I've been told all of my life to "speak up!" I also heard: "Don't be so shy, nobody will bite you." "Shut up!" "She doesn't have anything to say now; I guess I told her!" "Oh, here we go again, more stories." --all of which served to silence me.
You get the picture.
God doesn't have a time line, that I understand anyway. Is it too late at 50+ to break the silence? If I were asked that question in my 30s, I'd think, why bother then! What difference could it make by then?
satan began to steal my voice when I was about 4 years old. Later, he let me think I got it back, accessed through the use of alcohol and drugs. Oh, the things I said.....even a pirate would flunk one of my vocabulary tests back then, if you know what I mean!
I had an amazing opportunity to share with 200 women this past weekend. At first, I prayed for a good hair day; I mean how could I stand in front of everyone with weird hair? Oh, this is all about me -- wait, no it isn't, it's about what God wants me to do -- then I asked God to give me an anointing to reach whomever needed to hear this word, to "shake something loose" as a sweet friend of mine so aptly phrased it.
I shared my testimony, well, part of it -- I ran out of time. I trust that was God's doing as well. Did my words help anyone? Probably, but I don't know that personally. I did receive a lot of feedback on my particular brand of humor. In short, I made people laugh; that was fun! What I now know is that being willing to share, and preparing based on what I felt in my heart, and the act of speaking itself gave me a brand new testimony:
I found my voice.
And I had fun in that discovery! There is an indescribable freedom in following the plan God has for your life as you learn it. He reveals each step as it comes, as He readies and equips you for it.
Tomorrow. About 4:30 pm my sister Celia I need sister-time! half a week of complete understanding in-tune-ness no words necessary all heart my friend my sister forever
Too much to do. My list is long and I can only check off a few things. Some of my list involves others and I can't control that. I feel overwhelmed. Somme less-than-great situations challenge my generosity, and my grace. I am seriously lacking in either. Today. Maybe for awhile longer. I'm setting my "clock" to mid-April. Then I will be done! But are we ever done? Done for what? Peace. Jesus said we can find peace in the midst of the storm. OK
One of the rules of speech-making in my college class was "know your audience." I always considered the eye contact, what to do with your hands, the confident smiles, and the other stylistics of making a speech to be more important than who was listening to you. But that's the point-- you want to speak to the people sitting in front of you.
I have always wanted to teach and now I do. I teach 4th graders. I love 10-year-olds. Teaching has very little to do with stylistics, it has everything to do with audience.
For over seven years, I had been involved in local jail ministry. I led Bible studies, taught women how to read the Bible, and shared my testimony. I listened to their tales, their sorrows, and dreams and hopes. I shared my faith, added my faith to theirs for miracles to take place. Eventually my husband and I led chapel services on Sundays. I told them how I met Jesus and what He did for me. In short, I became as a friend to each inmate. I grew to love many of these sincere women who fell to the temptations of this world and ended up in jail.
In casual surveys asking what is your greatest fear, people answer to speak in front of a large group of people, even over and above fear of dying! That's crazy! But I was not afraid. I think because I was "just" being a friend. We talked, we shared, I didn't teach or preach. I listened, I didn't "counsel."
I loved my audience, my friends. These were women who made mistakes, well, ok, they outright committed crimes! They were sincere, honest, vulnerable, yet teachable. And they were broken, but they were shrewd. Most of the female inmates, as the county government agencies called women in jail, (I used to think that was horrid!) had "Phony Baloney" detectors which were usually 100% accurate. As a ministry volunteer, I didn't dare go in there and "bring them Jesus." I didn't preach to them about the Word, I merely shared it. If any volunteer thought they were the cat's pajamas and all that, those women would skin them alive! Or something like that.
If my testimony can help someone, serve as an example of what God can do in an ordinary woman's life, then I want to say it. I must. Maybe my words may unlock a need, a shyness that can then be treated.
So who is my audience now? Women in the church. In some ways, women in the church can be tougher than the women in jail. Women in church may face mental bars that lock them up, while women in jail face steel bars that lock them in. We used to say in jail ministry that we all face b-a-r-s -- bitterness, anger, regret, and sin -- that's what keeps us imprisoned as much as steel does! Women in church can disguise themselves with clothing and "Christianese," but women in jail only have their name and their word to distinguish one from another -- everything else has been stripped from them. Bible concepts translate differently. "Loving your neighbor" can mean two diametrically opposed things to each set of women. Jokes and humor have a raw edge that cancels out pretense or decorum. Shock value is at a premium and is used often.
Jail ministry was a part of my life, a part of my growth. It was a memorable time in my life and I am thankful for it. It is time to stretch again. I want to grow, to challenge myself. I want to find my voice.
That's not what Simon and Garfunkle had me believe when I was 15 or so. Their song "I Am a Rock" was my theme song. It gave me permission to staunchly protect my vulnerability. And close out everyone else.
A winters day In a deep and dark december; I am alone, Gazing from my window to the streets below On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow. I am a rock, I am an island. Ive built walls, A fortress deep and mighty, That none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. Its laughter and its loving I disdain. I am a rock, I am an island.
Dont talk of love, But Ive heard the words before; Its sleeping in my memory. I wont disturb the slumber of feelings that have died. If I never loved I never would have cried. I am a rock, I am an island.
I have my books And my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain; And an island never cries.
But when I counted myself among the saved, I knew that there were many, many others who were included in this group, this group that belonged to Jesus. The numbers scared me, but as I began to know to Whom I belonged, the aforementioned wall began to be torn down. Maybe I could reach out and not feel pain. Maybe I could be safe outside my womb. Maybe my armor was futile against the penetrating love of Jesus. I felt like a rock sometimes, but that didn't mean I felt no pain -- I just felt burdened. I wanted to be an island, free from the relationships of others, but I was drowning in my own tears. At 15 or 16 years of age, there are no memories in slumber -- everything is new, is raw, is here, is now. To forget means to disregard oh-so-recent events. Time is relative. I loved and I was hurt. I befriended but I was betrayed. But to really love is to risk the pain of rejection and betrayal. As a grown woman who hasn't seen 15 for several decades, I have learned the value of relationships, and indeed, am learning all the time. Some of my teachers are children, young adults, and of course, Jesus. God IS love. Perfect love casts out all fear. See, I didn't hate people -- I was just afraid of them.
I have come to a juncture in my life where I must share my hard-earned lessons. I am learning to love people, and it is quite revelating. God must grant me the words, the grace, and the motive to speak into the lives of others. If we are not here to help anyone, then what are we here for? To take up space?
Jesus penetrated my stony heart, my selfish heart. His love opened up the vault that I had closed for so long. No man is an island is a true proverb and that is how God made it. He is a relational God and He meant for it to stay that way.
What with electronic journaling and blogs, I'm not sure where I want to record my thoughts and feelings, stories and events. My fingers dash across the keyboard, and I can instantly edit the "dumb" stuff. It's fun. But I have beautifully bound thick books with endless empty pages calling me, coaxing me to write there. I have one that closely guards my most secret ramblings, shame, pride, resentment, lots of things like that are in there. Private. Not something I display. I have a cute little red leather one -- I got it because it was cute, it was little and it was red and it was leather. I put a laughing picture of myself -- a reminder to not take myself so seriously as we melancholies are wont to do, in the cover slot. I planned to record funny things I have heard, stories of my precious grandchildren.... alas, the book is empty. The collection of journals is a testament to my good intentions. I blog, as this page is proof of yet another attempt to add a sense of posterity to my life. But it might showcase stupidity, and a host of other adjectives that I might not want to advertise.
Well, as I learned about a hundred years ago -- writers write. So write. Doens't really matter where. Does it?
I am so sorry to know that you are hurting. Ah, if you only knew how I want to make things right for you, good for you; make everything okay. And things will be right, they will be good, they will be okay. But there is a divine timetable of which we mortals are generally unaware, that marks our growth, rather our willingness to grow. Well-meaning humans often interfere with God’s plan for us and we suffer a detour to health and wholeness. Grief has its lessons. Troubles, heartaches, tragedy – they all give their lessons in this we call the school of life. If I knew the lessons that God was using to teach me what I needed to know before I experienced them, I would have balked and done anything to avoid them. I would have preferred “stupidity” to maturity, to wholeness, to awakening. If we don’t grow, why were we born? It is a question often asked by those who are confused and bewildered by life. Those who expect fairness or justice use the ageless argument: If there really is a God, why does He ………………..? fill in the blank.
I don’t know why Daddy left a large family at such a young age. I don’t know why my precious little daughter was put on this earth for a fraction of her life. But I do know that in seeking for those answers, I did find the One who can answer all of my questions. Well, let me tell you, my darling sister, there really is a God. To be sure, there is a God. I know you know that. He gave us a free will and that’s why the world is in such a mess. We screwed it up with our free wills. God is here to help us travel through the channels of life’s experiences to reach the pinnacle of purpose, of destiny. He is here to help us out of the consequences of our free will!
God ordained a way of life for His creation. That way of life for man did not include the alcohol and the carcinogens that claimed our daddy’s life. The way of that lifestyle is self-explanatory. The only problem with it is that we don’t really believe it will happen to us – until it does. Then we want out of it. Then we pray. And we blame God for it, or if we don’t, we expect Him to clean it all up for us, and why not? He is God, right? Well, God won’t violate His own laws. If he negates the consequences of free will then he negates his own law. But God is sovereign -- He can do whatever he wants.
What I want to say to you addresses some things that you are doing, some ways of thinking that you might have (or at least show evidences of) and I want to try to use my own life as an illustration so you won’t think I am judging you. I’m not judging you. I can judge myself, but not you. But please listen.
First of all, let me say something about salvation. Yes, if you call upon the Name of the Lord, you will be saved. But when it happens for real, Little Sister, the One who prompted you to call on His Name is there. It makes a difference. It makes the difference between what is real and what we imagine to be real. What is “supposed to happen” and what really happens. Sometimes we call upon the name of the lord to see if he will answer, to see if he is really there, to challenge the existence or the willingness of God.
When I called on the Name of the Lord about 25 years ago, I had a fresh packet of hypos at home and a dime of coke hidden in the typewriter. I had downers to help me with the crash and I had beer to mellow out and ease me back into my normal schedule. I had every intention of shooting up when I got home. I was going to “celebrate” my salvation, launch my “new life” with one last big coke rush. Kind of like that Saturday night pig-out before Diet Monday, know what I mean?
I didn’t call out for divine help just to see if He would answer. I called out to save my life. I was desperate. I wanted to die, I wanted relief from the pain I had known all of my miserable life. When help came, I met my Lord and Savior. Face to face. I recognized the almighty resurrection power of the Only One who could write in the Lamb’s book of life. I recognized that He alone could save me from myself, my sin, and my losses. Little sister, I owe Him so much. There is nothing I would not do for my Jesus. He gently guided me, as He has all of these years, to a place where I can receive from him. He died for me. If you have ever studied about the agonizing method of death by crucifixion, knowing that he surrendered to the divine will of the father to accept his fate, you can see how he loved us enough to die for us. And for all of humanity throughout time. You can get an idea. And then, as Father God, to give his only begotten son, for us, while we were yet sinners (not repentant and sorry and wishing we were better – no! when we were still arrogantly sinning!). Can you think of willingly giving the life of one of your children or even one of your grandchildren, witnessing his or her excruciating pain for a bunch of ingrates who curse you, blame you for anything and everything, and then deny your existence!
So let’s talk about losses. I can make an extensive list. You’re familiar with some of the more salient items on my list. I lost acceptance, and knew utter rejection (Mother’s version of the rape/abortion story that she told each of us was ours was sort of the genesis of my rejection…) Psychology tells us that parental rejection is the very worst kind and that it re-wires our childhood brain and programs us for failure, misery, suspicion, insecurity, lack of confidence, indecision, and self-loathing as we reach adulthood. That set me up for a life of disappointment and negativity. I spent 33 horrible years loathing the person I was and detesting the One who created me because of it! Said the clay to the potter: ‘Why make me thou thus?’ -- that was my constant complaint – Oh God why did you make me like this? Why didn’t you make me pretty? I don’t want to be smart, boys don’t like smart girls. You put me in a big family where I am just a number. Who am I?
When I read and understood Psalm 139, it was life-changing. It was pivotal. God made me on purpose! Me! On purpose.
Through salvation I re-entered childhood, I was re-born, and that’s why we say we are “born-again Christians.” (Usually that term is referred to jokingly, condescendingly as a religious fanatic!) There’s no other way to escape the ravages of sin. I searched for myself, reasons for living, I searched for my destiny, why things happened to me, why my little daughter died, why my husband killed himself, why this, why that…? I found some of the answers, but more importantly, I found the Answerer. And sometimes the details and the whys of our lives don’t really even matter because the personal relationship with Jesus eclipses our need for answers. He is all-encompassing, all loving, all fulfilling – he completely fills the void in our lives through every phase and space of our spirit, soul, and body.
Little sister, when you allow Jesus to meet your need through the power of his love for you, it will substitute your need for the numbing, dulling effects of alcohol. Or the habitual comfort of nicotine. Or the escapism of drugs. Or sex. Or movies. Or books. Or volunteering. Or school or classes. Or ANYthing that replaces the need for God in our lives. To be sure, it is a process. We become physically dependent on substances and activities that create a physiological habituation that can only be addressed through time.
When the alcohol isn’t satisfying that insatiable thirst, the drugs aren’t strong enough to deaden that excruciating pain, and we can’t smoke enough cigarettes to camouflage the stench of defeat in our lives, then we can turn to the only one we can turn to – Jesus. He accepts us, there is no rejection. He forgives us, he remembers our sin no more. God sees us through the eyes of Jesus and His love for us and we are perfect. We are mature, we are whole. We are his. We belong to him and He takes care of that which belongs to him. You were bought with a price, my sister. You were bought with the blood of Jesus. And the value of a thing is based on the amount paid for it. What is worth the blood of the son of the creator of the universe? You. You are worth it. Every drop of it.
And when you know Jesus can save you, help you, change you, then you know he can do it for those you love. The unspeakable indescribable pain that you feel for your children, for your grandchildren – you will understand that Jesus can and will help them. Just as I know he helped me, he saved me, I have every trust and confidence that he will do it for you. I can’t do it for you but I know the One who can.
Is Jesus calling you? Can you hear him?
I have asked Jesus to call you, my dear little sister, for many years. Do you hear his voice? Listen. I think you do.
Please know, Little Sister, that I love you as much as I love life itself. But I can never love you as much as Jesus does.
