Tag: Trust

Speaking Truth, The Value of Friendship

Deana5 Comments

Great advice from a comic friend — “Honey if you don’t have people you can tell the truth to, your safe circle is too small.” –

We all need people in our lives with whom we can be just ourselves. People we can tell the truth to and people who will tell us the truth in return. We need to cherish those relationships. 

I really don’t have more to add to that right now. I think it’s enough.

Cherish your inner circle.

Create one if you must.

And then protect it with everything you have.

Medusa Face and Jesus Juking. What a day.

Deana4 Comments

“Do you know what  a Jesus Juke is? What you just did — followed by a link .” –

I didn’t know what that was, until one man trusted me with truth. – I appreciate him tonight.

My weekend started out simple enough really. Other than recovering from the flu, I was doing rather well. Until Medusa showed up that is. (medusa is my name for my other self, she’s kinda hateful and full if bite)

I got dumped on pure and simple. A simple conversation turned ugly with an onslaught of scripture verses, accusations, rebukes, and a rather clear insinuation that perhaps I wasn’t really a Christian after all. I did nothing. I just let her rant and moved on and let her exhaust herself. I never once told her the truth about how her actions were impacting me.

In retrospect, I believe I am a tad too proud on how I handled that. Meaning, I didn’t tell her to shove it. Which is really what I wanted to say, but that would have messed with my halo and heaven forbid I mess with that because I’ve got that whole good girl lie groove thing going on.

Nope. I was kind to her.

Unfortunately, I took all that pent-up unkindness and dumped my bullshit onto someone else’s shoulders.

I was very passive aggressive about it, trust me. I didn’t want to seem like I was juking him. but that is exactly what I was doing. Stuff runs downhill and all that jazz.

He posted a scripture verse on Twitter about hating those who cling to idols and his faith is in the Lord, yep I’m a hater – kinda quote – not a bad quote actually if taken entirely in context of say the rest of his posts. I posted back a scripture verse about how we are called to love and that if you claim to love God but hate your brother you are walking in darkness. Nothing more. Just the verse.

I sure know how to make a great first impression.

Have I told you yet that he doesn’t know me?

Never met.

I apparently know how to piss him off as well. Granted, I would be upset if someone did that to me.  Oh that’s right. Someone did do that to me and I passed it on to him. Lucky man.

He replied directly to me as soon as he saw it, which was several hours later, telling me I’d juked him and even sent the link to explain exactly how I sinned against him. Then wondered how he could be such a magnet for self righteous whack jobs.

Ouch.

This first thing I did when he pointed out my actions was admit to myself that I wronged him. Then I admitted it to God. After that and only after that did I admit to this man that yes, he was correct my actions were out of line. I immediately apologized – publicly since I insulted him publicly and promptly removed my original remark as an act of repentance.

Honestly, he didn’t have to respond. He could have simply ignored it and I would have missed out on a great growth opportunity. Not that I necessarily like this kind of growth opportunity. Still. There is a scripture verse about how an enemy will kiss you with lies, and a friend with rip your heart out with truth or something like that. I know it, it’s just eluding me right now.

While I’m embarrassed by the response, I’m more embarrassed that I actually did that whole I’m holier than thou here’s my scripture verse to prove it garbage. I try not to do that, and sometimes I fail.

The point in life is not to avoid failing – although it would be splendid if I could. Leading a grown up life means owning it when you fail and asking for forgiveness.

He did me a real favor. He trusted me with truth. I actually appreciate that.

This is the link he sent me, written by Jon Acuff  explain what Jesus Juking (Click the link if you’d like) WHAT IS JESUS JUKING ANYWAY? Totally worth reading.

My question to you dear readers, has anyone ever trusted you enough with the truth when you were showing your medusa-esque self? How did you respond?

Fears Erased Daily

Deana2 Comments
No clue where this is but I want one. Molly posted it on Facebook today. Wouldn't it be cool if we could write our fears on a chalkboard and then erase them? Can you imagine how empowering that would be?

I’m looking through a different mirror today, one that isn’t my own necessarily. I discovered that someone I care about is afraid of me. Shocked and more than slightly concerned, I wonder how I missed that.

They have me on a pedestal that I don’t belong on and when I expressed displeasure over a specific action I watched them go through an internal meltdown that I cannot control. Man that was painful to watch. You can see the brain turning and the lies manifest in a physical crumbling of the body and a tearing up of the eyes and you can’t stop it.

They are convinced because I expressed disappointment in an action that we can no longer be friends.

Every fiber of my being wants to wrap my arms around that wound that lies to their soul and love them.  I’d do it except that it’s not my place really. I’m not invited.

Fear is an awesome captor and a devil of liar. Fear whispers – “See they don’t love you, they think you are a horrible person and failure as a friend. You don’t deserve that. Send them away, I’ll keep you company, I won’t share your secrets. I won’t wound you like she did.” Think of Golum from Lord of the Rings, do you remember his evil alter ego? If I could paint you a word picture to describe what fear looks like angry, it would be that.

I know, because I’ve been there.

Fear lies. Whenever we are afraid of someone and they offer the slightest criticism, fear tells us they are wounding our soul and questioning our value to breathe air. And so we breathe deep, we stand tall and we make fits – and like three-year old children we attack the person who dares question us and we find safety under a mask of emotional violence. And then, just like that, we run away and hide our wounded selves.

Fear is selfish. It demands attention and hates to be ignored. It doesn’t want what’s best for you it  needs attention to flourish. Left ignored it dies.

Fear is afraid of light. Why? Because light heals the broken and musty places of our inner being. If I take away her fear or in any way try to diminish it,  uninvited, I rob her of growth.

I try to remember those mentors in my life who walk with me and love me through fear and think about what they do that I might do the same. Only I got nothin. Then, after seeing three posts on fear just this very morning my answer came. Those I invited in did embrace that wounded part of me.  I have to be willing to be vulnerable. I have to be willing to say out loud the lies fear whispers to my brain. And for those times when fear held me captive, those I did not invite in, let me go with love and peace.

I’m not invited. I do not cause her fear, I cannot control it, nor can I cure it.

And so, I love her and I wish her well. And I know, that like me – she will find her way in this crazy thing we call life.

Happiness is a choice.

Deana1 Comment

Kirstie Alley wrote it. Melissa Gilbert retweeted it and so did I.  – “What does it feel like to be happy?” It feels swell..I highly recommend it…takes LOTS of work..;)”

I am in the process of making my very first quilt ever. I’m not doing it alone. I’m working side by side with several other women who are doing the same thing. All of them are older than I. It occurred to me yesterday while I sitting at the sewing machine working on yet another chain, I felt happy.

Never in my wildest imagination did I expect to feel happy about sewing. I don’t think it’s the sewing. Honestly I think the happiness feeling is about learning something new, working to complete it, and being willing to stay in community while I do it.

I’ve heard this message in various forms all week, whether it is from blogs, from books, or from Twitter:

Happiness is a choice.

It isn’t easy.

It takes work.

Choose to be honest.

Dare to live in Community.

Just my thoughts for today. I tend to know more about what happiness isn’t due to my life experiences most of which I’m not willing to put in writing. (smile) It can’t be chased, only earned.

No one can hand you happiness on a silver platter – not even if it’s in a champagne glass. It’s not about money as I’ve been wealthy and I’ve been poor. It’s not about achievements really — I’m in the Who’s Who of National Female Executives. It’s not about sex. Well you know what I mean– anyway, I’ll embarrass myself if I go too far with that.

Happiness isn’t a passive gift.

Happiness involves living breathing risk taking gut level honesty in community. It isn’t safe in the simplistic meaning of “safe”

It is not in the false community we build up for ourselves on the internet. There is no real risk in long distance relationships. I can present which ever mask I want online.

Happiness – is in the moment of day-to-day sweat, truth, and courage.

It isn’t easy.

It’s work.

It’s good work.

In Search of Wings

Deana4 Comments

Horses lend us the wings we lack. Pam Brown, 1928

I woke up with my shoulders in my ears this morning. My to do list is out of hand what with Christmas just around the corner and my oldest due home on Friday. I have too much on my mental plate and need to blow off some steam.

In light of that, I took time out to ride today. I usually ride Prince on Tuesdays. (See photo) This time Janell let me ride Cowboy. Cowboy jacks with me most days, but not today.  He’s not a bad horse, he just doesn’t like beginners. I’ve been riding for almost a year now and even though I cannot hold a steady gallop, I’m no longer a beginner. Something about my seat told him I could be trusted. He did everything I asked.

Horses need to be able to trust their riders as much as riders need to be able to trust their horses. It’s a two-way relationship. There is a life lesson in this I’m sure. Janell is teaching me how to race barrels as well as jump. Once I learn those, it’s on to roping cattle.  I’m becoming a real cowgirl. I’m 46. This is crazy. And oh so much fun.

J-man wants to know how I can “race barrels” if we aren’t really going at a full gallop yet. He’s an are we there yet kind of fellow.

That’s an easy question to answer. We just do it. It’s not about the speed. At least not yet.  It’s about form and it’s about trust. Once that foundation is set, the speed will come. Every hour I spend in the arena, I push myself to go a little bit faster for a little bit longer. I work my abs and my legs by holding them straight. My left leg keeps wanting to curl up underneath me for protection and that throws me off balance, holding it straight is a huge challenge. I work on keeping my eyes up and forward instead of on the ground. I sit as tall as I can and I let the horse go. Every day I ride, I borrow courage from the horse and make it my own.

Cowboy does not give an inch. Every step, every breath, every moment is earned with him. I rather like that.

I prefer to earn my own confidence than have it handed to me.

Cowboy will not let me lope one minute before I’m ready. His resistance is teaching about my own journey in life. So often we are in a hurry to arrive. Cowboy forces me to slow down, breathe deeply, check my seat, stay balanced and enjoy the ride.

In light of that, I’m taking the rest of the year off.

I hope you don’t mind it’s just that I’ve been in such a hurry to make Christmas arrive that I’m missing the journey.

No more twitter. (Ouchies.. I kinda like twitter)

No more Facebook. eh, they’ll live.

and No more Blog. At least not until 2012.

I hope you don’t mind.

I haven’t taken time to harvest the fruit from 2011 or to rest.

I need time to be.

To quote Anne Jackson, the internet will still be here in 2012. Have a blessed Hunakkah or Christmas or whichever you celebrate. I’ll see you in 2012.

Love and Laughter

Deana

Small Steps: Learning Trust, Name that Him.

Deana5 Comments

T-Shirt by Ken Davis (Click to see more)

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” – CS Lewis

Sounds like a horrible way to live, doesn’t it? Sure a heart locked up in a casket can’t be broken, but it can’t breathe either. It dies.

I love the t-shirt in the photo here. I actually own one. I first saw this shirt when I saw the Ken Davis video “Super Sheep.” at a woman’s retreat back in the 90’s. – I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. (Phil 4:13) We’re the sheep in the photo and if you notice he’s holding Christ’s hand – or Christ is holding his, either way – it’s a union.  And there they go safely, fearlessly walking past the wolves and the lions of life. Wow what a visual. I have to confess I wore that shirt long before I ever believed it or even fully understood it.

I have walked through many doors with various him’s on my arm, but they were never the right one. Getting from there to here hasn’t always been easy.

My heart was wrapped rather tightly by the time I set a tentative foot into the life of churchdom back in 1993. Entombed in my career and my family it seemed to me that I was impenetrable.

 The only “him” I was with, was me and my career. 

I kinda thought that I liked it that way, but I didn’t really. Trusting only in yourself is a lonely existence.

My early years of church life became an archeological expedition of finding entrances, caskets, trinkets and pockets of light. The dig went slowly.

I can remember the first steps of simply coming to church and sitting in the pews, shaking violently. If my husband overslept and I had to go it alone, I was a basket case.

My husband became my him. I placed all burdens of peace, happiness, and safety on his shoulders.

As time went on, I can remember learning how to talk to people, going to bible studies, joining a committee (just one) and starting to feel peace. If I’m being honest, I trusted the building before I ever trusted the people.

And so the church became my him. (At least I was getting closer.)

There were nights when my husband and I would argue and I would put on my sneakers and run the 1 1/2 miles to our new church. The building was locked up and closed for the night, but I didn’t care. I’d just run through the parking lot, past the parsonage to the playground in the back. Breathless, I’d climb up the slide, sit in the tower and look at the church. I believed God was in that building and I felt safe. I’d stay there until the fear and loneliness subsided and peace settled in and then I’d walk home, leaving my him behind.

I hadn’t yet learned that God is present in more places than just a sanctuary, but it was a start. A beginning of airing out the dusty tombs.

Three years after we joined our church, we enrolled our children in a private Lutheran school. New challenges awaited and I was now dealing with several pastors instead of just my one. Their kids went there too. I hadn’t planned on that. It was time to learn a new level of trust.

Have I ever told you that I don’t like pastors? I liked mine, but taken as a whole, I wasn’t all that sure about the rest. This was going to prove problematic. More shaking. More fear. More dust.

I tested the waters many times by asking these men simple questions and then stepping back to see how they responded. Were they kind? Were they patient? Did they answer my question? Mostly yes. I dusted a windowsill and more light came through.

I did have some problems with a dad at the school who liked to pursue me when he saw me alone. I hate being hit on and I did not know how to handle it. I discovered that if I stuck close to the pastors, he’d leave me alone. I didn’t think about how it looked, I just wanted to be safe. And so

The pastor’s became my him. I was safe when I was with them.

I wasn’t intentionally making idols out of things or people. I can only relate it to going from water wings to the high dive in learning trust and walking with God.  I’d learned about Philippians by then – I can do all things through Christ. Christ was supposed to be my him. Not me, my career, my husband, my church, or the pastors. While I knew that in my head, I didn’t know how to walk it out.

Until….

We were at a back to school pool party and I was afraid. There were dozens of people there and I knew very few of them. I was by then good at saying hello, asking a brief how are you and then bolting before I got dragged into a conversation. But this was a FOUR hour, fenced in pool party. I was trapped with a bunch of Christians and pastors. eek! I didn’t think I’d survive.

I’d prayed shortly after we got there that I didn’t know to trust him enough to find the strength to step out and be myself. Would he be there for me? What would it look like? How would I know.

Right after saying that prayer, I felt a voice deep in my heart that said “watch me.”

I looked around to see who might have said that and I spotted a couple arguing not too far from me. I wasn’t sure what the argument was about, but it looked intense. I didn’t want to stare, so I looked away.

Moments later she was gone and he was standing along the back of fence. His hands were grasping the bar at the top so tightly I could see the veins in his hands. His head was bowed. He was hurting and it showed. And he was praying.

I was confused and asked God what it was exactly he wanted me to see. Surely not this. I mean this was horrible. The next thing I know this man – the praying one – is in the kiddie pool with my kids playing and laughing and talking to us. He spent the rest of that afternoon talking to people, playing with the kids, calling swim races, going off the high dive and just having a blast with everyone.

Did his pain suddenly go away? – I later learned no. His wife had left him just a few months before. His pain was deep. But what God did do for him is lift him above it enough and strengthen him enough to make the best of the day.  He prayed in the midst of pain and fear and God responded.

They walked through that day together.

When God said “watch me” — he meant watch what I can do when you let me be your him. Take my hand – I won’t let go.

Does that mean I’ll never be hurt, or have my heart-broken? Or be afraid? No. It does mean however that I have a hand to hold that will lift me above those circumstances and strengthen me as we walk through them together. I don’t have to keep my heart buried in some tomb. It is redeemable. And it’s stronger than I think.

Christ in me (and you.) – the hope of glory.

The post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. All rights reserved. No goods or services were given in exchange for the videos and items discussed here.

Women of Faith: Tulsa Oklahoma, Imagine Tour

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 Ephesians 3:20-21 “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”

Real Women

Real Life

Real Hope

I can still remember the day back in 2004, that my friend Rita stopped me in the hall, pointed to me and said, “YOU need to go to Women of Faith this year. It’ll change your life.” I seem to think I rolled my eyes at her and laughed. I was tired, beaten down with life and grief (I’d buried 10 friends that year), and frankly I was not in the mood for some churchy, happy, smiling faced, woman’s conference. I was falling apart and the last thing I wanted to do was sit around and listen to a bunch of women who had it all together tell me how great they are.  Don’t mind my pity party or self loathing – or the fact that I lived in constant comparison at that time – and always (in my opinion) fell short of everyone else – I was apparently enjoying it because I stayed there for an awefully long time. There is defeat brought on by life and there is the kind of defeat brought on by ourselves – I was losing hope.

The truth is, I was already secretly handing in my ministry resignation to God — going to a conference was not (in my opinion) going to fix me. I’d already convinced myself that I was too broken to be of any use anyway. Basically while I hadn’t given up on God, I had pretty much given up on myself – and thought he has too.

Ever been there?

Feeling smug in my ability to ignore my friend’s recommendation, I was not amused when I got a flier in the mail inviting me to a Women of Faith Conference in Oklahoma City.  Nor was I amused when a gal in my bible study announced that she was going and wanted someone to come with her and decided it would be me.

I’m a believer that God speaks through people. When I hear something once I might pay attention — but when the message comes to me three times in one week, I’ve learned to listen even when I have a broken heart.

I’ll never forget that first conference. I was introduced to wonderful teachers and speakers like Kathy Troccoli, Sheila Walsh, Patsy Clairmont, Luci Swindoll, Thelma Wells, and Marilyn Meburg. I laughed. I cried. I learned and I leaned into Christ for two solid days. I had no idea Christian women could be so honest with eachother.  Chonda Pierce was even there – which is how I met her, but that is another story.

I knew then and there, if I only go to one conference a year WOF was it.  Every year, God breaks my heart open just a little bit more and makes room for His healing touch in my secret places. He fills my heart with scriptural truths, joy, and tears and faith in what He alone can accomplish.  This year was no different.

This year I got to go with a bunch of gals from my church who had never been before and since it was in Tulsa they thought “Why not.” — What a joy it was to be there with them, laugh and cry with them — and stretch out to God with open arms — knowing that He was reaching back. One of the gals even asked if it was always like this and when I said yes, she said “oh this is a no brainer, I’m coming back next year.”

How cool is that?

Women of Faith is totally Christ focused. It’s full of gifted communicators and teachers who share their life stories, and share a faith in Jesus that always leaves me astounded – and hungry for more. I love it.

I’ll give you a brief recap of the Imagine Tour and some of what we learned. If you want to know more about the speakers, just click on their names to go to their web pages.

Marcus Buckingham: In a world that mainly focuses on fixing what we’re weak at, author and speaker Marcus Buckingham offers a rather different paradigm. Marcus believes that our strengths are gifts from God and he suggests that we find what we are strong at, and grow in those areas.  Now I’ll be honest I reviewed Marcus’ book Find Your Strongest Life Now a few months back and I had a hard time reading through it at first. It’s a bit too technical for me. I read a page of credentials and my eyes start to roll back into my head, but that’s just me. Once I saw Marcus speak and explain his thoughts at WOF’s opening day, I gained new insight into what it means to use the gifts God has given us – not for ourselves – but in order to make a difference in the world.  Strongest Life is definitely one for the tool box. Marcus has put together an easy test that helps you find your strength categories. I’m a Creator/Teacher. If you’d like to take his simple test, simply click Strong Life Test.  and see for yourself. – and remember, this is just a tool — Our toolboxes are only as useful as the tools we place in them. I like adding things to mine.

 Lisa Harper: My first question is how did this wonderful bible teacher keep from being on my radar all these years.  I really like this woman. She’s bright, funny, intuitive, and scripturally sound –  I could relate to Lisa on almost every level. I say almost, because I haven’t lived through everything she has. But close. Lisa talks about a personal relationship with a God who is passionate, powerful, loving, and untamed. She speaks of a Hero in her life – named Jesus and what he has done and continues to do.  She speaks about the women in his life from Mary to Martha to the woman in rags, she speaks of His grace, forgiveness, attention and love that he displayed towards them and continues to display towards us today. My only regret was not taking notes — I really wish I’d done that.

Luci Swindoll: How do you describe a woman like Luci? She’s a painter, a singer, a liver and lover of life. She is passionate about everything she does and brilliant to boot. What I originally liked about Luci was her common sense approach to living out her Christian walk. She embraces the life God has given her and does her best to live it out to his glory and not her own. She’s a giver in every aspect of living. She spoke about the importance of feeding our souls – with important stuff, not stuff of the world, but stuff of God’s gifts to the world – she is also careful to remind us not to be selfish with that, but to share with others.

Sheila Walsh: Even though Sheila is second on the roster, I’m writing about her last. I cried my eyes out the first time I heard Sheila speak – her story is so profound and heartbreaking and refilling all at once that you can’t help but be moved by it. I’ve had a wonderful time watching Sheila grow over the last six years. She is a beautiful, anointed, and gifted teacher, singer and speaker. I can only describe this journey as watching her grow into her skin and be happy there. She’s British (or maybe Scottish, I’m not sure) and it’s easy to mistake the posture that comes with it as cold assurance – when in reality I find Sheila to have this tender heart that just melts anyone’s who knows her. She teaches with clarity and focus and apparent confidence. This year she taught on trust — she spoke of Gideon and Abraham – and to quote my girlfriend – she got “in my business.” and I love it. She has a very gentle and affirming way of combining Gospel and Law in life changing lessons. If you saw only her — it would still be worth the price of the entire weekend.

There were more speakers and skits and singers but it would take a whole week to write about them. They are all wonderful teachers and inspiring women who speak of a faithful and true God. If you’d like to know more about Women of Faith please see their web page at www.womenoffaith.com

Have a blessed Monday ya’ll

This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. All rights reserved. Please note that no goods or services were exchanged for this blog post. I am simply sharing my personal opinion on valuable resource.

Letting Go and Trusting God

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People ask me about Letting Go a lot. I’m not sure why I get asked, but I did write a short  piece on it a while back and that does prompt questions. (http://deanaohara.com/2009/07/11/letting-go-let-go-and-let-god/)  forgive me for the lack of appropriate hotlinking, wordpress seems to be fritzing on me tonight.

I will share that that one piece gets more hits than all of my other stories combined. I guess letting go is a big topic for people today. What I know today will change tomorrow. Life has a way of doing that. Letting go means a lot of thing – to me the phrase Let Go and Let God is reflected beautifully not only in Proverbs 3,5-6 but also in the serenity prayer — posted here in it’s entirety. My favorite line? “Taking as He did, this sinful workd as it is and not as I would have it; TRUSTING that he will make all things right if I surrender to his will.”

Allison Bottke (God Allows U-Turns and Setting Boundaries at http://www.allisonbottke.com/ ) wrote this in her blog today ” And I thank God for the ever-increasing knowledge that if we obey God’s calling, He will provide the needed strength.”

There is more truth in that statement than there are hairs on my head – and if you know me you know that I have hair bigger than the state of Texas so that is saying a lot.

 

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen

Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will direct your paths
Proverbs 3, 5-6

Wishing I were on the other side already, Learning Trust

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“The task of growth is to pursue an unflinching honesty about self, world, and God, no matter what the results compel us to face or give up.” = Dan Allender, Bold Love

Have you ever gotten frustrated with the healing process? Have you ever wished you could just hurry up and get there already? If so, I’m right there with you. Healing is hard, it takes time, and it takes God’s help and tender mercies. Healing does come if we are willing to be honest, willing to let go of the things that hold us back, and willing to forgive even the unforgivable.

I have to admit, I think speaking is far easier than writing. In speaking, I can use body language, tone, facial expressions and other senses to  convey the story within the story. I can share tragedy in such a way that it’s okay to hear it. How does a writer convey a deeper story, without violating the sensibilities of the reader? I don’t know that I am fully there yet, but I’m going to give it a shot.

This is definitely one of those days where I regret deleting my former blog. Mentioning the “meanest pastor in the world” as I so unloving called him yesterday, doesn’t mean much if you don’t know the story. He was mean — most people who knew him would agree with that statement. God also used him to do great things for His kingdom. Being a pastor does not mean he was perfect. He was a sinner, just like you, just like me. He was also a good man in a lot of ways.

There are only a handful of trusted people who know the depth and breadth of my church work experience. Putting that experience into the acceptable standard of 500 words or less post won’t suffice. His death and his roll in my life are only relevant in the sense that he is responsible in so many ways for who I am today. What his death also signifies is the need for me to let go of excuses for no longer working in a church.

  •  Because of him — I learned that my own temple was full of idols. — People pleasing is rooted in idolatry and false shame.
  • Because of him — I laid down everything I thought I knew as a teacher of the Word and ran back into scripture and the arms of a loving God and found new value, new worth, and truth like I’d never known.
  • Because of him — I faced my own mirror of fear and secret shame.
  • Because of him — I know today that I am more than the things he called me.
  • Because of him — I learned the value of being trusted and keeping a confidence.

I am trying to choose my words carefully here. What I don’t want is someone to walk away from reading this post thinking I said God makes bad things happen. God doesn’t. We live in a sinful and broken world.

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

What I don’t want to do is violate your sensibilities. I do however, want you to think. I want you to think about your life and the people in it. I want you to think about those you can learn from; even those you think hate you or better yet, those you think you hate. I want you to think about whatever past it is you hide from. I want you to think about God and His redeeming plans for your life. What I don’t want you to do is think about me.

My story, is anyone’s story.

I have a past. We all do. No big deal really.  Except that as a ministry leader, I lived in fear of being found out and called a fraud – or worse, being exposed and rejected.

 Guess what. I got found out. I got exposed. And I was rejected.

But hear this: I didn’t die.

I wanted to. Thought I was going to. I even considered taking my own life at one point. I spent three years in therapy fighting to stay alive. God won and I’m eternally grateful. He saw this coming, he’s already made a path. I have no idea why he allowed what he did, but I do know that I am stronger and better today because of it.

 Do I still spin sometimes when I talk about what happened? Yes. But not like I used to. I’m healing. I see progress.

Before I answered any kind of call to ministry, I processed my past with someone I trusted. A local (at the time) pastor. He was encouraging, thoughtful and kind and shared how God doesn’t hold our sins against us. We talked about how He redeems and gives new life. Our conversations revolved in large part around this is who I used to be, and this is where I am now because of God. My story is a witness to God’s mercies, grace and power. What I was most afraid of really was would the church still accept me? What if they didn’t?

I don’t want you to miss this — I wanted to belong MORE than I wanted to serve God. My core belief was if I could work in a church than that would really show the priest who kicked us out when I was a kid. This was hidden scar that did not come out until I was broken. It was a reality about myself that I had to face one way or the other — and repent of it — before I could be of any real use to God.

The thing is though – I always viewed my story as my story to tell. Not someone else’s. I only share that which I think can benefit others while still protecting myself. I only share in my time and on my terms.

This pastor’s belief that God redeems and I am forgiven apparently stops in his office. I say that because, once I took a part time church job, he chose to extend a professional courtesy and fill my new employer in on everything we’d discussed. That sharing got twisted from a past reality to a present reality and I was treated differently because of it. I honestly never saw that coming. I grew up in a time where priests took your confessions to the grave. Apparently in the protestant church, some ministers take your confessions to their wives and your employers. Some pastor’s view professional courtesies as rights and privileges. I view them as crap.

I’m going to get harsh here. Just for a minute.

It is my opinion that professional courtesies are nothing more than emotional and spiritual rape. My confidante is a rapist, whether he sees it or not, that is what he is. Any pastor who betrays the confessional betrays a sacred trust. Harsh words and a very unpopular stance, but true nonetheless. I’ve learned that the path of recovery from emotional/spiritual rape is almost identical to that of physical rape. — I’m working on several pieces regarding that topic, so I won’t expound here just yet. If that has every happened to you, please know that you are not alone. And know also, that God does indeed have a greater plan for you.

 It was because of this professional courtesy that said, now deceased, pastor felt he had the right to call me names and share his version of my life with others. I was, according to him both a whore with an over active conscience and the office bastard. I’m still living with the fall out from that and while I’ve forgiven the whole situation, there is still some pain. I don’t trust pastors, including my own.

Will I fully recover from that? I honestly don’t know.

 I tend to assume the worst of intentions and keep a closely guarded heart. My standard response to personal inquiries is “fine.” I pursue intellectual activities and communication at the expense of truth sometimes.

I also test the spirits. I am learning how to trust a little at a time. I’m learning to watch, and wait, and trust some more. While I have not arrived at my desired location (full trust) I am at least on the right travel itinerary.

What happened was wrong. It was huge. It did cause damage. It was not without consequence. What happened requires that I learn how to forgive the unforgivable. Not for their sake, but for mine. Why? Because the God of the universe, who knows the number of hairs on my head is in the midst of it all. He sent his only begotten son to die for me. It is through the redemptive, healing work of the cross and the resurrection that empowers me and anyone who has ever been deeply wounded to do so.

Running away from LCMS as I did, took me straight into the lives of the most unlikely of people. Anne Jackson (flower dust), Ken Davis, Chonda Pierce, Thelma Wells, Carol Kent. Not personal friends per se‘, but people God gave me to help me heal and teach me truth. They literally became my teachers through books (Anne), or personal conversations, and classes. I’ve even had the privilege of working behind the scenes with a few of them at conferences. They have taught me that my life is more than my past and more than whatever pain I may or may not experience. It was these very people that helped me find my way back home to LCMS and ministry – and it is these same people I write about today as a shared resource to other LCMS readers here on this blog.

In the psalms King David says that God created us to trust and if that is true then distrust must be learned. And if it’s learned then it can be unlearned. I like the hope in that. –Psalm 22:9 Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you even at my mother’s breast. (NIV)

So what is my responsibility here?

It is my responsibility:

  1. To: Act on the knowledge that God’s word carries more weight than the word of man.
  2. To: Repent of being more afraid of man than I can be of God.
  3. To: Learn that just because I trusted someone – who should have been trust worthy – and they let me down, does not mean I should never trust again.
  4. To: Trust God above all else.

I am able to forgive the man who called me names far easier than I am the man who betrayed my confidence. The man who called me names was only reflecting my biggest fears about what was true about me. He was just a mirror. The timing of his funeral was too close to Mom’s death and we didn’t have the strength to be there. I owe him a lot.

And the irony is, while he may have been my nemesis while he was alive, he was also one of my greatest teachers and for that, I am thankful.

I have learned silence from the talkative, tolerance from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet, strange, let me not be ungrateful to those teachers. – Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Thoughts on Marriage

DeanaLeave a comment

Now that I have totally silenced even the most loyal of readers with yesterday’s post, I thought I’d switch gears ever so slightly. Before I do, let me add that some women can be just as double minded and that post was meant to cover both. I’ve seen both sides, and probably played them back in the day.

You may not know this, but  I am a former member of the he-Woman’s Man-Haters club.  I loved female comics who ripped men. I loved it when TV shows made the wife out to be the savior of the day, and the man of the house a bumbling fool.

I wanted to believe myself to be a feminist.

Forget submission, forget marriage, forget all of it. I’m a boomer’s child and the world is my oyster. I will never belong to the First Wives Club. I’ll never be divorced, because I’m never getting married. I am my own woman and heaven help the man that tries to tame me. I won’t let him.

I had a chip on my shoulder the size of Fort Knox.

Truth is though, I didn’t hate men, I was afraid of them. I have a busted picker.  When I was younger, if our eyes met across a crowed room and my heart started pounding 280, he either had a flask in his pocket, or a record a mile long. I could pick a man sure to break my heart without even trying. So I stopped trying, which is how I met my husband.

I didn’t marry a man who wanted to tame me. I married a man who wanted to love me and there is a difference.  We’ll be married for 20 years this August.

My early career placed me as the only woman on an all male staff. These guys taught me a lot – mostly about smoking, drinking, and swearing along with construction. They also taught me about integrity, trust, safety, and smarts. Some of those lessons were easy to learn, others came from stupid choices.  Smart choice: Hang with the guys who are happily married and talk well of their wives. Not so smart choice: Letting your site partner come back to your hotel room to call his wife and let her know he’s running late. Once I figured out why he was running late — false hopes and ambitions — I kicked him out. I also paid for that by having to listen to my sight foreman rip me apart for an hour and a half the next day for being so stupid. The situation could have been a lot worse, and I’m thankful it wasn’t. I actually know other gals on the field who were raped by techs they worked with.

Personal note here: Rape is always about control and violence. My comments do not mean to imply that what happened to some of my counterparts was in any way shape or form their fault!

And before anyone comments on the unfairness of my sight forman — I’d been flirting with said partner the whole trip because I thought he was safely married. That was a huge mistake. My partner liked to dabble when he traveled, I didn’t know that. Besides, it isn’t fair to flirt with a married man. That was a lesson I had to learn a lot when I was in my 20’s. It was never about sex when I did it, it was always about fear, control and manipulation. I don’t have the right to throw stones. I’ve broken too many mirrors doing that.

Being tough, thinking I can always make the right choices and take care of myself without anyone’s help isn’t an easy road.

Learning how to trust my husband comes and goes. The more my husband and I grow in our relationship with Christ, the closer we become to being one.  I am always amazed at how God can take two very broken people and make them into his likeness.

While I may have spent our early years totally wrapped up in “him,”  I am also developing me right now. We are learning to follow the ebb and flow of life and maturity, rediscovering ourselves and eachother. We are polar opposites and I like that today. He keeps me grounded. It’s a fun journey. He’s the one who teaches me about the kind of man who can be trusted, and I listen to his insticts. He also teaches me about the kind of woman who can be trusted. I introduce him as well. I make sure that people know we are together. Nothing sets him on higher ground than my arm on his when we walk into a room.

As I was working on these two posts, I recieved a phone call from my husband telling me that his mom had a stroke and he is leaving Denver to be with her in Florida. She didn’t know he was there yesterday and my heart broke for him. Today, her eyes are open, she is trying to talk and even though she is weak, she can move her legs. The only real damage right now seems to be her left arm and her speach. Mom is 86. We have decisions to make, and we’ll make them together. I don’t know when he’ll be home, but I’m holding down the fort taking care of our son and praying.