Intersections and God Orchestrated Moments

God has a crazy way of intersecting people’s lives. It never ceases to amaze me and leave me in complete awe. Today one of those intersections happened. Today, I re-connected with someone who God placed in my life 33 years ago.


Let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we? At 12 years old, circumstances led to me being placed in the care of a babysitter who for the first time in my life took me to church. It was summer and there was a day camp. She asked if I wanted to go, and wanting something to do, I said yes. Enter George, youth pastor, into the life a very confused and frightened little girl.

Eventually, that little girl learned to trust this man and started to share some things with him, asking hard, probing questions. Questions that he was never trained to answer. Questions for which there really is no good answer. But answers he got, answers straight from the Holy Spirit to the core of that little girl’s heart. Answers that resonated and stayed with her in the darkest of days. Answers that spoke to the value that God placed on her life. Answers that only God could have provided. “You will walk through the fire and come out smelling like a rose,” George said with words that whispered hope into a heart broken. A rose that was a name unknown to George, but known intimately by God. A piercing look of his eyes into hers, a look that said, “I hurt for you, but the promise is that there is hope.” A look that resonated and stayed and whispered in the dark.

The man moved away with his family and the little girl’s world broke, shattered into a million shards – her hope was gone. But was it? No, those whispered words, the looks that saw the brokenness, the hands that held without hurting, without expecting more… the words remained even though the man was gone.

Many years passed. The little girl grew up and did really hard work. And in the midst of the dark places that she had to journey through, the words continued to whisper in her heart. And in the darkness, she held on to the words and saw light at the end of the tunnel and hope for the future. Hope that God had good plans for her, all because a man listened to the whisper of the Holy Spirit and reached out to connect his life with a hurting child.

One day, the woman decided she had to find this man who was such an important part of her life, who impacted her in ways she knew he could never imagine. A random Google search and a list of names. A heartfelt letter written to a name on a computer screen. In that crazy God way, her first attempt at contacting this man after so many years was rewarded. The name on the computer screen was indeed the George from her past. A long distance email relationship ensued, letters on a screen forming words, bridging lost time and forging a new relationship.

This youth pastor, now a counselor, kept her up to date on his continued work for the kingdom. She starts a new journey, as a volunteer counselor. This journey led to a step of faith to become licensed. Not knowing where this journey will lead, she follows the call placed on her heart. God reveals more and more of the past to her, always tempering the pain with hope, by being involved in the details as only He can. By showing her just exactly where He was during the darkest hours. By showing her His heart for the hurting and allowing her to grow by serving, by using her pain to show others the light and hope she had been given.

A funny thing happened to the woman. She realized that God had given her the same passion as the man who impacted her life so many years before. She pondered these things in her heart, giving them over to God, sharing his passion for the hurting, moving and inspiring her journey toward counseling.

A week long conference, an email saying she’d be somewhat close, could they meet. A tentative response with a maybe, schedules being what they are and all. He’d love to – if it could work out. The week was fast approaching and she, in her busyness of getting ready, forgot to email, forgot to remind him that the week was approaching. A last minute email saying she was going to be there in a few days. He had plans already, but they changed – he was going to be in the same town at the exact right time to meet.

A crazy, intersected life, only orchestrated by God thing!

The meeting that followed… indescribable. Sharing my heart with his, affirming that God did indeed use him powerfully. Thanking him for his obedience, his words, his life intersecting with mine. And a new possibility on the horizon.

God intersects our lives in ways we can never imagine. The lesson learned is that God knows the impact, I just need to follow in obedience. This meeting, like the ones so many years before, will reside in my heart and provides me with peace and joy that surpasses all understanding.

Bringing Jesus to Work

On Friday, God provided another super cool “God Thing” for me to focus on. Two of my girlfriends came to my classroom after school to help me hang posters, organize, collate, and file. First, even asking for help was a big deal, but what happened because of that is something only God could have orchestrated.

We were all busy working and chatting about both the important and the mundane. I kept thinking that my custodian was probably waiting for us to finish so she could come in and work. She popped her head in to check out what was going on and I told her it was fine if she came in to clean while we were working. She asked who my friends were and what we were doing. I told her that they came to help me get organized and that they were my accountability partners. She replied that accountability partners was a mouthful and said it was nice of them to come and help me. She cleaned up my desks and then left. Within seconds she was back saying, “Okay, you got me curious, I need to know what an accountability partner is.” I explained my take on what we did and then the girls added their input into exactly what it is we do together. As we talked, she came into the room and we all sat down on the top of the desks. She asked what church we went to and we told her LifePoint. She said that she goes there, thus creating an automatic connection. We talked about a lot of different things: her new marriage, biblical counseling, her take on women friends and how she did not like “hen parties” where women talk of nothing but meaningless comparisons. We talked about how God had brought the three of us together and that our accountability / friendship is based on being authentic and helping each other through life, that we don’t talk about other people or play the whole comparison game, and that we are each other’s support and truth tellers, even when it’s hard. She talked about how she might be interested in having women friends -- if it looked like that. We talked to her about ways she could get plugged into LifePoint. We shared our passion for helping each other and our passion for Jesus, as a relationship, not a religion. As she was leaving, I told her that she knew where I was and she was welcome to come and talk about anything, anytime. She sincerely thanked me and left. All of us were like, “Wow, that was awesome!” I could feel God in the midst of a public middle school classroom and I could see his hand in orchestrating the timing. We were supposed to meet at the park. I took a step of faith and asked my friends to come help me. God used that to touch one of his children. I am so blessed to have been a part of that.

Simply incredible. God orchestrated. Authentic moment.

God Things

I wrote this on Monday, but got so busy with the beginning of school, today was the first time I had to sit down and actually get it online.


Although I had planned to write more over the summer, it did not happen. I was busy reading, doing my grad school work, and playing with my family. I’ve been feeling pushed / pulled by the Holy Spirit to step out in some areas and take some risks. I’ve had ideas floating around in my head about things to focus on and what to let go. The quandary is finding the balance. Knowing myself, it is all too easy to try to do it all and leave the important stuff in the dust. So rather than have a to do list for writing, I had a to DON’T list: don’t stress the small stuff, don’t set unrealistic goals, don’t work all summer, don’t ignore the important stuff. For the most part I succeeded and I had the best summer I’ve had since becoming a teacher. I feel refreshed and (mostly) ready to start the year with new kids. I actually even slept most of the night last night. (That is huge because I never sleep well the night before the first day of school.)

But as a new year starts, I would like to write more. Writing makes me feel alive and it connects me with myself. Mostly, it is a purely selfish endeavor. But it is also where I am gifted, so how can I use that gift to serve others. In praying about my writing, an idea came to me to focus on “God things”… you know, those moments where you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has intervened into our everyday lives. Those moments where God shows up and takes over. Those moments when the impossible suddenly becomes possible. Those moments when what happened leaves you in awe. And those moments are not always earth shattering. Many times, for me at least, they are heartbreakingly simple. But in the simplicity, there is a profound sense of wonder that the God of the universe loves me that much, enough to intervene in the details of my life. It is often beyond description so trying to describe those “God things” in writing; well, it is a somewhat daunting task. However, it is a worthwhile task.

So, here is my first of hopefully many “God things” posts. I have had the absolute privilege of using my pain, my past, to help others in their journey toward freedom from the trauma of childhood abuse. The wounds are deep and sometimes seem impossible to heal. And that impossibility is where God things happen. Last week, a leap of faith was taken, a bridge to the unknown was crossed, and a precious child of God realized just how much God was in the moment. Fighting, sometimes with kicking and digging heels in, she took a step of obedience that crossed that invisible line of healing. I see it and others see it. I’m not sure she sees it yet, but I know from my own experience that she will look back on that step of faith as the turning point in her journey. When she shared with me I was in awe of God’s faithfulness and his mercy to those that have been so deeply wounded. I wanted to jump around and dance for joy for her breakthrough. But I was driving so I kind of had to pay attention to the road. But on the inside, I was dancing and shouting and laughing. I had a clear vision of the line she had just crossed and my whole self was filled to overflowing with joy for my friend. Her God thing became my God thing and I could sense the heavens were rejoicing with me. Yep, there was definitely a party going on in heaven on that day.

Her breakthrough is a God thing because only God could have shown her love in such tangible ways that were meaningful for her and her only. He loves her so much that he meets her right where she is in the exact way she needed it. It is beyond compare and I am so blessed that she shared it with me.

I’ll be posting more about when God things happen to me or others. I would love for you to share your God things with me. Together, we can serve others through what God does for us on a daily basis.

Born Blind

Jesus heals the blind man. He spits on the ground, he creates clay, wipes it over the blind man’s eyes and tells him to go and wash. How many times have I read or heard that story? How many times have I thought how cool is that, and how many times have I not let the story enter the depths of my heart?


Today I read the story again in John 9. I read the words, pondered the meaning, and let the story into my heart. Like most stories about Jesus, there is a depth beyond the simplicity. It is there for the blind to see, if they are willing to listen to Jesus with their heart.

So what was different for me in the story this time? I am struck by the blindness of those who have sight. Jesus refuted the common belief that the man was blind due to some kind of sin, as a form of punishment. Rather, his blindness would be used for good, to point to God. But the sight that was brought to the blind man revealed that blindness comes in many forms. Blindness of the heart, that is much harder to heal, much harder to see.

The story does not say that the man asked to be healed. Jesus put the clay on his eyes and told him to go wash. The man obeyed and thus was healed. If he had not listened or taken the action Jesus requested of him, he would still be blind and there would be no story. Those that knew the man started to question whether or not he was the blind beggar. They did not want to believe what they were seeing. It was easier for them to question what they could see right in front of them than to believe the miracle that had taken place. When the formerly blind man was brought before the Pharisees all that they would see was that it was the Sabbath day and surely one sent by God could not heal on the Sabbath. However, there were some present that wondered in their hearts if that wisdom was true. There were a few that saw with their eyes and believed with their heart. In their blindness and quest for answers that fit their expectations, the Pharisees brought in the blind man’s parents. Afraid for their place in the community and afraid of being thrown out of fellowship, the blind man’s parents, who could clearly see a miracle had happened, refused to give Jesus credit, but told the Pharisees to ask their son instead. They kept their place in the community and the synagogue, but they lost their sight.

The blind man who was no longer blind was brought again before the Pharisees. He refused to be silenced; he refused to hide behind tradition or expectations. His expectations for life had been shattered when the man called Jesus touched his eyes and told him to go wash. Life as he knew it would never be the same and he refused to be silent. He tells the Pharisees “Whether He is a sinner, I do not know; one thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” When questioned again, he pointed out the fact that they would not listen to him, they would not see. Called to the carpet by one they deemed unworthy, the Pharisees wrapped themselves in their expectations and closed their ears, eyes, and hearts to reality.

Knowing his life had been forever altered by the touch of Jesus, the man did not care that he was kicked out of fellowship with his community. He only cared about the one who touched him. He knew who had healed him and he would not be silent. He refused to not tell the truth no matter the consequences.

My sense is that the man followed Jesus for the rest of his days. He knew the change that had been wrought by those hands and he would tell whoever listened. He was a living miracle and a living testament to the healing power of the almighty God.

The miracles that God brought to his life were life changing. I wonder about the miracles that God performs today. I know there have been times when I have not spoken for fear of losing something. In reading these words today, God is impressing on my heart to shout out the blindness he has healed in my heart. He is saying to me to refuse to be silent, refuse to keep the secrets, refuse to conform to expectations. He wants me to see the miracles he has wrought in my life and to share those miracles with whoever will listen. He wants me to spread his healing power and wipe the dust off my feet and move forward when someone refuses to see.

What does the story of Jesus healing the blind man say to you? How does it speak to your heart?

It is enough...

This summer has been unusual for me in many respects. For one thing, I usually write in the summer, a lot. I haven’t been writing, but rather reading what others have written. More like devouring than reading actually. I have been seeping myself in the words of others and allowing myself to just feel the myriad emotions of each story. I’ve been reading both fiction and non-fiction and looking for clues into myself and trying to refine my own writing through reading well written and not so well written material. I have been refreshed and inspired by the words. They have ministered to my soul.


Secondly, I usually have a huge agenda of stuff I want to complete during the summer and I always push myself to finish everything on that list. I have my list, but I have not been going after it with a vengeance. I’ve crossed several things off of the list, but I’m not stressing over the things that remain. The few times that I’ve started to feel that need to check things off, that still small voice reminds me to do what is important for now. The list is just that, a list… nothing life changing or imperative. It will wait.

This is the summer I decided to take care of me. I’m tired of waiting for the elusive “when life gets less busy” to change my habits. I started an exercise class and have been enjoying every minute of it. I feel my body responding by becoming less stressed. I’m letting out all of the yuck with every exercise session. I’m letting in the healing power by taking care of the temple that God provided me. I’m learning that if I don’t take care of myself, I won’t be able to take care of others well.

I am cleaning out the rooms in the innermost parts of my being. Those rooms that have had the door shut tight, the curtains drawn, the layers upon layers of dust laying deep on the surface, the rooms where the secrets take root and grow in the fertile soil of darkness. The door is unlocked, the curtains are drawn, the light of God is shining into the dark recesses and slowly, I am pulling out the secrets and the lies that have choked off the light to other areas of my life. The light is coming into those dark places and bringing healing and peace. The cleaning has been grueling. Years of neglect have left their mark. Footprints in the dust are not easily wiped away. I’ve had to invite friends in to help me clean out the muck. Sometimes, I think something has been thoroughly cleansed, only to find that I forgot to clean underneath of something lying on a shelf. So I must re-enter the room, pick up the item and clean under it. Often, the item needs to be thrown into the fire of forgiveness in order to bring true cleansing to that room. Each secret, each lie, each new memory brings a new depth of despair, but despair tinged with hope that God will again see me through. It brings hope that the deeper and darker I wander into the dark recesses, the less work there is to do. There aren’t many rooms left, the light is permeating into the cracks and crevices and revealing the work left to be done. I have friends that are more than willing to get dirty with me, to help me wash every surface, to push me on when I am tired and celebrate the shiny new surfaces that each cleaning session reveals.

Summer is for rest, rejuvenation and relaxation. Those things that seem so natural have not been natural for me. I can’t remember a time when I truly relaxed or was not on my guard. God is healing that as well. We went on vacation and I was truly present in the moment and enjoyed every bit of our trip. I didn’t think about what had to be done when we got home. I didn’t worry about things left undone. I just noticed the beauty of God’s creation. I wrapped myself up in my family and felt like I was right where I needed to be. That feeling has not left me. It is new and different and sometimes hard to get used to. I’ve worked, performed, tried to be more than enough for so long that just being is a strange sensation. Good, but strange nonetheless.

God has been preparing me for something down the road. Everything up to this point is leading me where He wants me to be. I have a glimpse of the path; I don’t know the end result. And right now, that is enough.

End of year chaos and random things

I have so many thoughts swirling in my head lately, but no time to process with the crazy busy end of the school year stuff to do. I am looking forward to summer and time to process the unfinished business that has been revealed and dive into some real writing time.

On a random note, I keep getting these comments that are Asian characters. I cannot decipher them nor am I quite sure which language they are. For some reason, I am reminded of the foreign exchange student that lived with my mother, sister, and I when I was in 5th grade. She was so nice and kind and I've been thinking about her a lot lately. I'm not sure why or what that means.

More later... when I can breathe again.

Thoughts on "On Being a Therapist"

"Those silent screams remain deafening." - Jeffrey Kottler

Those words hit a chord, have been swirling in my head since I read them, won't let me go. So I have to ponder why? Why those words? What does God want me to get out of that?

The author is referring to being deeply involved with people's pain as a therapist and how even years later he has been profoundly impacted by some of their stories. So on my journey toward becoming a professional therapist, I wonder about those who have walked beside me. Do they still hear my silent screams? I can so clearly envision the day I revealed a particular memory to my therapist and her gasp as I related the images swirling in my head. I have often wondered how it impacted her. How it will impact me. Will there be "unfinished business" issues when my clients come to me with their stories? Will my silent screams swirl with theirs? It is a scary thought. So I hold on to the fact that God is leading me on the journey to be a helper. I trust that my wounds will not be wasted.

And... as I see others struggling to give voice to their own silent screams, I recognize the struggle. I know the pain involved in finally giving voice to those feelings so they will be silent no more. In the end, I suppose the silence is broken and the screams no longer hold the power they once did. They have been exposed to the Light and He has given them a new name. Peace.

Protector

God and I have made it through the week. There have been moments of heaviness, when the body memories intrude, but the heaviness is starting to lift. I think I am through the worst part of the remembering this particular memory. In the midst of the horror, God has been faithful. I have several visions to get me through. One I will share, the other is private, between God and I.

While working the body memories, it became overwhelmingly clear why I was affected in the certain area of my body. I really can't believe the level my father went to to cover over his sin. But even so, I am still left with compassion toward him, which is in itself a miracle. After experiencing the memory I kept waiting for the hatred to come back, but it has not. For that I am thankful. I was able to tell my father what I could not tell him at the time and in a sense, regain my voice. After my counselor and I went through the memory, we were praying, asking God if there was anything else he wanted to show us. Everything felt just quiet, although I was still really shaky. Then God gave me a very clear vision to take away the horror of what I had just remembered. I found myself in bed with my big brother Michael. He had his arm around me and was stroking my hair. I stopped shaking and just felt protected. God gave me protection in the midst of my childhood and that vision was a confirmation of why I have always so fiercely loved my brother. As far as I know, Michael never came to know God before he died. That breaks my heart. I know that God is just and I trust that. I am thankful that I did have someone who gave me unconditional love and protected me as much as he was able. I am thankful I was left with a vision of being loved.

Surprised by compassion

Last night as I couldn't sleep I was thinking about the process I've been walking through. I was having a mock conversation in my head with one of my co-workers. (Probably won't happen because I keep stuff pretty close, I don't think people at work are on a need to know basis.) I was saying that the last few weeks have been incredibly difficult and that I wouldn't wish what I was going through on my worst enemy. I thought for a few seconds, then added, "Well, maybe on my father." But then I thought about that and actually, I would not wish any of this even on the one who is the cause of all this pain. I was surprised at my feeling of compassion for the man who has caused so much damage in my life. Although my father is the source of the majority of trauma in my life, I still would not want him to have the hurt the way I hurt. That compassion blows me away. I believe that compassion is only because I have walked this journey with God, leaning on him to heal those parts of me the majority of people in my life have no clue exist. Moving forward through this process with new insight and downright surprise at this feeling is still difficult. But I do know that God is in the midst and he is faithful.

I will remember

Today I will fight the fight, I will process, and I will remember what my body is shouting out to me to remember. I will acknowledge the pain. I will grieve. I will cry. I will listen to what my body is telling me and I will remember. I will rage at the injustice. I will share my pain. I will think about forgiving and how to go forward with that. I will open the broken, battered, bruised, bleeding part of me that is hidden away so that my savior can heal me from the inside out. I will remember where I came from does not make me who I am today. I will remember how much God has already healed me from. I will remember that I am loved.

Processing

• How do you relate the horror of reliving the memories that have been long repressed, repressed for a reason?
• How do you process those memories and at the same time continue to go about your daily life?
• How do you move forward while moving through?

What I want is to just crawl inside myself and hide away from the world. I want the Technicolor visions to go away. I don’t want to remember any more of this particular horror. I’ve seen enough. I’m done. I’m done with the body memories that won’t let me sleep, that hurt so bad I can barely walk. I’m done with the tears and I’m done with the battle. But I can’t be done. The only way out is through. Through the details, through the body memories, through the pain.

God, help me to move forward in this. Right now I feel stuck and overwhelmed with the new memory. I hurt in places I should not hurt and you are the only one who truly knows my pain. You are the only one that can see deep inside to the broken places. You are the only one who knows what it feels like to be ripped and bleeding and battered. You see the mask I put on to protect myself. You see the effort it takes to just move through the day without giving myself over to despair. You see the wanting to just go to sleep forever. You see the little girl lost and your heart knits with mine in brokenness. You meet me and show me how you protected me. You comfort me in the midst of the memory. Comfort me now God. Help me work through this. Heal the inside parts God, where no one but you can see. Cleanse me and purify me God. Walk with me through the pain. I will trust that you are there. Help my unbelief God.

Balancing Act

I remember when I could not cry. I remember when I would not cry. I remember when I learned not to cry.

I also remember the pain of learning to feel those emotions again, the pain of reliving and going through the memories that taught me not to cry, that revealed the depth of the defense mechanism, the height of the brick wall I had built block by painful block, higher and higher, stronger and more impenetrable with each passing hurt. The most difficult thing I ever did was to acknowledge the strength of the wall and that its ability to shield me from pain also shielded me from true life, from God who desired to cleanse my heart and heal the scars no one could see.

So now I am faced with more bricks in the wall, bricks I did not even know were there, hidden in the depths of my heart. Facing the hurt again without rebuilding or adding more bricks to the wall is a difficult proposition. With every fiber of my being, I want to run and hide and shut myself away behind the highest, strongest, deepest wall. I do not want to face that which is coming, but I know I have to. My obedience to God in slogging through the muck has lead to peace and healing I could have never imagined. That knowledge helps me to face this giant again, knowing the enemy is strong, but my God is stronger.

Facing the depravity, learning new details that will rock my world once again, and choosing to forgive... it is big stuff, huge overwhelming impossible stuff. I think about how I used to cope: drugs and alcohol to numb the pain, and later just shoving it away as far as I could and turning off my emotions so no one and nothing could hurt me. It didn't work out so well. Now, I turn to God. I cry out to him in my pain and I let the tears come. I honestly tell him I don't want to do this. I question why. I pray without ceasing and I pray with no words because words are not big enough to encompass this.

But the quandary is in balancing everything. Life cannot stop because I have to relive and slog through the muck of my childhood. I have obligations so I have to learn to compartmentalize. Driving to work talking over the night terrors with my husband, the tears fell. Sitting in front of my students yesterday, watching them work, the tears kept threatening. But I could not let them fall. Hurried silent prayers - desperate prayers. God help me. God this hurts. God how do I do this? God hold me, strengthen me. But God, help me to not turn off totally. Help me to be able to get through the day, but when I can cry, when I can hurt, to give it to you. I do not want to feel this pain, but I do not want to not feel, to shove it aside, for that pain is far worse. God, help me to balance everything I have to do and help me to turn to you in this season.

The War Begins, again.

Today in my devotional time, I couldn't even get through anything. I got stuck on the part where I admit my sins to God. Here is what I prayed.

What I admit today is that I do not want to go to the dark places again. I do not want to face my father's ever widening circle of depravity. I do not want to, although I know there is peace on the other side. This, right here, right now, this is the side that is hard, the going through part. The face to face with the past part. Reliving the nightmare in Technicolor part. I want to run and avoid the pain, shove the tears away, lock myself inside myself and hide from the reality of my childhood. But I won't. I will face the pain and I will process the horrors. God, you will be right there with me and you will hold me and comfort me. Knowing that does not make me want to go there, it's still hard. But the option... well, I've been there and it is infinitely worse. So forgive me father for not wanting to and strengthen me for the coming battle.