Identity Undone

 As the year comes to a close, I find myself contemplating what has been, what is, and what will be - reflections common for many of us as a new year approaches.  2020, especially, has been a trying year for individuals all over the world, and my hope is that by coming together as a community to share stories, we can also join hearts in prayer and encouragement.  For me personally, it has been a year of tremendous sacrifice and holy pursuit of the Cross of Christ.  I didn't realize just how profoundly the larger life oblations had affected me until my husband of just six months asked me to lay down something much smaller. As our identities merged following marriage (Mark 10:8), my impulse to retain my individuality kicked in to high gear.  I nearly burst into tears at the thought of letting one more piece of myself go to the black abyss of who and what I once was.   What he asked me to let go of would, ordinarily, be a simple release, and even an exciting one, but because I already felt my identity of the last decade slipping away, I clung with dear life to one of the only few remaining things that made me me.  He got it.  He understood the tears, the fears, and the reluctance to surrender.  I found myself taking deep, intentional breaths as I prayed through the experiential phenomena of an identity undone.  

The Promise in the Pain

A few days ago on my walk, I stopped by the body of water that you see below.  It was enclosed by

black and gray rock and reminded me of Psalm 91:2 that says God is our "refuge and fortress."  Next to the water was a bench where I sat to take this picture, and it was as if the Lord strategically placed it there just for me to rest my weary feet (Matthew 11:28) and meet with Him in prayer.  I sat down to pray and seek His guidance on a number of issues, and as I began to commune with my Father, the fountain gently sprayed tiny droplets of water on me with each brush of wind.  I closed my eyes and smiled.  I was reminded of Ezekiel 36:25 that says I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you of all your impurities...a refreshing recollection of the gentleness of God.  When the world rains down hurricanes of hatred and tornadoes of intolerance, God ever so gently sprinkles His cleansing waters on us. I needed that reminder in those moments on the bench as I recalled the venomous verbal assaults hurled my way in recent months.  Buckets of bitter waters had been poured on my head by former friends, family, and strangers. Some days my spiritual umbrella seemed to break, but while the judgments of others can drench our mind, the sprinkling waters of Jesus strengthen and revitalize our soul.  I sat silently praying to the God who knows me most and loves me best.  I was deeply hurting because of certain circumstances in my present that release an ongoing and consistent flow of pain.  Sometimes, if I close my eyes tightly enough, the sting of the situation pierces my heart a little less, but for the most part, it just aches.  Until the matter can be adjudicated, I remain in a spiritual fetal position on the Lord's altar of grace, mercy, and hope, while calling to remembrance the words His Spirit spoke to my heart that day - the promise is in the pain. 

What promises are you waiting on God to deliver in accordance to your faith (Hebrews 11:6)?  I used to struggle with daily anxiety attacks.  They were crippling.  People who are familiar with my story know that this was an incredibly dark time in my life.  During those years, I tirelessly read Psalm 34:4 that says I sought the Lord and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears, but the promise of peace was in the pain of panic. The promise of deliverance was in the pain of bondage. I was so tightly chained inside the demonic dungeon of fear that the promises of peace (John 14:27) and faith (Ephesians 2:8) and trust (Proverbs 3:5) seemed distant and unrealistic.  Over time and with much prayer (James 5:16), however, the promise became present.   My reality shifted, but to get to the promise I had to go through the pain. 

If you've experienced healing from any sickness or disease, then you know the pain that preceded God's promise of healing (Psalm 103:3).  The promise of God's provision (Philippians 4:19) comes from the pain of knowing lack and poverty. Jeremiah 31:3 says that God loves us with an "everlasting love," but we often don't understand the depth of His love unless we have first experienced the pain of hatred, indifference, or rejection.  Similarly, the promise of God's presence with us (Matthew 28:20) is found in the pain of feeling His absence.  The promise of strength comes through the pain of weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).  The promise of freedom comes through the pain of imprisonment (Isaiah 42:7).  The list goes on, but I wonder what valley of pain you find yourself in today.  When your pillow is moist from the tears that fall as you cry yourself to sleep...when the emotional cut is so jagged that you feel the bleeding will never stop...when the weight of despair is so heavy on your shoulders you can't get out of bed in the morning...look for God's promise sweet friend...it's in the pain.  

"Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’" - Jeremiah 33:3

Discover You, Discover Me

In the midst of major life transitions, I have been able to see some things more clearly than ever before, yet some people and issues remain a blurry haze. My overall purpose, my circle, my own understanding of life happening in me and around me - these things I know intimately and can see with certainty.  Outside of the sovereignty of God (Colossians 1:16-17), I do have some level of control over these domains.  Over other people, however, I can exert very little power.  Frankly, I neither want nor need to control anyone's purpose, circle, or life perceptions.  It's exhausting and causes more damage than anything else. What I'm finding in the rubble of various painful circumstances that occurred so far this year is that God uses our valleys as places of separation that result in deeper consecration. Psalm 91:15 says "He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver and honor him."  While I've been fiercely judged this year by friends, family, and strangers, for the path I've walked and decisions I've made, I'm learning a new dimension of God's presence with me in troubling times.  It's a process of discovery really.  In the pain of my deepest, darkest valleys, I get to discover you and also discover me.  

No More

The call to transparency.  Do we all have it?  I'm not sure, to be honest. I know that when I mess up or fall short, the Lord often prompts me to write about it - transparently.  On the other hand, I know of others who don't feel led to go international with the innermost details of their lives or to even divulge the intimacies with family and friends, but instead find solace in the arms of Jesus - privately. Sometimes, I wish that was my allotment, but once again, I find myself called to share - publicly.  If you've read some of my recent posts, it's no secret that difficult times have arisen and the descent of the valley has been low.  And steep.  With jagged rocks and ominous boulders.  I've fallen more than once and was even bitten by a dog along the way.  It hurt.  So has the venom of various snakes that have spit words of hatred my way in recent weeks, but the most painful thing wasn't the bite or venom; it was the revelation of my own sin in an area I had completely overlooked throughout the last several years. When God pulled back the veil and I saw the reflection staring back at me, I began to sob.  I didn't know until He showed me just how badly I had grieved the heart of not only God, but also some of the people I love most.  The revelation was painfully clear, and even though it was delivered through arms of grace and love and necessary correction (Hebrews 12:6), His Spirit felt far from me as I lamented my behavior.  So, what do we do when God places a spiritual mirror in front of us to illuminate our own sin? We "go, and sin no more." (John 8:11).  

Outrageous Love

I've been under fire lately for what is normally a celebrated and blissful occasion, but only three people in my life have stood hand in hand with me and shown unconditional expressions of the love, mercy, and grace of God.  What I'm about to share publicly for the first time will generate mixed responses. Of this, I am sure, but I've grown weary from being gripped by judgmental claws of professing Christians, or men and women of faith in God.  They have boldly declared that the love of Jesus is vast, but what they're really saying is it extends only as far as their own arm can reach.   Or, more accurately, as deeply as their finite minds can understand.  When I look at it that way, my anger dissipates as I come to terms with the reality that what we don't understand, we fear.  And fear is not only a terrible leader when it's rooted in ignorance of a person or subject matter, but it's also potentially the most destructive weapon in the hand of the enemy.  Couple it with hatred, the venomous step-sister of fear, and ruin awaits.  The antidote? Love, but not the religious love many are accustomed to demonstrating, and I know because I've been that demonstrator and I've been the one judgmentally gripping another.  I've seen what that looks like recently too as I've witnessed self-proclaimed Jesus followers turn against me.  I wonder how many times I've done that in my past to another individual simply because I didn't understand something and feared what I didn't know.  It grieves me now to think about my own hypocrisy played out on someone else's life scene, but I know with certainty that I have been that Pharisee.  May God help us all, but as we patiently wait, I want to lay down a challenge to look into your own spiritual mirror.   What do you see?  Are you loving others religiously or outrageously?

The Price of Panic

The blood under my toenail.  $120.00 to visit a dermatologist. Frantic messages to my primary care doctor. "Blood." "It's just blood," she said calmly in a matter of fact tone.  "It's not melanoma?" I questioned with eyes wide.  "Nope, it's just blood." Given the circumstances of my life over the last two weeks, it only made sense to me that the black spot under my toenail would be melanoma.  It was fitting for how everything else was falling apart.  "It could be a bruise" my friend Dawn replied when I sent her an image.  "I have to go see a dermatologist STAT! It COULD be melanoma" I stated, and with that I hurried out the door and went to the first one I called that said they had an opening.  I was with the doctor five minutes and casually informed that it was, in fact, a bruise.  "Have you injured your foot or toe recently," she appropriately inquired.  "No," I shot back, "are you sure it couldn't be melanoma?  Why don't you look again? Perhaps you don't have enough light. Here, let me twist my foot so you can see better."  Good grief, was I trying to walk out with a cancer diagnosis?  I certainly was pushing for her to change her professional opinion, but let me backtrack some.  It started two weeks ago, and the domino chips haven't stopped falling, but so far it looks something like this -  I lost my job, my new husband and I are currently having to live in separate residences, my daughter's biological father is working overtime to keep my daughter away from me, I found out I would likely be losing my apartment (jobs, it turns out, are essential to remaining in one), I still haven't found a new job, the money has dwindled to almost nothing, my car was towed which cost almost 300.00 to have released, and the depression was so thick today, I swear I could have cut it with a knife.  Oh, and there's a man in my apartment community who has essentially been stalking me for over a month.  I barely eat, I rarely sleep, and in the midst of it all, I'm working to carve out an entirely new identity apart from everything I've known for the last 15 years. Existential crisis times a hundred.  I think that covers most of it. I could go on, but I'm feeling tired again just from writing it out.  While things are looking pretty grim in a number of significant life domains, and have been for a couple of weeks now, here's what I'm finding.  When storms hit, and they inevitably will, we can either pay the price of panic or walk in the peace of simple prayer.

Truth Fearlessly

It doesn't always get you a lot of friends. Truth, that is.  In fact, the truth will sometimes cost you everyone and everything you thought mattered the most (Luke 14:25-27).  Walking in it demands a level of courage that many have yet to discover, and I know, because I recently had to make the choice to either walk in it or remain hidden in my feelings, relationships, and overall life script.  I don't do well with relational deception and spurious living.  If I'm not free to be me as I am, then I find that life becomes a distressing game of charades and the authentic self gets lost in the perpetual guessing. In my own situation, the truth cost me everything, but here's what I know.  To own your life narrative, to walk in raw, unfiltered and unadulterated authenticity, despite the cost, is never the wrong choice. The fallout may be painful, but Jesus said in Luke 17:33 that "whoever tries to save their life (life as they know it) will lose it, but he who loses his life for My sake will find it." Personally, I think that sounds like a terrible way to invite sinners to follow Him, but who am I to tell Jesus that He should have sugar coated His message?  I certainly made suggestions to Him in prayer, but the Bible remains unchanged, so I digress.  He also states in John 8:32 that "the truth will set you free," but allow me to add that it might first punch you in the gut, have you fired, locked up, or standing completely alone, and most of the time you aren't even really sure what you're now "free" to do.  I'll save you some painful soul searching by just telling you, it's less about what you do and more about who you become.  Some days lately, I haven't been able to do anything, but in the silence of prayer, I am becoming.  The "doing" is an inevitable by-product of that process.  When you make the decision to walk courageously into the unknown via the portal of truth and honest introspection, you really are free to be.  You may lose your security, but it was never supposed to  be founded upon anything other than God anyway. Your circle of friends may shrink, but Proverbs 18:24 says "there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother," and my friend Dawn is the embodiment of this verse.  Moreover, Proverbs 17:17 says "a friend loves at all times and a brother is born for a time of adversity," and though my circle is small, it is powerful (Matthew 18:20).  James 5:16 says "the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective," and between my mom, sister, and several extremely close prayer warriors for my best friends, I am safe in the arms of both Ultimate Love (1 John 4:7) and the love of my friends and family.  Truth hurts, but it also heals.  Be bold enough to own your truth unapologetically, to walk in your truth authentically, to live in your truth transparently, and most of all, to love in truth fearlessly.

Rooted

I've given a great deal of thought lately to the concept of good versus evil, discerning between the two, and rising up from the inevitable fall that occurs when we get them mixed up.  I walked hand in hand with the devil for most of 2019, but believed I was walking with God.  How could this deception have happened to a woman who has been studying the Bible for as long as I have?  One word: ROOTS. But we'll get to that.   I know the Scriptures well, but it wasn't until recently that God showed  me the depth of confusion and deceit I walked in last year, believing evil to be righteous and righteousness to be open for interpretation.  This deception looked good, talked better, and moved slick as a serpent.  Quoted the Word with the best of them and possessed a power of persuasion like no one else I've ever known.  Charismatic, funny, likeable, and seemingly of God, dressed in everything I thought I wanted.  But that's how temptation works isn't it?  The apple Eve took didn't look rotten.  It wasn't growing mold.  It was shiny, red, and, according to Genesis 3:6, "pleasing to the eye." Desire is a powerful precursor to either catastrophe or victory.  For me, the ultimate tragedy of denying Jesus was averted as God slowly began to open my eyes, but I didn't walk away unscathed.  The battle continues, and the "enemy, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour," (1 Peter 5:8) yet I've now seen the face of evil that the world calls good (Isaiah 5:20). Arising out of the ash of my mistakes and failure to fully test the spirits (1 John 4:1-3) is a painfully acquired wisdom that now empowers me to walk hand in hand with Jesus to "tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy" (Luke 10:19), to "destroy strongholds, arguments, and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God" (2 Corinthians 10:3-5).  Things are not always what they seem and people aren't always who they appear.  Evil won't always look like evil. Sometimes it comes disguised as everything you've ever wanted and if you're not rooted in Christ Jesus (Colossians 2:7) you can and will be easily swept away.  On what foundation are you rooted?

The Unlovable

Who do you see as unlovable?  The convicted murderer?  I met a man once who attempted to murder his entire family, including his four year old brother who now lives as an adult quadriplegic.  I sat across the table from him in a pre-trial detention facility and saw the emptiness in the eyes looking back at me.  Is what he did unforgivable?  Is he wholly unholy and unlovable?  What about the man or woman convicted of a sex offense?  I've worked with many.  Child molestation? Rape? They're the "scum of the earth" most people say, and certainly not deserving of grace or mercy.  Castrate them all?  Sure, because they're definitely among the unlovable.  Right? Wrong.  What about the drug addicted?  The heroine addict who is willing to sell her family and herself to the devil of drug delivery for just one more high. We should relegate her to the same realm of disdain and disgust while we're on a roll.  How about the terrorist?  The unexpected killing of hundreds or thousands of innocents, all in the name of a broken belief system that tells him he's justified in the slayings.  We should definitely withhold love and grace there too.  The white cop who kills a black man?  I'm sure hell has a spot warm just for him, but if not, would you be willing to traverse the fiery terrain to ensure his space is reserved?  I know some who would.  Hatred is powerful.  And ugly.  What action or behaviors are unforgivable in your eyes?  Who are we damming to hell today? Go ahead, run through the list in your head because it's there. You hear of some atrocity and shake your head in contempt toward the person capable, but let's be honest.  Your head also shakes in quiet, albeit prideful, gratitude that you're not that kind of sinner.  I know because I've been there.   When you think of your own life, what are those sins you would never commit?  I've learned in my life to stop saying I'll "never" do this or that because the word "never" is usually a presumptuous prelude to the discovery of my own shortcomings and propensity for an undesirable (at best) or egregious (at worst) sin.  When we say things like well I would never do that, we're usually well connected with our inner Pharisee who simply needs to remove the speck in his eye (Matthew 7:3-5) and love like Jesus did.  And Jesus loved the unlovable. 

The Unexpected

I remember it well.  The story of us.  The beginning.  He wasn't who I would have chosen.  Not because he wasn't amazing and wonderful and charming, but because the circumstances weren't in our favor.  The complications, the difficulties, the challenges, and most of all, the circumstantial impossibilities.  It would never work.  I told myself that a thousand times when the feelings were undeniable and the heart connection was unavoidable.  But the whisper of love between us wouldn't be hushed and the music between his heart and mine would never be silent.  The force was too powerful and the spiritual bond too intense.  It had to be God.  Yet, I questioned still.  I pleaded for answers and cited James 1:5 a multitude of times.  I wanted it to be right.  Holy and wholly approved of by the God who fashioned us both, and what I came to learn throughout my time in prayer was this..sometimes the unexpected is the divinely perfected.  Appointed, sanctified, and anointed.  Trust it.