The Wilderness, the Red Shirt, and the Cave

Here’s a riddle: What do the wilderness, a red shirt, and a cave have in common?

At first glance very little; however, to a wilderness wanderer, quite a bit.

After spending 18 years drifting in a spiritual and emotional desert, I found a lovely cave to nest in. Dark, warm, and safe, my emotional and spiritual cave became a recovery zone of sorts. It gave me a beautiful solitude and territorial solidarity to serve as my rehab center. Safe from prying eyes and probing legalistic religiosity, I learned of and leaned into a deep, precious sense of the unmerited, unwavering grace of my Abba.

But even rehab needs to end. Most people are anxious to get out of rehab. I guess I’m not most people. I knew what awaited me outside – more dusty, erred wilderness. Yet in His infinite wisdom my Lord knew what would get me back on the road out of my wasteland.

Forgiving Him.

I have been in the church long enough to have been the perpetrator and the victim of someone Bible thumping the message of forgiveness:

“”If you don’t…God won’t forgive you.”

“If you don’t…you could lose your salvation.”

“If you don’t…”

But even though the Lord knew I needed to forgive Him for, in my mind, abandoning me, do you know how He handled it?

He waited with open arms.

He didn’t thump His Word. He didn’t point a finger. He didn’t lament with stern expressions. He waited with open arms. And so a few weeks ago, I ran into His arms with abandon and found myself on the very short path out of my wasteland.

In football there is a term known as a “red shirt.” Players that wore the red shirt were a part of the team; however, due to injury or illness, were forced to sit out during convalescing. The red shirt was a sign to others that this player is still a valued member of the team; however, they needed to be out a season to heal.

After guiding me out of the wilderness, the Lord handed me back my team jersey, lovingly slapped me on the back, and put me back in the game.

Obedience vs Sacrifice

I have learned much about shedding the carnal nature lately. I liken it to circumcision without numbing medication (not that I've ever been circumcised, but the vivid imagination of a writer fills in the blanks). I have had a face-to-face with my carnal side before. Some meetings were victorious, others, not so much.

Most recently I was challenged by the Holy Spirit to lay down something that I have longed for most of my adult life. I wish I could say I easily shed my wantonness and chose obedience. Victory eventually came, but a sacrifice was involved.

When Abraham trudged up Mt Moriah with his son, they went alone and Isaac carried the wood. The Bible doesn't state, but I imagine Isaac questioned his father and struggled when Abraham slowly tied his hands. He probably pleaded, fought, panicked and even compromised.

The Word also doesn't tell us what was going on in Abraham’s mind, but I can only imagine.

“Lord, do you really mean for me to do this?”

Silence.

“But Lord, I waited so long for Isaac. You promised!”

Silence.

“Lord, if you let him live, I’ll… .”

More silence.

Can you relate?

During this shedding session, I learned many things:

1.    We don’t get to choose what we have to sacrifice. God chooses.

2.    We have to go it alone. Just Him and us.

3.    The thing we must sacrifice will carry its own fuel.

4.    The sacrifice will be something we treasure.

5.    If we are NOT obedient, there will be a sacrifice.

6.    If we ARE obedient, the sacrifice might get up and live.

7.    If required to sacrifice it, there will be great blessings in the aftermath.

Obedience is better than sacrifice…but oh so much harder.

I am my Beloved’s

I want to really understand this. That is the cry of my heart these days; along with healing, strength, wisdom and a plethora of other requests. But this one trumps them all. I am my Beloved’s.

I was raised with an alcoholic father who used his “liberties” as the authority figure in my life to tell me I was the sick one for setting boundaries. Then, as an adult,  my ex-husband used the spiritual liberties granted him by man’s version of submission. Oh I don’t blame my ex-husband and father. I take full ownership of my crown called co-dependency and my scepter known as enabling. They are mine…temporarily that is until I figure out how to get rid of these pesky things.

But I really, REALLY want to grasp, grapple, press in, and absorb the concept of being His Beloved. I want to understand this as the foundation of my personal worth - not the opinions of man. I am probably my own worst enemy in this mistaken identity. I love what John Eagan said in his journal “We judge ourselves unworthy servants, and that judgment becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We deem ourselves too inconsiderable to be used by a God capable of miracles with no more than mud and spit. And thus our false humility shackles an otherwise omnipotent God.”2

I am more than mud and spit. I am in His image (I wonder if he has a dimple on his left cheek). Recently, I started defining myself to myself as one radically beloved by God and you know what? I have sensed a “falling in love” with my Jesus. I have truly felt a sense of intimacy with Him that I don’t remember feeling for a real long time.

Some in the church would believe me to be in rebellion; clearly not capable of such a close and intimate walk. That is something reserved only for the submitted and obedient (i.e. not divorced for non-Biblical reasons…whatever that means). I used to be one of those judgmental people. I am definitely reaping what I’ve sown. Ouch.

I’ve always had this sense of disappointing the Lord. Always afraid of what He really thought of me and my many hours of whiling away in an imaginary world. Then I remembered standing unobserved at the door of my children’s room watching them entertain Big Bird or Barney in some great plot or adventure. I would smile, turn, and leave them to their play, perfectly content with the fact that if they needed me or wanted to spend time with me, they would search me out. At which time, I would open my arms wide, envelope them completely, and savor the scent of blessed innocence in my beloved.


Is that how He sees me?

2Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning, NavPress, 2002.

Shedding Titles for a Testimony

I’ve come to believe all pastors and church leadership are suspect. Of what…well that depends. Pastor Tom was the only pastor in MY church history that truly deserved the title and role. His name is synonymous with integrity, grace, kindness, and a million other adjectives that really don’t do him justice. I describe him to people as “the Holy Spirit with skin on.”

He recently became my champion and my hero when, after months of being separated from my husband, I’d told Pastor of my decision to divorce. I remember sobbing in his office just a month ago saying, “I just can’t take it anymore, Pastor!” My husband, still holding out hope, told Pastor that he still loved me. I told him that wasn’t enough.

Pastor Tom, in his infinite – ok…finite, but great – wisdom looked at my husband and said, “What if one day you asked your wife to go jogging with you. While you were jogging you tripped her and broke her leg. You said, ‘I’m so sorry’ and she said, ‘I forgive you; however, my leg is broken and it needs time to mend. After it mended, you asked her to go jogging again and again tripped her and broke her leg. Again, you profusely apologized. She said, ‘I forgive you; however, it will take longer for my leg to heal. Then, when she was healed you asked her to go jogging a third time and again you tripped her and broke her leg. You, again, profusely apologize. She says, ‘I forgive you; however, my leg has been broken too many times and I can no longer jog with you.”

Then he looked at me and said, “What if we lived in a land that had a law stating you MUST jog every day? What if you went to the law-giver of this land and stated, ‘My leg has been broken too many times, I can no longer jog.’ The law says you must jog…but Grace says, ‘your leg has been broken too many times, of course you cannot jog.”

All the pain and heartache somehow had words that night. Words and a picture so vivid, it quieted my soul. It quieted my husband too! I think at that moment, he got it.

Yes, Pastor Tom had always been a great man, but that night he became my hero. In a later conversation when I told him of my fears of judgment from the Body of Christ, he said, “You will never hear judgment from me. I do not blame you for divorcing and if anyone speaks judgment to you send them to me.”

We buried my hero today. He died on May 20.

There is no earthly hero to champion me in the face of human judgment for what they call the great sin of “Divorce.”

At the funeral, a pastor gave a beautiful eulogy stating, “Tom was not about titles. He was about his life being a testimony.” That hit me between the eyes. I have lived my whole life seeking titles:  Dance Teacher, Wife, Mother, Pastor’s Wife, Teacher/Speaker, Writer, Author, recently a Zumba Fitness Instructor. Now I was adding one…Divorcee. Ok, if you want to be really technical it would be Co-dependent Divorcee. Sounds more…trendy.

I have been hiding behind one or more of these titles for the majority of my life and somewhere along the way forgot who I am. When I first thought about starting a blog about this journey I was considering some pithy titles like, “I’m wearin’ Big Girl Panties Now” or “Christian, Co-dependent Divorcee seeks Sanity.” Something catchy, innovative, provocative. You know…a title to describe where I was at in life.

A title.

The last thing I need right now is a title. It is time to shed titles and search out my testimony. There is definitely a whopper buried under six feet of child molestation, being the daughter of an alcoholic, surviving a father’s suicide, two public ministry scandals, and living with a deceiver for the last 24 years.

I just have to dig a while to find it…and me.