The Problem with Locusts

During these cavernous months, it seemed like I was climbing out of a life-time of darkness. When the Lord shined His light of Truth in the shadowy recesses, I didn’t recognize myself! This is what stale grief and keeping parts of your soul in darkness can do. It steals part of who we are. Kind of like the locusts in the Bible. 

“So I will restore to you the years the swarming locust has eaten,

the crawling locust, consuming locust, the chewing locust… .” Joel 2:25.

The Arabs call locusts the “darkeners of the sun.” I found some interesting correlations with these buzzing darkeners:

Biblical Truth	Correlation
They occur in great number and literally obscure the sun (Exodus 10:15, Judges 6:5).	They block Truth (Son).
They make a fearful noise in flight (Joel 2:5).	They distract.
They enter dwellings and devour woodwork (Joel 2:9-10).	Consume destiny and gifts.
Water and sea destroys them. (Exodus 10:19)	Anointing breaks the yoke.

Did you know locusts cannot guide their own flight? They are literally at the mercy of the wind. So I proclaim this day that these locusts that have obscured the Light of Truth in my life are at the mercy of the Wind of the Holy Spirit.

When the locust is blown by His Wind, we are promised new grain (provision), new wine (joy), and new oil (a new anointing), and we will be satisfied (Joel 2:19). I am so grateful that God’s truth and glory brings life where there is death.

For more information on the Biblical meaning of the locust: http://www.biblemeanings.info/Words/Animal/Locust.htm

We Are Their Example - and Sometimes the Sermon

I have grieved many losses over the years, but this one hurt deeply. And I avoided the Holy Spirit’s prompting to uncover this cavernous path. My weekends of cleaning out caverns with the Lord was usually met with childlike giddiness because I knew that when the Lord cleaned out an area, it was for GOOD. I received such sweet revelation and healing thus far, but this one…no, I knew this one would be different.

I stood at the top of this gaping cavern and felt a crushing weight in my soul as I saw my own responsibility of teaching my children offense with church leadership and spiritual authority. My precious gifts from the Lord watched as I wrongly accused church leadership of falsity and untruth. They watched as I showed them how to play the victim, carry an offense, hurl accusations, listen to lies, and dig wells of bitterness toward leaders in the Body of Christ.

This is not what I was called to as their mother. This was not the mandate of scripture and the heart of God when He granted me the honor of parenting these treasures. Instead of showing them how to speak the truth in love, reconciling misunderstandings, and how to walk in forgiveness, I showed them how to spew accusation, hurt, anger, and spread gossip.

I most certainly lost my mother-of-the-year nomination.

Pain, trauma, lies…changed me. But my bitterness, hurt, anger and fall out from the former changed them.

And I carried the weight of responsibility like a mother carrying her child into the emergency room.

The more I repented, the more light dawned in this painful cavern. The Lord and I spent many hours that day digging, cleaning, and changing my grave clothes. As I repented over my children and proclaimed a release of redemptive work, something shifted.

The Word promises He redeems our life from destruction (Psalms 103:4). Our life is an example to those who watch. A sermon to those who listen. Will we be an example of accusation? Or will we be an example of redemption, grace, mercy and His abiding love in ALL circumstances?

Cinderella Complex and the StraitJacket

“In my own little corner, in my own little chair I can be whatever I want to be.” (Cinderella, 1965)

Cinderella was always my favorite Disney movie. So when my therapist suggested I imagine a “safe room” for my bruised and battered emotions, this song danced it’s way across my psyche. 

In my “safe room” I had a bed, a nice rug in the center and a lovely breakfast nook in the corner. A fireplace in the center of one wall was a nice touch – after all, memories get cold once in a while. But the two most notable features (to me AND my therapist) was the front and back door. The front door was the kind I saw in movies. You know, the ones where the upper half of the door and the bottom half were split so you can chat with your neighbor while cooling a pie on the window ledge? (cue Leave it to Beaver music here).

The second thought-provoking feature was the back door. It led to a lovely meadow and forest. My therapist’s head tilted to one side, “hmmmmm, interesting.” 

“Because… ?” I asked.

He pursed his lips while looking at my drawing, “I have never had anyone draw a back door before.” 

So does this make me brilliant, fascinating, or ready for a straitjacket? I thought it might be wise to keep that thought to myself so I just said, “Oh, really?” 

“Well,” he explained. “This is supposed to be your safe room. Your front door is split so you can let people in just so far, and since you have a back door, this tells me that even in your safe place, you feel the need for an escape route.” 

I had buried pain so deep and had so many trust issues that even my safe room had an escape route! 

Well, this explained a few things. I wondered if a medium size straitjacket would fit.

In order to climb out of this cavern, I needed to learn to trust my Heavenly Father to light the way. His Word was a constant torch and guide on my journey.

“For in the time of trouble, He shall hide me in His Pavilion. 

In the secret place of His tabernacle, He shall hide me.

He shall set me high upon a rock.” Psalm 27:5

Grave Cloaks are Never a Fashion Statement

Anger feels good. It justifies, drives, and motivates. It even feels powerful.

When protecting my nest from people in the body of Christ, it felt righteous. The reason for the protection is not up for discussion, as that situation is long gone and under the blood of Christ. But the Holy Spirit showed me stench from grave clothes from covering my nest from the church.

The day my ministry dreams died I put on a cloak and became a wounded animal. I was the only one that stood in silence at the edge of the grave of my dreams. My grieving could not be public for I still had an image to maintain and children to protect. Instead I became reactive and protective. Know what happens to a wounded animal when you poke it with a stick?

I was angry for a long time; too long, and it was time to rip that stinky cloak off. They aren't even in fashion anymore! Did you know that the cloak of hurt, anger, and bitterness can seem fashionable to the one wearing it? It can even seem necessary? Yup, as necessary as a flashlight in day time.

This emotional fashion statement didn’t want to be sheared off. When the Lord said, “It’s time, daughter,” my soul screamed somewhere in the shadows of the cavern. A dark wail surged to the surface, a part of my soul that was suffocating in pain. I never recognized it before because it still looked and felt like a fashionable mantle.

I never felt the depth of loss as I was busy surviving and caring for my children. I denied so much because it was too horrible to look at. It was a leviathan – a beast that sucked me under and quietly drowned me. The outside world went on about its business. On the outside, I did too.

Finally, after hours of crying, repenting and finally feeling, the Lord brought me to Isaiah 43:1-

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are mine. When you pass through the waters (or get sucked under by a leviathan), I will be with you.”

The scripture goes on in verse 18 to remind us:

“Do not remember the former things nor think of the things of old.

Behold I will do a new thing. Now it will spring forth.

I will put a road in the wilderness and a river in the desert (direction and refreshment)."

This grave cloak was finally gone. The light shined in another cavern in the Land of Meh, and I got a new garment of praise!

Adrift in an Empty Nest

My mother always told me, “I raised you to be independent and have your own life.” I loved that about her! I left the nest relatively confident – and thankful that she was only a phone call away when I realized how painful “adulting” was.

I raised my children the same way – then was mortified when they actually moved out! The first crypt in the Meh Cavern the Holy Spirit addressed was losing my children to adulthood. Ever since I held my favorite baby doll in my arms at age seven, I pictured my life with babies and imagined we would all live within close to one another. Sunday dinners, spontaneous shopping trips with my daughter, etc. filled my childhood fantasies.

I thought I was handling it well until my daughter moved to another state and got married. Suddenly, I was adrift in an empty nest. To avoid the pain, I became distracted navigating my own “adulting”, at least until the grave cloths started to stink. I never thought I needed to grieve their adulthood. I mean, the fact they were still alive and thriving is quite the accomplishment as a parent! But the deep loneliness that filtered up from my soul could not be quenched. I suddenly felt like my anchor for this world was gone and my feet were trying to touch bottom so I could catch my breath.

The grief worked its way up one Friday morning, and I had flashbacks to being a 7-year-old holding her favorite baby doll. Mom and Dad were fighting downstairs. This was a bad one with ultimatums, yelling, and the hint of some kind of betrayal. I remember whispering to my baby doll, “Shhhh, shhh, it will be ok. I won’t leave you.” I felt paralyzed and afraid to leave my room.

I never knew where this memory came from – out of some deep, dark cavity, but the Holy Spirit knew. He knew my fear of abandonment - created in the moment of hearing that fight - connected me in some way to want to hold my children near and never be away from them.

This grieving went all the way back to a little girl holding her baby doll and fearing abandonment. While in therapy, I learned a technique of addressing the wounded child within. It was time to comfort that 7-year-old and tell her that Jesus was her ever present anchor. She never need fear being abandoned for He will never leave me nor forsake me.

I think I got through to her cause that deep, dark cavernous hole is filled with light.

And this was only the beginning…

Psalms 21:7

“For the King (or 7-year-old little girl) trusts in the Lord,

And through the mercy of the Most High,

he (or she) shall not be moved (be anchored).”

Caverns, Grave Clothes and the Land of Meh

At the beginning of 2017, I told the Lord I was ready for a catalytic change that would take me from the wilderness and caverns to being joyful again. I was finally ready to see what lurked beneath this “Meh” season I’d been in for 10+ years. What is “Meh” you ask? Meh is the place between, “I’m doing good!” and “I am so depressed I can hardly move.” It has no real definition in Webster’s. It’s just there. It is that nagging pull deep within that we can’t define or really see in our mind’s eye. The symptoms you exhibit when you have been in the Land of Meh are no passion, no life, and almost a cynical irritation that lingers behind what used to be dreams and hopes. Anyone that has been to the Land of Meh knows exactly what I mean.

How everyone gets there is a little different.

If Meh goes on long enough, and traumas do not get dealt with, caverns develop. These are deep recesses in the soul that hold on to hurt, trauma and the like. We can’t always see them or feel them; but we can sure smell the decay of stale pain when it stays there long enough. How does this happen?

We are all familiar with the stages of grief. Some psychologists say there are 4, 5, or even 7 stages. No matter how many roads in the cycle, if any of those are not walked to the fullest or have their complete work and release in our soul, things will linger and go stale.

For much of my life, I experienced traumas or pain and I never fully grieved the changes they brought. I went thru the denial, anger (camped out on this one a LONG time), bargaining, depression, but never quite made it to acceptance before another trauma burst onto the scene. Thus a new cycle of grief, forgiveness, death, etc would begin.

My therapist explained this was the perfect material for cavern-building.

So Holy Spirit and I went to work. Starting January 27th, every Friday and Saturday was spent in concentrated fasting and prayer to climb through the dark caverns to pull out grave cloths left there to rot. Holy Spirit didn’t give me a road map or a sign from heaven. He just brought tears. Lakes and floods of tears as He would remind me of a forgotten heartache. Some were from childhood. Some from my marriage. Others were from my own imperfections as a wife or mother.

No matter the cause or the age, we spent the next four months unpacking stinking, rotting, stale grief.

31 Days Through Stale Grief

Hi, remember me? I used to blog occasionally...then I didn't...then I did...then I didn't...you get the idea. I have been in a deep cavern for a long time, but am finally finding my way out to the daylight. Starting today, October 1, I am partaking in a 31-day challenge to write...ANYTHING! So I am going to do my BEST to rise to the call. 

It may not be good. 

It may not be edited. 

It may not make sense. 

But I am choosing to write. 

So I apologize in advance for dangling participles (what are those really...cause if they are like dangling earrings, I like them). I repent for unclear modifiers (I don't like modifying anyways. Except exercise. I like modifying exercise). Bare with me while I remember how to do this gift that God granted me, but has been sitting on a shelf. According to the rules, I have to write SOMETHING everyday for 31 days, so it may be short. Or it may not even make it to the blog and the masses of readers I have accumulated. Stop laughing. 

Just to be clear - I HAVE been writing, but it has all been in my private, locked away journal. This has been an intense year for many reasons. The Lord has taken me through a journey since January that has blown my insides out, my outsides in, and has granted me a fresh perspective. Now that the dust is settling, I am feeling life again. I am actually feeling LIFE!

The title above "31 Days Through Stale Grief" is just that. A journey to find out what was at the core of a functional depression that I couldn't shake. It wasn't a lack of exercise (I taught fitness 6 hours a week), it wasn't what I was eating, it wasn't that I needed medication. This was different. When I finally was ready to face the answer, I posed the question to the Lord, "What is going on?! Why can't I shake this?" His answer was so surprising to me. He said, "You have stale grief."

That's it. That is all He said.

He didn't say how to take care of it. He didn't give me a road map. He didn't give me a 4-part plan. He didn't even define what that really meant. So I did what any woman in touch with her feelings would do. I called my therapist. She was as surprised as I. She had never heard this term before; but as we unpacked some things, it started to make perfect sense.

Throughout my life, I had MANY earthquakes and shake ups. (Read previous blog posts for a few). When you have several traumatic events one after another, your grief cycle gets interrupted because you have to start processing a new hurt, heartache, trauma or transition. All these things take time to process to the human heart and often times, grieving is a part of that process. When it gets interrupted, that trauma can silently sink into a cavern in your soul and take up residence.

Eventually, it will start to stink.

That stink is often in the form of functional depression.

So, for my myriad of avid readers and fans (really, stop laughing), that is where I have been. And this 31 days of posts will show you how the Lord and I climbed out of the stale cavern called grief and found life once again.