Love Song, III—Death

 . . . continued from Love Song, II
God, why did I have to be born? I just want to die . . . 

A deeply Christian, teenage girl who wants to die is not a simple soul to explain. As a little girl, I was relatively "good" in the sense that I yearned to please and could not bear to be in the wrong, to be guilty. My sensitive nature sent me to tell my parents when I needed a spanking. As a young woman, I was not "rebellious" as many define typical teenage angst; I struggled with things like being patient and sweet to my younger siblings, trying to say and do all the right things, and with severe depression because no matter what, I felt as though I never measured up to what my parents wanted—I was too artistic, too dreamy, too worldly in their eyes. But, “I don’t know why you are so depressed," they said. "You shouldn’t feel that way. You are just reacting from the flesh.” 

The flesh, which we were to crucify with all its desires. The flesh, which made it impossible to please God.  The flesh, the old man which needed to die.

I blamed only myself for not meeting the implied ideal, and cursed the stupid "flesh" which haunted every moment of  living. I was the one who "had different values", who was "going a different direction". I felt like a failure, a disappointment as I set a "bad example" for those who looked up to me in all things. My years became an endless cycle of trying, failing, religious effort, and trying again. I grew weary while life dimmed.

Dreamy and emotional, my artistic little girl soul craved life—but even more so, the assurance of love.

I’m trying to think of something I can do to make dad love me for reasons other than the fact that I’m just his daughter. There is nothing about me, other than me being his child, that he would love me more than say, if Jane Doe was his daughter. It’d be the same. I wish I could make him proud of me, something other than being his daughter. What I’m saying probably doesn’t make sense. I can’t describe it. But there’s nothing extraordinary or uniquely lovable about me, his daughter, that anyone else wouldn’t get just the same if I was non-existent, and someone else was his 1st daughter.


But lately I’ve caused too much stress. Like the mistake I made the other day . . . that was the pits, and dad admitted that he was disappointed in me and I should know better than that. I am so immature, I stink. I want to do better. I pray and pray but I don’t change. It’s frustrating. I better change the subject before I start to cry. I’m so fat. I’m so immature. There’s nothing outstanding about me. I’m so ugly inside. At least God loves me. And I know mom and dad do, it’s just that other than the fact I’m their daughter, I haven’t given them any reason to love me. I’m trying to think of something.

Love Song, II—Shadows

 . . . continued from Love Song, I
"We ought to obey God, rather than men. Even when He hands us the crucifix and bids us Come. 
And so we come, and die."

People always asked me if I wanted a large family. “You gonna have ten kids too?” A relevant question—falling on shadowed heart. “Well, probably not ten . . . ” I let trail off with a smile. I used to say I'd done everything a mother has, except give birth. While I’m sure that’s not the case, living in close quarters with several younger siblings afforded me much practice for mothering. I tried not to complain, but it left me exhausted. At sixteen, I wrote in my journal:

I hate myself. I am a jerk. Mom acts as though I hate the kids. I am such a rotten person. Mom told me how I have lost all my patience with the kids, that I am not patient anymore. I try so hard. What will it take? I try and pray and instead of improving, get told I have gotten worse! I’m so discouraged. I hate being impatient with them. I know I am sometimes. But it must be all the time, because mom says what she said. I’ll never become better. It’s so frustrating and it hurts. I wish I was so gentle and sweet and mom never had a reason to say anything like that. I hope God can use me. Use me, this clump of imperfection! This mess of impatience! This blob of sin!

As a perfectionist first born, my perceived failures as a sister and daughter, as “Happy Helping Hillary” fueled intense depression. Name-calling was not allowed, of course, yet subtle labels stung worse than petty words. Bossy. Impatient. Frivolous. Worldly. Dreamy. Impractical. All were bad. “You aren’t good enough,” messages sneered. The harder I tried to measure up, the louder they shrilled.

Sanctuary

We lived in a land far away, my sisters, brothers and I. At least it seemed so; surrounded by acres of field and wood, we scoured every inch of ground and knew every rut forged by deer. In spring, we exulted upon the Bridal Path—a dark, verdant knoll plush with ferns waist-high, fringed by Dogwoods dripping white blossoms. In summer our feet sank into gripping sands of the Sunny Meadow, which we raced across to pet horses who eyeballed us from neighbor’s pasture.

When we discovered a steep, long hill perfect for flying down on bikes, we rose at dawn and fought dewy webs of spiders who wove all through the night a mystical corridor, which caught our faces as we rode through. And after we dashed back to the frantic calls of parents who woke to find us vanished, the spiders sighed and shook their heads in despair, rolled up their sleeves, and set to work again.

Years and years we dwelt there, a sanctuary with shadows.

I knew where to go, when shadows lengthened, and darkness ached. You could always find me within the pine. Warm, fragrant silence emanated from serene timbers which anchored our land. We swayed in unison with summer, these trees and I, sharing a common bond, with our heads in the clouds. Lush branches with flowing green tresses hid me lovingly, inviting me to stay for long, lazy moments and dream, unrestrained. Home to a billion cicadas and the mournful cry of the whippoorwill, they regally presided while my child-fingers scrawled thousands of pages in my little books. They asked no questions, kept all secrets glimpsed over my shoulder.

I turned and returned to that safe place; I lay on soft, velvety needles while catching twinkles of sapphire sky. It winked at me and gently teased, spurring jealousy—for that great blue expanse did not know her fortune, to live next to God.

On this day, wind blew softly, warmly. My elbows bore tell-tale crisscross from leaning on the ground when I rolled to my stomach and picked up my journal. My eyes drifted “up there” while I scribbled. God, why did I have to be born? I just want to die . . .

 . . . to be continued.

Biblical Womanhood

What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice and all things nice . . .

That’s what little girls are made of.

The sculptor rejoiced. This new world lilted and undulated before him, raw and shimmering with newness, innocent and fresh, full of hope and promise. "Good, all is good!" he proclaimed, each moment unfolding before him in living color. He loved the way edges of light interlaced with darkness; he smiled as dolphins flung themselves from the deep and launched towards heaven. And with particular tenderness, he watched the man he'd formed from earth make his way throughout the garden, calling all creatures to himself. "He looks like me," he mused, and sighed with the fullness of life.

Life is good.

The artist surveyed the work of his heart, the outpouring of his spirit. "One thing more and it will be perfect," he promised, and with heady anticipation caused the creature who looked like him to rest. "Just you wait and see what I have for you . . ."  he sang with joy. With intricate precision and tender love, his hands set to work.

She shall be called Woman . . .

Eve: the only work of art, in the genesis of life, sculpted from a living being.

Life, from life.

And the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall on Adam, and he slept; and He took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh in its place. Then the rib which the LORD God had taken from man 

He made into a woman, and He brought her to the man. Gen. 2:21, 22

The pinnacle of creation

Is this not a ravishing thought? The God of heaven and earth spoke light into existence; He caused hemispheres to find their place. He formed man and beast from dust, yet woman was tenderly contoured out of living flesh—life from life—by the very fingertips of God.

Although Old Mother Goose thought she had the recipe for maidenhood, the Creator of Eve knew best. Heart, body, mind, and soul . . . sculpted in the image of He who is Eternal . . . that is what little girls are made of.

To thoroughly comprehend the devastating effects of patriocentricity and abuse—spiritual, emotional, and otherwise—on women, we must first develop a deep understanding of who we are and who God is. It is only then will we discover His heart for the crown of His creation.

Imagine the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Is she a mother? Or a bride, with veils of gossamer spilling down her back? Or an angel, wrapped in light? Is she soft and enchanting? Or fierce and strong, like a warrior? Do her lips smile sweetly and whisper words of loving-kindness? Do her eyes swim with the depth of tenderness? Are her hands gentle? Do her arms embrace with comfort and nourishment?

I try to imagine the woman of Eden. What did the mother of all humanity look like? The most beautiful and intricate of God's creations, woman is also a complex, powerful entity who baffles mankind and can change the face of history. (See this link for a few more examples.) For many under patriocentric teachings, the identity of womanhood is conflicted and convoluted—even in some cases, reduced to lucrative exploitation. I believe that God’s spirit is grieved by this, for it denies His heart and makes shallow the depth and strength of this glorious reflection of His nature.

The Essence of Womanhood

So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; 

male and female He created them.Genesis 1:27

To stifle, belittle, and dismiss any aspect of womanhood gravely limits and misrepresents our Creator. He has chosen, in a manner which I believe is very deliberate, to reveal precious elements of Himself, through us—for as women, we have the ability to reflect Him in beautiful, unique ways. In this article I will explore three facets of femininity which unveil the pristine glory of God.

•    Givers of life
The very heart of the gospel draws upon distinctions that are inherent to the most raw, vulnerable, and intimate aspects of womanhood . . . birth. Jesus illustrated this when He said, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” (John 3:3) What an honor, time and time again, to represent salvation through feminine language! For those who have not yet experienced, or cannot experience the unparalleled glory of motherhood, let the words of Ann Voskamp fill your spirit with a perspective to refresh and renew your sense of purpose. In her blog A Holy Experience, she writes:

We never cease to be with child. Those of us who have birthed, and those of us who never have. We may make spaces within us for all of humanity, for their dreams, their stories, their hurts, their lives. Do we not, over the years, line our lives with the stretch marks of love? The privilege of carrying a soul is always ours. We may choose to never let our wombs languish empty. Always we may open and welcome another person to find nourishment and comfort within the empty places we have made just for them.—Ann Voskamp

With each soul reborn, each spirit comforted, and each mortal nourished, the mother-heart of God is revealed.  Venerate and rejoice! For what a lovely avocation to be bestowed: the art of giving and sustaining life!

•    Flesh
Mystery. Succulence. Harmony. Perception. Sensuality. Our very embodiment as a womanly being gives tribute to the wisdom of God when we observe the natural order He has placed within our flesh. How often do we hear, “It’s just your hormones!” Or, “You must be ready to start your period!” Such disparaging remarks severely abuse the handiwork of God, for not only do they attack and diminish the exquisite mystery which courses through our frame, but they also discount the supreme intelligence of the One who authored our existence.

Those raised in nature or familiar with the elements can attest that a woman’s cycle often naturally follows the lunar phase of the moon. Some say that childbirth also bears witness to this phenomenon. Consider what an exquisite correlation to have! Reverenced for years in poetry and song, the silent, ethereal presence of the moon affects both the pull of the ocean tides and the feminine portal of life. With naught a word, she reduces mankind to hushed whispers and lights imagination with still, serene beauty. Like a pearl, she radiates—her luminous orb rising and falling with faithful precision. Ruminate upon the forethought of God and His kindness, for certainly he knew the consummate rapture the moon would invoke among those of a womanly nature. To thus acquaint the two so intimately is tender indeed.

"No more shall every man teach his neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, ‘Know the LORD,’ for they all shall know Me, from the least of them to the greatest of them, says the LORD. For I will forgive their iniquity, and their sin I will remember no more.” Thus says the LORD, Who gives the sun for a light by day, the ordinances of the moon, and the stars for a light by night…” (Jeremiah 31)
Praise Him, sun and moon; Praise Him, all you stars of light! (Ps 148:3)
The heavens declare His righteousness, and all the peoples see His glory. (Ps 97:6)

The image of God is hereby reflected within intimate details inherent to your femininity. Curse them no longer, and do not let others do so. You've been chosen to portray an exclusive facet of God, which cannot be fully known by others. Learn to embrace the voluptuous realm of your womanliness and let the heart of God be revealed through you.

•    Expression

The LORD your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing. (Zeph. 3:17)

Although this is not limited to women, emotional expression is a deeply reflective attribute of God. How many times do you endure verbal lashes? “Just get over it!” “Stop your crying!” “You shouldn’t be so upset!” “Don’t be so sensitive!” Sadly, these words smother the heart of those who feel and who express the depths of soul. Many authoritarian families spend much effort downplaying and belittling emotion. Using Biblical texts such as “A fool vents all his feelings” (Proverbs 29), the act of expression is often treated as sin. Many women are taught that emotions are like chaff, which must be beaten and discarded—ungodly by-products of worldly desire and life in the flesh. Subtle messages communicate that emotions don’t matter, that feelings are foolishness to be gotten over, to rise above.

Dear sister, this is not truth. When we consider that feelings are a gift from God, placed within a woman made in His image, what does that imply? If your upbringing has both discredited and condemned you for expressing feeling and emotion, bring those hurts and lies to the feet of God for healing. God felt no shame in articulating the feelings that emanated from his heart. Contemplate a brilliant sunset—myriad colors of vibrancy, flung across the face of the heavens with the rapture of a painter. Or music, when melodies and harmonies all convolute into swelling symphony causing joy and life to spring from within! These miracles cannot come from a God who doesn’t feel. And women in particular reflect this attribute—dwelling in lusciously sculpted flesh, representing softness and beauty and sweetness and fire, having the incarnate ability to cause empty places to come alive, simply from being who she is without apology.

Turbulent or joyous, angry or apathetic—what we feel can be an invaluable standard to measure the homeostasis within our spirit and self. If you have been injured by the lie which teaches feelings don’t matter, stop to reassure the little girl who aches within. Know the truth—that God created them, and in His kindness, chose to reveal part of who He is through an expressive heart. As a thermometer checks and reflects temperature, let your emotions be a valuable guide which reflects the innermost conditions. Even anger can bring Him glory. The book of James cautions us not to sin because of anger, but to be. Examine what you feel before God; seek him when you question why you feel certain things. Seek to know the hidden roots which may indicate when something is amiss internally, but believe the truth: emotions are necessary for a healthy life.

Jesus and women 

One of the most moving passages in the New Testament reveals an invaluable glimpse into the tender side of God, through the heart-stricken lament of His Son. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were not willing! (Luke 13: 34)

What an emotional outpouring! It is this same Jesus, made known to you and I, who transformed the life of one broken, desperate soul while His feet walked upon this earth. And suddenly, a woman who had a flow of blood for twelve years came from behind and touched the hem of His garment. For she said to herself, “If only I may touch His garment I shall be made well.” (Matthew 9) Consider this Jewish woman. Twelve years of uncleanness. Twelve years of sorrow. Twelve years of loneliness and isolation; likely without even the comfort of a human touch. Twelve years of lost wages, dwindling hope, and despair. Twelve years of bearing the oppressive weight of the law:

‘If a woman has a discharge, and the discharge from her body is blood, she shall be set apart seven days; and whoever touches her shall be unclean until evening. Everything that she lies on during her impurity shall be unclean; also everything that she sits on shall be unclean. Whoever touches her bed shall wash his clothes and bathe in water, and be unclean until evening. And whoever touches anything that she sat on shall wash his clothes and bathe in water, and be unclean until evening. If anything is on her bed or on anything on which she sits, when he touches it, he shall be unclean until evening . . . If a woman has a discharge of blood for many days, other than at the time of her customary impurity, or if it runs beyond her usual time of impurity, all the days of her unclean discharge shall be as the days of her customary impurity. She shall be unclean. Every bed on which she lies all the days of her discharge shall be to her as the bed of her impurity; and whatever she sits on shall be unclean, as the uncleanness of her impurity. Whoever touches those things shall be unclean; he shall wash his clothes and bathe in water, and be unclean until evening. (Leviticus 15)

Into this world walked Jesus. Imagine her fear—yet also the desperation that drove her to grasp the hem of his robe! For even that small touch would render Him unclean, according to the law, and yet twelve years of agony drove her to seek a New Way . . . the narrow way of life, which few find. But Jesus turned around, and when He saw her He said, “Be of good cheer, daughter; your faith has made you well.” And the woman was made well from that hour. (v. 22)

Other translations quote Jesus as saying Take heart! Have courage! In addition to the healing of her body, consider the impact on her soul. Instead of disdain, she was welcomed into the presence of God. Instead of turning away, He made her whole. He looked at her—oh, imagine the love in His eyes! He received her in her shame, when all others would have turned away or recoiled from her touch. He commended her for going against the religious law out of faith that a better way had come. He comforted her, for she still felt trepidation, despite her faith. In one moment, He took away her uncleanness. He brought life to her body and healing to her heart. She was touched by God in the midst of her impurity, while all others in the name of God rejected her.

What a life-giving response! And it is His response to us, as well, those of us wrought with the effects of spiritual abuse. He makes way for us a new path, out of the darkness and shame that comes from those who substitute the voice of the law for the voice of God.   

Have courage! Take heart! He does not reject you. He will look at you with love in His eyes. He will receive the faith you offer Him—even as a seed so small within a forbidding forest of fear. “Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Luke 12)

A Passionate Calling

As you learn to express and feel with the exuberance of living, seek the nature of God to learn the balance that is crucial with this element of femininity. There is . . . a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. (Ecclesiastes 3) To those scathed by false teachings . . . come alive! Find joy in being! If you paint, fling your acrylics with abandon. If you sew, create masterpieces of beauty. If you play music, serenade the world with melody! Find something that moves you, something that inspires you. Did you know that these things are gifts from God? Your talents and tastes make you unique and special; furthermore, pursuing these things brings our Father glory and honor.

So you shall speak to all who are gifted artisans, whom I have filled with the spirit of wisdom . . . (Ex. 28) See, the LORD has called by name Bezalel the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah; and He has filled him with the Spirit of God, in wisdom and understanding, in knowledge and all manner of workmanship, to design artistic works, to work in gold and silver and bronze, in cutting jewels for setting, in carving wood, and to work in all manner of artistic workmanship. “And He has put in his heart the ability to teach, in him and Aholiab the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan. He has filled them with skill to do all manner of work of the engraver and the designer and the tapestry maker, in blue, purple, and scarlet thread, and fine linen, and of the weaver—those who do every work and those who design artistic works.” (Ex. 35)

Purpose within to discover your calling and to listen to the little girl who yearns within. Be the woman you were created to be; live fully and freely, with healthy balance, with your identity firmly rooted in the image of He who is Eternal. Embrace your womanliness, rejoice in your femininity. As you go forth and break free, carry with you the knowledge of God’s exquisite love. He will lead you through the darkness.

What other ways does God reveal Himself through our femininity? How has He made Himself known to you?

Vulnerable

This evening I am stepping away briefly from the general theme of this blog to reveal an intimate vignette from my recent journal that bears significance to the course of my journey.

Perhaps you might find a glimpse of yourself, reflected.

I am resisting the urge to issue disclaimers for balance, discernment, accountability, and truth. We know these things. I think that they have been emphasized greatly unto us.

Peace, dear sisters.

_______________________

Twilight.

Not the book, but the moment when day slips into her negligee, and the world nestles down for sleep.

I stand on my balcony.

The air is cool and I breathe deeply, refreshed as the sweet breath of dusk envelopes my skin. Spring's lush fingertips have painted a living masterpiece of greenery; recent rains have swept along gnarled roots, planting secret creatures among the twisted knots rising from the creek bed.

Suspended, it seems, miles in air, I watch a trio of brightly finned goldfish drift beneath me, a huge lazy turtle who paddles happily, slowly, and four growing ducklings who find an island of displaced wood which storms have lodged in the midst of our creek. Beavers have been spotted, and as always, the nightly cacophony of frogs lift their chorus to the darkening skies.

Peace, serenity.

As I drink the sensual cocoon of coming night, I realize that I cannot not enjoy it, for if I do, it will be taken away.

I cannot allow myself to revel in the lusciousness of soft evening breath, swirling across my face with the tender aroma of freshly mown grass. I cannot afford to pause a moment and savor, for it would only end, and the pain of life take over once more. I cannot exhale with the deliciousness of husband, creeping up behind, and wrapping arms around my waist.

I cannot enjoy it, for it will be taken away.

The little girl said that, speaking from her secret sanctum. There is wisdom cradled in her being—yet she holds it closely, dearly, and fiercely; she knows the inner mysteries that remain elusive despite my frantic seeking, yet speaks up only when I least expect. She tugs on my skirt, this wee one, and opens her mouth to whisper softly, briefly. Perhaps she waits to see if I will listen, to see if I am safe, to see if I can be trusted with the enigmatic messages she keeps locked away.

I cannot enjoy it, for it will be taken away.

That's enough, they say, and remove the pleasure, the fun, the savored morsels, the pretty things, the light things, the relief. That's enough relief. They are distracting from things more important: the necessary things in life.

Die to the flesh; die die die.

Loving something is to curse it, for loving is an element subject to rigorous discipline and scrutiny. We must not love the wrong things, or love even the right things too much. Doing so might prove that we are, in fact, absorbed by the lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.

Liking something too much means that it is material for sacrifice; we are to hold loosely to that which we find dear, to that which brings solace. If something appeals, it is automatically suspect.

Therefore, much like a friend held at arm's length, we must keep these things away from ourselves and not feel too much. Feeling too much means that there is undue focus on temporal things, which takes our mind off of the Lord. We must be sober and temperate, not given to the exuberance of living, not feeling with much passion—rather, be self-controlled and not given to foolishness. Feeling too much, loving the wrong things, having interest in unnecessary things welcomes pain through the door; it welcomes criticism, opportunities for chastisement, an invitation to die.

What do I say to the little girl?

The true God knows how to give good things to His children.
The true God delights in bringing joy to the hearts of those made in His likeness; it is not for nothing that He appealed to all senses in His glorious work.

Pushing these things away, in the name of godliness, denies His goodness. His blessings. He wants us to feel. He wants us to love, to savor, to live, knowing that "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning. Of His own will He brought us forth by the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of His creatures." James 1

If we were not meant to feel, why would He have gifted the sense of touch?
If we were not meant to see, why would He have set our eyes, like jewels?
If we were not meant to hear, why would He have fashioned our ears, and sound, to meet them?
If we were not meant to taste, why would He have unleashed myriad flavors upon our tongues?
If we were not meant to smell, why would He have lavished us with fragrance?

He has given me my very own set of eyes, to see for myself—not for another to see for me.

He has given me my very own mind, so that I may think and reason, for myself and not for another to stomp upon and tell me what to think.

I have these ears, to listen, discern, and channel, for me and not for another. I am wholly individual and unique, created fully for the pleasure of He who is eternal. "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."

God knows that all I have, all I am, belongs to Him. It is His will that I use, that I enjoy, and that I glorify Him with what He has given.

But how does the little girl know that loving something makes it go away?

Stolen Years

John 10:10 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.

Life.

Abundant life.

This is often marked within the world—the religious world, even—as prosperity and blessing. Many denominations preach that abundance is indicative of our status with God, that He has found favor with our actions . . . whether they be tithing, donating to charity, homeschooling, or ensuring that our left hand knows what our right is doing. Some believe that this life means we have found peace, that we can finally "relax" and enjoy the fruits of faithfulness. Others eschew this concept, believing that asceticism is the key to true holiness.

What is abundant life?
How many of us can truly say that we are hereby deeply refreshed?

I believe that we begin with our hearts genuinely in the right place—desiring to walk obediently to He who calls us by name. This desire sets our feet in motion and launches a quest for discovering what pleases our Lord. Sadly, it is all too easy to become swept away by the shackles of religion, becoming ensnared along the way.

"The thief," John says, "Comes to steal, kill and destroy."

This destruction is not unlike that of the swarming locusts, who can descend on a lush, ripe garden and in moments, strip away every tender leaf, each verdant tendril—leaving a brown, barren plot of earth in their wake. In a short instant, all of the careful nurture is gone to naught; months of planning and careful work, obliterated; a future of darkness and hunger looming with frightening reality.

Dear one, does this epitomize your heart? Do you feel stripped of the spring of life that should throb and course within? Do you feel as though your deepest feelings, hopes, dreams, and thoughts have been strangled by the crushing weight of bondage and oppression? Has your spirit become a dry wasteland and a lifeless wilderness? Does the hot, suffocating wind of annihilation steal away the refreshing gentle breeze of the breath of God?

I was born upon this path.

Many of you have written to ask for more of my personal story. Many of the particulars are included in my book, Quivering Daughters, which is still unfolding (hence any infrequency in blog posting—I am working diligently to get it wrapped up quickly!). However, today as we celebrate the resurrection of our Saviour, I am reminded just how miraculously He brought me back from death myself—rescuing me from the way of destruction and setting my feet upon the path of life. I praise Him with every breath for His grace and mercy!

The following is a portion of a letter I wrote recently.

My personal background was drenched in Scripture. I read and memorized the Bible on my own, daily, sometimes 2 or even 3 times a day—in addition to family Bible time. I am grateful for this, because the words are drilled into my core, which helps me now.

However, as I began to desire as an adult to truly grow and heal and question and wrestle with many of the things that occurred, experiencing loads of shame and guilt—not only hearing my father's voice while I read my Bible, but hearing his voice when others prayed, or seeing my mother's disapproving face, or hearing my own conscience speak to me in her voice—I became aware that this was very unhealthy enmeshment which I was desperate to overcome.

. . . The long-story-short version is that I stopped everything. I withdrew from society, from everyone really except for my husband and one or two trusted friends and mentors. I stopped reading my Bible. I know that this sounds blasphemous. However, I have discovered that when someone uses something inherently good—like the Bible—as a tool for abuse, it becomes essential to distance one's self from this and heal.

The truth is, I didn't want to view the Bible or God as abusive like I had been conditioned to believe; I still loved God with all my heart and knew that beneath it all, the god I thought I knew was not the true God . . . so for me, I had to in a sense, undergo a spiritual "de-tox". It is not unlike a de-programming regime for those who exit cultic groups.

During this time, which lasted nearly a year (some suggest that it can last usually up to 18 months), I determined that I wanted to decide what to believe for myself, and not because I was told that it was true (due to elements of religious abuse and mind control)—and was willing to let go of everything I had ever been taught. I still clung to Jesus and His work on the cross, for I knew deep within that He is the Way, Truth, and Life. Anything besides Him I shed off of me like a fur coat on a summer day.

This quest launched a journey that has literally changed my life. This has become the backdrop of my book, but let me fast-forward to say that as God healed me from my past, the hurts and religious abuse, the emotional wounds, everything—suddenly, honestly without me even trying, the Bible came alive to me again! I could read it freely, without pressure or hearing other voices in my head. I was understanding and seeing things I had never seen before, in light of God's transforming work in me. My Scriptural foundation proved to be a huge blessing because I was able to build upon it and not start from scratch. My biggest "rule" for myself was not to read it because I felt like I "had to". I chose not to listen to the accusing voice of false guilt if there was a day that went by and I didn't read it.

Slowly, a true relationship with God, based on my BEING and not DOING or TRYING began to blossom and I have truly fallen in love with Him in a way that is so personal and so far from "religion" that it saddens me to see so many oppressed by religious doings.

This journey also showed me God's nature—yes He is a jealous God, and judgment belongs to Him. However, for me, the key is balance. So many from fundamentalist backgrounds show a very imbalanced view of God. I had to re-learn everything; knowing His love was the hardest for me because as one of 11 children I could not understand how I could be loved in any special way that wasn't the same as everyone else. "God loves everyone" I would say and shrug like, so what?

If I were to suggest anything, I would recommend that you start simply with Jesus. He says, "No one comes to the Father except through Me." Start with Him—and He is the one who says, "Nor does anyone know the Father except the Son, and the one to whom the Son wills to reveal Him. Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." Matthew 11

If the god you serve does not fit this description—offering rest, who is gentle and humble, whose burdens are light—you are serving a false god who leads unto destruction. The enemy has come to kill, steal, and destroy—and how often does that truly describe how we feel? Is this life, that we truly live? "I have come that they may have life," Jesus said, "And that, more abundantly!"

It requires faith, certainly. But start with the Son of God, and let Him lead you to the Father.

This is what it means to have life, abundant—to live freely, knowing that God has accepted you and loves you as His child, created in His image, aside from the law and aside from the religious efforts that we put forth! Can you imagine life like this? To truly know what it is to be loved and accepted for who you are, not what you do? To be loved based on who you are, and not how well you perform? Or how "holy" you appear? To be wanted and desired, regardless of your mistakes and imperfections which torment you daily? To be able to lay aside every weight that hinders, to run with endurance knowing that your faith, even if it is a small as a tiny seed, pleases God?

Matthew 27:54 So when the centurion and those with him, who were guarding Jesus, saw the earthquake and the things that had happened, they feared greatly, saying, “Truly this was the Son of God!”

I am humbled and in awe of the mercy, grace, and faithfulness of God who has brought me forth from the way of destruction and set my feet upon the path of life. It is here that I fall to my knees and say truly, this man is the Son of God!

Joel 2:25
“ So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, The crawling locust, The consuming locust, And the chewing locust, My great army which I sent among you.

It is here, in this place, that He has conquered death and restored the stolen years.

Our Lord has risen! Glory to His Name!