Showing posts with label freedom in Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freedom in Christ. Show all posts

An open letter to the school of hard knocks

I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say. ~Flannery O'Connor

Dear life,

You have put ulcers in my belly but fire in my bones.
You have torn friends away but shown me who my true friends are.
You have made me doubt myself yet become myself.
You have put bumps in the road that turned out to be wonderful surprises.
You have beaten me up, so I'm stronger now.
You have thrown me out but in the dark I discovered the stars.
You have cast me down and on the ground I found rest.
You have torn me apart but the scar tissue where I healed will never tear.
You made me feel alone and I discovered I liked it.
You threatened everything so I appreciate it more.
You shipwrecked me at home with my family and I discovered they really are my favorite people.

You isolated me and I read books.
You rained on me and I jumped in puddles.
Your wind blew me off my feet but it also kissed my cheek.
You laughed in my face and I laughed back.
You made me sad, I found joy in small things.
You exhausted me, and I found out how much I love my bed.
You ravaged my body so my soul grew wings.
You tried to silence me so I found words.

You caused me pain, so I gritted my teeth and limped on.
You took my breath away but God gave it back.
You broke my heart and I discovered the courage to heal it.
You left me speechless and in the silence I heard the whisper of my own soul.

You may break me, but never bind me.
You may hurt me, but never kill my hope.
You may force me to change, and I might like it.

I am afflicted in every way, but not crushed; 
perplexed, but not driven to despair; 
persecuted, but not forsaken;
struck down, but not destroyed;
So I do not lose heart. 
Though my outer self is wasting away, my inner self is being renewed day by day*.

The contest is not over.
You haven't won yet.
You never will,
for even death has been overcome.







*2 Corinthians 4

The road not taken

Imagine freedom - the kind of soul peace your whole body relaxes into, suddenly comfortable with itself and it's shape. It's like the laugh of an old friend as you talk on into the night: you fall under it's spell and it whispers in your ear sweet things..."you are free!"...."it is forgotten!"..."He loved you - yes, YOU - so much that He created you, He delivered you from evil and death, He died for you!"

Imagine what that freedom would look like, even if it was only going to last an hour or two. You wouldn't fret about the non-organic groceries in your cart. You might splurge on something fun for yourself. You might lavish love and generous gifts on a person you would normally try to avoid making eye contact with. 

I read a line in  Dr. BrenĂ© Brown's book, Daring Greatly: 
Vulnerability is at the core of all emotions and feelings. To feel is to be vulnerable. To believe vulnerability is weakness is to believe that feeling is weakness. To foreclose on our emotional life out of fear that the costs will be too high is to walk away from the very thing that gives purpose and meaning to living. When I look at narcissism through the vulnerability lens, I see the shame-based fear of being ordinary. I see the fear of never feeling extraordinary enough to be noticed, to be lovable, to belong, or to cultivate a sense of purpose.
You reach moments along the path - moments during which you make a choice between multiple options all shackled with potential problems of their own. These vastly divergent lives -- which do you choose?? My choice these days seems to be between selfish indifference or selfless times of tending to relationships.


Yellow leaf fall 
Like helicopter blades 

Come on, you words 
Come and take your places 
Everything changes, everything changes 

After the sun, the wind will come. 
And the wind will come! 
When worries gone, the wind will come. 
And the wind will come! 

Come on, you heart 
You restless child 
Open up your hands 
And wait here awhile 

Yellow leaf fall 
Sound under my feet 
Fill my sleep, fill my sleep 

When all is done, the night will come. 
Come meet me there, and the night will come!  


If I am the dreamer, then Thou art the Dream 
If I am the pebble, then Thou art the Stream 
If I am the sapling, then Thou art the Seed
Thou art the Laughter, Thou art the Dream!
~Helicopter, Branches~






Five Minute Friday
Writing on "Imagine"

Revisiting confessions

Guilt, shame, despair, grief. Emotions entangle and threaten to drown out hope. Haven't I been here before? Haven't I confessed these sins?


Yes, I have. And He says they're forgotten and washed white as snow. Why, then, does my heart still bleed dark red sin, spewing a history, a litany of unforgivable details onto the fresh snow of today's vista?
But are you living with guilt that doesn't belong to you? You say, "Look at what I did! I deserve to feel guilty. I knew better, but I did it anyway." So you pound yourself with guilt and condemnation. It may be guilt for recent sins or for sins of the past. What does God say about this guilt? Romans 8:1 makes a simple declaration—“There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” So why the confusion? Christians live with guilt that doesn't belong to them? We live by our feelings instead of God's truth. When we feel the flood of guilt, we assume God agrees with our feelings. "I deserve to carry this guilt. Look at what I did! How terrible!" Once we have confessed our sin, God will no longer use guilt or condemnation to remind us of our past. He wants us to enter His freedom, His peace-completely free of condemnation. The familiar and much loved promise of John 3:16 is followed by this powerful declaration. Jesus said, "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned." (John 3:17-18a NIV) True guilt is designed to lead us to repentance which leads us to God's peace in our hearts. So why do I Still Feel Guilty? The enemy-Satan-wants to rob you of God's peace and joy. He comes with false guilt, which feels exactly the same as true guilt from God. So how can I know if I'm feeling true guilt from God or false guilt? How do I know if I'm living with guilt that doesn't belong to me? You must use God's truth to evaluate your feelings of guilt. You must examine your heart and ask, "Have I truly repented of my sins?" You may want to write down the specific memory that is flooding you with guilt. Then put it to the truth test. Have I already confessed this sin? When did I confess it? Was I truly sincere? Have I been completely honest with God? If the answer to all these is "yes," then you can stand on the promises of 1 John 1:9 and John 8:36. If you confess your sins, He promises to forgive and cleanse you-not 2 months from now-immediately. If you have any doubt about the sincerity of your previous confession-confess it again and then instantly claim God's peace and forgiveness. (from Living Free)
 
Living by my feelings instead of the Truth. Wow. Does that describe the month I've had, or what! Feelings, feelings, feelings. Truth feels like an amorphous fog in a dark room. I can't grasp it. Can't ground myself with it.

I read these...John 3:16, Romans 8:1, John 8:36; I John 1:9. There is one thing I haven't done, though I've wanted to for over a year. There is one person I harmed that I could not say "I'm sorry" to. Regardless of this, I have to grip the TRUTH that I have been forgiven. I acknowledge the guilt, the shame, the despair - but I will not walk as though they rule my world. They don't. He does. And HE has set me free.

So walk free...
I can put one foot in front of the other...
Someday, I'll truly walk into His freedom.
Today, all I can say is that I'm walking down that path.


I have failed you, I have failed you
I have lost my way, lost my nerve
I’ve failed you
 
But I love you, how I love you
I have turned my back, left you last
but I love you
 
O setting sun don’t sink before I’ve found my heart
Heart don’t give up now while there’s still time
Time don’t beat your old retreat stay a little while with me
til I’ve looked the whole thing in the eye
 
I have waited, I have waited
for the big reveal, the even keel
I have waited
 
But there’s no one who makes it all come true
Just altars gathering dust while we bow to them
O night bring all your shadows and your silence
Silence make a hostage of my mind
Mind bring on your trickery
Black dogs nip on at my heels
til i’ve looked the whole thing in the eye
 
Swing low, sail high
 
All my days will rearrange to say I love you
O setting sun don’t weep for all the things you lose
morning comes as sure as it must die
dying is such mystery
yet I wonder will it be
when I’ve looked the whole thing in the eye
~Swing Low, Sail High, The Wailin' Jennys~
 

In the Aftermath: Shunning Part 4

Tereasa's Story: Part II
Tereasa is the author of His Pen on My Heart, where she blogs about freedom in Christ, healing from spiritual abuse and raising special children. She is a story teller, painting pictures with words and drawing the reader close to her heart. Her desire is to encourage those who are hurting and point all to Christ, the healer of our broken hearts. The abusive church she and her husband were a part of with their children is not related to any denomination and she wishes to keep the church's identity anonymous. You can read more about her family's escape from an abusive church and their journey to healing in Reflections of a Survivor. To read Part I of Tereasa's story, click here to read yesterday's post.


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The days that followed  our escape confirmed that our decision was right. We were love bombed for a week.  If they had been permitted by the shepherd, members would have driven four hours to bring us back to them. Our phones rang incessantly and our email inboxes were filled with pleas to return. The pain of their cries was almost unbearable. Words of love were spoken, but ever so subtly the conditions were made. “Be people of integrity… Repent and return... Love the shepherd and follow the teachings… Follow the order of God and hold to the statement of faith.”

Threats were also made in the form of concerns. “What will happen to your children without the protection of the community? How will your marriage survive if not planted in the church?”  Guilt was used along with fear, “You are forcing the church back into immaturity… You’ve hurt the body of Christ… You’ve allowed Satan into your hearts.” They even used their children to write us letters begging us to return! The ultimate threat which locked the door came in a final email, “We’ll know soon whether or not your leaving was God’s will.”


Both love and fear were used as a means of control.  Their attempts to have us return were no different than their attempts to make us conform. The use of control and power to manipulate others to serve oneself is abuse.  In living there and by leaving there, we were spiritually abused.

Upon leaving the community, we returned to our previous hometown. Close to family and friends, far from those who loved us conditionally, we have a better chance to recover. The process has not been without grief and fear. All of us, including the children, have had to work through very intense emotions.

Image credit
Even though we are far away, we continue to live daily with the community.  They have been with us in our dreams and in our habits. Healing from spiritual abuse is like tending a garden. With consistent labor, the weeds decrease. Occasionally, surprises break through the soil and need to be removed before they grow and take over what is good.

We often feel like we’re nearing the end when another depth of hurt or another hurdle of healing must be faced. Perhaps, this will always be the case. The experience is like any other, a part of who we are. When circumstances arise, we come to new levels of healing.  It will be like climbing a mountain in a circular fashion.

There will always be things that trigger remembrance. Honestly, I do not want to forget. I love the people we left behind.  Nothing will change that. While I do not intend to purposely walk back into their lives, I do hope to be available. I hope that when another leaves, I can be there for support.
Next week I will be in a place where a chance meeting is possible and part of me is afraid.

It is not the first time I have feared, though.  The last time I was afraid, I asked the Lord what to do.  He reminded me that there is no fear in love. 
“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”  – 1 John 4:18
It is the very verse by which the shepherd taught that if you fear, you do not love.  I now know that I need not fear punishment because I am in Christ who is love and it is by him that I am perfected.
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” - Romans 8:1
If I ever run into anyone from the community again, whether it is next week or next year, I will stand confident in the love of Christ.  I will offer that love, as well. It will not be natural for me to do so, but it will be possible by the grace of God. I will do this because the freedom I have found in Christ is more than I deserve.  When others are shunned I will be there to hold their hands as they recover.  I will help them tend the garden and climb the mountain.  


That is why I am so thankful for this series. If you find yourself in a place of fear and confusion… If you feel that you are alone and wonder if you will survive life beyond abuse and abuse and shunning, there is an entire community of bloggers who have walked the path before you and have overcome.  You are not alone. 


"I've watched how lies can die in foregivness" - Witness, Nicole Witt
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This post is part 4 in a series on shunning in the Christian church. If you have a guest post to share, please find me at http://TurquoiseGates.com and leave a comment or contact me to let meknow. Please refrain frm rude omments directed t owardthe brave who have stepped forward to explain these painful chapters of their live. If you have a post, old or new, about shunning or church discipline, please link up below so we can read YOUR story!





Throwing off the garment of guilt

A deadline looms. I pack the children off to the sitters, and stare at the black keys, waiting for my brain to still and words to come. You come home, nudge me gently as you climb in next to me, watching my fingers fly. A friend called you, needs a helping hand to weather a storm. We look deep into each other's eyes, and put off love for another night so you can do what you feel called to. I finish the project at hand, breathe a sigh of relief.


I look around at the house, all in disarray. Call the children home from the sitters, call grandma to come help. You come home again, and beg for a few minutes of my time, the cacophony of children's high voices nearly drowning out your request. I crumble for a moment, torn in three directions, then follow you. We ponder the wilderness, and you are mostly silent, and I wonder if it was worth the trade? To sit silently with you? The last few minutes, and few words have passed, but I feel your arm heavier around my shoulders, as if you've left a burden behind and are weary.


Back to the children. Grandma is finishing the dishes in the sink. My dishes. Cleaned by someone else...again. She whisks through the front room as I cuddle in a dogpile of kids on the couch. We joke about the "kid magnet" hidden somewhere inside me. Those on the outside of the pile clamor for some skin from mama. I wonder if there's enough time in all their childhoods to fill up the places I've left empty, the places where I've been gone, heal the scars cancer left on their little souls.


Bedtime comes, and another debate over who sleeps with whom, and if anyone can steal a last minute cuddle with me in my bed? Your bedroom eyes speak rebuke, and I send them packing, wailing, to their own beds. My last night at home this week, and I've made all the children unhappy. It's as if our couch cuddle never happened...now just more emptiness from another tired refusal, "Mama and Papa need time alone."

I wear the guilt like a heavy garment to bed, and all your caresses fall unfelt on that guilt garment. It takes you an hour to awaken my senses to you again. To dig past the mother-guilt that has shrouded me again like so many bedtimes before. The sweetness of our communion has a bitter edge as my mind keeps racing to hear the inevitable soft footfalls of the first sojourner from the children's bedroom to ours. Waiting for an interruption, I miss most of the main event. You roll over, instantly asleep, and I am left in the darkness to ponder the failings of yet another day.

Guilt is ubiquitous in motherhood. Stuck in a revolving door of rotating priorities...home, children, husband, God (and all the family, friends and work that crowd their way in as well)...we're never sure if we're making the right decision. To choose one always feels like demanding sacrifice from the others. Our children are black holes for affection, and can never quite be filled up. Our marriages always leave room for improvement. In even the most orderly house (mine is not. Lately, I feel as though I'm auditioning for "Hoarders".), there is still a chore or two left undone at the end of the day.

It bites through our sleep, hogties intimacy, and lashes us with fiery spurts of uncertainty. Yet,
The Enemy has no authority over us Christians unless we give it to him. We give it to him by putting ourselves in agreement with his assessment of God-by pious grumbling, by hopeless speaking, by repeating to each other our theories of life, rather than the truths of God. We say: "That situation is impossible," "Love in marriage always fades," "Children will rebel when they're adults if they don't when they're little." All lies and self-curses. God is not as good as He makes Himself out to be; He's holding out on you. ~Andrée Seu, April 9, 2011 World Magazine
I fail to lay down the burden heaped upon my shoulders by satan almost daily. The simplicity of cast all your cares upon Him, for He careth for you escapes me...the metaphorical transfer of my baggage to His care is just that - metaphorical. Hard to grasp in real life. Yet He commands that praise be always on my lips, and that I pray without ceasing. In these two twin observances of His wonder, majesty, and Grace, I find freedom that otherwise eludes me. Who can sing praise to the King and forget all His benefits? Who can pray and not feel a little lighter at the end of the soundless murmurings of our deepest problems and greatest desires? Who can fail to trust the King with marriage, children, and home when we cease heaping shame on our own backs and instead lift hands in prayer and praise for all He's already provided?

Comfortable in my nakedness

Here is a call for the endurance of the saints, those who keep the commandments of God and their faith in Jesus. (Revelation 14:12)
We are the tree shaken loose from the snow to feel the warmth with her branches. We meet another, hurting under her burden of the winter of discontent, torn from her moorings and grafted into this field of a loveless church. I see her pain, bathe in it, remember the cold she feels. It is hard work, to enter back through that crooked door, to open eyes to see the crooked roots that can't grow in the rocky soil. I shake her tree with truth, and the snow scatters. The first breath of winter air is painful, burning the lungs. For a moment, we both wish we were still insulated from this brutal air frozen by falsehood and stagnant with intrigue. But then we move those branches, stretch our needles to the heavens, and we feel God's sun warming this quiet field that has grow deafeningly silent from the shunning as we stand naked in the sun. You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free (John 8:32). There is no denying it is still winter. But we will never bury our branches again.