2 Chronicles

"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land."
2 Chronicles 4:17

I've heard this scripture quoted quite a bit over the past few days. I've heard it quoted by men ranting on Facebook about "THOSE WOMEN". I've heard it in the same post as another person saying, "Well, I guess there's a lot of husbands cooking their own dinner tonight," meaning - Saturday, the day of the March.

I've read it and then watched comment after comment appear with people saying, "I don't support these women," and "If you don't like it, you can get out," as well as, "Idiots", "Stupid", "Feminists", "God-haters", "liberals", and "THIS is what's wrong with our country."
I've watched women, christian women, back away and go quiet.
I've wanted to call out, "where are you?"

Oh, I was angry. And I wanted to fight back. The words clambered over each other to free themselves from my mouth.

But then I clicked it off. I am learning this kind of anger doesn't get us anywhere. I have to feel it and submit it. Submit it and channel it.

God's TRUTH is greater than my feelings.
I cried in the truck as Jeff and I drove home from LA. I prayed. I ripped off all my fingernails. I tried to breathe as anxiety and frustration built and clawed and threatened to choke out my breath.

And I thought to myself, "God? I am a christian. I love you. I believe in you. I do my best to follow you. And I can't get behind those comments. I can't."

I wondered if there was something wrong with me. Maybe I don't know God at all. Maybe I'm just a bad egg.

Here's the thing, folks. God is the same. For everyone. Across the board. He does not contradict. He does not show favoritism. We are all fearfully and wonderfully made.
So if there is apprehension and confusion going on, that's on ME. That's on YOU. Hard questions need to be asked. Hard answers need to be found.

And this is tough because guess what? Christians are lazy. We take what we hear, or we read one scripture, and we don't dig or question or read more. We take the easy way.

Jesus never took the easy way.

Loving is always harder than judging.

The woman at the well? He listened.
The woman thrown down in front of him after she was caught in adultery? He listened and he protected. (Let's not even get going on where the other half of the adultery act was. Or, you know, LET's. Interesting how the man wasn't brought out and thrown down, isn't it? Interesting how she was caught in the act because these men, these religious leaders, were obviously watching her, yes? Interesting the double standard that was shown here and even MORE interesting is how Jesus reacted. With love and mercy and all the men backed away.
He. is. my. hero.)
The demon possessed man who ran up to him? He talked to him and freed him.
The woman who was sick for years and banished from society because she was a bloody mess and pushed her way through to touch his robe? He healed her. And you know what? That woman? She was a marcher before her time.
The teenage girl who was pregnant and unwed and gossiped about? Yeah, that was his mother.


I have said, and will always say, God is not afraid of our hard questions.
We are. I am. I get afraid and I'm going to tell you why.
I get afraid because what if I ask God a question and the answer I get is something that causes me to doubt WHO HE IS and if HE IS REALLY GOOD?

I can ask the hard question or I can take the easy way.
The easy way though, doesn't help anyone. Not the maligned. Not the mistreated. Not the sinner. And certainly not the saint.

I started asking questions. I started writing them down. And a thought would come, and then another. And soon I was writing those down. Then, more questions. And I paid attention as my life flashed before me and all the things I have been asked to live and all the decisions and the day I walked into a small church in El Cajon dressed in boxer shorts and anger with eyes that said, "Stay. Away. From. Me.", and I was hugged. I was hand-held. I was looked in the eye. I was loved.

That's why I kept going back. I was loved.
No one asked me first how many drugs I had done or if I had stolen or how many people I'd made sex with or if I hated men or hated God or smoked or cursed on the regular. No one asked me later either.
I was loved.
Foul-God-hurting-MAN-hating-mouth-cursing-middle-fingers-up and all.

And as Jeff and I drove home and I thought of all my yesterdays, I got a word. And that word was freedom.

Someone did awful things to me when I was a child because he had the freedom to make that choice and do so.
Someone was able to choose him and not me because they had the freedom to do so.
Someone can live gay or live straight because they have the freedom to do so.
Someone can hit a crack pipe or hit the gym because they have the freedom to do so.
Someone can go to church and sing with their mouth and hate everyone there in their heart because they have the freedom to do so.
Someone can love others and love God and serve serve serve quietly all their life because they have the freedom to do so.
Someone can love God and be mouthy and go against the church current because they have the freedom to do so.
Someone can grow up in a house that loves God and decide for themselves they don't want to and they have the freedom to do so.

And do you know where this freedom comes from? God himself.
He died for us all. And He allows us all to make a choice.

And yet here we sit, day after day, telling everyone else they can't have one, because we are elevating ourselves to the place of God.

if my people,

I have a confession to make.

who are called by my name,

A number of years ago

will humble themselves

same-sex marriage was on the ballot,

and pray

Proposition 8,

and seek my face

and I did not listen to the hard question nagging at my skull

and turn from their wicked ways,

and I did not ask for a hard answer,

then I will hear from heaven,

and I took the easy way, with the rest of the crowd,

and I will forgive their sin,

and I was wrong.

and will heal their land."

This is the Lord speaking in this verse, speaking to Solomon. And do you know who he's talking about?

US.

Christian. Christian.

If WE will humble ourselves,
If WE will pray,
If WE will seek his face,
If WE will turn from OUR wicked ways,
THEN
He will forgive US and heal our land.

When we don't listen; we are not humble.
When we call people stupid and idiots and say the words "THESE WOMEN" in a tone of disgust and rage; we are not humble.
When we don't stop to ask ourselves WHY ARE THEY HURTING?; we are not praying.
When we don't feel bothered by injustice; we are not seeking his face.
When we condone or remain silent or cheer for someone who promotes treating others as less than himself, ourselves ; we are not turning from our wicked ways.


We don't have to agree. We are ALL still learning, how to love God, how to love people, how to love ourselves, better. But we can't begin to do that if we have PRIDE.

Ego.
The need to be right.
The last word.

I hope these words shake you. I hope you dig and search and seek and look for yourself. I hope if you are angry, you ask yourself why and then ask God to reveal it to you.

You can stand for what you believe in - it's very easy. Make sure you don't do it. That's it.

I wonder what would happen if we stopped focusing on what others are doing and saying and living, and we began to be more like Jesus? He did not pass laws. He spoke to people. He did not put them on blast. He loved them.

In fact, the only time I see Jesus getting mad and throwing tables and calling people a "brood of vipers", is when he spoke to the religious. Chew on that one for a bit.

"They" are not the problem. "These WOMEN" are not the problem.
We are.

God help us.

XO

#olw

Last year, for the very first time, I chose #olw, or as the non-hashtaggers know it, one little word.
I liked the idea of choosing a word to live the year by - a mantra to set my heartbeat to. And if I'm being completely bare and honest, it was super trending in the facebookinstagrampopulargirlssquare.
And at that point, for all the wrong reasons, I really wanted to trend.
All the cool kids were doing it.
And I was struggling, struggling to find my place in friendships and groups so I followed. If it was good enough for the cool kids, well, it was good enough for me too.

The word I chose was "INTENTIONAL". Which is really laughable when my reasons for choosing it (reread above and picture my eye roll) were so far from it.

Can you guess how well it went?
I failed. Like, big time.
The sad part is I may not have even noticed if someone hadn't pointed out how completely UN-intentional I was treating some tiny people I love.

I sat with that realization for a good bit, chewed on it, let it get under my skin and into the marrow of my bones.

Flash towards the eve of 2017 and the #olw was trending yet again.
This time I was not even close to wanting to roll with any cool kids. I almost nixed the idea of "one little word" altogether but my reasons for that would have been just as impulsive and wrong as the first time around.

I thought about the past year of my life. What had I learned? what had hurt? what had healed? What had I contributed to the building up, or the tearing down, of ALL the relationships surrounding me? Where did I want my efforts to go?

Tough questions require answers brave enough to not just shake hands, but to take my shoes off, trudge through the mud in my bare feet and THEN splash in the streams. I am learning (always always always learning) the best relationships include both. A relationship with depth and life and conversation must be wide enough to hold the sticky mess and the happy clean.
Otherwise it's just a convenience. You don't get one without the other.

guilty. and also, enough of that.

So this year I picked my word with a lot more thought and a whole lot of intention. (It took a year but I finally got the real meaning of that one.)

C U L T I V A T E.

1. to prepare or prepare and use for the raising of crops. also (and I really love this. I mean, really really love this) to loosen or break up the soil

(All the praise hands here. I mean seriously, WHO ELSE prays this alldayeveryday ? Break it up, Jesus. All that rock. All the hard earth clay that is unyielding and useless. Grab a hoe, a rake, a shovel, heck - let's get some jackhammers and make a real mess here. Break it up. Prepare me. Prepare all of me for CROPS. I can practically see all the lettuce heads popping up with people's faces on them. LOVE THESE. WATER THEM.)

2. to foster the growth of
(I mean, YES. this also seems like it should have a "duh" at the end.
Grow.
grow in love. grow in faith. grow in being teachable and let's get some of that forgiveness and grace in there too. Yeah? The people who need grace the most are the ones you don't want to give it to.
The conundrum being - then how will they know what it is???) DUH.

3. to IMPROVE by LABOR, CARE, or STUDY
(Labor. WORK. Cultivating is not automatic. It is not second nature. Maybe not even fourth or fifth.
To cultivate, to love, to foster growth, to care for and to allow yourself to be loosed and broken, requires a whole heck of a lot of work, and don't for a second think that work is like, cracker jack easy.
Oh no.
Grab your antiseptic and some tissues. It's going to hurt at first. You will bleed. You will ask yourself, "holy heck - IS THIS EVEN WORTH IT?"
The answer is YES.
Yes it is.
Then you'll see it. Green. Growth. Buds of life and love and friendship and family pushing through so much you want to weep in thankfulness and joy)

I pray every day God helps me to do this. I know I will not always be successful. I'm human. I get tired and selfish and hurt and I've never made any secrets of how BLACK my heart is.

BUT.

(and this is when the BUT is oh so good)

Jesus loves my black heart. Period. YOU may not love it. I may not love it. But HE does.

And.
He also knows how much this black heart wants to LOVE
and forgive (well, most of the time. some people. I'm still working on this.)
and WRITE
and be free
and laugh
and really just fly itself all the way up to heaven,
singing
at the top
of its lungs.
XO

PEARLS // Part one

I am out of practice, of all things important and the sum of all my parts. Even now, I hesitate.

I don't know how to write edited. I don't know how to voice; censored. It goes against everything I have been taught and all that I am. I will do my best to keep my pearls separate; to know which I can hold close for protection and which I can throw out for trampling.

This past year has been a process of inner deconstruction and navigating unknowns; an education in long-suffering and quiet.

It has hurt like a motherfucker.

I learned a long time ago these hurts, rejection and withdrawal, will not kill me. No. Nothing so definite and absolute.Nothing so extreme and dramatic and ... quick.
Instead,they will bring me to my knees. They will kick the air out of me.
They will grab me by the hair and yank back my head and force me to look
andlookandlookandlookandlook
until the complete decimation of all that I held dear has become a public play of mockery of which I have no part.
The screaming doesn't stop. Neither do the tears. Not for a long time.
The "why's" do. Blessedly. Mercifully.
The "why's" slink away and eventually the "what if's" follow them.

And then I can breathe again.
Some days I can stand. Sometimes I can laugh. And then eventually,
I wake up
and
I stop looking.
There.
Mostly.

And this is a mercy. This is a gift. And I am so grateful for it I squeeze my eyes shut and pray the prayer I have said over and over this year,
God. GodGodGodGodGodGod
GOD.
And my heart thumps, and my hands shake, and I feel a little clammy and queasy sick but I know, I know, I know, He is hearing me. He is seeing me there, all huddled up and broken, kicked to pieces and bruised, bloody heart and shredded character. He sees me. He hands me a blanket to wrap myself in, a tissue for the snot.
He tells me I'm going to be ok and also, it's time to start minding my own business. He holds my heart and reminds me He will heal it up, as He always has, but I have to stop grabbing it out of His hand and hunting for the things that damage.

Time. Time passes.
Time gives distance, but it does not give healing.
Trust does.
Reflection does.
Praying does.
Finding a mirror helps.
Beginning the shaky walk on a footpath to forgiveness will get you on your way.
Even if it's only a teeny bit at a time.
Even if you find yourself wanting to be an indian giver and grabbing it back because it's become wood for a fire you are tending religiously within you.

I gotta let that fire burn out.
If I don't,
if I let it rage and find it's own life,
it will burn to the ground all that was good and wonderful and right for a
very. long. time.
It will consume me until I'm nothing but ash and memories stained with bitterness.

I don't want stained memories. I want real ones. I can't let the difficulty of relationship take that from me.

I know. Sometimes watching the fire burn is mesmerizing. It warms me. It whispers that I'm right. I become entranced with my own pride and ego. There are some days I sit next to it and think, just for a minute. What's the harm in just a minute?

It takes a lot of grit to turn away and walk in the cold, where stark clarity and a new reality slap you in the face. Hard.
Be gritty. Let it sting.
You don't have to have the strength to walk it.
Crawl.
Lay on your back and look at the stars when crawling is too much.
Embrace the reminder that you are small and fleeting and just a speck of breath, and all of that is more than ok. Let it free you. I am letting it free me.
Crawl again.
Let the pebbles dig in your knees. Let your hands scratch and bleed. Feel it all.
You are alive. I am alive.

In this moment, this right now,
I. Am. Here.