Tapeworms, Oreos and Jesus

Abba? Why do you love me,

When my every thought and sin

I write upon your heart?

I know, my covenant child

But you are fearfully and wonderfully mine.

Abba? How much do you love me?

Do you love me to the depths and heights

As far as the east from the west?

No, my covenant child.

I love you this much

And he opened His arms, bowed His head

And let the nails drive home

I wrote this poem based on that wonderful children's book, Guess how much I love you. For over a year after I was first saved I had that line taped to my bookshelf at my desk where an old cross necklace hung down. I also daily wore a gold cross necklace that my grandparents had given me when I was confirmed. It was on a baby fine chain that broke soon after I received it, but I had never tossed it, even after I had turned my back on God. I had had it repaired in celebration of returning to Jesus and loved wearing it.

Last Oct. as I sat in a ministry meeting playing with my ring (one of those fun ones where the three bands slide over each other), I felt a deep desire to trade the cross on my necklace for the ring. I knew I had reached a turning point from focusing on what God had done for me, to focusing on God himself. That necklace represented a triple cord: Me, Ps 119:11 and Matt 6:33. This January, about a week before we began studying kingdom living as a body, I knew I was being led to a fast to focus on Ps 119:11. For 40 days I was to fast of meat and instead feed on the meat of the Word, studying it, praying it, even chewing it as I lay in bed waiting for sleep. A couple of weeks into this as I weighed myself, I noticed that I was loosing a half pound either every day or every other day. When this went on for over a week straight I cried out, “Oh my gosh, I have a tapeworm! (platyhelminthes being the logical biologist’s answer)” Then a few mornings later as I sat down to write a blog entry I glanced at my title, Matthew 6:33. I realized that for weeks I had been focusing on God, and in that I had stopped focusing on my appetite.

Now like many women I’ve struggled with my weight most of my life. My nemesis was binge eating. There should be a law against convenience stores selling Oreos, Suzie Q’s, Doritos and Pringles simultaneously to women after 10 at night. And being able to buy two or three boxes of kraft macaronni and cheese should be banned (or at least they shouldn't make pots big enough to cook it all in at the same time). I had gone through a lot of healing and deliverance after being saved (though it was a slow process over several years), and knew my out-of-line appetite was dead. I was free of it and no longer had to be a slave to it. The problem was, I hadn’t left the habit of visiting the grave. Instead of saying, “That is dead, and I am alive in Christ,” I chose to return to the rotting carcass, wallow around in it and bemoan the fact that I couldn’t seem to get past it. But in walking for weeks with my eyes focused on Jesus, I lost the habit of visitations. Now I am experiencing the freedom that was mine already, and I have a revelation of just how easy attaining that freedom should be. That is the grace and joy of our Lord, and the power of the living Word.

The Soul's Defenses: Who's the Pilot?

In the depths of me I cry out for you

I crawl inside to feel you there, but no

There only crashes over me another wave

Fear tidal, misery relentless

Ache throbs, loneliness rages

I’m going under

Clutch obsession, you, an addiction

We’re going under

Inflict pain, a buoy, a slice of breath

I’m going under

Daydream stronghold, man the walls, too late

I’ve gone under

But Lord, if I clutch you

Will you hold me up and give me breath

Grasping, gasping - Give me life

Not one more day, just me

Touch me, I’m raging

Breathe in me, I’m dying

I wrote this one last October as I thought about all the ways over the course of my life I have tried to escape grief, hurts and that screaming void we all try desperately and unsuccessfully to fill, until at last we realize the missing piece is God himself. We build walls and defenses to protect ourselves, clutch friendships in the codependent terror that drives us to demand that the other "fill that empty space," escape into the addictions of any mind and emotion numbing thing we can find: alcohol, drugs, books, shopping, gambling, exercise, food, entertainment, fantasy, sex/romance even pain itself.

Looking at that list, which barely scratches the surface, I'm sure you can find yourself. We are made in the image of our Father. Like him we are a triune being. We have a spirit, soul and body. Our spirit was made to be alive and in constant intimate relationship with God, feeding on the life that comes from His very breath, His living Word. From that position of life and intimate connection, our spirit was to feed, guide and inspire our soul. Our spirit is our true self, our God aware self. But the entry of sin into the world changed all that. Our spirit was cut off from the life giving force of God, and it died. We were born with a spirit that was dead. The term being born again (which isn't some goofy cult term; it is in scripture) refers to the fact that Jesus died to redeem us from the death of sin. When we accept what he did for us at the cross, and ask him to be our Lord, our relationship to God is restored and our true self, our spirit, comes alive. We are born again, born of the spirit.

The problem is that until that time. our soul and body are left to their own devices. The soul consists of our emotions, thoughts and choices. Our soul is self-centered and is only capable of making decisions from that viewpoint. Being self-centered it loves running the show and is very loath to relinquish control back to the spirit when it shows up on the scene like some Johnny come lately. But relinquishing all control is what we have to do, or we are in open rebellion to God. When the soul demands the reins, instead of yielding to the spirit, it will not go well in our life. We will have many rough roads; rough roads God will allow in attempts to get us to the point where we choose, in humility, to say, "Father, I can't do this. Please be Lord over me; I yield to you. I no longer want to pilot this ship."

I have a very strong soul, toughened by a lifetime of fighting battles I didn't asked to be placed in (but am now glad for). I have been gifted with a mind that knows it is strong, and in its pride and self reliance has had a very down-in-the-dirt, scrapping and clawing fight with Jesus over who will pilot this ship. But God is patient and so full of a grace that reaches beyond the scope of anything I can fathom. He has gotten me to the place where it is a joy to surrender. And it is a good thing, because if I keep on piloting this ship it will definitely pile up on the rocks. It is possible to surrneder your life to Jesus and then never give over the reins. That person either ends up so dry in the spirit that they are open to every whispering of satan and eventually fall back into the outright choice of a sin life (which leads back to death) or they are useless to the Kingdom while here on earth. They don't count for much in the spiritual battle that rages over the earth because their soul is shouting orders so loud, it is missing the direction of the spirit.

Leave it at the Cross

In the garden of Gethsemane

Your soul in sorrow overwhelmed

Your sacrifice of love for me

Twisted, nailed in offering there

The agony you died for me

The grace and love you live for me

On your knees your Father’s will

My bread, my blood, my Holy Lamb

We fall asleep on watch for you

Yet patient, you wake us again

Walk with you, wait with you

You died, so we live—our Father’s own

Last November I went through three days of deliverance ministry. If you read through the prophets, they declare how the Messiah will set captives free and bind up the broken hearted. When you read through the gospels you see that Christ did indeed repeatedly cast out demons and commanded his disciples to do the same. The demonic is as real as the heavenlies. When Jesus went to the cross he died and rose victoriously over not only all the sin in humanity, but also over all disease, death and powers of darkness. The necessity for deliverance ministy in our lives comes from the fact that when we sin, we allow satan and his ilk a legal foothold into our life and into our children's lives (so you can carry stuff from your parents or grandparents). That demonic spirit then rides on you, sometimes even indwelling within you if you do not have Jesus Christ within you as your Lord. You can be completely forgiven your sin and still have the demonic whisperings in your head or outright guidance in your actions. It can so overwhelm you till you are sure you are crazy or that there is no hope for your life ever being normal. Those are all lies, because of course there is all hope in Jesus Christ, but satan wants you so beaten down that you can't see that. This will continue until the demonic spirits are broken off and cast out. They then have no legal right to return as long as you continue to walk as God would have you walk. Though be sure they will come harrass you trying to get your attention (read up on Jesus in the Wilderness). If you fall for it and respond, they have hooked you. Your attention is now on them and not your walk with God, and you are ripe to fall back into sin.

Though I had been born again 2 and 1/2 years before these deliverance sessions, and had asked for forgivenss of all the sins I could imagine (that took several days and sheets of paper to list it all out), I still struggled under the oppressive weight of the enemy (to use Christianease). I can only describe the deliverance experience as something akin to "an incredible lightness of being." My whole body eased and lifted up. I knew beyond all knowing and through the depths of me that in that ministry room I had taken the unholy garbage in me and on me and handed it to my Lord. In love He had accepted it completely, conquering it for all eternity. In return I had freedom and healing. I also had a glorious hush inside my head. I never had to think of those things again; I didn't have to torture myself with "how could you have been so stupid.." All of it was dead on the cross AND completely forgotten by God. It was no more unless I chose to go back and dive into the rotting grave to wallow in it (and yes, I've made that mistake as a future post will describe. Thank God for grace!).

BPD

One day mourning to darkness

Flesh and soul drowning, spirit unreachable

So many voices, a clamoring cacophony

Are you in the midst, Lord?

Alone, overlooking the chasm’s edge

Humanity the other side

Dry a tear, hug a friend, laugh and smile

Dying – hold up the Oscar

Can you see the missing piece

Does the chasm show?

Do you exist – I can’t touch you

Do I exist – I can’t feel me

Drifting, amputated

Emotions swelling locked inside

Bleed me now, leave me now

Overwhelming, no release

Can’t describe or voice

But just one cut and out it wells

Make it to another emotion

Lord, if this is all, then I want home

I wrote this one last October. What I didn't realize was that I was headed into a period of intense inner healing and deliverance (think of it as therapy with Christ as the therapist). Many times God will allow things into our life, let them surface and crash over us so that we are aware of our need for His help, and so that we turn to Him in humility to ask for that help.

Someone who suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) will often get much better at coping as they move into their 30's and 40's. You may begin to think you are past it. What God revealed in me was that the spirit of BPD still had a stranglehold on my life, as I still allowed it access and yielded my rights as a Child of God. I was still hurting myself as I always had, by imagining horrifying or painful scenarios that in no way existed. Then I gave them life and lived in them, feeling the fullness of the grief, anger whatever. It bled off the emotions inside me within a private place that only I could control. But as soon as the name BPD (I had never acknowledged that before, but even as recently as last Oct. was still exhibiting 7 of the 8 hallmark symptoms -- DSM says you need 5 for diagnosis) arose within me, I exalted because I knew God had shown me the enemy and that in Christ I was all victorious. That spirit was going down to the death it had already died on the cross. I was going to walk in the freedom that was mine. That moment of realization of my power in Christ was a real high, but there were still some really low rough spots to follow.

Through the Grieving Process at Last

A Sunday in June (1991)

Which card to choose

Which lie to pretend

Needing to confront betrayed expectations

Afraid of answers

Other cards lovingly pasted

With construction paper hopes

Standing alone on a stone mantle

Accusing an empty chair

Pain, not from the Did, but the Didn’t

From the empty ache gnawing at trust

Anger. Pain. Fear.

Crashing, pounding

Raging over a sea of need

Scrambling for shelter – sanity

Discovering only equal rage

Torrential waves to battle those slashing

The only defense

In, out, In, OUT

Raging at nothing. Everything.

Desperately seeking calm

But fearing to see in the glass

Drown in the recognition

Suffocate on surfacing need

Choke on salt water.

Which card to choose?

The day after that last post, I shared with my home group (a small weekly church gathering) about how awesome it was to discover the peace of giving emotions up to God. As I talked to my husband later that night, I found myself getting repeatedly angry with my friend. I felt bad about that and tried to shove it away. My husband then mentioned the grieving process and how it sounded like I was in the anger stage.

The next morning I read up on it. I discovered a few things. First of all, when I had emailed my friend a few days after she ended our friendship (to say my goodbye and put in my 2 cents worth, I rationalized at the time), I realized I wasn't writing from a place of peace, but from a place of bargaining...see you don't really want to abandon me because... I was in short manipulating her. I felt bad (and in wounded pride, also a little stupid) but realized that writing to say I was sorry and that I get it now would just compound it. I had to let it go and trust God to be my justification. I also realized that each emotion was OK; it was part of the process, and I was just to offer the whole range of them, messy as they were, up to God. Yesterday I truley felt acceptance, and today there is calm even when my thoughts range over our friendship's memories and unrealized plans. That is the power of God, because it was only a week ago today that she called me.

I also realized that I had never fully let the grieving process run its course before, despite repeated abandonment, rejection and abuse from early childhood through adulthood. I had felt the emotions well up and had drowned in them. Not realizing that there was a way out, I had gone under countless times (many times rocking on the floor holding my knees and begging to die). I wallowed in either the anger or the depression, giving it life and feeding it breath, beating myself up with it because feeling those two intense emotions was at least feeling, until the numbness finally set in, which I attributed to peace.

Grief is OK. With God it is manageable. With God all things are possible. He's really showing me that this last 6 months or so.

"Nothing" or Releasing vs Stuffing Emotions

Something is missing

Something special, important.

Where has it gone?

What has it left?

Love – hate?

No, nothing.

I wonder –

Shouldn’t there be something?

Sadness, anger, pain?

There are no tears

And no aches.

I haven’t the time,

The room,

The need.

There is NOTHING.

A few days ago I had a close friendship end. It was both unexpected and unilateral. I come from a history of abandonment and rejection since very early childhood. The poem above was written when I was 15. It describes my lack of feelings over the abandonment of my father. I survived childhood by taking every emotion and locking it away, save for rage which I discovered made a good defense, and so I cultivated that emotion (as did my youngest brother). It wasn't till my early 30's that I began to realize how I had handicapped myself. I couldn't recognize emotions in others or acknowledge them in myself.

Well in these last few years God has been healing a great many things in me, and the ending of this friendship has really highlited that for me. After my friend called to say that we would no longer be able to hang out or talk, I cycled through the same raging torrent of emotions: anger, sadness, loneliness, pride. I lay on my bed and almost litterally cried all night. But this time I did more than that, as I cried I also talked constantly to God (even yelling at Him at times in my self-pity-- Ps 88 is good for this, but try Ps 25 to get yourself on track after you vent). By just the next day I was finding moments of calm. I was able to pray for my friend, bless her, forgive her and release every thought and emotion to God, asking Him to be the Lord over them. In that, I no longer had to be in control.

It is just three days later, and I realized that those emotions aren't there. Like the above poem there is "nothing." But the why is different. The emotions are like an underground spring welling up water into a barrel. The emotions, like the water, just are (neither good or bad), when you stuff them away in a locked down barrel (of finite space) they go unnoticed on the surface but are still there building up in pressure till they spew forth one day (generally in a totally unrelated and unwarented situation). But if you immediately pipe them up to God (release them), then quickly you reach the bottom of the barrel. A few slow drops will trickle in (as you pass this or that place where once the two of you did this or that etc.), but you so quickly offer them also to God that the barrel is essentially empty, and you are at true peace.

This is just such the coolest and amazing thing not inside me. I keep running my tongue over it like when you feel where a tooth was pulled. There used to be something there and now it just isn't. It is no longer a part of you. How odd.

Reconciling Home and Here

How odd in this academic refuge

To suddenly think of you

In these corridors of logic

Faith is the profane word

Instead—technical and rational

Are the mortar anchoring the wall

So that curled here and hiding

Hoping you won’t see

We’ve erected again our idols

Turned from you in our humanity

I think I wrote this about a year after I returned to Jesus. I was sitting in class proctoring an anatomy exam. I had no papers to grade so I was thinking about the worship jam session I was going to later that night. Someone would pick a chord progression, and we would all go with it, taking turns leading as the Spirit led us. I began talking to God, quietly in my head and then looked up to watch my students. The juxtaposition of prayer in a science classroom at the higher levels of academia seemed very odd. I had spent over a decade of college in anthropology and biology, two areas where God is notably absent. Well, He's there, but not acknowledged in any honoring sort of way. As I sat there this poem began to rise in my head so I started to write to pass the time.

Struggling with my mind's lifetime insistence on control and answers has been one of the biggest things I've had to work on releasing as I search for those deeper more intimate places in God. I've always been a thinker and arguer. When someone says, "This just is so accept it," my knee jerks, and I have to go off on my own and bullhead my way to my own answer, even when it's often the same answer. You get a lot of bruises that way. But, for now at least, it's the only way I know to be. I am a lot better at not arguing with God (good thing I'm thinking), but people, well that will still need some "dying to self."