


In case you've ever thought that the Bible is just another collection of fairy tales that was written by dreamers, that's an understandable idea to believe. But when you meet this God who authored the Bible (and wrote it through people who were very sensitive to listen to Him), and you begin to get to know Him, you'll know the truth of how He intricately read your mail before He ever wrote it, before you were ever born, before the people in the Bible were ever born or conceived. He wants you, He wants to hang out with you, He wants to know you, and He wants you to know Him.