Walk with Dogs: Fear In The Wilderness

I am terrified.

Standing on a precipice, my toes clench its lip. My throat closes. My breath strains. Vision begins to blur as thoughts scream:

What if you fall?
What if people throw rocks and laugh as you descend?
What if flying in grace is a lie?

It is these times I walk away. Close the blank page and check twitter, facebook, pinterest, instagram, and in complete desperation; clean a toilet.

Yet, my feet find themselves again on that edge. If my journey of experience, strength and hope isn’t shared; then there was no purpose to the experience. No seeds of encouragement can scatter into other wounded hearts. Others may never be introduced to the deep and abiding Divine Love. The thought of wounded souls trapped in a Try Hard Faith drops me to my knees.

A Still Small Voice calls.

The terror begins with my Family of Origin. When we were called back to this Central Valley town, I understood the cost. My own Wilderness in a land of Egypt where much of myself could never be free. The Parentals and, for a time, three sisters live here- I am the oldest of four girls.

Parentals are still very active in ministry: Mom is a talented organist and Dad works within their church, with the disabled and veterans.

The relationship with sisters Two and Four is strained. In a town where “family” is the norm, the nature of our relational acquaintance makes people uncomfortable. Often I will meet people who know them. My guard goes up because my first concern is their reputation. Their integrity.

I have a working relationship with sister Three. They often call her the Black Sheep because of her fall from grace. We both wrestle with attending church. Both of us avoid knowing people in our community because of the relational overlap.

So…

In this third tour of deployment in the Wilderness, I’ve warily vetted friendships. Conversations are carefully measured out. Each word is weighed when spoken in public. It is with protective armor on that I run errands, have lunch with a girlfriend or simply walk around the neighborhood.

It is with all this weight that I stand on the precipice of a deep healing. My heart bursts with the hope of Divine Love’s grace. In secret I began a journey of walking away from that Try Hard faith. With dancing Divine Love revealed what Identity in Christ really means. Over tear stained long distance phone calls with a Soul Sister, we worked out how to love,  stay married and mother.

It is these and many more stories I long to tell. Today is the day. Here is the place where I can sow the seeds of Experience, Strength and hope. I lean over the abyss, allowing the wind to sweep my face. My breath catches and I let myself go.

I am still filled with doubts:

Will I fall?
Or
Will I fly?

Here begins a series of my Escape from Wonderland.

Gentle Lent: Wrestling in the Mud

Each time the Body of Christ gets into a tussle, I groan. It hurts my heart. I was grateful earlier this week when God lifted the burden of grief. 

Yet, I still wrestled with the scar it left behind. In Lenten service a few weeks ago Jacob wrestling with a Man on the shores of a river was the topic.

Jacob chased from what was comfortable and into uncertainty. He had cheated his brother and lied to his father. Alone, in the middle of wilderness, on that desperate night, with a stone for a pillow, God met him in a dream: on a ladder from heaven to earth, angels walked.

God spoke to Jacob the promise of Abraham and Isaac. Then God said something personal, “Look, I am with you. I will guard you wherever you go, and I will bring you back into this land, because I won't leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Genesis 28:15

Jacob’s response is this: “Truly, ADONAI is in this place - and I didn't know it!... This place is fearsome! This has to be the house of God! This is the gate of heaven!...”

Jacob saw that small corner of the wilderness as something magical: a physical place where God was: Bethel-House of God.

Years later, Jacob sat on the banks of the lower Jordan. He was again on the run, the “victim” of deceit and cheating from his father in law. Then God showed up and Jacob wrestled with him. Jacob spent the entire night, grappling and struggling with a piece of God.

Then the Man touches Jacob and injures him. Jacob hangs on. The Man tells Jacob to let him go. Jacob says, “I won't let you go unless you bless me.”

As I sat in that Lent Service and Holy Spirit whispered to me: That’s what you do.

Since my 20s, I keep coming to that river-The Body of Christ. I keep showing up in either a church or bible study. As I sit on that bank sometimes my thirst is quenched.

Other times I dig through the mud for a handful of water for my dehydrated soul.

BUT each and every time it is to meet Jesus. To feel the breath of Holy Spirit. To experience that Perfect Parent, Creator and Divine Love.

I wrestle with Jesus and refuse to let go until I am blessed. It is not a platform for my political views, or to complete some kind of super hero agenda. I simply come to share what I have learned. The more I become acquainted with God’s love , the more I cannot resist giving Love and Grace to others.

As a child I saw the church as God’s place: a specific refuge for my battered and frightened mind, soul and spirit.

Now that I am an adult I see God has never left me. Divine Love has been with me as I wrestle in the mud.

So, I cannot walk away. I cannot abandon Christianity or the Church

No matter how dry the wilderness is
No matter how fierce the enemies
No matter how bitter the words of others might be

because Jesus hasn't.

I want to join Him as a table is set for us in the presence of enemies.

Singing In The Valley Of Trouble

It was heaven. Air Force Bases as the home of my early childhood. New friends every day mixed with an endless supply of playmates and giant lawns for epic adventures. Military aircraft played symphonies above, vibrating my window as they landed in their safe haven. My favorites were the Jolly Green Giants floating over, the gentle ripple of their blades a lulling heartbeat. No one could hurt me there.

It all changed when I turned 8. Dad’s service completed, we entered civilian life. At first, it was a new adventure. Living in a Grandparents’ house filled with light, I attended the school where my Mom went. I walked to school imagining myself in her shoes. Then famine hit.

November 1976, in the breath of a sentence my world changed forever. We had to move. We needed to go where opportunity was. Like Joseph moving his father Jacob and family to Egypt. I was moving to the Central Valley of California. Both started out as provision and ended with trouble.

I grew up quickly as the weight of change burdened my Mom. She fought Depression valiantly. Christianity told her if she was anointed with oil and prayed over healing would come. Read the Bible, pray more, get involved in a Bible Study; all of these helped, but never fully freed her to be the person she was in the land of plenty.

She obeyed. Depression always came back.

The wilderness introduced a new mother. She did the best with what she had, constantly battling to be free. All of life became a struggle. Four girls, financial woes and I as the oldest accepted the responsibility to fill in the gaps. In this new land, I didn't fit into the culture. Friendships were few and far between. The ability to serve my Mom and sisters eased my burden of loneliness. I learned the joy and importance of service.

The Counting Mutant and I met in college. The weekend after graduation, at 20, with song and dance, I packed my car and moved.  Central Coast was a land of new purpose. Creating a home, we trekked into adulthood. Our journey carried us from the Coast to LA.

Our fifth year of marriage brought us a beautiful baby, BoyA. A Master’s Degree introduced a new season. With breathless expectation we sought God for direction. Each interview ended with the same statement: If you only had a CPA…

It became clear we needed to start over. God had a promise and The Mutant knew the only place to find it was in the Central Valley. My heart groaned. The promise was for him, but not for me. I knew I was heading into another wilderness. 

As Sarah followed Abraham, I packed my house and prepared for the journey. It didn't take long to realize how much trouble filled the Central Valley for me. My family of origin in disarray making the best of their situation, I realized my loneliness. We welcomed a second son, BoyZ. The friends Father provided were few, but they were rich in love and grace. The next four years left lasting, aching scars. I learned to love God above everything else. He would always provide for me if I served and obeyed him first. He was a Master I trusted.

For The Mutant, the CPA was obtained. He sought God’s face: where next? He opened a window and we were released. I quickly packed the house. With singing and dancing I left this Valley of Trouble, eager to see what promise set before us.

Northern California was a balm to my wounds. Stability and a third baby, GirlyK, introduced a season of joy and peace. After 18 months, the dream job arrived. Another move and for two years California felt truly like home. A ski resort town, people from all over the world gathered to teach, explore and breathe airs of delight. Four seasons, complete with snow and Spring Green that glows with new life.

The dream job is still a job. God often gives us exactly what we have asked for in order to draw us toward him and reveal its emptiness. The Mutant became acutely aware. Famine was coming. It was time to go again to the Valley.

I imagined what Naomi must have felt when her husband decided to move to Moab. My soul ached. I cried out to my Master for mercy. He led me to this verse:

“Therefore, behold, I will allure her, Will bring her into the wilderness, And speak comfort to her. I will give her her vineyards from there, And the Valley of Achor (trouble) as a door of hope; She shall sing there, As in the days of her youth, As in the day when she came up from the land of Egypt.

And it shall be, in that day," Says the Lord, "That you will call Me 'My Husband,' And no longer call Me 'My Master,'” Hosea 2:14-16

I entered a season of Winter Sun. Light to guide me without warmth. As I meditated on Hosea-written on windows and mirrors with dry erase marker and placed on shelves in frames- my eyes were opened to small tender mercies.

Father’s Fingerprints: A blue bird that lingered on a branch outside my window, friends who helped carry an impossible burden and aided a way of escape. Once back in the Central Valley he provided home with aged trees and a lake. Provision came from unlikely sources. Former enemies gave us encouragement. Lessons about God’s love and grace taught by disenfranchised. The freshly healed scars on my heart were bumped and poked. Fresh wounds of abandonment appeared and my spirit sang;

“Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance.” Psalm 42:5

It has been a long ten years. I still stand in the Valley of Achor, yet God is now my Divine Love, no longer a master I serve out of duty. I sing with laughter and fulfillment because of the men BoyA and BoyZ have become. My husband’s soul is whole and healed with of the return of a lost son, BoyN. The Counting Mutant is pleased by fruitful labor. Divine Love uses GirlyK to renew and redeem childhood lost within me.

I confidently sing in this Valley of Trouble now. In the beginning of this third, Divine Love whispered tender words to me as he held me in seclusion. As time passed, rich vineyards of community flourished and flowed with friendship. He provided exactly what we needed when we needed it; from food to dance classes for the kids. Trouble was a door of hope, wounds allowed to heal created an ability to unconditionally love and build boundaries of wisdom.

Writing today, I overlook a backyard lake, trees dancing in the breeze and mountains shyly peak the distance. I am reminded of a childhood interrupted. The days of my youth; free to play in open spaces filled with green. I lay in rest by shores of flowing water. In my head, Miriam takes tambourine in hand, dances and sings: 

"Sing to the LORD, for he is highly exalted. The horse and its rider he has hurled into the sea." Genesis 15:21