My Big Step…

I made a big decision today. As most of you, dear readers, know, I have been struggling through Trichotillomania since I was five. 30 years of pulling out my hair. Yikes.
These past few months have been particularly difficult, and the compulsion has become much worse. Over the past couple of weeks, I have had to wear a headband at all times to cover the bald spots.
I have prayed for healing. I have used every coping mechanism I have. Nothing has worked. I finally came to the conclusion that, until God takes this from me and heals me, I will need to take away the opportunity to pull my hair.
So, with my husband and my mom with me, I shaved my head. It looks a little something like this:

The first thing I felt was a little panic. My husband had to shave most of it, and it was difficult for all of us.
Then, this feeling of relief came over me. I don’t have to pull out my hair anymore! That constant feeling of trying to stop and failing was gone. It wasn’t part of me anymore.
My mom and I went and bought a wig. I felt like half of my femininity was gone. I knew that girls’ night, date night, and church would be a real challenge for me. I would feel so out of place. So we bought a wig. It looks like this:

For those who know what I looked like before, it’s going to be kind of weird, I worry. But I think that’s okay. You’ll get used to it! LOL!
The best part? I got to keep my pink. I didn’t shave my bangs, because it’s more natural looking if my real hair is mixed in with the wig. So I have pink bangs still! Hooray!
What I’m hoping to accomplish here is taking away the opportunity to pull, and thus breaking the habit cycle. Hopefully, that will help in the healing process, and I can stop pulling altogether. And it’s JUST HAIR! That’s the comforting part. It’ll always grow back.
So now you know!

Men and Laundry

In the interest of saving countless marriages, and even more countless bras and other delicates, I am going to teach men how to do laundry in a context that they will be able to relate to.

Yes. I’m a good friend.

Doing laundry is like owning a car.
That’s right, boys. NOW you’re interested!
Stay with me here.

Let’s start with the basics.

With laundry, you have the usual categories. Whites, darks, colors, towels, rags, linens, and delicates. Those are pretty straight forward.
So why is it that when you wash your wife’s white lace bra with the rest of the whites, you end up sleeping on the couch, and she gets to go shopping?

Well, this is where it gets a little sticky.

Let’s take a few steps back.

We’ll begin with jeans. You would think that your jeans would automatically go in the dark pile, right? Not necessarily!

Jeans are the 1987 Ford pickup of the bunch. These are the ones that you haul crap in, and you can go 4x4ing in them, and they keep on ticking! Go ahead and throw these in the wash with a handful of razorblades and jagged rocks for all we care. Just do NOT do that with OUR jeans, and for the love of God Almighty, do NOT damage the inside of our washing machine, or SO HELP ME!

Towels, linens, and the like. This is a little tricky. The soft, plushy towels that perfectly match your bathroom and are part of the decor, those are like that nice Cadillac in your grandparents garage with the leather seats and wood interior. As are the 400 thread count sheets that go on your bed and came with the very expensive bedding set. Your grandparents would gladly lend you the keys for a hot date, but you drive 10 miles below the speed limit, and top off the gas tank before you bring it home. These things are washed according to what bathroom they go in, and strictly by color. Just like you wouldn’t drink red koolaid in Grandpa’s Cadi, NEVER wash your plushy white towels with the kids’ red Ikea towels. NEVER. I don’t care that “they’re all towels”. The kids towels and the ones that are used outside with the slip’n'slide, eh…who cares? Hot water and soap. Gets the boogers out.

Next, we have your dress shirts, our cute everyday clothes, our casual dresses, and your and our pretty sweaters. These require a softer touch. These are like the PT Cruisers and New VW Bugs and Mini Coopers. They’re the adorable cars of the crowd. They’re novelty items. You don’t necessarily wash them by hand with the big puffy sponge, but you insist on going to the “no touch” car wash, that dries your pretty little thing with a rag afterwards. And they give you that little wipey for your dash. You use the smelly good soap with this stuff, and fabric softener. And if you’re REALLY awesome, you take most of this stuff to the dry cleaners.

And now, for the most important items of the laundry/automobile scenario.

The delicates.

This includes, but is not limited to, bras, panties, lingerie, stockings, tights, anything embellished, and anything satin, silk, or sheer.

Remember the mint condition, perfectly restored, ’57 Chevy convertible, with the original leather seats, and fuzzy dice on the rear-view mirror that your dad has in his alarm protected garage with the rotating display stage?
Yeah. That’s our delicates. If you wash them, that is the LAST thing of ours that you will EVER touch. Capiche? Leave them alone. In fact, according to you, they don’t even exist. Don’t even BREATHE in their direction. We will know. And if you do happen to touch them, don’t even bother trying to put that bad boy in reverse to take miles off the spedometer. WE. WILL. KNOW. And you will pay. The end.

Well, boys, I hope that helps. I suggest printing this blog entry out and hanging it in the laundry room for easy reference. Do it for you. Do it for her. Do it for your marriage.

Denial. It ain’t just a river in Egypt.

When I started blogging, it was to share about things that are important to me. This has kind of morphed into a confessional of sorts for me, and it’s here that I am able to talk through stuff that is difficult for me to verbalize. This entry is no different. It is a hard topic for me. But I am intent on sharing my heart, and this is part of that.
So, for those of you who know me pretty well, you know that the last 6 months or so have been extremely difficult for me. I have fallen into somewhat of a slump. I started therapy last week. As it turns out, I am battling anxiety/depression. As of yesterday, my counselor wants to put me on Prozac. Oh, I am SO excited about that. Not.
She says that it will clear away the cobwebs and help me be able to work through some of the crap that has come up.
Actually, maybe I should start there.
So back up.
Throughout my life there have been some significant occasions of abuse. Of all types, even spiritual. Some of these issues, I have been able to find healing, some I have not. I knew that eventually, I would be tackling them. Peeling back the layers of the onion, so to speak. So in that way, I was prepared for this, just not to this extent. This has totally kicked my butt.
Anyway, about six months ago was when I started really getting involved in the sex trafficking cause, and to say that I came under spiritual attack would be the understatement of the century. If there is any area to be attacked, the enemy was coming at me with guns blazing. Full frontal assault. Scared the hell outta me.
It has gotten to where I was afraid to leave my house. Along the way, I have made some extremely poor choices, all because I am in survival mode. “Just get me to tomorrow”. The pain started getting so bad that I did what I knew to numb out. One of those things was alcohol. For a few weeks, I was waking up with a hangover at least twice a week. I HAD to have something to take the pain for a little while. But it wasn’t working. The pain was too strong, and the enemy knew exactly how to undermind every attempt at sanity.
I was unable to explain to anyone what was happening, even to my husband. So he’s seeing his wife dissolve,and he had no idea how to help me. My friends were praying for me, and I was encouraged to get in the Word more, pray in my prayer language more, find a small group, blah blah blah blah. That’s where my previous post about “Sweet’n'Low Jesus” came from. Sheer frustration is what that was.
Scratch that. I was just pissed.
By the time I started counseling, it was too late. I did a lot of damage. Lost some relationships, lost some trust, and worst of all, I felt like I couldn’t look God in the face. There was too much shame. A lie from the enemy, to be sure.
When my doctor said that anxiety and depression were what was causing this, it shook me. See, my mom dealt with extreme depression when I was a child. She is a whole and healthy woman now, because of the healing that God has brought to her. But one of my fears that I have had is, because I am so like my mom, I would one day “go crazy” like she did. Now, our situations are very different, and we are very different people, but there are a lot of similarities too. I figured it was just a matter of time before I went off the deep end.
For those of you who have gotten to know me, and spend time with me, you know that the LAST thing I could be described as is depressed. Or anxious. Nevermind the fact that I have bald spots on my head from pulling out my hair, or the fact that I just can’t seem to lose weight, or that I am prone to angry outbursts, or that my sleep is interrupted on a nightly basis. How did I miss this?
Denial. Plain and simple.
This life that I have is my “normal”.
Pulling my hair out since I was 5? Oh yeah, well, that’s just my body’s way of relaxing. Everyone has their way.
My weight? Oh, I’m okay with the way I am. I’ll lose it, I just don’t have time to focus on that right now. But I’m happy with the way I look! Big body to match a big personality!
Angry outbursts? I’m the mother of two strongwilled children. ‘Nuff said.
Can’t fall asleep? And when I do, I can’t wake up? That’s been the usual since I can remember. I can function on less sleep.
Crap. It’s all crap.
What’s true is that I have learned to highly function and “hold it together” in a state of anxiety and depression. I’ll tell ya. I’m GREAT in a crisis! Why? Because deep down, my life is one big emotional rollercoaster, so I know how to shut off my emotions and survive. I have an extremely high pain tolerance. I can joke my way out of any strong emotion. I am known as being relaxed, easy-going, and letting things just roll off my back.
It’s funny, I was telling my counselor yesterday, “I have an extremely happy life! My family is incredible, I enjoy what I do, I am surrounded by loving people. I don’t know what my problem is. On paper, I have the perfect life!”
But I can’t stop crying. And my hope? Gone. I mean….GONE. On Friday, I actually considered moving out of my house for a while. Just until I got my s*** together. I was going to damage my family if I didn’t take an extended time-out, I thought. Another lie from the enemy, I know.
So where am I now? Ummm…I’m not sure.
I got some very healing prayer on Saturday. I am not isolating. I’m getting help, and prayer, and surrounding myself with people who can support the “crazy” me. I feel like the spiritual heaviness is lifted. But nightmares have started, and I wake up in a panic attack. I’m having trouble catching my breath because of anxiety. And things like housework, leaving my house, all that, is a little too much for me. And because of the choices I’ve made, and the ways I’ve acted out, I have stepped down from all ministries. And I’m in therapy now, with the probability of being put on meds.
SO. As we all know, I can’t be all doom and gloom for long without barfing out some sunshine and roses to lighten the mood. So what are the GOOD things?
….Okay, I just sat here for a good 6 minutes trying to think of something. THIS is my state right now, y’all.
….Okay, I got it.
I can be myself. Even if it’s a little crazy. I want people to KNOW me. REALLY KNOW me.
I get to tackle the last of the crap, and get healing.
When I get back into ministry, I can be fully present, and be able to fully invest in the victims and THEIR healing, rather than my own.
Most importantly, my relationship with God can only improve from here. I have been needing SOMETHING from him since I can remember, and I think this is starting that process. I have to get out of the way before he can fill that spot, so to say.
I feel the need to qualify this post with this: I am not looking for anyone to try to make me feel better, or fix this for me. I don’t need “Buck up little camper” type statements. I don’t want “God has a plan in all this” stuff. I know all that. And it makes me crazy when that’s what people think they have to offer me. I don’t need that. I need you all to KNOW me. I need to be supported in my crisis. What that kind of support looks like to me is prayer and intercession. Or something as simple as “I like who you are, even if you cry like a baby all the time”.
I’m going to be blunt. I am in a crappy place right now. I have NOTHING to offer right now. I am not able to really focus on anything other than my health right now. And I don’t feel God near me right now.
But that’s just RIGHT NOW. It’s changing, but it’s slow. And it’s damn difficult. And I hate it. So I think I’m on the right track.

Gloves Off.

I yelled at God tonight. I yelled a lot. I cried a lot too. But I mostly yelled, and I told Him that I don’t know what He wants from me. I told Him that He needs to show up, because I am starving, and I feel invisible to Him. I told Him that I feel like He broke up with me without even leaving a note, just didn’t return my phone calls and stopped answering my emails. Just Stepped Away.
I need a redefinition of God. I don’t need a huge, emotional high. I don’t need a pat on the head and a stupid christianese one-liner. I need God to show up and reveal…something. Anything.
Is that too much to ask? I realize that throwing me a bone and giving me a little something may not be in His Grand Plan. But He’s God. He can work around my weakness, right? He can tweak the Plan to help a girl out, right? He’s GOD for crying out loud.
I’ve been crying for about a week now. Since Sweet’n'Low Jesus. I just can’t shake it. A friend said today that it sounds like I’m battling a spirit of religion. It rang so true. I am fighting the constant do do do. I need to learn to be. Just BE.
I feel so hungry. SO hungry. But everything I’ve tried has left me hungry.
I am a bit of a bitch these days. I yell a lot. I mope. The house is a mess. Okay, it’s messier than usual. For the last couple of weeks.
This is way out of character for me. I’m not myself. I don’t like this version of me, and I want my normal me back, please. ASAP.

I’m Sorry, Anna Nicole

I step up to a magazine stand and it’s like stepping
up to an auction block and sex is for sale
as I see the bodies of females on display
for my trying not to look like I’m viewing pleasure…
and I think to myself, which one is worse
a burka or bulimia?
Ladies, “Free yourselves, so we can buy you,
don’t worry about your value,
because we will define you”
because happenings minus the facts
equals the news for us
so Anna Nicole must have died from an overdose…

But I know that there’s a thin line
between tight and too small
so pornography is just prostitution with taxes
and the fact is Anna Nicole lost her
power of definition and it killed her
She became a commodity, a novelty
and it really starts to bother me as I think
of how brothers under covers, went to
the gutter and had her for $2.99

So this is my apology because I was one of them
a letter asking forgiveness from the hearts of all women

Dear Anna Nicole, Jenna Jameson,
and those vivid video vixens
Gianna Michaele, those playmates in penthouse
and those pictures on the Internet that
have no names just descriptions
I wish I could write you a check and
give you back what I took
give you a DVD or a magazine
to upload your self worth, download your dignity,
read your truth or just see what you’re really worth
because I witnessed images that I didn’t have a right to
and I can’t erase my memory so I have to write you
and apologize for taking some-
thing that I paid for a price
but no matter how high, should have never been mine

I realized something standing on the cor-
ner of Broadway and 116th
as I saw fifty-seven magazines and women
covered covers of fifty-three
that these weren’t just bodies, they were sis-
ters, daughters, and mothers
and it was my call to be the best hus-
band, son, and brother

Now with a changed heart trying to
change my mind and my desires
Anna Nicole makes me worry but
the unnamed make me cry
because how many girls have died or been hospitalized
from not eating trying to be the right size
How many pills have been popped, and how
many drips of blood have been dropped
onto bathroom floors, behind dorm room
doors and those other doors with locks
on the opposite sides of cell blocks

When will we wake up and realize we’re
raising a generation of prostitots
kids that know how to suck and
f–k before they know how to love
know multiple positions before they know long division
and the minority becomes those who
aren’t sexual assault victims

This is for Denise laying down in front of
her webcam and following directions
the wife who just found her hus-
band’s private pleasure collection
the girl at the bus stop who has just been molested
the lady walking the street followed
by cat-calls and craned necks

I’m sorry and that’s all that I can say…
but I promise when I have a son,
I’ll raise him to respect you
and if my poems were bricks, I’d build
word walls to protect you
from males not worthy to hild the title of man.

Sister and mothers, I’m sorry…
Husbands, sons, and brothers please pick up your bats
because the women of this world
are waiting for us to step up.

Jonathan Walton

Talitha-Comi

Faith today is vanity
false believers participants
in man-made Christianity
Christians today are walking contradictions
steadfast hypocrites
attempting to reside on both sides of the fence
knowing full-well you can’t mix oil and water
the same goes for mingling flesh and spirit

We want to pitch and hit, catch and swing
but we must know that we can’t play for both teams

We are God’s creations
fashioned and formed in His own image
but the world has changed
and we in turn wish to change Him

If those in the world
cannot find holiness in the church
to whom will they turn to quench their spiritual thirst

The image of religion is that preach-
ers wish to fill their pockets
snatching dollars to deposit
praising God for a profit
Talented speakers pin flyers and pitch tents
God Himself they represent
then ask for your rent money
because they need that ten percent

Jesus teaches
a heart cannot serve two masters
First chapter of James
a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways
Joshua looked out to his people
and said choose whom you will serve, this day

I choose Jesus Christ
because He is The Way, The Truth, and The Life
the sole reason I can smile amid all of my strife
My suffering brings tears
but I have blessed peace and no fear
because when I close my eyes the last time
my father in Heaven is waiting when I leave here
Jesus said Talitha-Comi

meaning damsel I say arise
I use the same phrase
true believers arise
before we raise our eyes and True Christianity has died
Dismiss false teaching preachers
for the preach to your itching ears
in tongues they speak,
saying exactly what you want to hear
Talitha-Comi–faith will always conquer fear
With God lighting your path
the way is always clear
Kill the confusion
heaven and hell are not illusions
the world is in disaray
because God is not included
Baptists, Catholics, Seventh-day Adventists
Hindus, Muslims, Taoists, Jehovah’s Witness
Jews, Gentiles, Agnostics, Buddhists,
Methodists, Heretics, Atheists…excuse this
Forget these denominations
sand-line Sabbath separations
Jesus is Salvation
the only way for us to escape damnation
Talitha-Comi, we must let our lights shine
we are perfect by no means
but in darkness, we must be the Light.

Jonathan Walton

Sweet ‘n’ Low Jesus

I am tired of “saccharine” Christianity. I want real. I want gritty. I want politically incorrect, contradictory, eye-brow raising, cliff balancing, extravagant, scandelous, undignified, unrelenting, unforced, unleashed, and unfinished. I would rather walk away completely than settle for fake smiles, condescending one-liners, and stupid catch-phrases. At least then I know I’m not settling for less than Jesus.
So much of what I see in the church as a whole is candy coated and plastic…. I’m sick to death of having an emotionally charged “Jesus experience” just to come down a week later, and be back to looking for that high. It’s not the satisfying relationship I’m looking for. I want the day to day, in and out, working marriage that is promised to me in the Bible, and I feel like all I see is performance and “main attraction” type stuff. I’m so frustrated, because I thought I was getting there, and it turns out to be the same crap. I want the deep, abiding, confident knowledge that God is who he says he is, and that I am who he says I am. All I end up being is confused. Not sure what I’m doing wrong?
I am not capable of being fake, for the most part. Sooner or later, my real Megan comes gushing out. That’s why I can’t act. Lying physically hurts, and cheesy cliches make me barfy. The sayings “Let Go and Let God”, “Prayer is the answer”, “God has a plan”, all the pat answers and stupid sayings, I can’t stand them. All that does is let me pat someone on the head while pushing them away to make me feel more comfortable. What you see is what you get with me, and it’s not that I feel like I should be apologetic about that, but there is an underlying pressure to put on a “Christian” mask and pretty myself up. No wonder the world can’t stand us. I would rather hang out with the most unlovable, because at least they are honest about where they are. There are no pretenses, nothing to hide. I can be myself there. Why would I want to go into strip clubs and porn stores and build relationships? Because those women don’t have people who are capable of real Love, loving them! We don’t want to “go there” because it might be contagious. It might make a mess. I see myself in the women who are dancing naked, or the gals who sell porn for a living. Those women and I, we are very similar. The difference is, I have Someone who is teaching me to Love, really LOVE, and is giving me the chance to pay it forward. That is the ONLY difference.
So we in the church talk about reaching out into the community, when what we really want to do is throw money at it and hope it goes away, or “commit” ourselves to prayer, so we don’t have to touch it. And we paste on our smiles, and say our “God Bless You”s, and we get to go home at the end of the day, thinking we’ve acted like Jesus. And our neighbors are still waiting to feel His love. And we didn’t bring it to them. It makes me sad. And angry. And tired.
This is not what I signed up for. I am needing…no. Not the right word. I am DESPERATE for more than this. Everything I hear is leaving me dry. It’s the same regurgitated stuff. I don’t want to hear about what God can do for me. I don’t want to unlock anymore hidden potential, purpose, or influence. I don’t care about the “insteads”. I want to know Jesus. I want to know him better than I know my husband. I know what Todd’s next words are going to be more often than not. I want that with God. But I want that healthy fear. I want the awe and amazement. And I want to understand, REALLY understand what it is that He did for me. The God that I am hearing about is watered down, and is apparently waiting like a vending machine for me to say the right thing or push the right button so that He can spit out my candy bar. I don’t want that God. I don’t fear that God. I can’t trust that God.
Would the real God of the Universe please stand up?!

Feeling Trichy……

So I want to share something that a few people know about me, but not a lot. I am finding that by sharing this part of me, it has less of a hold on me, and brings some healing.
Okay, enough of being all mysterious….
Okay.
Deep breath.
Here we go.
I have been battling a disorder called trichotillomania. Trich for short. It’s also known as Compulsive Hair Pulling Disorder. Here’s an explanation I found online that pretty much sums it up:

“Trichotillomania (trick-o-til-o-MAY-nee-ah) is a disorder that causes people to pull out the hair from their scalp, eyelashes, eyebrows, pubic area, underarms, beard, chest, legs or other parts of the body, resulting in noticeable bald patches. Hair pulling varies greatly in its severity, location on the body, and response to treatment. For some people, at some times, trichotillomania is mild and can be quelled with a bit of extra awareness and concentration. For others, at times the urge may be so strong that it makes thinking of anything else nearly impossible.

Trichotillomania (also referred to as TTM or “trich”) is currently defined as an impulse control disorder but there are still questions about how it should be classified. It may seem to resemble a habit, an addiction, a tic disorder or obsessive-compulsive disorder. Most recently, it is being conceptualized as part of a family of “body-focused repetitive behaviors” (BRFBs) along with skin picking and nail biting.”

That’s the basic explanation. I was reading online and looking stuff up on YouTube, and there’s actually research being done on it’s connection to Tourette’s Syndrome! Just learned that today. It has been put under the same umbrella as OCD, and has been given other fancy titles and categories. I believe that mine started because of some early trauma that I experienced, but the jury is still out on that in the medical research field.

I have been battling this since I was 4 or 5, and in the past couple of years, I had to cut off all my hair because the compulsion had gotten bad enough that it was starting to show. So…snip snip!

I did do some counseling for a while, and I learned some really good coping skills. Things like wearing bandaids on my fingers, gloves, getting my nails done, etc. But quite honestly, I am holding out on something bigger. I want God to heal me. Completely. I was healed recently of the spiritual dependency part. But I need the HABIT part to go away. That’s the really difficult part. As of today, it’s not something I can control. My brain says,”Stop it. Stop it. Put your hand down.” My body says,”If I could, we wouldn’t be having this issue!” It flares up when I’m stressed or tired or upset. I had a miscarriage a couple of years ago, and it got much worse after that, and it hasn’t gotten better.

It’s quite an embarrassing thing to have to explain. I feel like a freak, quite honestly. It’s just so…weird! And it’s not like it’s a well-known issue! It dictates a lot of what I do. I hesitate to go swimming, because the makeup I wear might wash off. I don’t go out without makeup, even to the grocery store. I hate having to explain to my hairdresser why I’m missing hair. I have callouses on my fingers from pulling. And I can’t control it. That’s the worst. I just can’t stop.

So there you go. I’m letting it all hang out. I’m sharing this because I want to choose to be comfortable in my own skin. I know that sounds kind of weird, but here’s the deal. I’m 34, and I am at the age where I don’t have the time or patience for ridiculous fears, like what people think of me. I want to be able to look people in the eye, and not worry about whether or not they’ll notice that I pulled out all of my eyelashes and eyebrows, and that I used eyeliner to fill in the empty spots. Or that if I bend over to pick up my daughter, is anyone going to see the 3 or 4 bald spots that I created? The best way I know how to overcome my fear and dependency on people’s opinions is to just open up the box and let it all spill out.

I do know that there are lots of people who struggle with this same disorder. I know a few myself. We all have the same embarrassment about it, and I think that it’s time that the shame over this ends! How can I declare a “No-shame zone”?! I have two people holding me accountable for this, and it’s nice having that support. (You know who you are!) One of my friends said,”How about if I see you pulling, I just come over and hold your hands and pray with you?” I have to be honest, that was probably the most supportive, loving, amazing thing anyone could have said at that moment! I felt supported, not judged. Loved, not shamed. Accepted, not freaky-deaky! I think that that is how Jesus would have responded if he were standing next to me.

Okay, I’m clicking on “Post” now before I change my mind!

Whatever Happened to……

….Good, old fashioned, deep down, “pick it apart” Bible study? I used to go to a church in SE Portland. One of the pastors, Chris Stewart, he was DA MAN! His brain was so full of crazy bible information, and every time he preached, he knew the Greek root word for this and that, and was able to tie things that seemed so small and unimportant together, and his messages were A…MAZ…ING!!! And I was only 13! SHOO!!
I love Easthill. It’s my home. I love the people, I love the ministries that I’m a part of, and I love the fact that the leadership calls you out in your gifting and puts you to use! They say,”What are your passions and interests? Great! We’ve got a job for you!”
Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’ve heard all of the sermons before. Now, before people get all weird on me, let me just say that I’ve been in the church since birth, and I think that in some ways, I HAVE heard a lot of this before. Sunday sermons are like “Church Lite” for me, I guess. Which at Easthill, would make sense. Weekend services are geared for the pre- or new-believer. I think that’s awesome. I’m just feeling blah, I guess.
I was at church tonight, and granted, I’m exhausted, and probably PMSing, but still, I was feeling like, “I already KNOW this!” I need more of a challenge. I am in a small group, I’m leading two ministries, and I’m on Worship Team. All of those a filling a “spot” in my life, but I need the hard-core education, the history, the Greek translation, all that.
So where do I get that? I read my bible, but I don’t have Chris Stewart’s educated brain, and a lot of the bible, I’m sorry….I don’t get it! And I KNOW I’m not the only one, so don’t judge!
As I’m writing this, it’s like the Holy Spirit is saying,”I do have more for you. Don’t be afraid to say that you need it. Don’t be afraid of what people assume. When I’m in relationship with you, I’m all in. I want you to be all in too. I will give you what you need to be all in.” Awesome!
I have been hearing lately from the Lord that I need to get back to the basics. Our church believes in speaking in tongues, supernatural healing, all the Foursquare stuff, and I like that. But I think that I get caught up in all the flash and glitter of all that, and bypass really, REALLY KNOWING JESUS. And until I REALLY KNOW JESUS, all that stuff could potentially get in the way. Without understanding his character and heart, speaking in tongues and healing are just going to be fluff. I’d totally be missing the point.
All of this I’m still working out in my head. It’s new. That’s why I blog. As I started out saying, I hate to journal. Hate it. I don’t know, maybe I’m not doing it right.
Peace out.

Real Freedom

A recent conversation with a friend made me start thinking. Ted and Diane Roberts recently wrote “Sexy Christians”, an awesome book that talks about healthy sexuality and relationship in the context of marriage. It teaches couples how to have a great physical relationship according to God’s word. They travel all over doing “Sexy Christian” seminars, and it’s changing lives and marriages.
So. A local pastor is intent on bashing this book to bits and pieces before it even gets out the door. He has posted several “reviews” publicly, and has been quite cruel and critical with his words. This pastor is acting out of his own insecurity and hurt, and is making an effort to be hurtful.
This leads me to some thoughts. This man is a local pastor. If he is feeling hurt and bitter over something, as a pastor, wouldn’t he feel obligated even to deal with the hurt and bitterness? That is what he preaches to his congregation, does he follow his own teaching? I’m not sure I understand the thought processes behind that. But that’s not even the main thought that I have.
I can’t help but think how I have done the same thing this man is doing. I’m looking at his comments from the outside and thinking, “How dare he?! Who does he think he is? He needs to grow a pair and confront the real issue, his hurt and anger.” But really, if I am being honest and fair, I do that ALL THE TIME! It’s really humbling to know that I’m doing the very thing I find so disgusting and horrible in someone else. YIKES! When my feelings get hurt, how often do I say snarky comments about someone else’s success, just because I’m feeling pissy that they are doing well? Is that what Jesus told us to do? No! We are to treat others well, because it’s like heaping burning coals on their head. And that scripture is NOT referring to a kind of hot retaliation. In the original text, heaping burning coals on someone’s head is a way of blessing them. When we treat someone kindly who is treating us badly, we are blessing them because we are loving them UNCONDITIONALLY! (I’m sure you know this, but unconditionally means “Without Condition”.)That’s a completely foreign thought to my human side! You screw with me, I mess you up. That’s how Human Megan rolls.
All I’m saying is this. I need to deal with my hurt and anger, so that it doesn’t cloud the truth. When I am judgmental, WHY am I being so judgmental? What am I hanging on to? Only then can I experience freedom!