7/11/12 A whispered truth is a searing shout of freedom that goes into the heart of a believer bringing joy and light and love.

Confronting the lies.

I was conceived in the back of a Studebaker on a hot August day in a small town in Missouri while my father was away on Air force duty and my mother being weary of loneliness drank her courage and sought out the company of a fellow she’d just met.   Johnny Baker was his name and he had been -  according to my mother - a merchant marine.  He was one of the two men who raped her.  All of this was news to me at 58 years of age and after a lifetime of believing the lie that I was unwanted by either of my parents.  She informed me that yes there was a wall between us because every time she has ever looked at me, she saw his face and the shame of her actions and the ensuing lies she told to protect herself from the consequences of that day.  She wanted absolution from me for her failures.  I did not have it to give her but I understood finally why my life was as it was.  Unwanted.

I’d always felt unloved and unwanted and that was reinforced by the actions of a woman who claimed to love me but never showed me the kind of warmth I craved.   I was told that her divorce from my father was due to his inability and/or disinterest in taking on the task of providing for his family.  Proof of this is a story of a cockroach that crawled over me as an infant in some dive apartment room where the dresser drawer was my bed.  And another story of a couple in her church that offered to adopt me and my brother, and her refusal to their proposal was supposed to provide the evidence of her love for me.  But there was proof to me in the fact that no father ever sought me out in my whole life and that the gaping hole of need for affection from my mother was never filled because love from her was nonexistent.   Therefore the first lie I believed before I could even form a thought in my mind was that I was unwanted and unlovable.  So, my desire to be loved so deeply part of my heart, was set aside as unattainable from the beginning and although I did not understand why, I knew it was my fault somehow.  I adopted a philosophy, which was the next best thing - to be good and hope for some scrap of affection that might be earned.  Unwanted, unlovable.

My daddy, it was reported to me, took me to see his mother at age 2 even before he’d introduced my mother to her.  I do not remember any of that actually.  My older brother and I were taken in and adopted by my dad and raised as his own.  He provided for us and our mother as a good husband and father was supposed to.  But he was never home, never available, as he worked shifts that changed every couple weeks, so what little we saw of him he was usually in a foul mood and we dared not request anything of him.  But apparently I’d caught his eye for some reason and I was happy to have someone take me on in spite of my obvious inadequacies and inner ugliness.  My little brother and I however used to talk of being loved and how it must feel.  I remember a conversation one summer as we lie on the floor in make shift beds at my grandma’s house in Arkansas, whispering in the darkness while junebugs churned away and crickets tried to drown them out.  I love my little brother so much.  Hearing that he too was afflicted with this pain was almost unbearable for my tender heart.  But even our hushed tones were too much for the quiet of the house and we were threatened into silence with a command from our dad, which seemed to be the proof of the point we both felt.  This lie was that even my precious little brother was as unlovable as I was to these adults and somehow we were all on our own here.  Disappointments to the ones we should have been adored by, we both felt that we were not and would never be good enough to be cherished and loved.  Somehow having another in the same boat with me only served to reinforce my belief in those lies.  Unwanted, unlovable, unworthy. 

I was about 3 yrs old when my grandfather made his desires known to me in a shed in the back of my grandma’s house in Missouri.  Glad to have the attention and longing for whatever – even the slightest indication that I was worth loving – I willingly participated in his deviant sickness and even with the guilt and shame that came into my heart I was happy to have been noticed and approved of for something.  For my acquiescence in these episodes I was rewarded with bright bouncing balls, candy, and the adoration of this fat slobbering heavy breathing man with the glint in his eye.  The next lie I believed therefore was that my worth could only be tied to the amount of pleasure I was able to give a man.  Also tangled up in that lie was that I was guilty and bad and dirty to the core.  I have no idea where either of my parents were when my grandfather was molesting me. Unwanted, unlovable, unworthy, bad.

Thus my life was formed around a heart that believed it was unworthy of love and any kind of affection would be at the expense of dignity and goodness.   I was never good enough and yet I could not bring myself to be bad enough either. Not really.  Another more subtle but very strong lie was developing as well, that I was alone and there was no champion to protect me. Unwanted, unlovable, unworthy, bad, alone.

Enter religion:   Now as if my own conclusions as to the unworthy state of my being were not enough – here was an entire movement ready to pounce on me sledge hammer in hand screaming controlling coercing manipulating badgering and brainwashing me into submission.  I have no idea what I was to be submitting to, but I resented it even in the midst of the comfort of having a place to belong.   Here are the rules and here is why you are not good enough to be able to accomplish them.  But you must try anyway, and never succumb to the ‘evils of the flesh’ that are able to drive you into hell.   Why on earth would anyone willingly put on this yolk of slavery which is that which modern Christianity has become?  It seems ludicrous to me even to consider it other than for the fact that there is reported to be grace and truth and freedom and love to be found therein.  But honestly I found none of these in any ‘church’ I’ve ever come to.  Lots of talk about it.  Lots of people looking for it.  Lots of striving and lots of working at showing it.  And lots of worn out beat down broken people starving for what their hearts most deeply crave.   Where in this process did we become deceived into believing that this was what Jesus intended?  I am at a loss as to why anyone would continue under the slavery of what it has become.  Yet a part of me understands the weariness of seeking and seeking and never finding so settling for the image and appearance as the best and only thing available.  Religion is a double edged sword offering so much and denying so much more, under the guise of love.  As far as I have experienced it is all delusion and lies.  Unwanted, unlovable, unworthy, bad, alone, not good enough.

Camouflage settling and plastic people:  Some of the things I’ve come to hate in my life.  It took me a while and it took some rebellion and courage and it also took giving up on living happily ever after.  At least that’s what I told myself.   I learned to despise fakeness in anyone because that’s what I lived with growing up.  I want truth at all cost.  I like playfulness but never at the expense of truth.  I can’t settle.  I can no longer compromise for less than everything.  I don’t have any time for camouflaged people who are not willing to come out from behind their masks and be who they truly are.  This is not to say I have no compassion for people who are stuck, or unaware, or so downtrodden that they have nothing left to reach with.   This is one lie that I do not think I ever believed:  you must put on a façade for others.  I am thankful for this lesson.  But because of this I never was acceptable in circles of ‘in’ people who live for appearances sake.  And I say - so be it. Thankfully I had not added to my list of beliefs the lie that one must fake that they have what they desire.

To say that I’ve lived self destructively most of my life is an understatement.  I’ve been angry because of what I believed and because of what I felt was denied me in terms of my heart’s needs and desires.  I lashed out at people who I perceived were the problem, and I became a perpetrator of sorts myself.   I lived with guilt over pain I’ve caused others and arrows I shot into their hearts because I had thought this might provide some relief of my own pain.  That too was a lie. Unwanted, unlovable, unworthy, bad, alone, not good enough, guilty.

Depression and self hatred ran my life for many years.  I have forgotten years and years of precious moments which might have been a comfort to me in my lost state.  And although I married and had two wonderful children who love me, I was never able to see that my life was built on the shifting sands of all those lies that were part of my very beginning.  Of course I divorced after infidelity on both our parts and I’ve not remarried.  Depression and self hatred ushered in the eating disorder and obesity, and more depression and self hatred.  If I’d thought I was worthy of love when I was young and beautiful this surely was evidence of how futile that search was now.  And I grew to believe the lie that I was never going to be attractive again, never going to find a man to love me, never going to be happy – because I was still unworthy of love.  Unwanted, unlovable, unworthy, bad, alone, not good enough, guilty, ugly.

Jesus:  This was tricky for me.  First of all, he’s a man, and God, and unseen, untouchable, and not heard with physical ears.  He has a book that is filled with the violent history of what happened to the world under his care.  The people who promote him are either delusional or liars in my mind.  I was put off by all of this, and yet… years of medication therapy hiding and trying to distract myself had not worked and as far as I could tell never would.  And my heart still sought truth and freedom and love.  So somehow I was still drawn to Him.  Well.  Not HIM, but him: the person who walked and talked and showed real love to those around him.  Not the pie in the sky God of vengeance and wrath and anger, sitting on a glorious throne whip in hand waiting for me to mess up so that he could hit me with punishment and more pain.  I wanted nothing to do with this judgmental perfectionist that I could never please.  In spite of this I searched, I dove into church ignoring the difficulties and people who were obviously no better off than I, and every now and then I found some few people who seemed real and willing to open their hearts to me.  But I was leery of this and of the motives of anyone who appeared too happy too giving too too.  And a restlessness set in that caused me to be unable to remain in that status quo just treading water, yes doing some good works, loving people as best I could, but never never never finding out where I fit and why I could not be loved. It all seemed futile to me this working and trying to earn the good attention of a far off God.  But I tried to believe this lie too, and grew to believe it was me that was all wrong.  Unwanted, unlovable, unworthy, bad, alone, not good enough, guilty, ugly, incapable.

I'd given my heart to Jesus, I'd followed the prescription for being a good Christian.  I'd raised my children, paid my tithing, done good works, gone on mission trips, taught the youth and Sunday school classes.  I'd done all I could do to be the best I could and still I was empty.  Surrounded by lots of other empty masked people working so very hard to be good enough for God.  But there was great restlessness and discontent still in my heart, and a loneliness that bore a hole in any contentment I could manage by doing good.  I was told to run hard after God and along the way look around for someone running with you.  He'll be the one God has for me, my knight in shining armor, here to save me from this broken heart and fill this void.  I was never so miserable because now I could not even make myself busy enough to be distracted from this pain.  Having prescriptions for successful relationships was not the answer either.  Not even close.  More lies to believe.  Unwanted, unlovable, unworthy, bad, alone, not good enough, guilty, ugly, incapable, failure.

In this restlessness I happened upon and read “Waking The Dead” by John Eldredge, and the earth shook under me.  I remember that I told my son-in-law that this book has answers to questions I never even knew I had.  And so I began a long journey towards finding my heart and the freedom that Jesus promised.  To be fair I must say that I’d read Chip Ingram, Dan Allender, and a slew of others in search of a way of healing my many wounds.  I knew I was not whole and I wanted more than anything to find the answer to this puzzle I’d been searching for all my life.  

John E. introduced me to the real live Jesus in ways that I’d never dreamed were possible.  He also introduced me to the idea that my heart, having been given to Jesus, was good.  And the desires that it holds are not only not bad, but that they were placed there on purpose and that they are good and right and beautiful!  WOW!!!  What ensued was nothing less than miraculous.  I’ve been on this Mr. Toad’s wild ride of a roller coaster journey into the depths of my heart and soul and into the glorious freedom and truth and love that is Jesus my God.  Lies are being exposed and truth replacing them one by one.  Jesus book now, as I read it with fresh eyes of understanding, is a love story set in the backdrop of great tragedy war and evil, but with the Great Romancer willing and able to conquer and win by giving everything he has for his beloved.  The adventures of Love: betrayal, loss, deceit, intrigue, sneaking in behind enemy lines, lies, sacrifice, conquest, victory, reunion, and a happily ever after ending.  This is beyond any fantasy or fiction any of us could have come up with.   This is the story of a wild fierce lover jilted and betrayed yet unwilling to give up on his beloved.  Where hope beyond hope calls us into unfathomable unending unquenchable love.  This is what my heart has longed for.  Finally, finally I see that there is hope for what I've desired, hope for wholeness and truth.  And my heart begins to believe it could be possible. 

I was 23 when I gave my heart (half heartedly) to Jesus, but he took what he could get, and it has taken me until age 57 to accept His heart in return.  Patience, your name is Jesus.  That undying love never gave up on me even when I gave up on myself.  He saw something in me worth loving even though I’d have argued with him on that point to the death.  I now understand that it is precisely because he made me that he knew what was there.  That it only needed to be uncovered, watered, and nurtured to come alive in me. 

Growth comes in spurts, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly as I’m able to lay aside my reluctance and fear.  With gentleness and deft surgical skills he cuts away at the rotten lies I’ve held onto from the beginning.  Layer upon layer of putrefied death is peeled away and removed with tender loving hands.  In the end I believe that my heart will have been completely removed only to be replaced with pure love.  It is good.  For now, each step, each precise incision into those lies and the scars that encapsulate them brings pain, but also freedom.  No excision without my complete ascent which is not simply blind trust on my part, but a growing incompatibility with the filth that I once stood on.  Lies are shifting sand full of holes and very unstable.  Truth is more solid than any perception of the senses and incomparable with what I once believed.   My life though the same has changed dramatically.

I felt I needed to address the lies, to name them, to recognize them and acknowledge them, not to give them weight, but to diffuse them.   Somehow coming face to face with them, no matter their origin is freeing to me.  They no longer live in the darkness hidden and locked up wreaking havoc on my life.  Bringing them out into the light is an exercise in trust as I unveil them one by one to the light of Jesus love.  

Revealing them to others an act of love on my part because I know I’m not alone.  I know that while my circumstances will have been different from anyone else’s, the resulting lies and beliefs are just as tragic and damaging.  And I realize that it’s not simply a matter of opening up and spewing out the filth, but a joint effort between me and my precious Jesus while I exercise faith in the pureness of his love for me.   Together and knowing I’m safe, we probe in the darkness of my prison to uncover what was once monsters and horror, to bring out impotent lies deflated in the light of his love.  And what results is healing and joy and freedom tasting so sweet I feel I should never stop singing.  I don’t believe the lies any longer.  Freedom has taught me that I am loved, lovable, worth fighting for, and precious.  Love reached in and rescued me from myself.  It’s not a ‘by and by’ in the hereafter dream.  It’s here and now and it’s real. Also it is available to anyone who wants it.  The price: it's free, but it costs a life.  Is a life of pain not something worth paying to gain freedom and love?  I think so.

Jesus said in his first public speech, quoting from the book of Isaiah: “The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me, Because He has anointed Me To preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, To proclaim liberty to the captives And recovery of sight to the blind, To set at liberty those who are oppressed; To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD.”  And I took him at his word.    Now, I don’t see any reason not to.  

If we can only overcome the lies of religion to get to this truth, we can be free.  Someone I just met has this posted on his blog and I love it:  "I’m leaving religion and taking up residence in His love."  I think that is exactly where I will reside as well.  It’s the only place where truth and love and freedom and light exist, and the only reality that I desire.  I hope that this can help someone else find that light and freedom as I have and discover that the very thing they may be running from is the answer to their deepest desires, as it was for me.