I’m All Inside Out

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October eleventh. A tiny crumble trickled down into the abyss of memory loss. Just a tiny crumb. The islands of my personality went from full color animation to unsaturated stillness. Joy, Fear, Sadness, Disgust, and Anger went into full panic, fighting over the control board.

“Find the happiness. Find the silver lining,” Joy instructed.

“What will happen now? How can we even live? Quick! Build up walls!” Fear paniced.

“Life is meaningless. Just pull the plug on it all,” moaned Sadness.

“The very thought of him with them. Bleh. Just puke. Right now,” spat Disgust.

“What the BLEEPEDITY BLEEP!?!? How dare he! He’s goin’ DOWN!” yelled Anger.

Over and over and back and forth. Fear pushed Sadness away from the controls. Anger shoved Fear aside. Disgust slinked in front of Anger. Joy tried desperately to calm everyone down.

After several days of this, Joy realized she had to take action. She began to bring up core memories… the important and joy filled memories that shaped the last 12 years of my life. She played them across the screen of my mind. But as they played, Sadness crept up to them and placed her cold blue fingers on each.

I began to see the memories through the hindsight eyes of reality and, one by one, the islands of personality have crumbled completely into the abyss of memory loss. Family Island… crash. Trust Island… crash. Friendship Island… crash. Goof-ball Island… crash. Introvert Island… crash. Parenting Island… Trickle, trickle, crumble, crash. Even Music and Writing Islands’ grayed edges began to collapse a little. Faith Island, while staying full color, quakes from time to time.

I’ve been left to look at the world void of much personality. I have no human reality on which to base my interactions in this world. I’m left empty and vulnerable and confused.

But a beautiful thing is happening. Bright orange construction signs are dotting the landscape of my mind. Islands are being built. Slowly, new personality islands are taking the place of the old. It’s a tedious process that has only just begun, but it’s light at the end of the tunnel.

Sadness has sidled up next to me, wrapped her arms around my heart and offered genuine empathy. She is teaching me the value of sadness… the depth that it brings to life… the lessons that it teaches… the growth that comes from it.

I noticed an “Opening Soon” sign on one of the new islands a couple days ago. Bold letters across the top read, EMPATHY ISLAND. As I look at the world around me, I see walking hurts. I want to reach out and hug them. I want to say, “I don’t know you, and I may not know the exact pain you’re feeling right now, but I know pain and I just want you to know you are loved.”

I’m not sure yet what’s coming soon to the other islands under construction, but I look forward to finding out. I look forward to getting to know this new defined me. There’s been a shift in the universe, and I am the epicenter.

My Psalm 73

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I know that God is good to good Christians.
But me? Eh. I flounder around in confusion.
I find my soul enviously angry at men
Who enjoy the pleasures of adultery without consequence.

They flirt their way into bed with luring women, but feel no pain.
They dine and laugh as her earrings dangle and brush her neck.
Their heart skips a beat when she texts, and they smirk in glee.
They sneak into private places with her and press their body against hers.
Then they scamper home to kiss the wife and pat the kids on the head.
They feel the thrill of secrecy, and say, “Who will know? God can’t see.”
These are the adulterous men, always at ease, living the life.

I have kept my heart clean and pure in vain.
I am the one left crumbled in pain.
I am told that I am unloved and unwanted.

But when I truly try to understand this paradox,
I am dizzied with the magnitude of injustice
Until I fall on my face before God.
Then I understand the impending end of adulterous men.

God, you put them on a slippery slope
And bring their lives to ruin.
They are swept away in a moment’s notice,
Engulfed by the explosion of terror.
Like one who wakes from a nightmare, hating the demons,
You despise them.

When I was bitter and cried, “No fair!”,
I was ignorant and acted like a caged dog toward you.

And yet, you’re here, beside me
Holding my hand in yours.
You guide me with your divine wisdom.
And you welcome me into your glorious kingdom.
I have no one but you, God.
And there is no one here on earth that I would rather have than you.
My heart may shatter into pieces
And my body may crave the arms of a man,
But you are the strength of my heart and the eternal answer to all my needs.

All those who are far from you will take their last breath
And those who are unfaithful to you will meet their end.
But for me… it is good for me to be near God.
I have made him my safe place
So that I can shout his works from the top of my lungs.

 

 

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Called to Divorce

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I’ve been tossing around the concept of being called to divorce quite a lot lately. In all my percolating, I’ve managed to pound out these somewhat disconnected thoughts. I’m not sure how much sense they make, but they speak to my heart and whisper His reassuring love in my ears.


What does it mean to be called to divorce?

I don’t mean like being called to the mission field or called to preach to the unreached people groups.

I also do not mean that God causes sin or causes suffering. I don’t believe that God calls people to the “dark side”. But I do believe that God is sovereign and that He calls us to specific responses to the sin and suffering in our world. I do believe that He is the defender of the weak, the father to the fatherless, and the provider for our very sustenance. And I absolutely believe that when we are faithful to His calling toward a response, He is faithful to not only care for us but to lift us up to higher places than we had ever dreamed.

While I do not believe that God randomly calls people to divorce their spouse, I do believe that He most definitely calls people to respond to sin that drowns out the divine in the most sacred of human relationships, and sometimes that response is divorce. Not out of hatred or revenge, but out of love for God above all else and love for the spouse as a human being and brother/sister in Christ. Love for God and love for others should be the basis for everything we do, and sometimes love is tough and stern and stands its ground. It says, “You are in sin, and I cannot be a part of that.” It says, “If this is your choice, then I must hand you completely over to God. May He bring you to the end of yourself and grant you mercy and grace.” This is what I’m talking about when I say “called to divorce”.

The church, as an organized institution, has a way of taking all the individual acts in the world and throwing them into one of two columns, “Righteous” or “Evil”, and then they stick to it… you know, like in-concrete, by-the-book rules.

Killing – evil

Bible reading – righteous

Tattoos – evil

Attending church – righteous

Divorce – evil

We do this because we believe that God sees our world in black and white, and while there is some truth to that, there is also a flip side. How many times can you think of that God did something or commanded someone else to do something that we would deem absolutely evil?

God commanded Abraham to kill his son.

God commanded the Israelites to plunder and pillage and kill their way through the land of Canaan.

God commanded Hosea to marry an adulteress.

Jesus Himself broke one of the Ten Commandments when he “worked” on the Sabbath.

God, in fact, pre-ordained the murder of the world’s most innocent man.

God doesn’t  judge a single act as either inherently righteous or evil, because He sees the back story and His supreme, sovereign purpose. He sees the needs of those involved in the act… both the doers and the receivers. He sees the depths of their hearts. He sees the thought patterns in their minds. We humans do not see this so we have set for ourselves sure, hard rules because we cannot act in divine wisdom as God can.

But God has not left us to figure it all out on our own. He gave us the Spirit and His still small voice, if we would just listen. When our eyes are locked on His divine gaze of love, we have a direct connection to His divine wisdom. He gives us a peace that truly surpasses human understanding, and we can confidently act, even if the act is conventionally in the “evil” category.

Erika Morrisson, in her book Bandersnatch, ventures that there are words in our human languages that need to be seen from the divine side or “crossed over”.

“It seems that on the other side of Jesus, so many things and thoughts are the exact opposite of definitions already established…. Crossing over is the antidote to the systems and traditions of humankind and simply means that a word or idea or a value has made the journey from being defined by and rooted in the world to being defined by and rooted in Jesus…. Christ’s flesh is the gateway to understanding how the kingdom defines what it means to be a human living on this earth while bringing divine circumstances into the here and now…. But Jesus is not in competition with the earth’s terms; it’s not necessary for the earth’s terms to be wrong in order for Jesus’ to be right or vise versa. This isn’t an either-or ideological war, but rather a space to breathe in the free air of paradoxical both-and. What the earth offers just isn’t the whole story. The earth only has one-half of the paradox and Jesus has the other, and although they seem to contradict, I believe they are designed to live in tension to one another. Each gives its counterpart the integrity and brimming value of its full definition.”

What would it look like to cross over the word divorce? What if we looked at divorce in that free space of both-and?

God was adamant when he said, “I hate divorce.” He really, truly does HATE divorce. Divorce means that His perfect, beautiful plan, of one man loving his wife in purity and respect and one woman supporting and adoring her husband in love and respect, is completely broken. It means that women and children are abandoned. It means that families are ripped apart, and this completely grieves the heart of the Creator of all things good.

When the Pharisees came to Jesus asking him about divorce, He reminded them of God’s perfect and beautiful plan of a loving and respectful relationship between one man and one woman. Not satisfied, they wanted to know why Moses commanded they use a certificate of divorce. “Because your hearts were hard,” He answered them. Men were kicking out their wives over burnt toast, so God, through Moses, protected the women by requiring the men to make it legal with a certificate of divorce.

In the beginning of the world when God had created paradise, placing Adam and Eve into the gorgeous Garden of Eden, His plan was for constant companionship with His creation and for them to have human companionship with each other. But then… sin. That companionship with God and with each other was tainted. The consequence was their removal out of the sacred Garden. I think perhaps marriage is a metaphoric garden, created to be a form of perfect companionship. When that bond is tainted by unrepentant adultery, there is but one consequence… that is to be removed from the garden of marriage.

To allow the unrepentant adulterer to remain in the garden is to communicate that they can mix sin with divine, and that is just not true. Sin and divine are like oil and water. They cannot mix. The more sin in your system, the less room for divine, and if you continue to fill your vessel with sin over and over and over again, you lose your ability to hear the divine voice of the Spirit. Before you know it, you are living the life of an unbeliever, choosing the pleasures of the world over the glories of God.

In a lot of cases, you may not have a choice in the matter of divorce. When your spouse lives in the sin of adultery and chooses to leave you and continue on with someone else, what say do you have? It is that spouse who is separating and choosing to end the marriage. Paul addresses this in I Corinthians 7, and he answers, “Let it be so. You are not enslaved.” These words give me an unexplainable peace. It’s an acceptance of reality mixed with a freedom of permission. “It is what it is. Go. Be free.”

Perhaps in times like these, God wishes to split the one flesh, so that He might deal with the individual fleshes separately. He has discipline and consequences, and hopefully restoration, in line for the adulterer, but protection and provision in mind for the abandoned. This response to sin is a complicated mix of justice and mercy, and in all the aspects of God’s divine character, it is one hundred percent righteous and holy.

And so I proudly brand my forehead with the dreaded capital D for “divorced”. It is a proclamation to the world that I have been set free from a relationship created for divine but drowned by sin and am now infinitely protected and provided for by a God who loves me beyond my wildest imaginations. I am called to that freedom. I am called to that protection. I am called to that provision.

I am called to divorce.

 

 

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It Just Hurts

17435_269460072804_1280095_nJust to warn you, this post is very much human, down to the core. You won’t find anything divinely profound here. Just raw rawness.

If you follow me on Facebook, there’s a pretty big chance you know the main idea of what my life is like right now. It’s not very pretty. In fact, it’s pretty darn messed up. A big ol’ M-E-S-S.

I’d like to say I saw it coming, but I did not. My husband has always treated me in the most loving way. A couple months ago, he began to act depressed and said a lot of confusing things about questioning our marriage, wanting to love me but doesn’t, and messing up so bad it can’t be fixed. I was scared and confused. Within a couple weeks, he told me that he has been spending the last seven years trying to escape our marriage through multiple affairs. He chose to leave me and be with someone else.

So reality is pretty much non-existent right now. I thought we were a happy couple and that, whatever came our way – even infidelity – we’d be ok, because we truly loved each other. Well, apparently, that was not reality. And when your whole life and a very large portion of your identity is wrapped up in that belief, you’re completely floored and thrown off kilter when that reality rug is pulled out from under you.

Some days are very, very bad. Some days are very, very good. Most days are somewhere in between. There’s such a myriad of emotions and desires. I can’t even make sense of it all. I’m disgusted and heartbroken and angry. Yet, I would give anything right now to be held in his arms and hear him whisper, “I like us”. I want him to listen to me cry and then help me fix the mess.

But instead I’m here… alone… trying to figure out a new life. Trying to figure out why the van is making weird noises, why the microwave isn’t working right, how to finish all the house projects, how much is owed on each bill and when it’s due… plus just how to continue the everyday things I’ve always done. Even just the basic things like eat and sleep.

And I’m left with four kids who are confused and angry. (He does spend time with them each week, so he’s not completely out of their lives.) How does one help their kids digest this when all they’ve known is mom and dad being happily in love with each other?

A couple years ago, we had a conversation about divorce with the kids. One of them asked, “Will you ever get unmarried?” Aaron and I both assured them that we made a promise to each other, and we will be together forever. What the heck???? How do you help your kids adjust to a new reality when you promised them something else?

I know it’s not possible, but I really just want to go back in time when I believed he loved me and always would. I want to go back to being his proud wife. I want to go back to him leaving notes for me most mornings. I want to go back to curling up behind him in bed. I want to go back to him whispering, “I like us”. I just want to go back to him. I miss him. A lot. Death hurts, even when he’s still physicaly alive.

A Little Game of He Said/He Said

wash in truthWhen words cut to the very heart of your soul, there is only one way to heal, and that is to replace them with truth. It’s time for a little game of he said/He said.

he said…
I don’t love you anymore.

HE said…
You are loved with an everlasting love that is steadfast, and nothing can separate you from that love. (Jer. 31:3, Psalms, Romans 8:35-39)

he said…
I’ve been trying to escape you.

HE said…
I’ve been pursuing you since the moment of creation. (Proven over and over in His Word.)

he said…
I choose someone else over you.

HE said…
I chose you. (John 15:16)

he said…
I don’t know if I ever wanted you.

HE said…
I have wanted you since before time began, and I prayed for you over 2,000 years ago, that you would be one with me. (John 17:20-21)

he said…
You are not attractive enough.

HE said…
I created you as a beautiful image of Myself. (Genesis 1:27)

he said…
You are not important enough for me to truly get to know you deeply.

HE said…
I know everything about you from the hairs on your head to the thoughts in your thinker. I know you inside and out and back again, and you are precious to me. (Luke 12:7, Psalm 139)

he said…
I do not take pride and joy in you.

HE said…
You are fearfully and wonderfully made, and everything that I make is good. I am proud of you, My Creation. (Psalm 139:13-16)

Hear, oh my heart. Hear these words. Let them seep into every jagged crack, filling in those broken places, making you whole. He will rebuild you and make beauty from ashes. He is God, and He can be trusted.

When Rotten Lettuce Condemns

lettuceWe had only twenty minutes before we had to be out the door and on our way to church. I rushed through the kitchen on the way to the laundry room to desperately dig through the baskets looking for clean underwear for my four year old. As I passed the end of the kitchen counter, I stopped in my tracks.

Is that…? Ew. It is. Right there on the edge of the counter, eight inches above the trash can sat my lidded glass bowl which once had a hand full of lettuce past its prime. It had been removed from the fridge and set there, waiting to be dumped into the trash. Life continued and I kept thinking I’d dump it right before the trash gets taken out or the next time I load the dishwasher.

I don’t know how a bowl of lettuce can go ignored for that long, but it did. My incredible glass bowl now held a blackish, slimy liquid, a perfect illustration of decomposition and the life cycle of the fruit fly.

Gross, I know. But what’s even grosser is what happened the moment I noticed it.

“Are you kidding?” my brain yelled at me. “Can you not even manage to clean your own dishes? Look at this house! Just look at it! You’re a complete failure. You can never keep it clean. You suck at parenting too. I mean, if you were a good parent, then your children would always pick up after themselves. You would be working alongside them, teaching them how to clean the kitchen and mop the floor and clean the bathroom. You would all merrily sing like Snow White and the seven dwarfs as you sweep those little puffs of dust out the backdoor. And speaking of your kids… what makes you think you can teach them at home? You fail everyday at that. I mean really, think about all those holes in your teaching. And now you’re going out the door to church where you will smile to every well meaning greeter and lie through your teeth that you’re “doing good”. You can’t even manage to make friends. You’re incredibly awkward and just plain weird. Besides, how can you be a true friend and invite them over when you have rotting lettuce on your kitchen counter?”

Yeah, it was that bad. I fought back tears on the way to church, pouted through Sunday school (being sure to hide it with my smile), and guilted my way through the church service. Why can’t I just get it right? Why am I such a failure in life? I condemned myself over and over and over again. I just want to be successful in something. I just need one thing… just one thing that I attempt to actually succeed… to be at least half way perfect.

I tried to pray about it this evening as I scrubbed the dishes and counters. But I didn’t even know how to pray or what to say. Do I ask Him to provide help? Do I ask Him to teach me to “man up”? Do I ask Him to show me what to cut out of my life, so I have time to do the most important things? (But there are no extras to cut out.) I just didn’t know.

But the Spirit did. He always does. He knew what my heart really needed. Romans 8 began to slowly pour over me and the tears trickled down.

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“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.”

“And we know that in all things (even bowls of rotten lettuce) God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

“Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one.”

And then the glorious part… What can separate us from His love? Bowls of rotting lettuce? Never. Dirty kitchen floors? Never. Failed attempts at producing a substantial income from home? Never. Imperfect parenting? Never. Half written novels? Never. In fact…

I am more than a conqueror in all these things through Him who loves me.

Did you catch that? I don’t have to be perfect to be loved. Who condemns me? No one.

In all my imperfectness, I am loved.

That last sentence should be repeated out loud in an awed whisper.

In all my imperfectness, I am loved.