Bones

I have been a christian for half my life. I've taken classes, studied, praised, counseled, ministered, been ministered to, and God's word is like cake to me. Gooey. Rich. Sweet to my soul.

I have found though, the longer I am saved, the less I feel deserving to be.
I remember so clearly who, and what, I was before Jesus.

Possibly because some of my struggles are the same.

Anger. Pride. Ego. Lust.

I know. Women don't talk about lust much. It seems like a topic reserved for men and honestly, I almost left it off the page. But that wouldn't be my truth. So. There.

Sure. It's less than before .... Less most days, but every now and again, B A M.

Still oh so human.

I must actively pursue God. I must make my love for Jesus a verb.
The bible says, "to love Him is to obey Him." (john 14:15) Words are not enough.
Every day I am confronted with how undeserving I am, how completely unworthy, when I am faced with God's goodness and my sin.

It would be so much easier if I felt good all the time. Good is such a lame word. But you know what I mean, right? If I always felt comforted, alive, found.
But sometimes I don't. Sometimes I feel lost. Sometimes I feel alone. Sometimes life is so hard.

The bible is clear, no student is greater than his teacher.
Nothing about Jesus' life was easy.
I imagine he did not feel good all the time.
Like when people only wanted something from him. Like when he was followed only for what he could do for others. Like when he was lied about. Like when he was stabbed in the back by his friends. Like when he hung on a cross, forsaken.

The more I learn about who He was and what He went through, the more I realize just how much he understands my own struggles, my own life.

He really does get it.

I think of his weariness.

I have grown weary.

And yes, I am reminded too of the scripture, "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." (Galations 6:9)

I know this.
And I am still weary.

Running on fumes.
Not much left to give.

I sat outside, in the cold dark, and cried while speaking to my husband.
I cried for the ministry I started. I cried for the hiatus I have taken. And in the middle of my tears I said for the first time out loud, "I just don't want to do it anymore."

Broken. Lost. Tired.

I am so tired. I feel it in my bones. They don't want to move. And I don't know how to rest, how to fill up.

I try to read my bible. Sometimes I just stare at it, unable to absorb anything.

I try to pray. And sometimes all I can get out is, "help me. please."

My husband is so blessed.
He attends a weekly prayer meeting every Tuesday. Fifty men show up to pray and encourage one another. He works with a man who is a strong Christian, and they are able to swap God stories and speak life into one another every. single. day.
He comes home with story after story of people he has met at the gas station, at Home Depot, the bank, that he has talked to and prayed with.

I am envious. Envious of his immediate response, good or bad, but mostly good, from the people he comes in contact with.
I am envious of his fill up. every. single. day.

I am not intending to whine.
My heart.
My heart though,
is troubled.

The whispers in my head grow louder.

Look at him, he's a better Christian than you. He must love Jesus more.
Why aren't you going to a prayer meeting?
Why aren't you getting a response?
Because you fail every. single. day. to show God's love, his peace.
You reflect too much Shannon.
You just aren't good enough.

I know it is the Enemy, my Accuser.
How?
Because I am left feeling guilty and condemned.
There is no grace, no mercy.

Jeff says it is a season. We all have different seasons. Jeff reminds me of the people I get to touch on a weekly basis. He reminds me that my prayers are honest, from the heart, and sincere. Powerful.

I don't feel powerful though.

I feel tired.

For the past month we have started to go to a second church for services. It is one hour and fifteen minutes that I can sit and listen and learn. It is the only time in my week I am not there to give. It is a blessing. I am grateful for it.

I am not sure what my purpose is in this blog. I just know, in the pit of my heart, I needed to write it.

I can't be the only one.

These bones. My bones. They cry out.
I am dry.
Rise them up, Lord.
Breathe into me.

Under Construction

.... And that's not the end of the story.
Me finding Jesus or being saved, that is.
The story did not stop and the happy ending start when I cried my soul out to Jesus on the church floor that day. If it had, then I guess everyone would get saved wouldn't they? A life without suffering. A daily guarantee of comfort. It's sticking it out - this Christian faith - when life gets really hard and too much for us to understand. That's when we see what we're made of.
If there's any substance.
Anyone that tells you finding Jesus will make your life rosy is lying to you. A few months in you may want to find them and high -five their face.
And then ask for forgiveness.
It's not rosy. It's not white picket fences. It's not a whole, smiling family. It's not a place where jobs are never lost, bills are always paid, Target trips happen every two weeks, kids stay drug free, and husbands never cheat.

Nope.
You're not in heaven just yet.
You have the Hope but life right here can still throw mud in your face and drag you into a pit of crazy. The difference is - Jesus has a rope that doesn't break. You just have to hang on. Tight.

No one really warned me about that. I think some tried to, in a really nice good Christian way, but i wish someone would have just quit trying to be so nice and said straight up, "You've spent the last 18 years in all this crap and your family was in the same crap for at least 18 years before you and your husband and his family? Another twenty years of a different kind of crap. The consequences are still rolling in like waves.

Wear a life jacket."

Some of those waves weren't bad. A few feet. The kind I could boogie board over. But then others would come, tidal wave status, and I'd would watch my life get sucked right out from under me while I tried not to drown.

I wish I could say all these waves, especially the big ones, were of someone else's doing.
It's hard to look at yourself and know the role you have played in the crumbling of your own life. Oh but I did.
I gripped it sometimes with both hands, hurling down bricks with my words; leaving my fingers and relationships, damaged and bleeding.

A wise woman builds her home, but a foolish woman tears it down with her own hands. Proverbs 14:1

I was foolish. And the worst part is that I knew it. I knew it and i felt unable to stop it. I remember huddling on the floor, wailing, helpless, lost in an abyss of frustration and inadequacy, and then i would grab my own hair and start to pull it. I would drag my fingernails down my face to try and make myself bleed, try to make myself disappear. I would bang my head against the wall, eyes wild, screaming.

I was going crazy. I couldn't do it right. No one saw me.
I wasn't good enough.

The helplessness I would feel would wrap me in a straightjacket of fear so tight I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was coming undone.

Isaiah 1:17 says to "learn to do right." Know what that means? You also have to unlearn how to do wrong.

No one told me this either. I thought it would just happen. I thought all the badness would vanish and "poof!" in it's place would be all this shiny goodness. It was a shock to me to still struggle - almost more because now I knew better. I knew I had to be better.

Looking back, I can see how the Enemy must have laughed and laughed, using me and my life, as his personal game of dodge ball. There I stood in the center as he hurled, "ANGER" and "FUTILITY" and "DEFECTIVE" at my head. If those didn't work, out flew "ugly" and "fat" and "unwanted" and "slut". These would knock me down. These would leave me hardened; scar tissue all over. These would make me fight back.
Except I couldn't see the devil.
So I fought everyone else instead.
With my words. With my hands.
I tore down.
Until there was almost nothing left.

No one told me I could catch the ball. No one told me I didn't have to keep playing the game. No one told me all I had to do was stop and stand, stare him down with the Word and he would run from me. I was told things like, "This too shall pass" and "Just trust Jesus" but no one told me how to do that or what it meant.

And it's pretty simple really.
I choose to react with His words rather than mine.
Simple.
Not easy.
Just to clarify.

I wouldn't lie to you like that.

So, I have learned and I have unlearned.
Learn - to love my enemies. Unlearn - I don't verbally castrate every man that gets on my last nerve to prove to him I am just as good as he is if not better. (see the attitude there? Still a work in progress folks.)
Learn - to show mercy and give grace. Unlearn - If my feelings are hurt, I don't try to hurt back. I keep my mouth shut and sometimes, walk away so if it opens, no one will hear me.
Learn - to recognize jealousy and envy and ask God to help me with my heart. Unlearn - lashing out because I don't have what someone else does.
Learn - pride really does come before a big fall so I better wear a helmet if I'm going to keep it up. Unlearn - the universe is not named "Shannon" and everyone is going through something. Just love on them already and then the helmet is not needed.

I am happy to report, I no longer try to rip my face off with my fingernails (well, at least not very often). I no longer think my self worth is nothing and I try really really hard to avoid dodge ball.
I am not able to do this by pinning a zillion personal affirmations from Pinterest, although I do think I am a little awesome and ya know - God thinks so too.
It is not made possible in watching every episode of Oprah although I wouldn't mind attending her "Favorite Things" episode. That would maybe help. For a bit.
I am not following instructions from Dr. Phil, or Dr. Spock, or Dr. Anyone.
And while exercising certainly makes me feel better about how I look in my jeans and yes, my insides flow along a calmer river, I cannot run 24 hours a day. (Nor would i want to)

What has given me back my life? What has left me a hammer and nails and some 4x4's that aren't all dinged up and termite ridden? What is telling me how to rebuild a life that I tore down a long time ago?
It's not a mystery and is so simple I am sure for the self-proclaimed intelligent and perspicacious, there may be some eye-rolling and nose snorting.
but guess what?

I really don't care.

This is what has worked for me. And for countless others.
It is honest. And truth. And mercy. And grace. And life. And it is page after page of love in its purest form.

The bible. My happy ending. Under construction.
Right now.
and forever.

What is my darkest anyway?

On my facebook page, my cover photo displays a heart with this in the middle, "Shannon - I have loved you at your darkest. I have always loved you. - God."

It's beautiful to me and ever so comforting. I don't know how dark your darkness is, but mine is intense. The kind of dark that makes you wonder if you still exist or if you are floating into nothing. dark. alone. small.

So what is my darkest anyway?
And where did God say that? Because it sounds surprising hip and not very King Jamesey.

When i think of my darkest, my first thoughts are of all the bad things that have happened to me. Things in which i had no control. Things that make me shudder and whimper and want to puke. Those things are black. Yes, yes they are. But are those my darkest? I mean i can claim them as parts of my life but i can't own them as my own. They are things some other evil did to me. And yes, God loved me there (that's a whole other post)or I would not have made it through ... But what are MY things? What dark did I spread? Because if God loved me at my darkest - He loved me in my own darkness.

Not as easy to write.

But i know what they are.

All the times i tore someone down with my words, peeling their feelings away from their heart, layer by layer with each swipe of my sharp tongue. I could stop there and it would be enough. Don't scoff. Don't say,"that's not so bad". Because it is. Oh yes it is dear friends. Still not convinced?
How would you like to hear..
I don't love you anymore. * You're getting fat. * I wish you had never been born. * Why do you make my life so hard? It would be easier if you were just gone. * I hate you. * You make me sick. * I should just kill myself and everyone would be happier. *I hate me. * You're not my friend anymore. *

Can you feel it friends? Can you feel the darkness slithering up on you with each statement? I can. Some of these i have said. Some have been said to me. This is dark.

Or how about lust? Oh i know... lust?! What's the big deal? The world makes it so easy to lust doesn't it? We see so much skin, it's become commonplace. We tell ourselves it's ok if we look, if our spouse looks, because no one wants to be THAT girl - the one that isn't "secure" right? The one that must have self-esteem issues. The one that is a prude and no fun. We want to be the cool chick.

lie. lie. lie.
It's amazing how we fight for so many things but when it comes to our marriages we throw boundaries out the window, we practically shove them out the door, and then we wonder why things fall apart later? But i digress. That is another post as well.
What about MY lust? Looking too long at someone that is not mine. Allowing myself to think, to imagine, what it would be like. Fantasy. I know. It's just fantasy, right? It's not real. It's just in my head. And here's the best part - no one else has to know. Oh secrets secrets. How you trap us from the inside out. It's dark here friends. My dark. Because the more you lust, the more unsatisfied you become. The more your spouse starts to irritate you. The more you notice his nose hairs aren't trimmed and did he really just fart again?! He didn't take out the trash and he bought you flowers but geez, doesn't he know by now what my favorite is? The itch spreads. The complaint list grows. Distance becomes reality. You can both feel it. Gratefulness has been replaced bitterness. Gentleness for abrasion. And it all started in my head.

There are other darks. The Enemy is doing the happy dance right now with placards being raised to remind me of them all. "Smoker!" "Drunk!" "Rude!" "Unforgiving!" "Impatient!" "Road-rage freak!" "Shopper at Target when there is no money!"
You get it.

So I'm going to stop now and move into the light. You know, the love part.
Where does it say God loved me at my darkest?
It's a paraphrase folks. Of the coolest kind. This is what it does say ...
But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

Now for some of you, the whole "sin" word puts your panties in a bunch. That's kind of your issue. Sin. Wrong-doing. Bad choices. Whatever package you want to wrap it in - it's still sin. You know it. How? Because you felt guilty when you did it and some really bad stuff went down afterward.

For some of us - for me - love has not been easy. I have always always had the fear of doing something wrong and i would lose it. This has been my truth. More than twice. Losing love. Because i wasn't worth it.

But here - in this verse - a new truth.
While i was still a sinner.... while i lusted, while i tore down, while i was drunk, while i was high, while i screamed there is no God, while i had sex with people i did not know, while i took my frustrations out on my kids, while i nagged, while i was selfish, while i laughed when someone else was down, while i did all these and more - he loved me anyway. he wanted me anyway. he waited for me anyway.

darkness. gave way to light.