Tag Archives: faith

Oct29

Me & the Mrs.

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Me & the Mrs.

If there has ever truly been a time when there was a tug of war between my self-control and my desire to be completely obliterated it is now. I cannot remember another point when my emotions and my desire to drink were so completely connected before, and I was so aware of it. I can understand now why people actually do fail. Thank God my life isn’t always like this.

My boss is being pressured by the executive committee to fire me. The rent is due, my car needs brakes and winter tires, my propane tank is closer to empty than not, and my boss might have to fire me. I’ve finally managed to turn my credit around, to establish a sense of stability and grounding and my boss might fire me. After a year and a half off the wagon, I just hopped back on two months ago and I might get fired.

Oh yeah, I want a drink. A bottle of red wine to be precise. Two.

My sister announced the other day that she “might want to, but doesn’t have to”. She’s right, I’m drinking water. Her statement was followed with “I’m free!” I’m undecided.

Through an unusual set of circumstances, my boss was told that I have a warrant for my arrest in the city of Dallas for a DUI that happened in 2006, and that I would be resolving the situation in February. The executive committee said to fire me.

In all fairness, it’s not that I love my job. Most days, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s not where I want to be and it’s not what I want to be doing. Still, I like the pay and I love the health insurance. I like bringing my dog to work and walking around in my socks. I like feeling stable.

I don’t like feeling that even when I’m doing everything “right”, I still can’t outlive my past and the person I used to be. I don’t like having that feeling I used to have right before everything fell to the ground again. I have to wonder when I will be through with the mistakes I made in Dallas, and if I’m just going to keep making mistakes?

The internal optimist cheerily asserts that this might be a blessing in disguise, with a bit of free time and focus I can find a job doing something I’m more suited to, that I’ll be happier at. I remind her that there are very few jobs available in this economically depressed area, and even fewer good jobs that don’t require degrees and that I don’t have a savings account.. She’s certain things will work out and points out good-naturedly that at least I have a job at the mini-mart. I remind her that I hate that job. She, growing tired of my arguments, insists that things are going to be fine, that they always are, and that I should really just cheer up. I roll my eyes and tell her, in no uncertain terms, that the American dream is a myth, that if my life is going to fall to pieces anyway, I might as well be high and that, at least then, I knew why my life was falling to pieces. She sighs, and we drink another glass of water.

I’m undecided. So is my boss apparently. He told the executive committee that he had to “process this”.

In the meantime, I’ve got to go spend some of this Saturday at the office to beat a few deadlines. After that I’ve got a shift at the Sunoco. She wants me to point out that the fire is warm and I’ve got enough wood for the winter. I don’t feel like that’s relevant.

She wins every time.

May23

Biting off more than I can chew

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Biting off more than I can chew

“Restoration doesn’t necessarily mean making things the way they were, sometimes it means making things the way they’re supposed to be.” Jill Lillis

If I haven’t had much to say lately, it’s because I’m pretty soundly confused much of the time and, out of my as-of-yet-to-be conquered fear of a poor public opinion, I’ve made this blog more about essays on revelations I’ve grasped and vague ramblings on the things I haven’t rather than anything at all about an actual journey to wholeness.

The truth of my journey at the moment is that, from all outward appearances, I seem to have entirely lost the path and, from an inward perspective, I still seem to be very much on it.

I warned you I was confused.

I’ve made a series of decisions over the last year that have come with some consequences to be certain. The first was last March, when I began socially drinking. The second was in December when I entered into an intimate relationship with a fantastic guy who happens to not be a Christian.

Have you gasped and moved on yet? This post is not meant to be about me and alcohol so I’ll not make it, but I will say, for those who I imagine are concerned, I am fine and balanced and, for the most part, not “prone to drunkenness” as the Bible warns against. Now that it’s out, I’m sure there will be more on that later.

Now then, I wish I’d been writing truthfully about these things all along, about all of it. The last year has been one of both incredible highs and lows. I’ve failed in some areas deeply and, in that, learned valuable lessons. In other areas I’ve pushed past opinion and bias and broken through legalism in a way that I’d only talked about in theory previously. As an aside from the point here (if indeed I even have one), I’ll offer that the steps one must take in order to truly step outside of religion and legalism are not at all pleasant and tend to be not at all popular.

One of the primary consequences of my decisions is that I am no longer singing in church and with church groups. Again, this is not about that, though I’m sure another post one day will be. The circumstances in which that consequence came about was handled poorly and dealt to me painfully and caused a divide between me and the church I call home.

And, in short, that’s where I am today.

Today in church, during the worship service, I was meditating on how unfulfilled my life feels when God is not the very center of it. (I’m often meditating on missing the wholeness of God during worship services as I still only feel my truest and deepest self with Him in music and I can only feel like I am sharing in His heart fully when I am singing for others to find it.) I stood and sang, quietly, and wondered what if I could go back to the way things were? What if I could undo the decisions that had put me on the outside of a intimate group and take my place once more?

My journal from this moment reads:

“I cannot stand to be this far from God. And yet, here in church, I look around, and I cannot bear the thought of plugging back into this. It is so hollow. Accomplishing nothing. Self-focused. Empty. Is this my choice?! Is this what I should give up a life I love for? I cannot stand the idea of it. I don’t want anything that isn’t true and authentic and effective. What shall I do, God? Where shall I go?!”

And then that services worship leader, Jill Lillis’ words are written there, as if God were answering me without a moments hesitation, “Restoration doesn’t necessarily mean making things the way they were, sometimes it means making things the way they’re supposed to be.”

This evening I called a dear (and wise) friend. My intention in making the call was to tell her about a great sale I’d been to that day and encourage her to go shopping for herself. We ended up discussing this topic instead for an impassioned hour.

While she’s also one of my best friends, she apologized to me, as the ministry leader for more than one of the ministries I was formerly involved in, for not seeing me for who (and where) I actually was, for expecting more out of me than I was mature enough or ready to give and for giving me too much leadership too soon. I don’t hold her responsible, of course, for this separation I feel now, but her words brought some comfort and some confirmation. I’d been feeling, months ago, like I’d made a grievous mistake in not being completely genuine when I first began to attend my church home; feeling like I’d been more interested in portraying the proper image to what I felt was the suspect church eye, than in authenticating who I was to God and He to me. I was so focused on proving to my family (first and foremost) and to my new church family that I wasn’t the same old Seana, that I wasn’t that ‘rehab kid’, that I was committed to God and to my future with Him, that I lost sight of my actual relationship. I began to act the part instead of living the truth and what was true and good (that I am not the ‘same old Seana’ and that I am committed and in love with God) began to become corrupted from within.

And then, when I began to demand of myself that I be genuine before I be well-esteemed my outwardly seeming perfect peace began to crumble. In my dedication to playing a role, I had not paid careful enough attention to my very foundation.

My friend, in her wisdom, also said on the phone tonight that she feels like I’m where God intends me to be right now, that in and through this, I am finding my authenticity with Him.

I’d like to think when all is said is done I’ll not only be alive in Him and Him in me but I’ll have stumbled upon the place where He intends me to be relevant to His as-of-yet unchurched people.

And so, here I am. Lost in the thickets of daily revelations, out of sight from the main path but certain it’s just around every corner. I have a suspicion, however, that by the time I find the main path again, God won’t have me traveling it any longer. I have a sneaking feeling that I’m not going to be walking the popular path for a good long while to come.

After the last couple of months, a big part of me kind of hopes not.

As a final thought, I apologize to my readers for not being more forthcoming prior to this and for not chronicling with better truth the journey I promised to share. I’ll be more mindful (and less afraid) in the future.

Dec15

Searching for God

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Searching for God

Tonight my agenda, if you will, consists of only one thing: enjoy the rarely empty house to simply hang out with God. Easy enough, right? Well, no.

I’ve taught in classes about the importance of time alone with God, the need to have a relationship that transcends a two hour Sunday service. I believe completely that it’s possible to have a friendship with the Creator, to know and be known with a familiar intimacy.

It occurs to me tonight, however, that I don’t know how to simply be with God. I don’t know how to simply sit and fellowship with Him, to find Him within and without and be at peace in communion.

I’m sitting in my living room, perfectly prepared for a casual encounter of any kind. I’ve got music at the ready, my favorite book about grace, a Bible, etc., etc. I’m ready to commit to an evening with Him. Except.

Except I find myself doing anything I can to keep from just talking to God. I’m convinced I’ve got nothing to say that He wants to hear, just a list of apologies for things I’ll probably do again; if I can manage to distract myself long enough I might eek out a ‘want list’ for those I love. There’s nothing of substance.

I know how to do for God. I know how to sacrifice for God. I can study and expound upon and deliver the message of God. I can often hear the voice of God, discern the Spirit of Him, sing and pray a word for a waiting ear, but I don’t know what to say to God when we’re alone. I know how to accept God, I don’t know how to give Him me.

I’ve had a lot of revelations lately, about the shallowness of my God experience, and the difficulty it is to be genuine when the role of giant is so easy to play. To be aware of the dichotomy is disquieting, to admit it openly is humbling. I’ll gladly accept the humility if it brings me to authenticity.

I’m not having a crisis of faith, I’m having a crisis of relationship. I am absolutely convinced that there is more to life with God than what I can do for Him and what I can give up for Him. There must be more than this endless cycle of guilt for not being able to do enough, and guilt for not being able to live well enough.

I know without a doubt that there is, that there is authentic relationship and love to be found. I am intent on finding it. I believe, at times, that I’ve been there before, in love with the Creator and without concern to anything else. At other times I am convinced that I’ve never felt that depth, that I was simply parroting a lifetime of experiences cherished by those around me. Mostly, though, I’m convinced that it doesn’t matter if I’ve felt it then or if it was all a lie; the point is that I’m not feeling it now, that I haven’t been for some long amount of time, and that has got to change.

Things might get ugly, but authenticity never comes without a price. Don’t be concerned for me, but you might like to say a prayer. I’m in search of God, and I’m desperate to find him in the way He wants to be found.

Your comments, encouragements and pieces of advice are greatly welcomed as this journey progresses.  PLEASE leave them here though and not on my Facebook wall.  You don’t have to be a member to leave a comment.  Thanks and be blessed.

Jul22

Simplicity of choice

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Simplicity of choice

I do not mean to diminish the potential of redemption and restoration when I tell you that my life will never be what it could have been. I do not confuse the reality of consequence with some sort of lacking in the promise of grace and mercy. It is with a new awareness that I face my future and the inevitable scars it carries from my past. My life is told in those scars, in the particular look that sometimes clouds my gaze. I am who I am because of who I chose to be. These words do not stem from a pool of hidden regret and sorrow for what will never be. Still, with a new awareness of all that is, with a hindsight that comes only from experience and with nothing even akin to bitterness, I tell you with confidence – sometimes, this time, it’s just not worth it.

It could have been different. I have a peace in the reality of how and what It Is but when the walls crumble and the truth is exposed in all of it’s devastating solidity, I must look at the remains of life before now and know that I have only myself to blame. As I grow confident in my newness and strong in my identity, as I relearn that which to some seems so very basic, as time is spent to repair and renew and rebuild I have to remind myself, lest I become forgetful…

It didn’t have to be this way.

The choice was mine.

I have partied with people seen on TV, done the drugs curious people are most curious about. I’ve worn clothes that could pay the average rent and ruined them in places and in ways I’ve come too far to mention here. I can tell stories that raise eyebrows, flush cheeks (excitement or embarrassment) and radically alter the mere perception of myself with tales as true as the one I tell now. From the vantage point of onlooker, I may have been those things any number of people would want to, strive to, try to be. Believe this – looking from the outside in is never an honest gaze and nothing is as it seems to be.

What can I possibly say to you that would convince you, those of you lost in the haze of Right Now, that no matter the stories you can tell or the things you’ve seen or even gotten away with that all of it is vanity – meaningless?

You’ll reach a point, and some of you have reached it already – your spirit tells you so whether or not you have yet chosen to acknowledge – where there is no going back, where you will never be again what you were and the road to where you want to be seems an impossible trek. The point where Right Now leaves an indelible thumbprint that you will spend years of your life either flaunting, hiding or double timing to overcome.

When the ride stops and, wobbly-kneed, you get off, looking around naseous and disoriented and you wonder the question that (some of) you should have asked sooner…“is it worth the cost of the ticket?”

The answer is mocking in it’s simplicity.

“No.”

It doesn’t have to be that way.

It doesn’t have to stay this way.

The choice is yours.

Jul22

Letting go (have no fear)

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Letting go (have no fear)

Fear is the great crippler of our generation. Fear that the things that have been promised to us are not real, that the Promised Land is filled with giants too formidable to be slain afterall. There is, in this generation, a pattern of those we have trusted over-promising and under-delivering. Looking around we are convinced that no one is telling us the truth.

It carries into every area of our lives, including our relationship with God. We raise battle fists into the air. “Surrender! Surrender! Let go!” we cry as our fingers close tighter around those things we, ourselves, hide. (how i long for a church where judgement is the greatest of all sins and no one feels too ashamed to taste grace) While the allure of perfect peace and joy are tempting; in this age of free 30 day trials we want a taste before we buy.

God isn’t having any of it. He’s old school that way. From an era where promises meant something and life was all or nothing. And so we damn ourselves to limbo while He watches us perplexed.

With one hand we reach toward God and the idea of the real, lasting fulfillment that we’re told He offers – Sunday morning services and the latest Christian rock CD. We do as much as we can manage without signing any commitments. We take notes to sermons we only half hear and remember to thank God if things go well.

In our other hand we hold those things we call Plan B. A night or two out with the girls or the guys seeking anything but Christ, the relationship we know is poisoning us from the inside out, whatever those things may be that, in Sunday circles (division born of judgement), we don’t talk about or reference. And oh, how we know the illusion of their allure. There is no at-last peace and assurity in these things we cling so stubbornly to – but there is something. There is something that, for the moment or two we are engaged, makes us not alone, not afraid. “It isn’t what I want”, we reason, “but it’s what I’ve got and there’s no point in letting go until I’m sure of this something better.”

I wish I could scream from the mountaintops the truth instead of the lies we are believing; the depth of our illusion and the reality of His promise. All of our self-loathing, insecurity, fear, shame, loneliness – all of it – everything – gone!

There is one moment. One terrifying moment, that seems to steal our very breath, is the cost of living in the middle of the certainty – the peace and joy everyone wants and no one seems to get. There is one fraction of time where, no matter who you are and what your story, your fear will battle you hard and only the purposeful exercise of your will can push you through.

It comes with the letting go.

You have to believe that even if everyone else you’ve ever met is a liar, God is not. Even if no one has ever truly, deeply loved you, God does. If everyone else has eventually left, hurt you and let you down, God has not.

He stands in the exact same place He’s always stood, offering the exact same thing He’s always offered, available in the exact same way it’s always been available. Whatever it is you want out of life – whatever it is you truly desire, without exception – He’s waiting to give it to you.

It comes with the letting go because He’s prepared to fill both hands.

“…the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind. For that man ought not to expect that he will receive anything from the Lord, being a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.” James 1:8 (NAS)

double-minded (adj) – wavering or undecided in mind

*While I don’t often reference my own experience in musings such as these, I feel this time I should. I hurt for our generation and the lies we have believed. I can stand with assurity behind the things I say because I live them. Life is rarely perfect, the cost of a fallen world. Still, I stand today with peace unlike any I have ever known with a joy that defies circumstance. Letting go of all that I held onto made the difference in my life between fitting in and stepping aside. I am always available to share my story as proof of what God can and has done. Please believe me when I tell you that those things you are seeking are so readily available – if only you trust. You don’t have to feel alone or afraid anymore.

(originally written 03/29/09)