Tags
Christianity, Church, faith, grief, guilt, Ida Maria, introspection, people pleasing, perfectionism, Redemption, repressed memories, shame, tears, Therapy
I went to a Church conference this evening with my husband. I don’t think I let you know why my family left our (only) Church home of ten years, possibly because I was too hurt or afraid of eternal damnation or some such nonsense I don’t know. Any way there was a split of sorts, well first there was a sanctioned split, err, umm, Church-planting; the Daddy Pastor gave his daughter pastor and son-in-law pastor a church in a town about 20 miles away from the main Church. After a few months there was an announcement that we would no longer be one Church in two locations, we were becoming two separate Churches. Well, initially this took some getting used to, but after having a Church only a couple of miles from home as opposed to 22 miles we decided we would stay put. Plus daughter and son-in-law pastor were actually more than ready to be Pastors for real. They were always very approachable and refreshing and amazingly anointed (Christianese for being able to really give you insight on the Bible and making you feel generally uplifted, joyful, and on occasion tingly and goose-bumpified.)
The new Church started to feel freer, friendlier. I had already spent the year before packing up my heart to move away from the home Church, Many a Sunday was spent looking about in vain for Jesus, like a Where is Waldo for the spiritually inclined. So many heartless and cruel things happened in the home Church. Not only to me but to people I cared deeply for. All of the initial joy and exhilaration I received during my conversion ten years ago was replaced with the rules and regulations of men. I was no longer lead forth by my heart and the Holy Spirit, I followed the chain of command and a little book called Conduct Becoming. As my heart grew colder and harder I comforted myself like a Pharisee of old. Well at least I don’t smoke like that one. At least I don’t drink like that one. I don’t cuss. I don’t lie. I tithe ten percent of my income. I fast for 30 days every year. The new Church was starting to become what I was pining for and I was glad.
Then Daddy Pastor got offended or took umbrage or realized that when you really give somebody something and they have free will you cannot control the people or the thing that you gave them. So, he took it back and changed his mind. Now you must understand that as far as me and my family were concerned Daddy Pastor was second to the right hand of God Almighty and we did just about everything he said, suggested, or implied without hesitation. I am not proud of this, I spent several months between March and May trying to come to grips with that and even attempt to forgive myself for it. Any way since I had already been dividing my heart and using Dr. K as a transitional parental figure I was the first in my house to cry foul. My husband maintained that all we could do was pray and stay faithful, obedient and submitted…
Then Daddy Pastor went on a public lambasting, vilifying, scorched earth campaign that doubly destroyed me personally, and sympathetically as I watched my new Pastors come apart at the seams stitch by stitch. I kid you not, and for those of you that are not into this spiritual stuff you have permission to go wash your eyes and read something else now, I swear that when the Deacons were sent to lay hands on them to “send them forth” jeez it sounds like some creepy Children of the Corn crap doesn’t it?!?!? I swear when I touched daughter Pastor I swooned from the grief, the waves of pain that were emanating from them. For several weeks leading up to the “send off ” and shortly afterward they looked like people that had lost everything. People who have stared into the gaping mouth of all that is horrible and were seared by it. I was in agony for them, I was outraged, I was hurt that I poured ten years of my life into an organization that could do this to their own flesh and blood. Soon after my whole household felt the same way, so we left six months after they did. Old habits die hard….with a vengeance.
So a couple of months ago we met with these Pastors. My husband and I had a lot of trepidation. We weren’t the same ole Deacons they knew and loved. We drink wine now when we want to. Our language has become “colorful“, we don’t pray as we ought to, we skip Church without so much as a second thought. May I also say these folks are also discerning, which is Christianese for intuitive. We didn’t want to get called out on the carpet for our deplorable state.
Much to our amazement they poured out their hearts and we did the same. They weren’t quite as footloose and fancy free as us but they had relaxed an awful lot. They had given up on the rigidity and religiosity, and they loved us and that was wonderful. So in a normal universe we would just join their Church even though it is 45 minutes away and call it a day right?
We want to, but we don’t want to. My theology has shifted so much and they are at a level where they are believing God for signs, miracles, and wonders and I’m just not there anymore. Tonight as I listened to the speaker talk about hungering and thirsting after God I realize that desire has left me, I could barely fan a spark of it up. I tried to figure out what was blocking me. I used to pray for hours, for everybody and everything, I would fast, give offerings, I spent a multitude of hours in the Church (Choir, Prayer Team, Counseling ministry, Youth ministry, Deaconate). If you looked up devotion in the dictionary I would be in there with the other examples. Am I angry with God? Do I still believe? Do I love Jesus anymore? Have I lost my faith?
I could be deceived or deluded, but I don’t think those are the reasons, I feel the answer I gave myself tonight was that I am hungering and thirsting to Know Me, to lay hold of Who Am I? I have to have it, I won’t rest until I feel like when I say Lord I give you all of me that I know what I am handing over. That I will never walk in denial or blindness or suppression or escapism again. I will simply be me: Good, Bad, and Indifferent. I am doggedly holding on to the belief that God will wait for me to go on this walkabout, hopefully I am not going to end up turning on a spit rotisserie style in hell for this. I truly believe I haven’t closed the door on Him, I’m just gun shy as all hell around His people.
I went up for the laying on of hands. It was a long line and me and the hubby were near the end. As we waited, I whispered to hubby, “Why do I feel like I am on Death Row?”. We both snickered and continued waiting. When the speaker got to us I was waiting for the breakthrough, for the sweet release when you pass out under the power of God. Because that was my quick fix before, and somewhere deep inside part of me was pulling for that Poof! No more PTSD. Get up off the floor and forgive your Mom for molesting and abusing you, actually why don’t you go minister to her? ‘Cause you are healed with a capital H and you will be able to sleep at night and return to that place of placidity where you never worry anymore because you never acknowledge anything but total Trust in God.
The Speaker touched my forehead as my heart hammered painfully, I fell back into the arms of the catcher behind me. I don’t feel the warm, peace of God. I feel the jackhammer in my chest cavity and my jaws are burning and my body feels heavy. I lay on the floor for a few minutes until my heart rate slows. My husband helps me up. I sit in the chair and fight back tears. I am apart from this. I can’t have it both ways and I feel tears come to the surface, a groundswell. I am homeless, I have no real family of origin to turn to, no Church home, I have no career, I am in the Shadow Land of Inbetween. A prodigal not quite at the pigsty but far, far from home. There is an alternate sensation of pain in my heart followed by peace. Tears and then flint faced resolution.
I almost leave without seeing daughter Pastor, she rushes over and gives me the biggest hug. I feel this rush of simpatico, of love and appreciation pour out of me for her. She has been reading this blog and telling how it affected her, what she thought of it. She has been incredibly accepting and encouraging. Telling me how much she respects me, how she has wept for me. I often fight back tears when I talk to her. She leans in close to my ear and says, “You have no idea how much I love you.” I lean in towards her ear and say with a tight throat, “I love you too.” and then turn and walk briskly out the door.
I know deep down inside she wants to save me, not in the theological sense as in Salvation but in the sense that she is a Pastor and ministering to your flock and caring for them is her calling. Even though I’m not officially her flock, we both know deep inside I still am. It doesn’t bother me really, but I am hoping for now she will just continue to love me for me, as I love her and that even though we are going in different directions that maybe the Shepherd and Sheep can still have a relationship in a different context………..I mean isn’t the goal that one day a Lion will lie down with a Lamb 🙂
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“Oh My God”
Ida Maria
Find a cure
find a cure for my life
Put a price
put a price on my soul
Oh my god
oh you think I´m in control
Oh my god
oh you think it´s all for fun
Find a cure
find a cure for her life
Put a price
put a price on her soul
Oh my god
oh you think I´m in control
Oh my god
oh you think it´s all for fun
Find a cure
find a cure for my life
Put a price
put a price on my soul
Build a wall
Build a fortress around my heart
Oh my god
oh you think I´m in control
Oh my god
oh you think it´s all for fun
Is this fun for you?