Why Does Judging Others Burden the Listener?

 "They should have done it this way"

"Then that would not have happened"

"If they hadn't done that, then this..."

"Stupid people"

"They should have..."

"He should have..."

"She shouldn't have..."

Scorn

Constant, constant

Not even just with sin

constant constant

Slowly, it broke in

Hijacked my neurons

Taught my brain a thing:

"If you should have,

you are stupid

and you could have

so you should have

so you're bad."

What is "should have,"

perchance you ask?

Oh, that's what makes it fuzzy-brain

Because "should have" is based on 

They'd have

so you don't have a chance.

You'll never be good enough

Never meet the bar

You'll never see it coming

Though you try - so hard

And this lurks, lurks, lurks

So subtle and so strong

But it's hiding in the darkness

Where your mind won't see its song

So you can't see it

Can't argue it with truth

Cuz always there it's lurking

"You'll never be enough."

Till BAM there comes a breaking

BAM there comes a saving

BAM there comes truth swinging

And out of it you see --

The contrast sets you gaping

The contrast starts you thinking

The grace sets you a-cringing

But it's there and you're thinking --

What if I've been lied to?

Surely not, but... what if?

I know I'll never measure up,

But... 

There's no standard here to meet

No bar to drop your gaze

And maybe bit by bit you can --

See the love through your haze

Your burdened part of Right

Held Perfect as the goal

But maybe, piece by piece...

Your Jesus heals that hole

And now you have the freedom

To make all those mistakes

And instead of getting judgment

There's hugs and lots more grace

Perhaps someday "should have" 

will slowly fade away

and someday maybe, maybe

Acceptance here will say

"I have the freedom now to choose 

what to do with what is here

My choices really matter

My ownership is dear."

Not because of punishment

Not 'cause you'll be wrong

But because He made you free --

And that is now your song.

Photo credits: Cardia Gong on Unsplash and  Nabil Naidu on Unsplash

Trauma and Responsibility

This post is a pretty deep dive into my psyche, if you will.  Bear with me if you can, but it's ok if it's a bit much.

It started with me jumping head first back into some work I started the day before, uncovering some trauma that explains, at least in part, why I feel responsible for things that are not my fault or not my burdens to carry.

I discovered yesterday that I have a "Responsibility Part" that is weighed down, desperate to keep me from being hurt by more people, so it takes unneeded responsibility, and I live chained, not free. 

So this morning, I coaxed that little part of me out, cowering and despairing and burdened, to sit with me and Jesus. 

How grateful I am that Jesus is always with me! "I will never leave you, nor forsake you," the great I AM said to Joshua as Jesus said later to His disciples, "Surely I am with you always, even to the end of the age" (Joshua 1:5, Matthew 28: 20).

Yesterday I had pictured that little Responsibility Part carrying what looked like a grey brick wrapped in grey paper, a great weight that was far heavier than it looked. Today, I pictured it with that weight like a grey vest. When that Part came out to sit with me, it took off the vest and laid it down, like it was showing or offering it to Jesus. Next thing I knew, tears were falling from my closed eyes because in my mind's eye Jesus picked up that vest and put it on Himself. He was smiling tenderly as He did this. It dissolved into Him, shining white like His garment, and I could see that it was no great weight to my Savior. 

It hit me, as tears wet my sheets where I lay picturing this, that the responsibility that I was carrying as this brick of burden was meant to be laid on Jesus. He wants to carry our burdens, and He is the one who is sovereign over all -- not me. I am not meant to carry other peoples' sins, even if they blame their sin on me. Them doing so does not make it so. Jesus carries that weight. He has either paid for it by His precious blood, or He mercifully gives them until their death to repent. They can carry that weight or give it to Him. They cannot make me carry it. My Responsibility Part was burdened by a weight that is not right for me to hoard. 

I didn't feel like this exercise (that sounds like such a callous word for something so impactful) was over, but I didn't know what came next. Jesus was gesturing to Responsibility and me to follow Him, so we did. He took us into a beautiful room, gold and white, with the softest cushion couches I could imagine to rest on. I felt like He was telling me it was time to rest. 

Then He did something I had as much an issue with as Peter did! I didn't know that I would have objected as Peter did to my Savior washing my feet, but oh did I! It felt so very, very wrong. I was so unworthy to have the King and Creator of all, my perfect Savior, washing and massaging my feet like I would pay a pedicurist to do! I objected, feeling the wrongness, and I pictured Him grinning at me. 

With a laugh, He said that He enjoys upending worthiness. 

That was the whole point of the cross, was it not? 

We are not worthy, I am not worthy, though I long so much to be, and He came to take our sin and unworthiness on as a garment and die for it. Then He gave us His worthiness, His perfection, to wear and someday be instead. I felt a taste of the joy He had in "upending worthiness," and it hit me: 

This is what carrying one another's burdens (Galatians 5) should actually feel like. Jesus washing my feet, taking joy in serving and upending my expectations and earning-worth-mindset, makes it possible for me to do the same. 

I don't serve people because they deserve it. I delight in serving others, helping them with their burdens, because Jesus does that for me. It's the way He made us. Everyone helping his or her neighbor, pouring out the love that He showers on us. 

My Responsibility Part wanted to take on the burdens others threw at me -- but it was tainted and motivated by fear: fear that they would hurt me otherwise. That's not true service. That's not the joy in serving that Jesus offers. 

Perhaps it's not even my Responsibility Part's job.

Maybe it's my Love Part.

So in the end, as this experience (a better word than exercise?) came to a close, we were sitting together, the three of us, on a hill top that I picture to calm myself. Jesus came to hug me close, a big sweet hug, gentle and full of hesed, and my Responsibility Part squeezed herself in between us to come home back inside me.

There was peace there -- and the start of healing. 

Photo credit: Eugene Chystiakov on unsplash.com

Trauma and Plastic Straws

 So my husband and I had a fight about the ban on plastic straws.

Not really - nothing we do can be called a "fight" unless it's taking place on the Playstation, where he likes to chase me with a stick on Minecraft, trying to kill me in a way that is slightly challenging for him and a strange kind of childlike tag thrill for me.

So no, it wasn't really a fight, but it was the closest we get. It was a discussion where we were not understanding what the other person was hung up on and where we both ended up hurt and mad. 

Here's how it went. He brought up a meme he'd seen on the absurdity of banning plastic straws and not any other plastic products. I got defensive and started looking up the reasons California banned plastic straws and reading them to him. He stated again that just banning plastic straws was insufficient. I talked about how it was at least a first step toward addressing a major issue. He left to wash dishes, frustrated, and I stewed at my seat, shaken, until we could put our preschooler to bed and talk about what went wrong. 

Any outsider looking in would probably have felt slightly awkward at the feeling of conflict in the air and also scoffed at the silliness of our hurt feelings over this "debate." But what's at the heart here? Let me try to show you.

We sat down to talk about why we felt crappy about it, and what we said was the same thing at the heart: neither of us felt heard; both of us felt that our views were not allowed to be voiced. Over a plastic straw ban? Silly, you may say! 

Any issue can be silly and also completely misunderstood by the other person. 

My sweet hubby knew that we both felt the same about this issue: plastic is a problem, is causing a buildup of microplastics in drinking water, soil, and the ocean that cause major health problems for people and kill wildlife straight up. The government, polarized by angry people who refuse to give on either side or research the size of the issue, issues insufficient laws that do not fix the problem. We agree on this. He was pointing out a meme that seemed to match our agreement on this. He then tried to tell me this is what he was saying, and I didn't get it.

I, on the other hand, have a problem with memes made by people who just sit on their computers scorning the government and environmentalism without being open to learning about the problem. This was informing my reaction. I also hate when people seem to make snap judgment calls and scorn an idea without researching it and finding out WHY the idea/issue exists or why a law was made. Again, a factor informing my reaction. I looked up the research to answer his questions on why the heck CA would make this stupid decision, but he didn't seem to accept or understand. 

So we talked about it. I explained why I felt hurt and confused, and he explained why he felt hurt and confused. We both said we felt like we had no voice. Open to figuring out why the other person had felt this way, we took turns and listened. Afterwards we hugged and thanked each other, and I cried. There was a lot of emotion. Why?

We are dealing with trauma. 

An important person in our life had shut down our voices through the years whenever he felt challenged. We were manipulated, shamed, and deeply wounded. My man's voice is just starting to come out with people besides me - he's tearing walls down that were built as a child. I'm starting to put medical/psychology terms to what my experience has been and how that trauma has affected me. And sometimes, we have discussions about things that others would consider trivial, and we walk away triggered. So we use our voices, which ARE valuable and ARE important to be used, and we tear down the newly scaffolded wall between us by humbly, honestly explaining exactly how we feel and why. And we thank each other for listening, for being safe, for embracing messy intimacy instead of turning away, wounded, building scar tissue and more walls, pretending we're fine. 

We've learned much about intimacy recently, and that is part of why we do what we do... but in reality, our relationship has always been about finding the problem between us and working it out. I'm so very, very grateful for that. 

So we go forward. There will be more plastic-straw-like discussions that trigger the trauma in both of us. There will be anger and hurt. Then afterwards, there will be honesty, humility, gentleness, and understanding. We will go forward, hand in hand, and we will continue to have the peace that God has gifted us in our relationship. 

And hopefully, as we journey on, God's amazing forgiveness and love will be what shines out of us - not merely our opinions on plastic straws.

 

 

 

Photo credit: Thoa Ngo on Unsplash.com

To My Friend Who Doesn't Know What Safe Is

 

My Friend,

My heart breaks for you

You've known only unhealthy

In your family ties:

Yelling commonplace

Violence a given

Manipulation a daily system

Guilt-tripping often

Habits formed

Even as you start your own marriage

Much healthier than that

But friend,

You don't know safe.

You think family is important,

Yet

You don't know safe family.

You don't know WHY family is supposed to be important.

Family is supposed to look like:

Supporting you for you, 

Not trying to get you to fit a mold

Or telling you their plan for your life.

Listening to hear your thoughts

To understand you for you

Not to gather info for their next attack or rebuttal

Weeping with you

Laughing with you

No strings attached

No expectations

Open arms acceptance of you for you

Honest, humble, gentle challenging of your sin for your good

Not to show how much better they are than you (it's in their tone and face, no matter the words)

But because they love you (not just say they love you, not just challenging you because of their expectation of you)

Praying with you when you're confused

Taking you to God's presence, knowing He's the only One who can bring clarity.

Giving advice humbly when asked,

Not cleverly inserting it wherever possible,

Trying to get their way.

Giving an honest opinion 

Without judgment if you don't agree/follow

Always feeling safe to run to 

Because they don't judge others so why would they judge you?

Instead of unsafe family where you're always thinking of what they'll think of you

Because they talk poorly of others so often,

So surely they'll think poorly of you if you don't GET IT RIGHT

Getting it right isn't something you have to worry about with healthy family

Because they just love you for you

You both can kindly disagree (without raised voices) and go about your way

Knowing the love has not changed.

You don't know that family isn't valuable just because it's family.

Family is valuable when it is safe.

When family looks like any other unhealthy relationship,

The response can be the same: 

"No thanks" and "Goodbye."

Friend, 

I grew up in healthy.

I grew up safe.

So when I was abused by others, it hit hard.

The contrast was SHARP.

I knew healthy

So I knew something there was wrong.

I couldn't put my finger on it for years,

I thought if I could just learn to communicate with him...

Things would be different.

But after awhile,

Gathering all the pieces of gunk in a basket,

I started putting the puzzle together,

And I knew.

My body knew before that:

The heart-thumping with conversations

The cloudy head when I was desperate to understand and communicate

The stomach issues

The tight jaw

The tinnitus...

But friend,

You see my situation and think,

"It's not that bad; why would you react so strongly?"

But oh my friend,

You don't know what healthy is.

Photo Credit: Helena Lopes on unsplash.com 

Why Sacrifice to a Golden Calf after Crossing the Red Sea?

 Deliverance

I wrote this poem after studying Exodus and putting myself in the Israelites' place. It's hard to understand why they would worship a golden calf that they made RIGHT AFTER seeing the plagues and going through the Red Sea, before being delivered by the Almighty God. So I put myself in their place. What would make me want to worship an idol instead of Jehovah? And this is what I found.

This is our journey 

Our journey of deliverance,

Jehovah’s deliverance

When Moses came,

fresh from the smelly flocks,

we rejoiced at his words

he said he’d seen God

and he’d been promised the way

the way we’d longed for

the way out of oppression

of bondage

of death for our sons

of hopelessness -

the way out!

But then…

Pharaoh showed his strength

he rained down pain

further crushing

there was no way out 

after all.

We doubted Moses

we turned to anger

when Pharaoh punished us

for Moses’ words

God’s words of deliverance

that we’d cried for

for generations.

We were broken.

So we despaired at first discouragement.

But then — 

how to describe what began to happen?

I thought deliverance 

would go the way I begged

but this God

this I AM…

Well,

He seemed so distant before -

a family memory

“God of my fathers”

But now…

He was present.

Not like the idols of Egypt -

No indeed

I AM present is different

than I ever dreamed.

I did not think His deliverance

would look like blood 

lapping at the shores of the Nile

I did not think deliverance 

would look like sores 

peppering my neighbor

I did not think deliverance 

would look like darkness

as a border between us and Egypt

I did not think deliverance would look like teeming frogs

or clouds of locusts

or skies of hail

or the silent slaying of the son of my oppressor

as he lay safe in his bed.

I did not think deliverance

would save some of my enemy too

that deliverance

would show my oppressor my God

that the Egyptian would be given the chance

to believe, too,

in the God of my fathers.

I did not think deliverance

would set me trembling

in awe.

This was not my deliverance.

Then, delivered,

wide-eyed at Power,

we ran out in haste

and we faced

the sea.

As wheels rang behind us

“This is not deliverance!” we cried.

“You have led us to death!”

This God is not safe!

This is a God of destruction

and now He has authored ours

between the waters and the chariots

What is our deliverance - 

to be struck by the sword

and drowned!

Who is this God, 

this I AM?

Called to believe in Him,

called to silently watch,

we stood as Moses’ arm rose

and

the cloud behind us

shed its light on us

Jehovah, rearguard at our backs,

’til morning lit the sea

and we saw 

towering walls of glistening glass -

a way between the waters.

Numb, jaw slack,

could I be surprised yet again?

Will it ever stop - the unexpected?

The awe-some sights?

Shaken, yes, trembling once more.

Will I ever stop trembling, oh God?

With a bellow they followed us in 

but the cloud, Jehovah rearguard,

swerved their wheels that threatened death

the Hand was at our backs

Our enemy lost control

feared

turned back

The sea released

And we stood on the bank

watching chariots wash ashore

The sound of singing

the song of praise

Moses’ sister led the way

both of them now,

no holding back in them,

fierce abandonment in rising praise

one by one voices joined

all around me,

the song of deliverance.

And I wondered again,

Who is this God,

this I AM,

who gouges the sea

hurls the enemy

kills the firstborn

saves the oppressor who paints with blood on doorpost?

Who is the God of my fathers?

He does not deliver on my terms.

He is beyond my control.

And I am afraid.

Without food on the journey,

throats parched for water,

we feared

we railed

and I wondered again

gripped in dismay

this God, oh, He brought us here to die!

Alone, cut off

we will die in the desert

we cannot predict His ways!

This was not my plan of deliverance.

The flutter of wings almost unheard through my groans

the sound of rushing water

from dry rock flowing

deliverance again.

Ungrateful, afraid, 

I put hand to mouth

handful of manna

food crafted by a God

and wondered,

Who is this I AM?

Who creates bread from sand?

When will He be a safe deliverer?

Predictable?

Appease-able? 

Controllable?

In Egypt they could sacrifice

follow the formula

control the blessings and curses -

this God does not fit that mold.

This God leaves me trembling

as He delivers.

Do I want this deliverance?

At the mountain I decide.

God meets us there.

He shakes the mountain with His presence 

and calls, speaks to us

His thunder rumbles, 

lightning crashes

trumpets that we do not see blast

I AM is there, speaking.

He tells us how to live

We agree with offering

Then He calls Moses up

up to the cloud

Moses, face lit,

has given his all 

to this God.

His face is marked by excitement,

his fear is different

it propels him forward

as if this God is all he’s ever longed for.

Moses, all in,

goes toward the consuming fire.

And I decide.

Even though a cord inside draws me,

says, “That’s where I belong

my all of me belongs with Him

that’s where freedom lies!”

Even so…

I say no.

And when Moses ascends

and the long days weigh heavy with fear, 

the mountain rumbling,

I choose again,

with the others whose eyes reflect mine,

we choose a safe god

a familiar shape

a cow

under our control

in our making.

And when we bow in worship,

raise our voices in ecstasy,

I think,

“Yes, this is safe.

This is worship on my terms.

This is mine. I can grasp it,

decide how I want this to be.

I choose this god,

I choose me.”

***

It isn’t until later that I admit

not until later that I understand

my choice is death.

And as I stare at the bodies lying dead around me

I think,

so too do I deserve.

Why did He not strike all of us?

Why not me?

I chose my way,

chose an idol of gold

made of jewelry from around my neck

fashioned by hands

exalted only by our rebellious voices

Why did I not die for my choice?

Driven almost to despair,

wondering, hardly daring to live,

I take the small sliver of courage in my chest,

and I take my question to Elohim.

“God, who is I AM,

why do I live?

I did not choose You

I chose myself

and death lingers before me.

So why am I spared?

A living specter of sin,

Choice made,

choice regretted,

unable to live on,

heavy under the weight,

standing before a God

who knows all

who makes Moses shine

like the sun at noon.

I chose me -

why do I live?”

Though I go shaking,

I expect no answer

Why would the Holy One 

humble Himself to hear me?

But something draws me on,

and here I stand, waiting.

His answer?

So simple,

so freeing,

so true:

“You did not choose Me,

but I chose you.”

He does not say more now

but it is the answer to my heart,

the one I couldn’t find words to form.

And now…

I am His.

Photo credit: Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

Unlocking the Door

Sometime between night and dusk

I dreamed

A cabin stood before me

A friend and her daughter stood beside me

The door to the cabin:

Inviting

I knew God was in there

Waiting for us

Welcoming,

Safe.

It was a place of peace and rest

And it was ready for us.

The door was locked.

My memory of this part is hazy

But I remember

The key came out of the door

And one of us put it in our mouth

The clear part I remember:

The key would unlock the door,

But we had to leave something behind first.

What must we shed first?

God told us gently,

His tone firm and kind,

"You may come in

When you have left behind

All resentment,

Unforgiveness,

And anger.

Then enter into my peace with Me."

He was there -

He was not leaving us alone until we obeyed.

But it was clear -

There was something important, vital,

We must leave behind

Before we could rest in His Presence,

Before we could find joy in hanging out with Him

In that cabin.

Anger, resentment, unforgiveness

Did not belong there.

And we could not bring them in.

The invitation:

I realized upon waking and marveling -

The invitation was to freedom

 Photo credit: Nicolas Messifet on Unsplash - thank you for your beautiful art!

How Can the Bible Trigger an Abused Person?

My Prayer 

How evil is it

How twisted

When I hear Your Word in church

Or see it in my own reading

And my mind flies

Not to the meaning 

Or application for myself

But to:

"Does he read this and use it to justify himself?"

"Does he think he's like David and I'm the betrayer?"

"Has he been seeking You like he claims?"

Or "There - this person condemned here, that's what he's like.

I remember when..." and the replay starts.

Or "Am I godly and righteous in Your eyes?

Or have I made a terrible mistake

Deceived myself into thinking I was following You?"

Even though You have led me so clearly...

My ears pressurize and ache with fear

My mind is somewhere else - not safe

And it starts with reading Your Word.

My most precious possession,

Gift of all gifts!

Revelation of You, my God and Savior and King -

And  my insides curl and shrink in fear.

The Book that can give me most comfort

Most peace and love

Most assurance I'm doing as You say -

And instead I fly to repetitive thoughts and fear.

How much worse would it be

If I had been like others I know -

Abused by a person wielding Your Word as a revolting weapon

Twisted beyond truth to selfish lies

Distorted and used to oppress!

To back up their actions to squash and manipulate!

Of all things...

When in it, You proclaim freedom, justice, and salvation to the oppressed

And You condemn oppressors.

Yet some still use it to subdue their victims.

And it's bad enough for me:

Going to Your Word and drowning in doubt

When You've clearly led me

And freed me from him.

His abuse of me led to so much self-doubt.

I want the humility without the crippling doubt of what is true.

I want faith in You,

Who have led me all the way.

I feel angry...

And I mourn

That it's so hard to read Your Word

Without triggering thoughts of anger

Judgment of him

Or plunging doubt of me.

I want to receive Your Word in freedom

I want to apply it to myself without fighting to shift my thoughts 

From him and from hurt

I want healing...

Simply to read Your Word and hear Your voice

Without him in my head.

Someday, Lord?

"Yes.

Keep fighting.

Keep mourning.

Keep noting victory

(Symptoms of my abuse are fading:

my jaw no longer pops! my tinnitus is mostly gone!

my circular thoughts come less often!

I haven't shaken and cried over my Bible in months!)

Keep giving thanks.

(Thank You, Father, for healing bit by bit!)

Keep healing your mind, synapse by synapse

Pathway by pathway.

Keep empathy.

Discard self-protection and cling to Me instead.

Keep on, precious daughter.

And one day, the fight will be over.

The final victory will be won.

You'll be with Me and all

ALL

Will be well.

You'll be truly free -

More than you can imagine now.

And in the meantime,

I'm here.

Now.

Always.

Take My Hand,

Cry on Me,

Take a moment...

And be still. 

I will lead you on from here.

But for now...

Just be.

Be with Me."

Photo credits: Kajetan Sumila and Aziz Acharki on unsplash.com