The Challenge aka My Jesus Story

Today's sermon was about challenging us to share our "Jesus Story "with someone, to reach out and find the common ground we share and build on that. Reaching someone else with what you have been through is one way to connect. I know that Pastor probably had in mind doing this in person but I was impressed upon to start here. Here it goes.....

" I was born in a small town..." Nah, just teasing you! I won't go back that far! I will tell you though, that I was raised as a Baptist with parents who didn't take us to church much. I don't remember praying much as a kid except when we were at my Grandparent's house. These two loving saints went to church each week, gave both time and money, loved God with all their heart, and prayed before every meal. I'm telling you this not to put down my parents, but just to tell you that my story begins with knowing about Jesus, but not really knowing Jesus.

I went to church on an off with my friends, with my grandparents, and when I started dating, I went to whatever church (if any) my boyfriend went to. I dated one guy for a couple of years when I was in high school who went to a Baptist church where I absolutely fell in love with the people there. They became my extended family. He was great too, but what I remember most about that time was a genuine acceptance and love from that small congregation. I also remember thinking that if I could learn all the words to "Amazing Grace" then I would have it made. All the old churches sang that song and I wanted to know it by heart and not have to use the hymnal. That's what would make me spiritual!

Well the boyfriend came and went, but I did meet my first husband there. Yes, I said first. We got married by the pastor of that little country church surrounded by our family and friends. We kept going to that church as a couple. But the truth was, while I had been "saved" as a young teen, I had no idea that I was supposed to keep growing in the Lord. I tried to copy the behavior that I'd seen in the older women...I wanted to be a good wife and mother. But how to do that in a Godly way, well I had no idea. We'd wanted a baby, but I couldn't get pregnant. We'd wanted a bigger house, but we couldn't afford it. We wanted it all, but we just didn't want to wait and work for it.  I was far too young to have gotten married ( I know that now) and it was evident that this marriage was not what it was supposed to be. I didn't know how to fix it or who to really turn to. When I did try to talk to some of my church family, I don't think they really knew what to do either. Looking back, I don't blame them at all. They just weren't equipped. But at the time, I was so hurt. It was then that I just turned in the opposite way.

When I say opposite way, I mean COMPLETELY opposite. There isn't enough time in the world to tell you all the things I've done. Drinking, smoking, staying out all night, partying.....been there, done that. One night I met a guy who I would spend the next six years of my life with. I loved him with my whole heart. His lifestyle was one of parties and fun and it became my life too.  I can't blame him for it either; I jumped in with both feet and was on the ride of the lifetime. I wanted to do whatever it took to make him happy, but it turns out that making him happy took me down a dark road. He always wanted to try new things, push the envelope, go just a bit farther than the last time. At first that was fun, it was a thrill. I got to be naughty and I loved it. It was so exciting...and to see him enamored with me because I was willing, it was such a high.

But you can only go so far before that voice who has been whispering in your ear all this time begins yelling. That voice in your ear has been trying to keep you out of harm's way. That voice was warning you that things were going too far, too fast. It ended up with me nursing a broken heart. He had cheated on me and my world was rocked. My friends were his friends. I was left not knowing what to do in the regular world. Who do you party with when the party is over?

So I tried to reenact the party scene with others. I tried fitting in my old lifestyle into a new situation. Not so great... I felt out of place all the time. That voice that had been whispering in my ear, urging me to head back to church, was getting louder. I gave in and visited a Methodist church near my home. The folks there were kind. I didn't attend long, but long enough to get my feet planted back on a firmer foundation. I had a foothold and was starting to pull my way upward.

Around this same time, I was introduced to a man that would become my second husband. We were introduced at a time where I was lonely. I missed the company of a having a man in my life. I missed the excitement of dating someone new. I missed being romanced. He came into my life and stepped right in to the void I was feeling. He held my hand, he brought me flowers, he did the "manly" jobs that needed doing in a single-woman's house. He stole my heart.

The funny thing about our relationship is that it was rocky from the beginning. We would go out to a club on Friday night and drink ourselves silly, then be in church on Sunday morning. We were on this tightrope...balancing but never completely settled in one world or another. We visited many churches, trying to find the one that spoke to both of us. We found the one. A large church in his home town, a town in which I also worked and had friends. This church was incredible. I saw things I'd never seen before. This was a Church of God. I'd never witnessed people speaking in tongues or being so caught up in the Spirit that they were layed out at the altar. It was amazing to watch, but I was skeptical of it. But gradually as I got to know the people there, I realized that this was for real.  These people believed in Jesus. They knew He could heal. They knew He could comfort. They knew He could change lives. They knew it because it happened to them. And it happened to me. I found exactly what I'd been searching for all this time. I found the real thing.

The hard part for me was life at home. For me, it had been like flipping a switch. There was no more drinking, no more desire to party, no more of that other life. I wanted to go to Bible study, I wanted to serve others, I wanted to be in that church and around those people and I wanted MORE of Jesus. My husband struggled with it. He went with me but his heart wasn't there yet. So on top of a very stormy marriage, things just got worse. He drank, he got mean, he scared me. Things were bad. Things got so bad that it came to the point where he promised to go to AA meetings in order to get me to stay. I stayed, but I felt like I was holding my breath the whole time, just waiting for the bad things to catch up with us. Little did I know that it wasn't really the drinking at the heart of the problem.

We had a lot of bad, A LOT of bad, but we also had some good. I had faced a form of cancer in my early 20's and had been told I might not be able to carry a baby. But I turned to those prayer warriors in my sweet church. These women could pray in (or out) just about anything. It was like they had God on speed dial! I was ecstatic when I found out I was pregnant! I know God makes the final decision, but I still believe that it was those women praying on my behalf that gave me my beautiful son.

I had a hard pregnancy. I was at the doctor just about every week with spotting or cramping of some sort. My legs swelled up so badly that my ankles were the size of my thighs by the end of the day, and that was just in my second trimester. At 27 weeks, my water broke. I was terrified that I was losing my baby. This precious gift was slipping away from me and there was nothing I could do but pray. I was admitted into the hospital and was given a myriad of medications to stop contractions and to help my baby's lungs mature quickly. When you are supposed to carry a baby to term at 40 weeks, 27 weeks is a long way away.  I was put on bed rest and told to wait. I couldn't go home because I was continually leaking amniotic fluid. I was monitored for any sign of fever, for fear that infection would set in. There was nothing to do but lay there and wait....and pray some more.

At 29 weeks, my contractions began again and couldn't be stopped. I delivered a very tiny bundle of joy weighing only 2 1/2 pounds. He immediately went to the NICU where he spent the next 3 weeks of his life. He had to learn to breathe on his own, how to regulate his own body temperature, how to just survive. I didn't even get to hold him until he was a week old.  But he began making progress. He got stronger, grew a little and even smiled at us. Then one day we were at the hospital when all hell broke loose. One minute we were changing his diaper and the next he was fighting for his life.

Turns out, that diaper was full of blood. The nurses and doctors immediately began running tests on him. In the matter of a few hours, he began going downhill. He went from breathing on his own to being on full life support. The NICU there was not equipped to deal with his infection so the decision was made to move him to Tennessee by helicopter. To remind you a bit of where I had come from, it was not common for folks to pray out loud. My small town Baptist roots had made me shy when it came to that. I was just learning to put my hands on someone as I prayed for them. But let me tell you, something got a hold on me that day. I became a different woman as I looked at my son. I remember calling our family and telling them that the doctors had told us to say goodbye to him because he might not make the trip to the new hospital. Our family was allowed in to surround his incubator...something that was against the NICU rules. I remember praying for him and putting my hands through the holes in the incubator as I did so. I laid a hand on that sweet boy's leg and starting to pray....I honestly don't remember much of the details after that. I know that I got louder and more bold in my prayers. I know that I rebuked the devil and claimed that baby for Jesus Christ. I know I prayed the blood of Jesus over him.  And I know that the room started to clear out. I know that when I finally looked up, I had no more tears to cry. Almost everyone was gone and the nurses were red-eyed themselves. They had backed away from me and that incubator and were just watching. I remember that it was time for him to be loaded onto the stretcher for the flight to Tennessee, one that I couldn't join. I know that the nurses cried for him and hugged me tight. But I know I had profound peace.

Our baby made it through the night and the ones following. The next 5 weeks were spent in the Ronald McDonald house across the street from TC Thompson Children's Hospital. My sweet boy began making progress almost immediately. He was off the ventilator in a matter of days. Though he had some hard times there, it was nothing compared to the night he was transported. God Almighty had saved his life.

Coming home was surreal. We had a preemie who required a heart/breathing monitor at all times. He had crazy amounts of medicine that had to be given to him at exact times. He was considered medically fragile and the fear of germs settled over our house. We came home to an incredibly blessed, yet stressful life. I am the first to admit that we were low on sleep and patience, but things in our marital relationship went from bad to worse. I'd long ago realized that my husband was not only and alcoholic but had other issues. I personally believe that he had some sort of chemical imbalance but he wouldn't seek help. He wouldn't go to counseling or treatment. I couldn't judge his moods. What made him happy one day made him angry the next. I began to fear for my life....and even worse, the life of my baby I had fought so hard for.

I made the painful decision to separate from my husband when my son was only four months old. If life in the same house had been bad, living apart and not having any way to judge his moods was even worse. I lived in a constant state of fear. I would juggle my days between work, home and my parent's house. They provided a much sought after haven of rest for me and my tiny bundle. We eventually moved in full time with them.

As grateful as I am for their love and protection, the fact was that my parents were getting older. The stress of this situation was evident on their faces. The couldn't handle this in the way they might have been able to in year's past. I felt I was putting everyone under so much pressure. My parents reminded me that they were behind me and that we were sticking together, no matter what. I can't even being to express the gratitude I feel for sacrificing their own plans to make life bearable for me. On top of it all, my mother took care of my son while I went back to work. They have a special place in Heaven for all they have scarified here on earth for us.

In the past five years, there has been many times of fear and heartache. My ex husband is a very unstable man and has inflicted much pain, physical and mental, upon my family. My son has endured visits with him in which he has experienced things that no child should ever have to. (I'll tell you that part some other time...after all, it is more his story than mine. )The last five years have been the hardest years of my entire life but I can honestly say that God has been with me through it all.  I've doubted Him, I've been angry with Him, I've even told Him that I hate Him. But He has been there with me. He has walked with me...sometimes leading me, sometimes following, sometimes pushing me while I was kicking and screaming.....but He has been there for me every step of the way.

When you talk to me on a day to day basis, you probably don't know any of this about me. I'm known to laugh too loud, talk too much and be sarcastic lots of the time. I'm probably making bad jokes, sassing someone in fun or trying my best to find my way around technology. But my Jesus story is there with me all the time. Bubbling just underneath the surface is what I'm longing to tell you. My God has moved mountains and created miracles. I've watched Him breathe life back into a dying baby. I've seen Him take a life that was headed to the pit of hell and bring it back to serve as a testimony for His love.  I've lived the resurrection only Jesus can bring...physically and spiritually. If He can do it for me, He can do it for you. He can do it for anyone.  Just ask me and I'll tell you all about this Jesus that I have come to love so dearly.

God's grace

There are so many events to catch you up on. This past week has been a whirlwind to say the least. So to put it in a bit of chronological order for you..............

I got sick. Gross, throw up, fever, can't swallow, feeling dizzy kind of sick. At the time, it felt like the worst possible week to get sick. There was a huge event on Thursday that I could not miss. On top of my regular duties as teacher and mom, if there ever was a week not to be down with illness, this was it. But looking back on it, I think God chose this week for sickness on purpose. No time to be nervous or worry when you are sick. There is just no energy left for it. I can honestly say, "Thank you God for allowing this sickness to come when it did." 

Being sick also brought out the nurturing side of G. He brought me a drink when I needed it, checked on me often and even put his hand to my forehead to see if I had a fever. "Oh, honey.......", he said when I felt hot. This is one sweet kid!

So I obviously made it through the funk and went on to my Thursday. I won't give you all of the details, but the truth is that God has walked with us through Hell for about five years and he is showing us the other side. I know there is more, the enemy is not done with us yet, but for the first time in a long time I can see the light. I've had my doubts, that's no secret, but I can look back on it and see God's hand all along. Wouldn't it be nice if we had foresight also!

The temperament has really changed around our house this week also. I know that kids feel tension too and with Mom being sick, it throws even the best laid plans out of whack. But in our house, things have a totally different vibe. Cleaning usually brings out the whines and moans of procrastination. Not today. Today, my G. worked right along side of me. He wanted to organize, straighten and clean with me. He was a great help. I don't know if I can even adequately put it into words. It wasn't the chores that were done, it was the way they were done. With joy and love.

God's grace and mercy has been shown to me in so many ways in just a few days' time. Words are not enough, but they are all I have. Thank you God.

Words of Blessing

It seems as though most of my posts come from something I've learned in church or something I'm angry at. Tonight is no exception. God once again used both the sermon and the worship time to speak to me.

Our sermon series has been on blessing...how we get it, why we have it, how we handle it....all the aspects of blessing. Today specifically was on words and how they relate to blessing. There were so many points that I'm still thinking through but one is resounding loud in clear in my heart and mind. It was what to do when evil or wrongdoing confronts us. What comes out of our mouths in response? When someone hurls insults at us do we sling them back? When someone tells a lie toward us do we get angry? When someone gossips about our family do we dig up the dirt on them?

I am so guilty of letting my emotions fly right out of my mouth instead of biting my tongue. It's evident in my posts too. But our pastor made a really good point....if we lash out and give back the hatred and evil that was sent our way, we allow that hatred to penetrate into us. We give it energy. We continue the cycle of bitterness.

That cycle continues until we choose to put a stop to it. If we can speak blessing, as we are called to do, then it turns the cycle around. We aren't allowing that evil to soak into our spirit. We are basically deflecting it.

It's definitely easier said than done. So today I pray for God's guidance. I pray for wisdom to know what to say (or what not to say) during those times. I want my heart to be filled with joy and peace, not hatred or bitterness. I do believe that God can heal me and help me to control my tongue. Help me Lord to bless those that persecute me. Not because I want to, but because You told me to.

Questions

This morning's sermon in church was so incredible, I had to come home a write it down so I didn't forget any points. I mean, it's one of those sermons that felt like God Himself had orchestrated just for me. So let me get right to it....

The text today came from Psalm 13.
     How long will you forget me, Lord? Forever? How long will you hide from me?
     How long must I worry and feel sad in my heart all day? How long will my enemy win over me?
     Lord, look at me. Answer me, my God; tell me or I will die.
     Otherwise my enemy will say, "I have won!"   Those against me will rejoice that I've been defeated.
     I trust in your love. My heart is happy because you have saved me.
     I sing to the Lord because he has taken care of me.

This is a psalm of lament. You know, sadness, grief and the like. My bible says that David wrote this one. He is clearly in pain. He's questioning God...where are you? How long are you going to let this go on? How long are you going to let the bad guys win?

Y'all this is the point where it gets real for me. Growing up, I went to a church that taught that you didn't question God. He is the almighty and we are to just obey. While I still believe that we are to obey, I have always struggled with the questioning part. I am FILLED with more questions than answers...about everything. I always thought that God wouldn't have created my mind in the way He did if He hadn't intended for me to question things. But then I would feel guilty and revert back to my upbringing. Don't question..just follow.

But this psalm (with the help of my pastor) brought things into a different light. We can question God and wonder and hurt and cry, if we just remember to ask His help over these things. Our pastor pointed out that there are four main points to this type of prayer.

   1. "Dear God"- I don't have to butter up God to get His attention. I don't have to lavish praises on Him just to get Him to hear me. All I have to do is speak His name. He hears my words but also knows my heart. Just calling on Him is enough to have His ear.
  2. "We are in pain"- It's ok to have the questions, to pour out our concerns, to ask God why these bad things are happening in our world. We are hurting here and it's fine for us to tell it all to God. He knows it anyway. His heart is moved by what is in our hearts.
  3. "Help!" - So we've told God all of the things we are struggling with. We've laid out our hearts before the King and we just ask for His help. Acknowledging that He is the only one who can do anything about it....well, that's what it's all about.
   4. "We trust you"--Taking the hurts in one hand and His hope in the other and laying them at the feet of Jesus....saying to God that we believe He is in charge and will help us.

Our pastor made another point that stands out with me so clearly. He said praying in this way is a form of worship. Worship. Isn't that amazing? Getting heart to heart with God is worship. Pouring out your very soul to him is worship. Asking for His help is worship. Trusting Him is worship.

 While singing praises and proclaiming God's greatness is also worship, having that deep, heartfelt connection with the King of Kings is the ultimate worship. Because we all know that there are times when our praise is just lip service. We say it because we "should" or because it's what we have been taught or because it's that part of the church service. But our desperate hearts crying out to God, believing Him and trusting Him to help us is always truth. There's no greater worship than honesty between you and your King.

Who knows where these cries lead? We know God is moved by our hearts. Maybe this cry, this outpouring, this pleading of genuine dependence is what will move God.  To quote our pastor, "The cries initiate history."

Father, today I thank you for sending this word to me. In this one sermon, you have answered so many questions for me. You gave me answers about myself but also about you. Please help me to remember this as I move forward in my walk with you.

Today, as I am struggling with so many things, I thank you for listening. I thank you for hearing my heart and feeling my pain. Please help me in this battle. Even more, please help me in turning this battle over to you, for it is your fight anyway.  In my hands are both the problem and your hope. I trust you with them and lay them at your feet. Please help me this very day. I love you my sweet Lord.

Testimony

I had a sweet friend text me tonight. She had read my blog a few days back and offered me some advice. She was worried about me and the anger I had expressed. (Thanks TP for thinking of me and stepping out to say so!!)

I have to be honest in saying that it got me to thinking. I do put this blog out there for all to see, even though most times I don't expect anyone to read it. Sometimes I write things for G to see later on in life. Sometimes I write things down so I don't forget. Most of the time I use this site to vent and to let out my emotions.

I definitely don't want to censor my thoughts and feelings. I need the outlet. But tonight my thoughts turned to my testimony. Some of the posts on this site are harsh. I know it. There are words that I could only say in the anonymity of the internet. But I don't want to ruin my testimony because I chose to say something crass.

So let me be clear...I'm struggling here just like everyone else. I have good days and bad. I've been through LOTS of things in my life. Part of my testimony is ugly. Most of my testimony is ugly. But I know that God is with me in this.

I get mad at Him. I yell and scream and question what is going on. I demand answers from Him like a spoiled toddler. I cry and beg and plead my case. I apologize and cry some more.  When it comes right down to it though, I ask Him for wisdom. I ask Him to lead me. I ask Him to protect us and love us. I just ask for Him to be with us always. That's how I make it through. Because I know amid all the fits and rage and hurt and pain, He is with us. He supplies me with what I need to get through the tough times and come out on the other side where I can see His hand.

Not many people know this about me, but I believe God gave me a vision of my life. He gave me a vision in which I am speaking to large groups of women about what I've been through. It's funny because if you know me, you know it petrifies me to stand up in front of a group to talk. So this is not something I would choose for myself.  Every now and then, I'm reminded of that vision and realize that God keeps adding to my story. I'm meant to tell it someday.

So friends, if you do read this blog, please take heart. I'm not trying to be a hypocrite. I know I am all over the place when I write...sometimes I'm so filled with the Spirit I can hardly contain myself. Other times I'm so hurt and angered that I don't see God anywhere on the horizon.  But God is using it all for His glory. I can never figure out how He does it, but He does.

Tonight my prayer, as always is for protection and peace. And for my story to help someone...one day I will be there to tell it all.

Homesick

Today has been a great day! It is our first day out of school for the Christmas holiday and the plan was to head to the mall to see Santa. It's pouring rain but when we got to the mall, I got a close up parking spot right in front. Then in the area to see Santa, there was no line. That's right, five days before Christmas and there is no line. Sweet! Off to lunch at a favorite restaurant where once again there is no line, no wait for a table. We even had time for a long afternoon nap.

Even though I couldn't have asked for a better day, something was nagging at me all day. Sort of a heavy feeling hanging over me. Now there are real problems we are dealing with...things between G and his dad aren't great, a friend's mom is battling cancer, business isn't as good as we need it to be, several days ago was the shooting at a school in Connecticut that is still in the back of my mind. But what I was feeling today, wasn't based on any of those things. That just wasn't "it".

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks...I'm homesick. I'm homesick for a place I've been promised but never been to. I'm homesick for the end to tears and sickness and ready for some real peace. I'm homesick for days spent in joy, not worry or heartache. I'm homesick for heaven.

I can't wait to spend my days praising God. Just strolling through the streets of gold, holding my baby boy's hand, taking in the splendor of Heaven. I just can't wait! 

I am homesick, dear Lord. Come quickly!

With a disclaimer...

If you readers are sensitive, please stop reading now. It's been a tough week and I need to vent. Remember, I warned you.

Letter to "him",
I don't need to address this. You know who you are. You are a cruel, horrible man. You would rather get your way than do what's best for your son. You know what's happening to him. You hear him cry. You hear the hurt in his voice. But you only want your way. You would rather put him in the middle and make him miserable because you know how much I love him. You fight for him because you know it hurts me.

All I can say is that you must be evil. I used to think there is good in everyone. But not you. You are evil to the core. You've proven over and over again the damage you can do. You have abused us (and other people) physically and mentally. Yet for some reason, you always come out on top.

You wonder why your son doesn't want to be around you, yet he has seen you hit women. He's seen you attack them. He's heard your anger. HE HAS WITNESSED IT AND HE DOESN'T LIKE YOU AT ALL...and you can't stand that. You can't stand that he can talk and tell us what you do. And make no mistake, he tells everyone what you do. He even has conversations on the playground about what you do to people.

So you sit back now on your high horse and continue to believe that you will always come out on top. You fool yourself into thinking that it is always someone else's fault. You go take your drugs and wash it down with your alcohol until you convince yourself that you are the victim here.

But I've got news for you. You've sold your soul to the devil and he will take you to the depths of hell where you belong. You don't deserve to be walking around, making everyone afraid. You don't deserve the love of a family, especially this wonderful, sweet boy. You are a disgusting, worthless human being. I'm not sure you even deserve to be called a human being.

I pray every day that God would strike you down..that he would make you suffer as much as you've made us suffer. I want you to feel the pain you've caused your son.  I want you to see the disgust and contempt that people feel for you. Even more, I want you to realize what you've lost. I want you to hurt to the depths of your heart the way those who loved you have hurt. I want you praying to be saved from the horror you feel...then maybe you'll know what it's like. But then I wish for you the most horrible, painful death anyone can image. And I want you to be tortured in hell for all eternity. You don't deserve anything less.