A Grief Observed

“Losing a beloved is an amputation.” – C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

I once listened to a podcast in which a psychiatrist was talking about why it feels like we lose a part of ourselves when we lose a loved one.

He said that, unwittingly, we store information, memories and experiences in the brains of other people we are close to; like an external hard drive. Our own minds have limited capacity to keep all the data we need, so we share mental and emotional data resources with others.

We see this phenomenon to be particularly true when someone loses a spouse and has no idea what the bank password is, or what type of oil the car takes, or where the Tupperware is located in the cupboard… Those pieces of information were stored in the other person for easy access. Just as we store information for them as well.

We never expect to need to know those things ourselves because we expect the other person to always be there.

There was a specific piece, or version, of me that was reserved just for when my brother and I were together. We had a special bond our whole lives.

In his data bank I stored all our inside jokes, movie quotes, random road trips, family history, all the techie/internet answers I needed, car maintenance advice, and much more. He was a fixer, a finder, ever-resourceful. I knew certain things were only one text away if I needed them.

When I got the call that his body was found at the bottom of the canyon, it felt like a very tangible part was cut out of me. Like there’s an empty/missing place inside now.

Pictures and memories and stories will soften the sting I know, but that void will always be there, this side of Heaven.

And that’s just the way it is when we live in close relationship with others. When we love. It’s hard and it hurts, but it’s the cost of this benefit of the human existence.

***

In the weeks following my brother’s death, I listened to C.S. Lewis’ book, A Grief Observed. It was the first book of Lewis’ I ever read, actually. So different than what I imagined from the famed theologian, the book is a collection of his journals following the death of his beloved wife, Joy, opened wide for the world to see.

His pain is visceral. The deepest, rawest places of his soul on display. There are times he questions his faith and shouts at God. C.S. Lewis! It was the most relatable thing I’ve ever read.

By that point, I already had a running notepad in my phone, to which I added bits and pieces every day about all I was thinking and feeling. My own version of a grief journal. It was the only thing I could do at the time, while being physically attached to a newborn breastfeeding for eight hours a day.

The only thing that kept me from going lit-rally insane in that season was the fact I could get words and sentences out of my own soul and onto “paper”. In his book, Lewis stated, “What we work out in our journals, we don’t take out on our loved ones.” I think I was doing both, but I imagine it could have been a lot worse if I’d kept everything inside!

The excerpt at the beginning of this post is from this journal of mine on March 10th, 2021.

Some things I wrote and shared in real time on social media, but most of it, I kept tucked away. Some of it will only ever be for my own eyes, but some of it, I just wasn’t ready to share yet. I have been waiting for the right time and place – and headspace – to bring these words to light.

Mostly I think I had to wait to tell the story without being angry. Well, only angry. Which I was, for the longest time.

White-hot rage was the prominent emotion I could pinpoint after my brother decided to ride his motorcycle off the Grand Canyon. It took me a solid 12 months – and therapy – before I ever got to sad.

I was:
Angry that he made another selfish decision, in a long list of them.
Enraged by the timing – three weeks after I gave birth to my first son, when I needed my parents the most, when I needed it to be all about me.
Incensed he tainted this time that is supposed to be sweet and pure and full of joy.
Irate he would put my parents through that.
Livid he stole years of cognition with my father from me, from us, from my son. I knew the mental toll it would take on both of my parents – particularly my father, who was already diagnosed with Alzheimers, but whose symptoms were mild.
Furious about the fact that I would never get to be the same again – I would be forever altered by his choice.
Seething over the mess he left behind I had to clean up. That he made me an only child. That he abandoned me to struggle with aging parents and Dad’s diagnosis alone.
And on and on.

Even when I did experience moments or days of sadness, it would be overshadowed by my anger that his choice was the reason I had to feel that way.

The rage became its own entity within me. I finally made space for therapy when I was afraid of that rage, of who I was with it churning inside me.

People thought they knew my brother, thought they knew the story. They did not. The “public” didn’t even know it was suicide. My family and I told people we knew, who we’re close with, in one-on-one conversations, but that was it. And I wanted to tell the whole, stark-naked truth of what he had done to us over a loudspeaker.

But about 18 months after John’s death, God whispered a Truth to my heart. It was after I had told one more person the whole story. The one that I’m beginning to unfold here. Her reaction was exactly what I wanted: shock, solidarity, anger alongside me. But the bitterness and burning rage in me didn’t regress for even a minute. If anything, it was prodded and stoked hotter.

And God gently said to me, “You can tell as many people as you want, but it’s not going to make you feel better. Or more free. Relieved from the pain or frustration. It’s not going to make you feel justified.” It was like a veil was removed in my mind and my emotions.

My therapist once asked me what it would take for me to stop being angry at my brother. I listed: “An apology, reconciliation, changed behavior…” She pointed out that even if my brother was alive, I may never have gotten those things. But, since he’s dead, I sure as shit wasn’t getting them now. So I had to figure something else out.

God reminded me of this prior conversation while He was speaking to me then.

That very same weekend in the Fall of 2022, I was sitting in a conference when the speaker stopped the event to pray over a person/persons in the crowd who needed to “let go of something”. Her prayer was vivid, visual: She said [once you decided to let go], it would feel like fresh Spring air. Like when you open the windows of your house on the first warm, Spring day and let the fresh air blow the stale scent of Winter away.

I had been sitting in my stale house of rage for 18 months, but that day I opened the windows and let God breathe something new inside me. I felt a shift. The anger didn’t magically get better or go away overnight, but I felt lighter. Freer. More hopeful. That I could and would feel different moving forward.

It’s been another 18 months. The anger still comes in waves at times. But the waves are few and far between, they aren’t as high or as violent, and they pass back out to sea quickly. Mostly, I just feel an aching longing when I think of my brother now. I wish he weren’t gone. And at last, I feel a release in being able to tell his story. Our story.

It’s true, I don’t ever get to be the same person I was before he chose to end his life, but the person I am now has a depth of knowledge, experience, compassion, and empathy that I can use for myself and others.

I have found immeasurable comfort in being able to write all of this down over the last three years, but my prayer is that I can share it without triggering any of that old bitterness and rage. And that I can tell it in a way that is helpful to others who are also walking through an earth-shattering encounter with grief, and not just as a continued therapeutic exercise for myself.

I hope you stick with me on this journey. But I understand if this content isn’t for you right now. You are loved, and I will still be here sharing all of the #RealTalk if you need me in the future.

***

This post is part 4 in a series that starts with: http://racheldawnwrites.com/blog/reads-like-fiction/

It’s Got to Be Like Planning a Party, Right?

Confetti, Hope and 3/16

My mom plopped down across from me in the nursery looking hurried and determined as she readied to leave my house. She and my Dad had stayed with us three of the four weeks since my son was born, but today they were rushing back home. It had been less than 12 hours since the phone call that changed our lives. They were trying to beat the news back to my Grandmother – my Memaw – so she could hear about the death of her only grandson from them instead of Channel 12.

They didn’t make it, by the way. The story broke before they could drive the three hours to their house in Southern Kentucky.

“I don’t want a funeral, I want a celebration of life,” She said, “And I want you to do it.”

“Oh! Ok.” I responded, not knowing what else to say, but certain I would do whatever she needed of me in that moment. I had never planned or preached a funeral before, but I had done plenty of public speaking and I reasoned, it’s got to be like planning a party, right? “I’ll figure it out.”

My sister-in-law, Susie, said I was in survival mode. The way I didn’t react at all and could just go about normal duties like my entire world hadn’t just been flipped upside down.

Turns out, it happens often after the loss of a loved one. A normal part of grief. Your mind isn’t able to process the traumatic event, so it shifts into hyper-efficiency as you plan details and arrangements, share the news with relatives, and go about your day-to-day. Once the flourish of activity ends, the numbing and coping mechanism stops and reality sets in. Most of the time.

“And, I want you to read his letter.” she added.

“Oh.” I looked pointedly at my mom, “Are we…….saying it out loud? His letter doesn’t leave much to the imagination, so we are telling everyone he did it on purpose?”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” Her clipped reply caught me off-guard, but filled me with a strange pride. This was not a normal response in my family. We have been hiding things on behalf of my brother for most of my life.

Her final request was that we play the hymn, I’ll Fly Away.

In the following days as I prepared, I prayed God would give me the right words to say and that I would be able to deliver them without my voice shaking on that day.

3.16.21

It would be two weeks before we received my brother’s ashes – there was some back and forth with evidence and autopsies and processing time, etc. Once they were ready, the crematorium in Arizona shipped them – like, FedEx, I’m not kidding – and they ended up getting delayed at a depot, missing the delivery window for the service.

My brother was literally late to his own funeral, which was on par for him. We made a joke of it that day.

His remains would be buried in a second-hand gravesite that had belonged to my Memaw’s family. The cemetery is only one lot over from her house. We walk over there once a year on Memorial Day to put flowers on my Great-Grandparents grave. (They didn’t serve in the military, it’s just tradition in those parts.) I grew up playing in that cemetery anytime we would visit my Memaw and Grandad, riding my bike or running laps around the circular drive. My Memaw already has her headstone fixed on her plot – even though she’s very much alive – and now my brother’s body would be tucked in the earth right beside hers.

My mom requested the event be small – immediate family, and John’s girlfriend, only. There was confetti and balloons, music and singing (I found the Etta James version of I’ll Fly Away), a little crying, and fake, press-on mustaches. (That’s a story for another day.)

The pastor from my parents’ church and I co-led the service. This was my message:

“My brother committed suicide” is not something I ever wanted to be a part of my story. Neither was getting divorced.

But what I’ve learned in the last decade and a half is that God can take the broken, unwanted parts of our story and use them anyway, if we let Him. For our good and His glory.

He even promised it right in His Word through the apostle Paul in his letter to the Romans: He causes all things to work together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

I’ve learned if we share the vulnerable parts of our story out loud, we give other people who are hurting and broken permission to share theirs as well.

It makes them feel less alone.

So that’s what we’re doing today. We are saying the TRUTH out loud so that we can begin to process and heal together. And bringing the truth to light so it cannot stay hidden to fester in the dark.

It’s our secrets that keep us sick. And we want to be healthy and whole and free from the bondage of secrecy.

….

My husband recently pointed out that in just a couple weeks, it will be Sammy’s first Easter. But it will also be our first Easter without John.

I cried when he said that. I hadn’t thought of it yet. I am heartbroken and even angry that now these special moments of joy will be forever entwined with sorrow. Marred. Tainted.

Easter, or, “Resurrection Sunday”, as my brother would call it, has always been a big holiday for my family. We celebrate right here in Somerset every year.

It’s dripping in tradition for us.

We always buy new Easter outfits – most often complete with hats – and wear them to church. We sing hymns about the cross and the blood and Jesus’s triumphant resurrection. We take communion. We hunt eggs in the church yard afterward. We take pictures on Memaw’s back deck. We eat a big lunch and spend the day together, if not the whole weekend.

In recent years, we have played cards for hours, as that’s become our family’s most beloved pastime.

For half of my life, that’s all Easter was for me. A day of religious and familial tradition.

But the last decade or so, I have started studying and meditating on the meaning and significance of Easter and Holy Week.

Easter is earmarked by many themes and symbols: Love, Sacrifice, Blood, Redemption, Forgiveness, Grace, Victory, Freedom, Covenants, the Cross and the Crown, the Lamb and the Lion….

But for me, the strongest resounding theme of the whole holiday (at least this year) is: Hope.

Easter represents the Hope of the Promise for reunion.

After the fall of man in the Garden of Eden, God vowed to make a Way to be reunited with His beloved creation, humans. He set a Plan in motion, a Plan that culminated thousands of years later with the Roman crucifixion of His Son on that old rugged cross.

That Friday, as the sun went dark, all of Israel, all of Jesus’s followers, and all of Heaven (except the Father himself) were hopeless.

If that’s where the story had ended, we too, would be hopeless. Our bodies would die and that would also be our end.

But we all know that three days later, Jesus walked out of Hell and out of His grave, and God’s Plan was completed. His Promise was fulfilled.

And because we have accepted that promise as our own, we now live with the Hope of life after death. And an eternity of union and fellowship with our Father.

And because we know John was also in on that Promise, we get to live with the Hope of being reunited with him again one day as well.

So today, we are celebrating the time we had with him here and the Promise of an eternity of laughter and joy and adventure with him there.

We can rejoice, like John’s letter asked us to.

Miraculously, my voice didn’t quiver one time.

Afterward, we walked back to my Memaw’s house and had lunch on the back deck. We ate fried chicken and lingered in the warmth of the sun and family.

The next week I journaled,

On March 16^th, 2021, we celebrated my brother’s life. The 40 years, 6 months, and 10 days we had with him here on earth.

We celebrated the fact that we know where he is, and that we will get to see him again one day.

The day was perfect and beautiful and Holy in a way that only God could orchestrate. (71 and sunny in mid-March!)

Only after-the-fact did my cousin Kara point out that the celebration was on 3.16.

The 16th verse in the third chapter of the book of {JOHN} is one of the most well-known and well-quoted Bible verses in history. It is the first that most children are taught to memorize in Sunday School. You can probably call it to mind and rattle it off right now without much thought.

It’s the core of the Christian belief system and THE reason we will be reunited with my brother in Heaven.

“For God so loved the world that He gave his only son, so that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

Amen. Selah.

See you when we get there, brother.

***

This post is part 3 in a series that starts with: http://racheldawnwrites.com/blog/reads-like-fiction/

Two Weeks Ago, I Googled Myself

When the devil whispers a lie to you, it’s not random. It’s intentional. Deliberate.
It’s the exact opposite of the Truth. The specific Truth he is trying to discredit in your life.
It gives you a little insight into his playbook.

Two weeks ago, I googled myself.

It wasn’t out of arrogance, I promise, rather shear curiosity. Barry (my husband) and I were driving around town when he told me about a DJ friend of his from college, “He moved to L.A. and is like a real life, big time DJ. You can google him!”

So naturally I thought, I wonder what happens when you google “Author Rachel Dawn”? So I did. To my surprise, the results were stacked! Google returned my bio, my author page on amazon, my tv interview, youtube clips, my website, my blog… like I was a real life, big time author!

Then it occurred to me that google results are tailored to individuals based on their search and web history, I told myself, this has to be biased. So I tried it from Barry’s phone and asked 3 or 4 of my closest friends to google me and screenshot their results. They all had virtually the same content I saw, but in a different order; some looked more impressive than others.

Later that night, in a back-and-forth text exchange with my sister I told her my results had been “crazy” and made me look “totally legit”. To which she simply replied, “You are legit.”

And then I bawled my eyes out at 1:30 in the morning as I typed out a page long reply to her.

You see, what I feel is the furthest thing from legit.

Some days, I feel like a total fraud.

There’s actually a term for this, it’s called Imposter Syndrome.

Wikipedia defines imposter syndrome as: a psychological pattern in which an individual doubts their accomplishments, and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a “fraud”.

And a Fast Company article states: The phenomenon reflects a belief that you’re an inadequate and incompetent failure, despite evidence that indicates you’re skilled and quite successful.

Just two days earlier, while in for my weekly appointment, my book came up in discussion with my chiropractor for the first time. Like any genuinely interested person, he asked a few questions, and then came the one question I had been praying wouldn’t come of his mouth, “Are sales going well?”

You guys… It.got.so.weird.

All my confidence was sucked right out from inside me. Immediately my shoulders drooped and I couldn’t look him in the eye. I was so self-conscious thinking about the number of copies sold in my head. My voice trailed off as I rambled on about how reality had not lived up to my expectations for numbers blah blah blah… and I changed the subject as quickly as possible.

I was most embarrassed at my own reaction.

And when that text from my sister came in, the realization of why I felt that way hit me.

I wrote to her: I don’t know when it’s supposed to feel like you “made it” in this [book] world, this segment. But lately I’ve noticed my confidence has been lacking and I think it’s because I feel like I’m just failing. Like I should be way further along. The further away I get from my release date, the more of a failure I feel. But I don’t even know at what point I would stop feeling that. This is the first time I’ve even been able to put those thoughts together in words.

Maybe you have felt like this before? You thought with this degree or that job, you’d be making more money. At this company, you’d be further up the ranks. By this age or with all the work you’ve put in, you’d have more, be more, feel more satisfied…

Compound that with social media feeds parading in front of you the people who started at the same place at the same time, but appear further along and totally fine. Ugh.

She responded with precisely the words I needed to hear, but still struggled to believe:

You know those are lies being whispered to you. You’re successful because of the lives you’ve touched, not the number of books sold. I’m sure you would have written that book just to help a single person, but instead, you’ve helped hundreds…so far, and more to come.

Not many people can say that.

You’re one of the most confident people I know, don’t let the devil steal that God-given trait from you. Maybe the plan is to kill, steal and destroy your confidence so that you won’t keep going, so that you won’t write another book?!

You’re only 33 and you wrote and have published a book. That’s successful.

Everything I’ve ever been taught about success is to set tangible, concrete goals. It’s not enough to just want to “write a book”, you have to set a deadline, and concrete numbers for sales, so you can measure your accomplishment. But so far, that method had only served to send me on an emotional rollercoaster in this endeavor. My expectation was to have sold this many copies during launch week, not almost 2 years later.

I prayed to God that night: tell me what I should be believing for. Should I have a goal with a number attached to it? Or not? Why was this bothering me so much? I asked Him to reveal the depth of what was really going on.

At Least I’m Not Alone

Over the next few days as I marinated on the exchange, I was reminded of a story I heard at the She Speaks conference in 2016. During a workshop titled, Marketing Do-Over: Secrets I Wish I Had Known, Before My First Book Launched, Courtney DeFeo recounted a similar meltdown.

Some time after her book launched, Courtney called her mentor (Lysa Terkeurst) crying hysterically about the [lack of] number of copies she had sold. She expected it to be many more by then. She expected to be further along. And she felt like everything she had done had been wasted effort. She questioned if she really supposed to do this? She wanted to give up. Then, they had this exchange:

Lysa calmly asked her, “Did God ask you to write the book?”

“Yes.”

“Are people being impacted?”

What?

“Do you get letters/emails from people telling you how your book is impacting them?”

“Well, yes.”

“That’s all that matters. Numbers are not the key indicators of your success. Changed lives are.”

I was thankful to have heard that story even before I needed it so I knew I wasn’t alone. But that still didn’t mean I knew how to stop feeling this way or what to do with these feelings.

Subterfuge

What shocked me the most about my early morning meltdown was the fact that I hadn’t realized it was happening.

“Subterfuge” was the word I kept picturing in my imagination. If our minds are the battlefield of our lives (and I believe they are), the enemy had been playing a long, slow game of Guerilla Warfare to which I had been utterly oblivious. I wondered just how long those thoughts had been planted, germinated, and able to take root?

A few days later I was retelling the 1:30-am-text-exchange-breakdown-story to my friend

When the Devil(1)

TaLarrya and in the way that only she can, she listened and then responded, “Ok, so you know that is a lie. So, what truth is the enemy trying to shake your confidence in, that God wants to affirm in you? The two are probably related.”

I’m thankful for friends I can be totally vulnerable with, who can speak Truth back to me in exactly the way I need it.

In that moment, it was like the enemy’s playbook was thrown open in front of my eyes.

When she walked away, I took out my phone and jotted a quick note for myself: What’s the opposite of failure, of “I should be further along than I am right now.”?

I believe there are still many truths God will continue to whisper to me about this, but right away what I heard was, I’m exactly where God wants me, right now.

For reasons beyond my comprehension, I’m supposed to be in this exact this place, at this stage, for this moment, in this season, with this number of books sold.

I don’t know what all of His plans for my future as an author and public speaker look like, how high He will elevate me, what reach and impact He will allow me to have, but He has promised that He does:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

My job is to rest in the trusting of that truth. And to do the next thing He puts in front of me.

Resting & Trusting keep popping up as recurring themes in my life this year…looks like I still have a lot to learn about them both.

Catch Me Up: Permission to Be Imperfect

You know what my favorite feature in the Bible App is?

It’s the “catch me up” button.

Screenshot_20180303-174308

When I open the app and see I’m 5 days behind on a reading plan, it can be really discouraging. It’s easy for me to start spiraling into shame and guilt. I start to feel like I’m not doing enough spiritually, like I’m not a “good enough” Christian.

And that can pretty quickly snowball into to overwhelm. I start thinking about all the things in my life I’m behind on, that I’m not doing “well enough” in.

But one tap of the gear icon and “catch me up” shifts the dates of the plan forward so suddenly I’m back on track.

It sounds silly, but I instantly feel lighter!

I used to think using that feature would be like cheating. I wanted a visual reminder that I wasn’t being diligent enough in my quiet time and needed to step up my habit.

But I think I’ve realized that was the spirit of legalism and religion talking – wanting to keep me in bondage. See, religion is oppressive…. It’s like slavery.

And that’s exactly what Jesus came to set me free from.

Let me explain:

2000 years ago when Jesus of Nazareth walked the earth, anyone who was following God at the time was doing it under the strict religious code called the “Jewish Law”. There were rules about literally EVERYTHING: what they could eat, what they could wear, where they could go, who they could hang out with… Even when and where they could pray, how often they should do it, how long they should feel bad for doing something wrong and how to make up for a mistake (with sacrifices or other punishments).

Their entire experience with God was militant and regimented; there was nothing personal or intimate or fluid about it at all.

(I lived that type of religious experience for most of my life.)

But as Jesus traveled and talked to crowds and close friends, He talked about a new way to live. He told people they were free to be free from those rules and regulations, and free to just be in relationship with His Father – without all the rigmarole.

In fact, the first Christians weren’t a part of what is known as Christianity today, their lifestyle practice was simply referred to as “The Way”.

It was a completely counter-cultural way of living. Literally the exact opposite of what the religious leaders of that day were teaching people.

I’ve been studying the letters that Saul of Tarsus, later renamed the Apostle Paul, wrote to the early church. I am finding it fascinating how he warned these people – even then – about reverting back to their religious customs. The rules and laws that are all about making you feel you are “doing good”.

In several letters, he writes about not continuing to do things for the sake of tradition or edict. But to be led by the Spirit instead. He explains that the Spirit was a gift Jesus left behind for us, so that we could be free from the old laws.

“It is for freedom that Christ set us free. Stand firm then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by the yoke of slavery.” – Gal 5:1

Paul gives examples from his own life; how he is free to do things which would be considered against the religious law (like eat certain kinds of foods) because he is now free from those restrictions.

The crux of the issue is this: as long as we feel we are doing all the right things and following the rules, we don’t need saving, we don’t need God. We are doing things for Him, but not doing life with Him, which is what He really wants.

But, when we live being led by His Spirit in what we should do, and how we should live, that creates a daily dependence in us. Quickly we realize, if left to ourselves, we would do all the wrong things (and sometimes we still do anyway), and that we are in desperate need of saving.

And here’s the thing, the religious law says, you must read your Bible (devo) every day, and when you miss a day, shame on you. Now, go wallow around feeling pitiful and worthless and filthy. You’re not a good person, and it’s better for other people for you not to be around them.

But The Way says, just hit the “catch me up” button. Forget about what you did or didn’t do yesterday. Today is a new day, let’s walk forward together.

And if you mess up again tomorrow, the catch me up button is waiting for you the day after that. 🙂

You know in the app there’s no limit to how many times you can use that button?

It has taken me 4 months to get through a 40 day plan before.

And that’s totally ok.

Jesus gave me permission to stop beating myself up for it. He is giving you the same permission today.

Stop trying to earn what He literally died to give you. Freedom from guilt, shame and bondage is ours for the taking. And sometimes, it’s hiding right under the gear icon on our smartphones!

Check out what else Paul said:
“This same Good News that came to you is going out all over the world. It is bearing fruit everywhere by changing lives, just as it changed your lives from the day you first heard and understood the truth about God’s wonderful grace.” Colossians 1:6 NLT
Translation: Tell your friends!

Ps, If you’re not already using the YouVersion Bible App on your phone, what are you waiting for?! It’s incredible!

Here are some of my favorite plans:
God’s Dream for Your Life, Rick Warren
The Invisible War, Rick Warren
Relaxing With God, Andrew Farley
Starting Your Day Right, Joyce Meyer
One: A Marriage Devotional, Jimmy Evans
From this Day Forward, Craig & Amy Groeschel
Crash the Chatterbox, Steve Furtick
Visioneering, Andy Stanley
The Lies Couples Believe, Chris Thurman
Hearing from God Each Morning, Joyce Meyer
The Lies We Believe About God, Chris Thurman
Goliath Must Fall, Louie Giglio
Marriage Is Hard, Time of Grace Ministries
Fighting for My Marriage, XXX Church

I Love Jesus, But I Cuss A Little

i love jesus.jpg

The first time I saw that t-shirt I was offended. Like any good Christian girl should be.

And I immediately started judging the person on my facebook friends list who posted it. Of course she would post something like that. The recently-divorced single mom whose status updates were littered with F-bombs on the regular. She was a trainwreck, so it was natural a post like that would come from her.

(Nevermind the shirt was true about me; but I don’t cuss “as bad as her”, and I would never admit it outloud or gasp! post it on social media!)

I scrolled past the garment disgusted and with an eye roll, but that shirt stuck with me for a few weeks.

The next time I saw it posted by someone else in my newsfeed, the more intriguing to me it became.

I reprimanded myself for judging the first girl; I had no idea what she was dealing with.

Besides, I may not cuss “as bad as her”, but there are plenty of other things I get wrong – like condemning other people for things they post on Facebook….

The more I thought about the statement on the shirt I realized… who was I to judge anyone? No matter what came after their “but” in that sentence.

Because ALL of us have something after the “but”.

I finally decided I kind of liked that t-shirt. What a beautiful a picture of authenticity and grace!

What if we all wore a t-shirt like that? What would yours say?

I love Jesus but I….

“doubt a little.”

“fear a little.”

“gossip a little.”

“lie a little.”

“steal a little.”

“watch porn a little.”

“disrespect my husband a…….LOT.”

Mine would say something like, “I love Jesus but, I’m still a work in progress. Imperfect. Deeply flawed, even.”

“…But wildly in love with, and loved in return by, Him. Unconditionally.”

I already know what some of you are thinking, “So are you saying Christians can just go around doing whatever they want? Are you just giving people a license to sin?”

No. And you’re missing the point.

Though technically, yes, Christians can do whatever they want. Paul says so right in 1^st Corinthians 10:23, “Everything is permissible–but not everything is beneficial. Everything is permissible–but not everything is constructive.”

Jesus’ sacrifice and gift of Grace set us free from the Law. What I explain in this other blog post over here, is that Paul is saying is you can do anything you want, but not everything is going to make you happy, or satisfied, or peaceful, or prosperous. AND, your actions have consequences.

But, being a “good Christian” doesn’t have anything to do with following a set of rules. It is about following Him, in whatever way He leads you.

So I’m not just telling you to do whatever you want. I am telling you to stop worrying about other people’s “buts”.

I recently heard Joyce Meyer say, “We never have enough information to judge anyone. We might judge their sin or their wrong behavior, I can look at someone and say, according to the word of God, I think that behavior is wrong, but I can’t judge them. I can’t judge their heart. I don’t know where they came from, I don’t know what’s in their heart, I don’t know how much revelation knowledge they have, I don’t know what’s going on in their life… Maybe instead of judging them I should have compassion for them.”

Like Joyce admits about herself – at many points in my life, I would have made a wonderful Pharisee.

Our enemy LOVES to keep us bound by rules and religion, guilt and condemnation, not to mention, the fear of other people’s opinions and/or being consumed with concern over what other people are doing, that we never discover the freedom that comes in relationship with Christ.
Follow the Leader

For people like me, who are actively engaged in following Jesus, we are each individually responsible for growing and changing as God, in the form of the Holy Spirit, convicts us and guides us to.

One of the main jobs of the Holy Spirit once He comes to live inside you, is to help you become the fullest picture of who God created you to be. And, this is far from an overnight process.

One simultaneously freeing and frustrating thing I’ve learned is that the Holy Spirit convicts different people about different things at different times.

He works in each of us uniquely and individually. So for you, using “foul” language may very well be a sin, if you’re convicted that it is wrong for you. But for someone else who is not convicted, it may not be. Just like it’s perfectly fine for some Christians to have a glass of wine, but for others, it’s something the Spirit does not want them to partake in. This could apply to smoking, or watching tv, or any other myriad of things.

There are times I feel convicted about particular things even my husband does not, or vice versa. But I’m not his Holy Spirit and he is not mine.

In my experience, one of the places the Spirit will lead you is to God’s written word, wherein there are very clear instructions about how God wants us to live – not for rule-following’s sake – but so we can live the healthiest, happiest, most-fulfilling and purposeful experience on this earth. He literally left us a Guidebook for how to get the most out our time here and for the greatest eternal impact!

But there are a lot of things God doesn’t touch on in the Bible, or He isn’t specifically clear on. It’s up to the Holy Spirit to lead and guide us in those things. It’s our job be listening, watching, discerning, and obeying.

(Sidebar: It’s true that sometimes the Holy Spirit might use you or I to speak to one another about a particular subject, but anytime we feel this is occurring, I would caution us to check our motives, and check our tone. Ask ourselves carefully, are we trying to play Holy Spirit for someone else? And if the Spirit really is convicting us to speak Truth-in-Love to a fellow believer, what is the condition of our heart in this exchange? Full of condemnation or grace? …And that’s all I’m going to say about that right now.)

This process and journey is something we will be walking out the rest of our lives on this earth. You will never be perfect or flawless this side of heaven. Neither will I.

And it’s when I slip back into trying to veneer things – to pretend like I’ve got it all together – I feel furthest from God, and furthest from other people.

Feigning perfection severs connection.

When I was at my lowest – real and raw and vulnerable – that’s when God met me. He knew the mess He was getting. While the truth is, “He loved me too much to leave me the way He found me”. There are some things about me – the real, raw, unpolished me at my innermost core – that He has left alone. I think He kind of likes those things.

Do I need to work on my temper? Yes! But I think He admires how fired up I get when I see people being mistreated or, being hurt by injustice or even hurt by the church….

In fact, I think He may have put some of that stuff there on purpose.

I spent most of my life running from the real me or covering it up because it wasn’t “ladylike” or it wasn’t “Christian” enough.

I’m done with that. This is who I am. Where I am. For right now.

Could I change in the future? Oh I hope I do! I hope I never stop growing and becoming more and more like my friend named Jesus.

One day, He might even convict me to never let a curse word cross my lips again, but today is not that day.

Today, I feel like He is more concerned with me meeting people where they are – in that same deep, dark place I have been. Where they are cursing at and about God because they feel abandoned or betrayed by Him. They are edgy and raw and bitter…. and I can relate to them.

Right now I feel like that’s what they need from me most. To know they are not alone. To know they are not the only ones who love Jesus but are hurting, or doubting, or cussing…. The only ones who aren’t perfect. And to know He loves them even still despite those imperfections.

After I started writing this blog, I came across this passage in the New Testament. Turns out, Paul had some things to say about this very topic to the church in Corinth two thousand years ago. He talks about “becoming all things to all men”, so that he might relate to them:

To the Jews I became as a Jew, so that I might win Jews [for Christ]; to men under the Law, [I became] as one under the Law, though not being under the Law myself, so that I might win those who are under the Law. To those who are without (outside) the Law, [I became] as one without the Law, though [I am] not without the law of God, but under the law of Christ, so that I might win those who are without law. To the weak I became [as the] weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men, so that I may by all means [in any and every way] save some [by leading them to faith in Jesus Christ]. And I do all this for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings along with you. [1^st Corinthians 9:20-23 AMP]

Extra Reading

Paul also had some things to say about judging, criticizing and condemning other people (which I definitely know God wants me to keep working on):

Welcome with open arms fellow believers who don’t see things the way you do. And don’t jump all over them every time they do or say something you don’t agree with—even when it seems that they are strong on opinions but weak in the faith department. Remember, they have their own history to deal with. Treat them gently.

For instance, a person who has been around for a while might well be convinced that he can eat anything on the table, while another, with a different background, might assume he should only be a vegetarian and eat accordingly. But since both are guests at Christ’s table, wouldn’t it be terribly rude if they fell to criticizing what the other ate or didn’t eat? God, after all, invited them both to the table. Do you have any business crossing people off the guest list or interfering with God’s welcome? If there are corrections to be made or manners to be learned, God can handle that without your help.

Or, say, one person thinks that some days should be set aside as holy and another thinks that each day is pretty much like any other. There are good reasons either way. So, each person is free to follow the convictions of conscience.

None of us are permitted to insist on our own way in these matters. It’s God we are answerable to—all the way from life to death and everything in between—not each other. That’s why Jesus lived and died and then lived again: so that he could be our Master across the entire range of life and death, and free us from the petty tyrannies of each other.

So where does that leave you when you criticize a brother? And where does that leave you when you condescend to a sister? I’d say it leaves you looking pretty silly—or worse. Eventually, we’re all going to end up kneeling side by side in the place of judgment, facing God. Your critical and condescending ways aren’t going to improve your position there one bit.

So tend to your knitting. You’ve got your hands full just taking care of your own life before God.

Forget about deciding what’s right for each other. Here’s what you need to be concerned about: that you don’t get in the way of someone else, making life more difficult than it already is. I’m convinced—Jesus convinced me!—that everything as it is in itself is holy. We, of course, by the way we treat it or talk about it, can contaminate it.

… So let’s agree to use all our energy in getting along with each other. Help others with encouraging words; don’t drag them down by finding fault.

(Excerpt from Romans 14, MSG)

That’s good stuff right there.

I know this was a super long post, so I appreciate you sticking with me. In case you got lost, I’ll reiterate the key takeaways:

We all have something after our but.

Stop worrying about other people’s buts.

Your buts – and your heart – are between you and the Holy Spirit.

And finally, I love you, even if you slip an f-bomb everyone once in a while. Ps, so does Jesus! 😉
Here’s another great blog along these same lines that left me clapping and cheering when I read it about a year ago: http://faithit.com/f-bombs-and-bikinis-what-it-really-means-to-be-a-christian/

#RealTalk

Can we talk about something?

Life is messy. Like….really messy. #realtalk

My life was like a fairytale, until it wasn’t anymore. And I didn’t know how to handle that at all. I spent a lot of years angry and bitter at God. Today, my life doesn’t look anything like I dreamed it would, but I’m learning to love the way it looks now.

I started out polished and perfect (at least pretending to be) and knowing all the answers but came out the other side of the lowest pit of my life real and raw and vulnerable, asking “Now What?”.

I met and fell wildly in love with Grace – you might know Him as Jesus – and He’s been taking me on this crazy ride ever since.

I started this journey called blogging two years ago, having no idea what I was doing. (That’s how I do most things in life #realtalk) But they said I needed thing thing called a platform to be a successful author – and that is the deepest passion in my heart. I still have no idea what I’m doing, but that’s where I want you and I to walk together.

If you spend most of the time trying to figure out what the heck you’re supposed to be doing next in life life, you and I are on the same page.

If you spend more days hopeless rather than hopeful, overwhelmed rather than at peace, angry at and confused with God rather than praising Him, then you’re not alone, I’ve been there, and you’re in the right place.

I don’t have all the answers – but I promise to share the ones I have found for myself along the way, and maybe they can help you too.

Urban Dictionary Defines Real Talk as: used in the sense to affirm what someone is saying as a true, or valid statement and that they are expressing sincere thoughts and opinions.

This is what what I want the heart of this blog to be. In fact, I’m re-branding everything – my blog will be called “#RealTalk with Rachel Dawn” to coincide with the monthly video series I launched back in June.

In case you missed them, you can catch the replay of the first two videos over on my Facebook page (that’s where I go LIVE from), or click the links below.

Episode 1 – No body Likes a Negative Nancy
(yes, we literally streamed sideways for the first 10 minutes.)

Episode 1 – OVERWHELMED! (overcoming stress, burnout and overwhelm)

I promise to learn and get better every month. (I literally JUST figured out how to record in landscape mode….the struggle is real, you guys #RealTalk)

And, I promise to post the videos here to my blog after they are up moving forward.

Next month we are diving in to a little heavier topic: What do you do when God seems silent or distant?

I would love for you to join us! Stay tuned, date TBA.

I’ve also got some new blog posts coming (keep an eye on your email tomorrow) and a whole new website design underway. It’s going to be exciting!

Thanks for sticking around with me, I’m looking forward to some #RealTalk with you.

Unfinished: Waiting for What’s Next

“Not scared to say it, I used to be the one
Preachin’ it to you, that you could overcome
I still believe it, but it ain’t easy
‘Cause that world I painted, where things just all work out
It started changing and I started having doubts
And it got me so down…”

-Mandisa, Unfinished

Turns out Mandisa and I are practically the same person. Who knew?

Remember last month when I wrote to you about What to do with the Death of a Dream? It’s not that I was being disingenuous at that time, but I have a confession: The reason I felt compelled to share that message with you is because I am in a place where I am struggling with believing in my dreams right now. Those words I wrote to you were just as much a reminder to myself.

I don’t know at what point I stopped believing in my dreams. But it happened. And I didn’t even realize it had until I found myself crying into the pages of Mark Batterson’s Circle Maker, unable to bring myself to believe his words within.

Our enemy is sly, y’all.

I have found, in my life, the easiest places for him to attack me are in areas I have already overcome and told other people about, things I’ve even helped other people overcome in their own lives. Preachin it to them…

Because then he can plague me with these thoughts, Oh no! what if people find out I’m a hypocrite?! What if they find out I don’t have it all together, after I said I did?! I mean, I’m the girl who signs books, “your story isn’t over yet!”

That’s what Mandisa is talking about. I’m sure she had a lot of those same thoughts between her 2013 album “Overcomer” and her most recent, “Out of the Dark”, which includes the track above. The lyrics that come next in her song Unfinished, map a blueprint for us in this place:

“But I picked myself back up, I started tellin’ me,
‘No, my God’s not done, makin’ me a masterpiece’

He’s still working on me,

He started something good and I’m gonna believe it
He started something good and He’s gonna complete it.

So I celebrate the Truth: His work in me ain’t through
I’m just unfinished.”

Unfinished

Can I tell you something I’ve come to embrace – dearly – in this season of my life? My mentor, Jennifer Beckham, has been saying it for years, but I’m just starting to grasp it for myself, and it gives me permission to breathe: I’m still a work in progress.

Unfinished.

Which means I haven’t arrived. Even if I did write a book about coming out of one pit in my life, that doesn’t mean I’ll spend the rest of my life on a mountaintop.

And I have to stop beating myself up every time I feel like I take a step backward. (Can I get an amen?)

There is an interesting season after the realization of a dream or a pursuit, when it’s easy to feel lost and confused. An ok-what-do-I-do-next? season.

Subconsciously, I knew this before publishing my book. I think that’s why it took me two years to actually get it out after I wrote it…. some of that may have been deliberate procrastination.

I foresaw this line of thinking for myself: Ok, I have dedicated the last 2 ½ years of my life to this one thing, this one goal, this one mission. It gives me life and energy and focus. It allows me to walk every day on a clear path of obedience toward the mark God has called me. It’s me literally living in my purpose. And once it’s over, once the goal is accomplished, once the book is out and on the shelf, what do I do now? What will I do with my time and my life to feel significant and purposed?

What I didn’t foresee was how indescribably HARD these thoughts and emotions would hit me. And how hollow it would make me feel.

It’s only in writing this I called to mind a quote I heard years ago, “Never let a dream come true steal your dream.”

Meaning, don’t let accomplishing one thing keep you from accomplishing everything else God has created you for.

With each dream realized, you’ve got to set new dreams and goals for yourself. And I have not done that. At all.

(Sidenote: I acknowledge what I’m saying means I have been finding my significance in my work for God, rather than in my relationship with Him. A mindset I don’t think I understand how to transition out of yet. But that’s a whole other psychological and spiritual evaluation for another day.)

Dreams Do Come True

When I launched my book in November of last year, I was at an all-time high – it was the realization of a lifelong dream come true. I did not anticipate the series of emotional crashes that came next.

As I type this in retrospect, I think I see the dream-thieving pieces come together:

The month of my book launch, I expected to sell a certain number of copies and I came in at a fraction of that. I was devastated.

I sullenly reported the numbers to a friend in the industry and she told me my numbers were actually really great for a self-published author, which led me to doing some research. I found out most nonfiction books today – traditionally-published or self-published – never sell more than 3,000 copies in their lifetime. Usually no more than 300 in the first year.

So my numbers weren’t that bad after all, it was my expectations that were off. And I found solace in this fact at the time.

Looking back, that was exactly what my enemy wanted. For me to lower my expectations, and to keep lowering them. And keep lowering them. Until eventually, I didn’t expect much of anything above “average” for my future at all.

I had relegated myself to “this is just the way it is in the publishing world today” and I was “right on track” – with average.

YOU DREAMED BIG I have been anti-average my entire life. Repulsed by it even.

There is a delicate balance I surf between contentment and wanting more – feeling like God is calling me to more. But lately, it’s been just been discontentment and disbelief all around.

I find myself teetering on a ledge between believing for more, one more time, or just….settling.

It feels too hard and too painful to get my hopes up again; to stretch my faith and to see a vision beyond where I am now. It seems much easier to just settle for how far I’ve come.

You can settle at all different levels you know. There’s a temptation for it all your life, a pressure just to give in and give up hope. You can settle at $20,000 when it feels too hard to believe for $40,000, you can settle for $40,000 when it seems like $80,000 is out of reach, you can even settle at $100,000 or a million.

You can settle for 500 books sold when believing for 5,000 seems impossible. Which is the place I found myself.

So by the time I stumbled across Mark Batterson’s book, The Circle Maker, buried in an ebay sale pile of my mom’s, my belief and expectations were so low that the author’s words were a shocking wake-up call.

Inside, Batterson tells the backstory leading up to the launch of his first book, In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day. He writes about a faith-stretching financial commitment he made and how God came through on it BIG time:

A faith promise is an amount of money pledged to missions above and beyond the tithe. It’s not based on a budget; it’s based on faith. Honestly, we [my wife and I] had no idea how we’d be able to give the amount of money we pledged…

…On the day we made the pledge, July 31^st, 2005, I blogged what I believed: “I have a holy anticipation that I can’t even put into words. I can’t wait to see how God provides what we promised.” Two months later on October 4, 2005, I landed my first book contract. The advance on that four-book deal was THIRTY TIMES GREATER than the pledge we had made.

…I was thrilled about getting the book contract, but I was even more thrilled about writing the largest check we had ever written for a kingdom cause.

In December 2010, he signed another book contract, the gift he and his wife gave on that advance was THIRTY TIMES LARGER than the original faith promise they had made five years before!

What miraculous provision!!

I read more of the story: In the fall of 2006, a week before his first book was set to release, Batterson was speaking at a men’s conference when he asked for God’s blessing on the book. He writes:

I was painfully aware of the fact that 95% of books don’t sell five thousand copies, but I prayed a circle around the book and asked God to put a multiplication anointing on it. I mustered as much faith as I could and asked God to help it sell 25,000 copies. Of course I threw in the obligatory “if it be Your will” at the end. That tagline may sound spiritual, but it was less a submission to God’s will and more a profession of doubt. If you aren’t careful, the will of God can become a cop-out if things don’t turn out the way you want.

Reading that paragraph, hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I realized I couldn’t even begin to believe my book would sell 25,000 copies. The revelation was startling me. When had my dreams gotten so small? When had I lost my faith in the God who called me to write this book in the first place? When had I stopped trusting Him and His power?

“It’s easy to give up on your dreams, on miracles, on promises.
We lose heart, we lose patience, we lose faith. And like a slow leak, it often happens without us even knowing it…” – Mark Batterson

Reading those words, I felt like God was begging me to believe Him for such a miracle. To trust that He could to the same for me.

This is the same God who restores sight to the blind, who brings people back from the dead, who created the entire universe from His mouth and His hands. It should be easy for me to believe He can get a book into the right hands at the right time, enough times, right?

But I had settled for that cop-out Batterson referenced, with these nagging questions in my mind, Maybe it wasn’t God’s will for my book after all. Maybe I heard Him wrong. Maybe I should have waited for a publisher to pick it up, instead of being stubborn and forcing it to fruition myself. Maybe the timing was off. Maybe I didn’t launch it right…

Guys, can I tell you something? Following God, and following your dreams, is not easy.

I don’t have an answer to the question, “How do you know when it’s God or when it’s you in your own head?” Because I still ask myself that all.the.time.

All I can do is try to get it right each time, and trust that He will make it right even if I mess it up. Because I do know this: my heart is always in the right place of obedience, even if my ears aren’t always hearing crystal-clear.

I’m still a work in progress. Unfinished. He’s still working on me.

So that’s the place I rest in.

This week I thought to myself, I don’t even know how to dream anymore. Which made me cry all over again. And feel lost and hopeless.

Here’s what I’ve learned (over and over again), when I try to do things myself, I get exhausted and overwhelmed and it doesn’t turn out so well. But, when I ask God into the equation and rely on His help, I get to relax and it all works out.

So here’s the first step I took: I wrote to God in my prayer journal that He would have to teach me how to dream again. That He would have to show me a new dream. And show me if my old dreams, that are hard to believe in now, are things that were never from Him that I should let go of, or if that’s really what He wants for me.

And because my heart is rooted in obedience, I won’t take another step forward until I hear from Him.

So if you need me, I’ll be here, writing to you and waiting for what’s next.

Is there a dream that God wants to resurrect [in your life]? Is there some promise you need to reclaim? Is there some miracle you need to start believing for again?

The reason many of us give up too soon is because we feel like we failed if God doesn’t answer our prayer. The only way you can fail is if you stop praying.” – Mark Batterson

Wherever You Go, There You Are: How to Stop Running and Start Facing Life’s Challenges

“Wherever you go, there you are.”

That simple, yet profound, quote is one of my favorites. It plainly illustrates the truth that you can’t outrun your problems. No matter how far you go or how hard you try. Wherever you go, you will be there and until you deal with you, your problems won’t go away.

When I was working on my book, I had a vision for the second half to be a collection of stories from other people who had also been through what I called a “Now What? Moment”. A moment when everything in your life comes crashing down around you and you stare hopelessly at the sky asking, “Now What?”

My mind went to work right away, I could think of dozens of people in my life who had been through life-altering, dream-shattering circumstances like I had. I am beginning to believe almost every person on earth has been through something like this. So, the challenge wasn’t finding someone who had been through, but finding people who had faced those challenges head on instead of running. People who had – maybe even reluctantly like me – invited the redeeming, restorative power of God’s grace into those circumstances and come out healed and whole on the other side.

As I looked around me, I saw most people were just….running.

Filling their lives with things and activities and accomplishments and people to try and cover up or forget about what they had been through. I watched people bounce from relationship to relationship, job to job or even move across the country to try and “start fresh”.

Of course I thought about doing that too after my divorce, but that quote haunted me on repeat in my mind, “wherever you go, there you are”. I realized it wouldn’t do me any good to be anywhere else, or be with anyone else, if I wasn’t willing to face the mess inside of me.

So I did.

It was slow and painful and challenging. It looked like professional therapy and non-professional therapy sessions with friends. It looked like diving into books that radically changed the way I looked at and thought about the world. About relationships. About marriage. About God. Most of all, it looked like stopping the running, the grasping, and the pretending.

Pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t. Pretending like I was over it, when I was certainly not. Pretending like there were no residual effects from the picture I held of my whole life being shattering to pieces.

Thankfully, I did find some other people who had been down this road, people who had wrestled with grit and grace themselves, and come out renewed on the other side. And I was able to tell their stories in my book. Their stories are wonderful and powerful and have impacted many lives already!

I met another person recently who has an incredible “Now What?” story. Her name is Kimberly Dewberry, and I’d like to introduce her to you now. Kimberly writes and speaks to help other people deal with the fallout of living with alcoholic family members. Having grown up with an alcoholic father and married to an alcoholic husband, she’s no stranger to this pain and predicament herself. And she’s well-familiar with the mess that comes out of running, rather than facing, the issue.

Here is her story:

I’ve never been the athletic type. I’m the type of person who enjoys lazy Sunday afternoon naps after church. I love sitting at my desk as my fingernails click away at the keys. I’m perfectly content sleeping in on Saturdays. Plopping down on my end of the couch after a long day at the office and watching American Pickers is my idea of bliss. I’m not an extreme exerciser. I’m not into playing volleyball on a co-ed team at church. I’m not one of those people who goes for a run in the early morning. However, I once could be called an expert in running of a different sort.

The first time I made the decision to run came soon after my Dad began drinking again after years of sobriety. At 16, I couldn’t take the uncertainty of living in a home with an alcoholic. Too many days and nights of walking on eggshells, being ignored, or having yelling matches became too much for me. I decided to run away from home.

It didn’t last long, eventually I went back. So I dealt with the life of being a child of an alcoholic the best way I knew how. I told myself I only had one year left of school and then I could escape and have a peaceful life.

During my last year of high school, I dated different boys, looking for some sort of stability and love I felt I lacked. And at 18, I married one of those boys. I found my escape. Or so I thought.

In truth, I had run away from one unstable situation into more chaos than I could ever imagined. I quickly had two babies and a life far less than I had dreamed.

I found out that running from one bad situation into another didn’t help my state of mind. The next eleven years brought heartache, depression, and thoughts of suicide. If it were not for the grace of God, I would have made a permanent escape.

The darkness of the night I almost took my own life couldn’t compare to the darkness I had in my heart. On my way to the bathroom, where I walked to search for some pills that would do the trick, I looked on my dresser and there laid a pamphlet I had received at work that day. A phone number was listed beneath the words, “Need help?” I knew I needed help. I stopped and stared at it for a short while. Thoughts spinning in my mind. Suddenly, I felt my heart flutter. I grabbed the cordless phone, picked up the pamphlet and walked into the bathroom closing the door behind me. God’s love interceded and I called a suicide hotline.

In my selfish desperation to run away, I hadn’t thought about the consequences for the children I would be leaving behind. It wasn’t my time. God had work to do in me.

I accepted God’s healing that night, I found salvation the following Sunday, but my walk with Him was short lived. When things became too difficult again, I ran—from my life and God.

I divorced my first husband and remarried. And seven years into that second marriage, the running shoes came out again. I went my own way. I could handle things on my own. I didn’t need anyone’s help. Besides, I thought God wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like me. Someone who couldn’t even stay married. Someone who seemed to fail at everything.

Soon after my second divorce, I reunited with my high school sweetheart and we married in the Fall. My expertise in running away from my problems seemed to have finally worked! This was like a fairytale!

It wasn’t long before I realized the love of my life, my high school sweetheart, was in fact an alcoholic too. I had only run in a circle.

Over the first five years of our marriage we went from being inseparable to living separate lives under the same roof. I had settled into a mundane existence because I was tired of running. I couldn’t face the idea of yet another failed marriage. I was determined to stay married regardless of how awful it was.

During my life of running my Mom and Dad had separated. Mom moved in with me while Dad floated between different family members and eventually became homeless. He lived under bridges and in various homeless shelters. We didn’t know if he was dead or alive.

Then God decided to put an end to my running. Without any inclination or warning, my aunt called us to let us know Dad had been found in a local hospital with a broken hip and terminal stomach cancer. He somehow remembered her phone number and reached out to her. The doctor’s gave him a month to live, which he would spend in my home on hospice care.

God used the last three weeks of Dad’s life to teach me about his healing grace, mercy, and forgiveness. I had run from the chaos, but I could no longer run from God. He opened my eyes to my husband’s alcoholism. Patrick’s drinking had intensified over the five years of our marriage, but I thought I could fix it. God opened my eyes to my co-dependency and controlling behavior. At 16, when my Dad’s drinking started again, I felt out of control so controlling people, situations, and outcomes became my way of life.

God used the pain and grief of losing Dad to make me see that the only way to truly live is to be fully connected to a gracious, loving, merciful Heavenly Father. God is not like an earthly father, with faults and failings that you can run from. His love and timing are perfect, patiently waiting for us to grow weary of running from his open arms.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Thankfully, God not only saved me, but He saved my husband, too.

A few weeks after my Dad died, I was yet again nudged by God. This time, though, He nudged me to confront Patrick about his alcoholism. My husband immediately stopped drinking but after a few weeks, he made comments to me insinuating it was a temporary situation. Again, God’s nudging persisted. I followed His lead and asked my husband to leave.

God had very important work to do and we were getting in His way. Only God knew we needed to be apart and alone so we could rely fully on Him. We both did just that.

As a result, Patrick and I rededicated our lives to Christ. We each committed our lives to God on the same day, within hours. Neither of us knew it until a few days later when we agreed to meet to talk. I am amazed by God’s handiwork in our marriage! I give Him all the glory for saving not only each of us but our marriage too.

Out of all of this, I have taken on an entirely new identity. Despite the shortcomings of my earthly father, I am a child of God. I no longer have the need to control others because I no longer need other people to make me happy or feel satisfied. I have turned my life over to the care of my Heavenly Father. I no longer run away from problems that arise, instead I run to the One who saves me.

Jesus is my comforter.

He always has been and always will be.

And when life gets hard, I don’t have to run to anyone or anything but Him anymore.

A Little More About Kimberly:

I struggled for 25 years to cope with an addicted parent. I know first-hand how the serenity and peace of God’s redemption are keys to personal wholeness. In my weekly devotions, I share my story and provide valuable biblical principles for overcoming the effects of growing up with an addicted parent. Visit my blog or follow my social media!

http://www.kimberlydewberry.com

Chain Breaker

If you’ve got pain, He’s a pain taker
If you feel lost, He’s a way maker
If you need freedom, saving, He’s a prison-shaking Savior
If you’ve got chains, He’s a chain breaker.
-Zach Williams, Chain Breaker

Every Thursday night that I’m not out of town for work, I get the opportunity to volunteer in the senior high ministry at my church. And every week when I walk out of that room I feel overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude, awe and wonder.

Gratitude that I get to be a small part in these young adult’s lives, at such an impressionable and vulnerable age. The things they are learning about themselves and the world right now, are what will shape their self-image and sense of self-worth for life.

I am in awe that God still chooses to use me, despite all that I have been through and all the things I have done wrong in my life.

And I am in wonder at the ways He works miraculously through me, my story, and my experiences.

This past week was particularly astounding. The message was on experiencing Freedom, which is one of my five core passions in life, and one of the things I believe God has specifically created me for.

As the presenter told a story about a time in his life that he lived with the fear and bondage of what other people thought of him, and how he was set free from that, the students were instructed to bind their wrists in zip ties and think about things that are keeping them from freedom in their own lives. Whether that be bitterness, fear, pride, a relationship, a habit, an addiction…. As he wrapped up, he read a list of examples that other high school students had written down about some of the things they felt they were in bondage to:

Worrying about the future
If I’m honest, no one will forgive me or love me.
Eventually God will say enough is enough.
I’ll never be good enough
[the thought that] Forgiving someone means what they did is ok
I’m super scared people won’t approve of me
I’m afraid I’m not smart enough
I’m afraid I’ve done too much
I’m afraid everyone will stop loving me
[I feel like] I have to do everything on my own because if I let people help, they will end up hurting me even more.

As he read, I cried. A couple of them really hit home for me because they were thoughts I had had myself at one point in my life. I was also thinking about how universal those thoughts are; certainly every student in the room could relate to one, or any number of, the things on that list.

The students sat with their hands locked together as he finished and the worship band began to play “Break Every Chain” by Tasha Cobbs. The lyrics go, “There is power in the name of Jesus, to break every chain, break every chain, break every chain.” When they were ready, they could walk to the back of the room where we leaders were standing with scissors to physically free them from their bondage of the zip tie, and pray for them to be released of their spiritual or emotional enslavement, if they wished.

One-by-one wrist-bound students got up and made their way to the back of the room. One girl asked me to pray for her. She told me she keeps asking God to send good people in her life, but then every time He does she pushes the person away and sabotages the relationship. I asked her if she thought that was based on fears from her past, from other people she got close to who hurt, or abandoned or betrayed her. She said yes. So I prayed for her to be free of that past hurt, and to have an open heart and mind to receive these new, good people God was sending her.

As she walked away and I started singing along with the lyrics, I was flooded with the emotion of the moment. What an incredible metaphor happening all around me that I was getting to participate in. It occurred to me that the ONLY reason I could stand at the back of the room and cut the ties of bondage off of these students was because I had already experienced that yoke-destroying freedom for myself! By no means does that mean I’m perfect, or that I have arrived, but I am no longer bound. I am free, forgiven, redeemed, whole, made righteous and holy.

It’s in this state – and ONLY in this state – I am able to help others walk into freedom for themselves.

Streams of thankfulness poured from my eyes as I stood in amazement of a God who chooses me, who loves me, who sees me, and who breaks my every chain.

13923502_10209965577673225_4304605923333281809_o

The Other Brother

I can pinpoint the exact season(s) in my life when I have been the prodigal.

The rest of the time, I have been really, really good at being the other brother.

Feeling like I deserve things because I’m “the good one”, the responsible one; I follow the rules, I make good grades, I make good decisions. I’m REALLY good at being good.

But notice the character for whom the story is written. The reason it’s recorded in history. It’s called “the parable of the lost son”, not “the parable of the really good son”.

God LOVES the prodigals. They bring Him so much joy! He loves to celebrate them! It’s not that He doesn’t love the other brother, but notice where brother is at the end of the story: outside the party, sulking.

I want to be on the inside, joyfully rejoicing with my Father at ALL times. Not on the outside feeling slighted and entitled.

“‘My son,’ the Father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.'” – Luke 15:31-32

but while he was still prodigal son luke.png