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.
