My confession

It's foolishness, I know,... seriously, I know. But tonight I was praying in tongues and a snippet of me was saying "so...does this mean I'm not totally blacklisted?"

So, despite the fact -or maybe because of the fact - that I've chased away my readership - I'm going to use this as my confessional.

Tonight I confessed all the stupid things that I think are holding me back from God.

I stepped back into a habit of misleading people. I know what to say, and how to say it, to get you to back away - whether it's the entire truth or not. I'm not lying about important things, just things that help me get through the day with fewer questions. But for me, the important part is that I've lied. Which fortunately or unfortunately depending on your perspective has given me a very guilty conscience about things. The unfortunate part to it is that I've completely walked away from some friendships because I'm afraid they don't believe me about things I have been truthful about.

I've been selfish. Every single child I've had in my home, I could have done more for. I was just too self-involved to really focus on them and drop myself enough to give them everything I had. At the same time, especially with Little One, I let my issues with her issues, get the best of me. 100%.

A song that was sung at Spanish church tonight put words to my next sin. I neglected God.
When Little One came along, I was so overwhelmed with issues and parenting that I began neglecting God. I didn't read as much, pray as much, my piano/prayer time was practically non-existent. And it still is. Until somewhere in there, I just quit trying. Life was too much to handle to make room for all the work that a relationship with God takes.

Then, and most strongest, is the shame. I feel deeply shamed every time I'm around certain people. I can't get past the idea that in their sin, I'm the reason they stumbled. And there's nothing I can do to change or fix it. Something special about me, just messes people up. Ain't it grand being unique?

I hope the Holy Spirit said something good tonight. I hope God listened, and answers the prayer. Whatever it was. I don't want to live like this. Something's gotta give.

Walk away

Oh for cryin' out loud!

How hard it is to just walk away? To just give up, shrug off all the things I just can't seem to 'get', and walk away? Every attempt I'm making just seems so pointless.
Every prayer,
Every song,
Every scripture I read,
Every church service.
Why can't I just stop? Why can't I just walk away?
I get that maybe God wants to teach me something - but what if I never make it? I can't give what I can't figure out. I hate being such a puny broke up mess.

It's a mess.

What is it that keeps me from walking away? I've absolutely given up on myself. I can't get it. The only thing I keep waiting on is that maybe, just maybe, God's going to pull His crazy magic string and the world will make sense again.

Fraud

If I'm going to be saved, if I'm going to be a Christian, I want to know it deep down in the fiber of my being. And I use to know it. Or I certainly thought I did. But now, it's a nasty mess of "If I am, tell me what it is that I'm not doing. How do I make this right?"
I don't want to doubt. Even when I feel alone, and broken, I want to know the foundation is still there.

Somewhere in all these questions, I... well, I may have only convinced myself that this is true, but it seems like if I could only know the foundation was there - I could hold on. I could easily proclaim that God is a healing God, and that if I pray, God might hear my prayer and answer. But without the foundation - I can only think that that might not be true.

Even with my worship, as we sang the song service Sunday I ended up leading the songs and couldn't help but apologize to God, I can't imagine He'd want my worship. RWK in their comment had it exactly right when they used the word "fraud". That's exactly what it is. And that word makes it far worse than trying to believe something, or do something you don't feel. Because the word fraud implies that you're misleading others.

I don't want to mislead anyone - so let me make it clear.
Don't follow me.

Communion

I'm afraid of communion.

I've abstained the last two times we've had it at church the last few months just because I'm afraid of taking it 'wrong'. I know the logical answers, I know the rebuttal to how foolish the very idea is. Yet I keep going back and seeing Jesus say not to drink unworthily - and I just can't bring myself to say I'm worthy.

Especially the last several months of this downward spiral.

Here's a pretty well kept secret - about three months back, purely by accident, I discovered a lump. After fidgeting around with it for a few weeks I finally went to a doctor. She discovered a lump as well and scheduled me for a mammogram.

In the nearly 2 weeks wait between going to the doctor, mammogram and then a sonogram, I just kept thinking about the last time I took communion. And I kept thinking that this was really how the cookie would crumble. This is really where my proof was going to be. I was going to end up absorbed with doctors and medicine for awhile just trying to get rid of something I pretty well gave myself. By taking something holy, and claiming it for myself.

It's a lot to think.


Ultimately, the sonogram results were immediate (and good). Yes, there's a lump, but it's nothing to be concerned about.


But seeing just how quickly I imagined God striking me left me even more uneasy. I want to know I'm saved. I may have said the right things to 'get saved', and done some of the right things to 'act saved', but God looks on the heart to show whether you really 'are saved'. And as I've said before - I think my hearts just plain messed up.

Coming back out.

I have never stopped writing. Only now instead of being relieved that the world in general isn't watching my crazy spiral into oblivion, I find myself frustrated at hiding it, and hitting save then closing the browser without publishing the post.

So I'm publishing again. I'm not going to publish everything I've written all month long, because some of it is just too dark - but I'm publishing what I think might be safe.

If I'm going to keep up this dark empty talk very long I'm going to have to find some place on this blog to say what I'm about to say:

The foundation is - God is good. Even when I can't find Him, even when I'm alone and broken and afraid. God's still good.

He hasn't lost me, even when I've lost Him.

And despite all the things I believe about myself, or my ability to hold a relationship with Christ - I believe that not searching for God is the worst mistake a person could possibly make.

Darkness

Just a clip from 97 Seconds with God.

I want to discuss how God spoke to Abram in the end of the chapter. Afterwhat appeared to have been some fairly casual conversations (if such a thing is possible with God) Abram is instructed to prepare a sacrifice. Then verse 12 and 13 say, "As the sun was setting, Abram fell into a deep sleep, and a thick and dreadful darkness came over him. Then the LORD said to him …"

Did you ever notice how God appeared? I've written about it before. It was in the midst of a thick and dreadful darkness. The stage for their discussion was not the angelic yellow glow that most movies or stories associate with God. No chubby angels played harps. No sunlight blinded Abram. Instead, a thick and dreadful darkness came over him.

What's terrifying about that is that I think God still works that way sometimes. I might like to believe that when I find myself surrounded by what feels like eternal night and get lost in a dark patch of life, God is not speaking then. But this verse suggests otherwise. I might think I am alone in the pit. That the night is something I have to get through before God will speak. But in this chapter, thick, dreadful darkness was His medium. It was His vehicle to share His message.

You might be in dark times right now. You might be in dreadful times next month. I hope that even in the midst of the long night, you will pause and ask, if like Abram, this is God's way of speaking purpose into your life.

When empty pours.

Empty. Forget one last drop, forget the tiny little bit you're holding onto. Cause it's not there. It's empty. No more. Nothing. Nada.

empty.

And yes, I did mean to make it a small 'e' rather than capitalize it - it seemed fitting.

And yet today, I taught Sunday School, and it went well. I led a song service, and it did alright. I made it through yet another day and didn't dig a hole, crawl into it, and pray for the dirt to fall back on me.

It made me think of the widow woman whose little jug of oil was almost gone. She was going to feed her child and herself one last meal and then die. But along came Elijah, and next thing she knows, she's used the last of her oil, but for some reason, it's still pouring oil. And it didn't run out. Empty vessel, still pouring.

That's what I feel like.

Only it doesn't feel miraculous.

I get what RWK was saying to me in a comment on their blog. That maybe these times teach you something. Because I get it. I spend every waking moment telling God that I don't have any more left in me. I'm done, I'm gone, I'm dry. So dry it hurts. And then He dumps me out and pours oil for someone then sets me back down, still dry.

In church today, I was thinking about this after I had successfully completed a Sunday school class. And the song came to mind "Bring Your Vessels Not A Few". And I couldn't help but tell God that I'd rather be like that miracle of oil. Where one pot of oil didn't just keep pouring. But all the vessels that could be gathered were brought, and filled. Abundance.


Is this really the only way I could learn that without Him I'm nothing? Is this really the only way I could learn to solely depend on Him rather than myself? Is this really only way He can teach me all the other stupid painful things I'm thinking now? Really?

Someone on RWK's blog linked to an article about Mother Theresa. I read the article, and unfortunately connected with it entirely. But it nearly rips your heart out to imagine that she felt this way seemingly right up until she died. All those years. All those years? To feel like this? I don't know how she stood it.

More than anything, I just want to know that this has an end. That it won't hurt like this forever, that the emptiness will go away and He'll give me something, anything to replace it. I'm tired of being broken, empty, and hurting.
I want to know this is a tunnel and not a pit.

Verses and posts

So earlier this week I discovered this post "3 O'clock in the morning".

It really shed new light on what I'm not feeling. The idea that someone else is feeling as empty and as nothing as I am and yet they still think they're saved. They think this time is useful. They seem pretty sure that God hasn't given up on them.

So I wondered....

Then last night I posted on the secondary blog I administer on with Larry/OneSided. It's a blog that is slowly being written on line with a new chapter each month. There's not many contributors yet - maybe one day it will grow (maybe if I paid it a bit more attention).

But the chapter I posted on was "Chapter 10: Only One Drop Left".

Then as I was crawling into bed for the evening, suddenly "Revelation 3:8 & 18" came into my head. I laid in bed thinking it was totally worthless to get up - nothing good and inspirational, or hope carrying could come from Revelation. (Reading about a future home in Heaven isn't inspiring if you think you might not make it.)

Finally, with a sigh I got up and pulled out my bible. This is what I found.

I know thy works: behold, I have set before thee an open door,
and no man can shut it: for thou hast a little strength, and hast kept my word,
and hast not denied my name. Revelation 3:8

I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that
thou mayest be rich; and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, and that
the shame of thy nakedness do not appear; and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve,
that thou mayest see. Revelation 3:18

I went back to bed then, talking to God, asking questions, listening to the silence and mostly just wondering.

#3&4 leave.

Friday the 13, at 3:30am two little girls under the age of two were brought screaming to my home by CPS. Wednesday the 25th at 6:00pm two little girls under the age of two were taken screaming from my house. Darling (22mos) and Precious (6mos)

This is the 3rd 'let go' I've had to do, and by far the worst. The oldest knew something was different and got upset while we were still at daycare as we collected all of their things from the daycare. The screaming commenced from there, and could still be heard as the cps worker drove away nearly 30 minutes later. We did calm some on the drive home from daycare, but the cps worker picked Darling up once we got home and she just started screaming. Precious, saw her sister screaming and joined in.

It's just one of those things you remember, and wonder how long it would take to forget. The crying and reaching for me, snot running from her nose, damp tracks where you see the tears have traced down Darlings cheeks.

All that said, they are being returned to their biological family and, assuming everyone involved has made the right decisions - I'm sure Darlin' and Precious are much happier now. I hope they get over the trauma and fear of the last 12 days. May they never experience anything like this again, for the rest of their lives.

Jesus, here's two more kids to hold.