Roses and Forgiveness

My husband was away for three days this week in connection with work. I wanted to show him, when he got home, that I do care about him. Amazingly, the house got cleaned and tidied (at least on the surface, there's a lot of "deep" cleaning that needs doing but this was good enough for guests), I made a point of being showered and dressed (I love just hanging around in my nightgown all day if I don't have to go anywhere, it's so comfy) and had a nice meal ready for his arrival. Though he came home sick and went to bed soon after dinner, he seemed grateful.

This morning he came home from a morning meeting with a dozen roses and a note which reads, "Thanks for loving me. I'm sorry for all the hurts I've ever caused you." Wow! This from the man who angrily told me on Monday he'd never hurt me. I was near tears when I read the note and near tears again as I write this. He also wants to go back to the camp this summer. God is good.

Marriage, Anger and a Charismatic Camp

I first heard about the camp last summer as people came back excited about the things God was doing there. A young man came to Christ, turned from his life of rebellion, was baptized and signed up to Bible school, all in less than a week. Another young man was cured of his life-endangering allergies and proved it by consuming handfuls of foods that an hour before would have killed him. A crusty old, unbelieving man went and, though not yet saved, told the speakers when he was there that if they set up church back home, he’d be the first to “sign up”. He’s returning for a whole week this summer. A few months ago it was announced that during the May long weekend (the past weekend here in Canada), those who had never been to camp before could come free. All they had to pay for was their food. I knew then I was supposed to go. About a month ago, as I was getting ready to register, God told me to invite my husband to come with me. I didn’t want to and I wasn't overjoyed that he said yes but I recognized his answer as part of God's plan and accepted it.

My husband chattered away as we began the 2 1/2 hour trip but part way there his chatter dropped an unexpected bombshell that left me reeling and in tears. I turned away, I always try to hide my tears from him, and after a bit he continued to talk, either unaware of my pain or not really caring. An hour later, when I thought I could do so calmly enough, I asked for clarification. It ended in him deciding he'd drop me off at the camp and go home. I was so hurt. I can't trust him. Why believe him about anything anymore?

When we arrived, I fully expected my husband to unpack my stuff and leave. Amazingly, he decided to stay. But the tension was thick and I couldn't bring myself to spend time with him. Apparently he felt the same way and went to bed.

To my surprise, there was no session till the following evening. What's with that? There WAS a prayer meeting Saturday morning. I'm so glad I went to it! I wasn't sure what to expect but I intended to take in everything I could. To my surprise, my husband decided to come too. Wow! It was amazing! Some prayer meetings are more talking than prayer. Not this one! There was talking intermixed with the prayer but the whole thing was powerful as one person prayed for something and another prophesied and then the camp manager would interject what had been happening that related to what was prayed for and prophesied. The interesting thing was that, aside from the speaker and the manager, none of us had ever been there before. Being part of the prayer meeting made it much easier to be connected with those who were there. There is so much bonding in prayer!

Still, I had a hard time feeling comfortable with my husband and the one family I knew at the camp hadn’t arrived yet. Further, I was beginning to realize that MJ, my friend, is well-liked by everyone and, while I hadn’t seen her for a couple weeks, THEY probably hadn’t seen her since last summer. I resigned myself to being alone most of the weekend and determined to make use of that time to connect more with God, get to know people (a low priority—I find doing this hard) and enjoy the place.

After lunch I wandered around camp, ending at the lake where I prayed, I want to be alone. I don't want to be near my husband. Why can't/won't I enjoy him, God? Am I the self-centred one and he the other-centred? He's mixing with people, making friends. This is good. There are godly men here, God; men who it would be good for my husband to know. I don't want my anger, resentment, embarrassment to get in the way.

I was so pleased when MJ came looking for me and spent the rest of the afternoon with me. She showed me the Lambs’ Quarters where she teaches the children—a huge, bright, sunny room—a place enough out of the way that though we had interruptions, we had enough privacy that I was able to share about my anger and my seeming inability to let it go. She prayed and hugged and I cried. I always cry, it seems. I wish I remember what she said. Alas, if I don’t write something down, I forget. I can’t forget the love, though, and for the rest of the weekend it was as if she tucked me under her motherly arm (though I think she may be younger than me) and blessed me with her continual presence and attention.

I had a hard time with the first service that Saturday night. I saw my husband worshipping and praising and it all looked so fake to me. My skepticism extended to the speaker who was telling us how we have access to the supernatural, which we need today to do God’s will.

After she finished speaking, she called people to the front for prayer. Everyone went forward. She, her team and others she appointed, anointed everyone’s hands, then our eyes, ears, feet and mouth. At one point she went to a man, prayed something over him while she touched his hand and he toppled backwards to the ground. She went to someone else and did the same thing. He didn’t fall so she got louder and more insistent in her praying. He still didn’t fall. Neither did I when she did the same to me. (I know some of you reading this will have as much trouble with this as I did—perhaps even more. I want to say that I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt because someone for whom I have a lot of respect and who is godly in every way, has a lot of respect for her. Also, I saw her behaviour close at hand outside the meetings and found her to be a godly woman with a funky sense of humour and a down-to-earth attitude towards life. Actually, there was a lot of humour by those MJ hung around with and much of the humour was poking fun at themselves.)

The speaker seemed to like my husband. Maybe it was because he had been at the small prayer meeting that morning and then sat on the front row, right in centre where she stood speaking. She’d called on him for something in the service. My skepticism of her and him caused me to say, “He’s just toadying with those ‘in power’.” During the ministry time she prophesied good things over him but I was so angry I didn’t want to believe what she said and paid no attention. Nor did I want to believe healing could or would happen even though I stood and watched several people healed. All my jaundiced, angry eyes allowed me to see was mass “hysteria” under the guidance of someone who knew how to whip up people’s fervour. There was probably jealousy too. Why does my husband get her attention and not me?

She wanted to pray with/for everyone who needed healing. I wondered, “What healing should I ask for?” One thing came to mind but my skepticism was so big I didn’t think I could ask. I COULD ask for prayer about my anger though. I waited around for a long time but finally I gave up and left.

MJ met me in the cafeteria. “Are they done?” (She’d been with the children.)

“No.”

“Did you get prayed for?”

“No.”

“Well, why not?”

I was bawling by this time. I didn’t want to be angry or skeptical, “but what can I do about it?” I asked MJ.

“You can go get prayer!” And she dragged me back to the Sheep Shed (the meeting place) and stayed with me, calling Darlene, the speaker, to pray for me. t's a journey, she said. She believes there is generational stuff with my anger, as well as that being all that was modelled to me. That's true. And when my mom was angry, it was “never her fault”, just like I want to blame my husband for my anger.

At breakfast the next morning, the team came and sat at my table. I was talking to Shirley, the team member beside me, when I heard Darlene say she was Norwegian. I couldn’t resist. “Yay Norway!” I’m sure the whole room heard me. We began to talk about genealogy and all the research I’ve done on my family. She wanted to know if I’d seen patterns. The most obvious pattern I’ve seen is the paternal line’s desire to always be on the move. Another pattern was matriarchal.

In connection with this matriarchal line, I was thinking about the roots of emotional dependency and lesbianism. I have nothing solid to base this on, but I believe they come from this line of women. I couldn’t very well say that there. They knew nothing of my history and besides, my husband was listening. I started to cry. Why was I crying, she wanted to know. I wasn’t sure. So many thoughts were swirling. Not only was I thinking of the roots of my SSA but also of how my husband has failed me, all the ways he has wounded me over the years, but he was sitting there so I dared not give the reason.

Nevertheless, they stopped the conversation and Shirley prayed while the others joined in agreement. At one point, someone else came and put their hand on me in prayer. I was surprised to realize it was my husband. I was sure this was just for show, for the team’s benefit so they could see how spiritual and loving he is and so it made the pain even worse. When he left the table, I told them my struggle with anger against him and how I was sure how his action just then was for their benefit and not mine because he’s often seen me in tears and not done anything to comfort me.

God began to speak to me during the worship time of the Sunday morning service. I'm skeptical of what's happening with my husband but even if it IS just a show, then what? Does this justify anger, rage and bitterness? Darlene had preached, "What is not yet speak as though it is." Is that what God is doing with my husband? He acts what may not yet be, so that one day it will? Someone gave a word, “Do not condemn but love. Love one another as I [Jesus] have loved you.” Pretty apropos!

Darlene said, “That which I let my body do, will rule." I thought about how this applies to worshipping God and loving my husband. "Whatever I hear most, see most, etc., that's what I'll be most sensitive to. Same with hands and heart. What is fathering me? That's where my desire will go. Whatever I submit myself to, what I focus on….” What is my focus? To what or whom am I submitting myself?

Somehow, for the rest of the day, I managed to sit with the team at every meal. That was cool. After lunch, Darlene baptized three people, asking my husband to be her assistant. “If only she knew what he is REALLY like,” I thought, “she wouldn’t ask HIM!” Sigh. I hear the self-righteous anger in that statement.

Shirley walked back with me after the baptism. She was the token American at the camp and stood out. While everyone else was dressed in casual drab, she glittered like a Christmas tree—a classy lady. In fact, at supper that evening, Darlene (speaker and team leader), soliciting the help of another, sang to her, “Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree!” It was hilarious. Shirley was so compassionate and loving as we walked and talked. Her words triggered thoughts and questions. How much of how I see my husband is based on how I see myself? I don’t see myself as worthy but rather, I’m full of condemnation. Do I condemn my husband out of my own self-condemnation? Condemnation! I am not his condemner nor his convicter. Satan is one and the Holy Spirit the other. I am neither. I need to remember this. She went to take a nap and I went to think.

The last session began with Jacob’s dream. You know the one—he lays his head on a rock and sees angels going up and down a ladder to heaven. She went on to prophesy about the camp, saying “a big visitation” is coming. After speaking for a while she called the camp leaders to come stand at the front and declare an open heaven over the camp. I felt strongly that this would happen only to the degree that the number of the leaders present made this declaration. I wanted to SAY this, and another, more comfortable with all this sort of thing, would probably have spoken out but I am new, uncertain and not wanting to make a spectacle of myself. I looked for a chance to speak out but found none. Only one leader spoke the words.

During our prayer meeting Saturday morning we’d talked about building an altar of stones as a memorial of what God wants to do with the camp. At some point while the leaders were standing, and while my eyes were closed, someone built a small altar of rocks by the platform. Someone had a small jug of oil so the leaders could anoint the altar. I saw the first one pour a little bit of oil over a few of the rocks. I had the sense that they were to cover ALL the rocks with the oil and pour out ALL the oil on the altar (never mind the carpet that’s under it—the stain would add to the remembrance). Once again, I couldn’t find an opportunity to speak this out and they didn’t do it.

At this point Darlene called everyone who wanted a special anointing/outpouring (I don’t remember the words she used). I went forward. I wasn’t there long when I saw angels standing like sentinels, shoulder to shoulder around the perimeter of the room against the wall. I wanted to call out, “Don’t you see them too?” Everyone else was in sober poses of receptivity to God. I wanted to twirl about. “Do you see? Do you see?” I wanted to tell Darlene but she was too busy. I knelt. Then the roof opened up with bright light and God’s presence came down like a heavy blanket on everyone. I had to go down on my face. I stayed there a long time.

All around me, ministry was happening. People were being anointed but because I was on the floor, no one came to anoint me. That was okay. God himself was ministering to me. I tried a few times to catch Darlene’s attention to tell her about the angels and the open roof but I couldn’t so I decided to pray that God would make it clear when to tell. I relaxed and simply enjoyed God’s presence.

At one point during the ministry time, while the musicians were playing, there was “singing in the Spirit”. I have never participated in this, though I’ve heard it at times. (I attend a Vineyard, I’ve been there only a year and it really hasn’t done anything too way out. My background is very conservative, staid and anti-charismatic.) Most times when I’ve heard this “phenomenon” it’s never made much sense to me and it didn’t sound either beautiful or edifying. THIS time, however, it was completely different. What I heard was better than the most complicated operatic offering you can imagine. People’s voices were strong. They sang melodies and harmonies that worked together even though everyone was singing something different. It was what music will be like in heaven. I couldn’t help myself. I HAD to join in. Oh to sing like that again! The ministry and music continued.

I was still lying with my face on the floor when I heard a voice suggest we sing a small song he knew. It was a ditty about victory. The musicians picked up the song and played along. It was easy enough to catch on and soon everyone was singing. Not long after, he picked up the guitar and lead us in victory songs. I couldn’t get up yet. I needed to be on my face to stay in God’s presence and enjoy it but I could hear the party that ensued. The floor vibrated with the foot stomping/jumping/dancing. Everyone was moving. At one point I could tell they were dancing in a victory parade around the circumference of the room.

The party lasted long. What joy! Finally things calmed down and I heard someone come to the mike to share a picture they’d received. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t even want to share what I’d seen but this was my cue and so I got up and shared what I’d seen.

I was so at peace. All the rage, anger, skepticism was gone. The angels were there still, a border of protection on our behalf. It was so glorious, so awe-filling. I didn't want to leave and so I stayed, watching what was happening and continuing to soak in the presence of God. Most people left but MJ had arrived (at some point, I don't remember when) having finished with the children. She was talking with the ministry team and some man had shaped his hands as though they were around a large jug of water which he was pouring over someone. Others were praying for the one being "poured over". This was repeated for several different people--the group wasn't large, less than a dozen including myself, though I was off to the side, and not intermingling with the others--and with each, different things happened. Some fell (or dropped) to the ground. Others showed what they call manifestations of various kinds, most of which were really weird. These were redeemed in my eyes for several reasons.

You know the "unpardonable sin" that people talk about? The passage is in Matthew 12. Jesus healed a demon-possessed man who was blind and mute. The Pharisees accused him of casting out demons by Satan (Beelzebub). It is in Jesus' response to their accusation that he says, "Therefore I say to you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven men, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven men. Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man, it will be forgiven him; but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit, it will not be forgiven him, either in this age or in the age to come." (v. 31, 32) The Pharisees accused Jesus of casting out demons by the power of Satan but whose power HAD he used? The Holy Spirit's. So, in effect, they were calling the Holy Spirit Satan. This was the blasphemy against the Spirit that won't be forgiven. I've never heard this taught anywhere but to me it seems very obvious from the text.

The problem is that far too many people today are far too quick to ascribe to the devil that which is of the Holy Spirit. I don't want to be guilty of that. Jesus also said (in the same passage) that we will know them by their fruit. I don't REALLY know the fruit of the speaker or the ministry team--except I saw their love, their joy, and their devotion to God. I DO know the fruit of MJ and she, having sat under the teaching and ministry of Darlene last year, has great respect for her. To me that means I can't just dismiss the stuff I don't like out of hand. What if it IS the Holy Spirit? Further, if I had walked out when the first "weird" thing happened, I would never have experienced God's presence the way I did.

The other thing about all this weird stuff was that they were all having so much fun. AND they were poking fun at themselves for the weird things that were happening. These were not people who were trying to put on a show for anyone or to impress anyone with how holy or Spirit-filled they were. These were people (for the most part) who have been friends for a long time. The laughter and joy emanating from them was contagious. I wanted to be part of that joy. At some point (I think it was when MJ was being ministered to with this "jug of water") I got up to share in the praying. THAT'S something I can do. I was still on the periphery but now, in some way, part of the group.

And then the man and his wife asked if I would like the water poured over me. I don't want to refuse ANYTHING God wants to do so sure! It can't hurt, can it? But now, as they poured and prayed, I faced a dilemma. What is this "slain in the Spirit" stuff? What happens when people go down to the floor? WHY do they fall to the floor? Is it something that's conscious or something they have no control over? I still don't know. I HAVE heard of people who say they discover themselves on the floor so obviously it just happened to them without any control on their part. Is that the case for everyone? Why, the previous evening, did one man go down with the simple touch on his hand and others continued to stand rigid? When Darlene had come to me at that time, I could feel myself begin to rock on my feet. I could have easily gone down but I CHOSE to stay standing. This has happened before. I've felt that same rocking on my feet as though I could easily topple, but I refused to do so. Having refused earlier, however, I felt a conviction that the next time I had the opportunity I should let go and let what happen happen. As the man, his wife, MJ, Shirley and I don't know who else prayed over me, I felt again that lightness of feet. What should I do? Should I give in? Should I keep my feet firmly planted? I saw it as an act of obedience to let go and fall. It was easier to make that decision because I knew someone was behind me. She'd break the fall.

I think, in her effort to catch me (I'm a large, heavy woman), my t-shirt wound up around my neck and someone(s) rushed to pull it down. Someone put a blanket on me. I just wanted to lay there and soak in God. I also wondered if he would say or do anything. I stayed conscious the entire time, aware of what I could hear happening around me. Truth to tell, the time on my face earlier in the evening was far more powerful. Finally I decided to get up. I had to laugh at MJ. She told me to get back down on the floor and soak some more. Okay. This time I pulled the blanket up over my face.

I WAS enjoying my time with God--just being in his presence. That's such a good thing to do and I continued to be conscious of the angels around the building and the open roof above. Still, I could hear all that was happening around me. Eventually I heard my name being called, "Magdaleine! Magdaleine!" I pushed the blanket off my face and sat up. "We're ready to leave. Do you want to come with us? You can stay if you want." I opted to join them.

The next day, before we left the camp, I had a good talk with MJ. She's such a loving, godly woman with great wisdom. She's given me a lot to think about, especially the whole idea that I'm so full of self-condemnation and the idea that I'm not worthy that I build barriers between me and others, not just my husband. I push people away, she said, and don't let them get close. I could have argued with her but I also saw a lot of truth in what she said. Why? What is the root of this? Why do I feel so unworthy? How do I change this? Though she confessed she didn't know the "how", she had one suggestion which I am considering. As for the why, I've been thinking about this. Darlene talked about generational patterns and influences. I think this might be something that has its roots that way. I can look back at growing up and see my mom having HUGE issues with worthiness. I certainly learned that from her. I always thought it was following the command of Jesus, "Don't think more highly of yourself than you ought," but I can see that there's been more to it than that.

Does this belief that I'm not worthy affect my marriage? How much of my life does it touch? I have never sought the friendship of people who were popular, stylish, classy, in a place of power or influence or somehow "better" than me. In fact, I have avoided them. Sometimes I haven't been able to avoid them but in that case I feel constantly insecure and afraid in the friendship. I remember meeting one of my internet friends and, upon seeing how classy and poised she was, I froze in fear and terror. I could not speak through the entire time of our visit. I think I cried instead. Had I met her first, before getting to know her online, I would NEVER have chosen her as a friend. In fact, as I thought about unworthiness, I wondered about other ways it has possibly impacted me. What about the way I dress? Do I think I don't deserve to look nice? Do I think I don't deserve to be thin? To have a well-decorated or clean/tidy home? To have a good marriage? DO I push people away? I know I'm constantly afraid of imposing or pushing myself ON people. Do I overreact to that fear? I do tend to be stand-offish, but that's because I don't want to be where I won't be welcomed and I'm so afraid of rejection. Do I reject others as a way of protecting myself from rejection? There is so much to think about and sort through.

Oh! I forgot to tell a key event from the Sunday morning worship time. I can't remember what was said or sung, maybe nothing, but I felt convicted to act on what was prayed for the night before regarding my anger. I moved closer to my husband and put my arm around him. He responded with HIS arm around me! That was cool! Then I was convicted that THIS was the time to make good on what I had said I needed to do nearly two weeks before: "I know I need to go to my husband and tell him how wrong I’ve been. I want to ask his forgiveness." I got his attention and confessed how wrong I’ve been to be so angry at him the past 31 years and would he please forgive me. I think he said yes, but he didn't look at me until I asked him to and even then he barely did. I wondered if he'd really heard me.

Apparently he had because finally, as we were driving home, he asked me what I meant when I said I've been angry with him all these years. Yikes! My first response was to tell him WHY I've been angry but I knew I couldn't do that. I didn't want to say anything that would inflame him or begin a fight. I didn't want to lose the peace God had given me the night before. After a long pause I replied by saying something like, "We've had a very difficult marriage and the pain of that has made me angry." Then he asked for more details. Sigh. I don't know how I could have avoided this. It's almost like he was baiting me to say things that he could then get mad about. He didn't like anything I had to say. Well then, don't ask questions you don't want answers to. If you don't want to know what has angered me, don't ask! What did he think I'd say, that I was angry because he was loving and affectionate? And the thing was, that as I answered the question, the heat of my emotion showed in my voice. He got all self-righteous because HE wasn't raising his voice and I was. He got mad and said some things that really hurt. Do you want a divorce, he asked? NO! Why did he think I confessed my anger and asked his forgiveness? He also denied ever hurting me. In fact he said he was puzzled that I said he had hurt me. Is he completely blind and deaf?

We didn't talk for the rest of the way home because I didn't want to continue the discussion if he was going to be argumentative and combative. I hadn't confessed my anger to start a fight or get emotionally beaten. At home he pointedly avoided me. I tried to initiate a discussion on what happened in the car but again his attitude was combative instead of conciliatory. We can't resolve problems if either of us is attacking the other (and I realize I've been very guilty of being that one many times). I told him I wasn't interested in discussing further unless he also wanted conciliation. He walked away and I didn't see him for the rest of the evening. I had hoped things would change between us because of the weekend but it seemed obvious to me that they hadn't. Rather, they'd gotten worse. I was so discouraged.

The next day, Tuesday, had the potential to be a demanding day. I'd be at work all day and then, without time to go home between, I would spend the evening at Cross Current, not getting home till 10 p.m. Amazingly, I did not spend the day near tears as I would normally after a series of difficulties with my husband. I was actually at peace and had a good day. When I arrived at Cross Current, I felt light and exuberant and I found myself, on my way home, actually looking forward to seeing my husband. What was this? Was I actually having feelings of love and tenderness towards this man who was so angry he wasn't talking to me? Amazing!

God's been convicting me of something else I must do based on something my husband said as we were driving home. I need to go to him and ask him how I have hurt him. I'm going to need enormous prayer cover for this because if I'm going to do it, I can NOT lose my temper regardless of what he tells me. I will need to conduct myself with honest love the entire time despite provocation to do otherwise. I'm not sure, yet, of when and where to do this but I'm thinking that perhaps we should go away to do this, like to a nice hotel (with a whirlpool or something) for the night. That way we'd have privacy, no interruptions and neither of us can escape. Hopefully we could make it into a time of romance.

He's gone away for three days with work. Yesterday morning, before he left (I was still sleeping), he wrote a note regarding the matter of conflict on the way TO the camp, offering a compromise. I'm willing to accept it. Maybe God IS doing something in our marriage.

Rage and Peace

I was in a rage. I needed to get to the meeting by a certain time and my car was gone. Someone had taken it without checking first to see if I needed to use it. I thought it was my son because my husband has his own car. When it was my husband who pulled it into the driveway, my fury was unleashed. I let him know just how angry I was as I flew out the door. On my return four hours later, I confronted him on how his thoughtlessness made me late. He should have asked first. He knew I was going out. He could have used his own car. He stared at me with stony silence--no apology, no regret that he had inconvenienced me, no acknowledgement that his actions could have been different but rather the attitude that it was me who was the one at fault because I was behaving like an enraged she-bear.

This uncaring attitude was, in my mind, far worse than the first offence. How am I supposed to love this man? How am I supposed to not hate him? How am I supposed to not be angry? I wanted to say a whole lot of things I dared not. I did NOT love him that evening. Instead I wanted to rip him and the entire house to shreds. Of course I didn't. Instead I sobbed with impotent frustration, my rage insufficiently vented.

I was frustrated with his lack of caring but I was also frustrated with myself. A week before I'd had an incredible insight (see 180º: Marriage Miracle).

I didn’t realize it until I read that short passage but I’ve been incredibly angry with my husband. I’ve been angry, bitter, and unforgiving. It’s not my husband who has put the barriers between us, it’s been my anger, my self-centredness, my self-protection, my unforgiveness. ... He’s not a snake with some redeeming qualities but a good man with short-comings. ... I am choosing to put my anger aside and to love this man who has so faithfully loved me despite my behaviour and attitude. Yes, he has faults. So do I. Frankly, the faults that come out of his insecurities and which have so rankled me, are not nearly so serious (if one could rank sins) as my repeated unfaithfulness to him. He IS a good man.

How do I go to where I was the week before? How do I deal with my rage given what God showed me last week? What do I do with my anger, my rage? How do I turn off the rage and let it go so I can forgive? How do I forgive and accept without being a doormat where my husband keeps doing the same sort of thing over and over again? I was convicted the previous week of how I've treated him. This day I found myself back at where I was before that conviction, not changed. Still angry. I didn't know how to get out of it. Just saying "I forgive him" wouldn't do.

Thanks be to God for loving and godly friends. One such friend listened with calm understanding as I spewed my frustrations and questions towards her. "Forgiveness is letting go," she said. "It's giving it back to God and saying, 'I won't hold on to this anymore because it's stealing from me and I treasure the Presence of God too much'. I think that's the thing for me, Maggie. The Presence of God is too precious to me. Period. To know His voice, to hear Him, to sense His closeness. Man! I love that so much. I've had just enough taste of Him that I treasure experiencing Him more. Kind of reminds me of that old song, 'and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.' So don't get on yourself. Push those feelings away to God, not shoved inside, and ask him for a refreshing."

Talking with her for a couple hours calmed me down enough that I could see my need to spend some time with God. I went down to my prayer room, knelt before the little altar I've made and prayed. It just didn't seem to be enough though, as if the words were empty. Doesn't praise change our hearts? I began to sing and probably sang for an hour before I felt a measure of peace. I spoke the words, "I forgive my husband for not caring that he hurt and inconvenienced me," went upstairs, wrote a note of apology for blowing up at him and went to bed. I didn't sleep much. I had to keep handing the anger over to God.

I woke up in tears. All that day I was an emotional mess, full of anger and not knowing how I could respond to my husband's arrival home in a loving, forgiving way. This time it didn't take me too long to realize that spending time with God might help. I went down to my prayer room and sat before the little altar, bawling my eyes out. I took the relevant symbols from the shelf where they usually lay and placed them on the altar so that everything was before me as reminders and prompts. I ignored them all at first, just staring at the flames of the candle and crying out to God.

After a while I focused on the dish of salt. God, help me to be salt to my family. Don't let me lose my saltiness! I turned back to the candle. God, let my family see GOOD in me, not evil. May they see this good so they can glorify you. ("Let your light so shine before men that they see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.") I picked up the goblet of grape juice. Fill me with your character, Lord! Fill me with your Spirit! Produce in me the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control.... Oh, I can't remember one of them. What is it? I looked in my Bible. Ah yes! Faithfulness. I read the verses surrounding the ones about the fruit of the Spirit. "When you follow the desires of your sinful nature, your lives will produce these evil results: ...hostility, outbursts of anger....." That's not so good. That certainly described where I was the night before and where I couldn't seem to get away from this day.

I got it in mind that perhaps I should see what Wuest has to say about this passage. Somehow it was speaking to me. I want the joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control--none of which I displayed towards my husband the night before nor which I felt much towards him as I sat there. I wanted to but I couldn't make it happen. Wuest wrote a series of books of word studies from the Greek New Testament. Yadah recommended them and they arrived less than a month ago. Except for cursory glancing, this was the first time I would be using them. He doesn't give an indepth look at all the NT books but thankfully, Galatians is there.

I started with 5:16. So I advise you to live according to your new life in the Holy Spirit. Then you won't be doing what your sinful nature craves. Wuest has nearly 2 pages of commentary on this one verse. I'll share what I underlined. "The evil nature is not eradicated. Its power over the believer is broken, and the believer need not obey it. But it is there, constantly attmepting to control the believer as it did before salvation wrought its work in his being. ...if the believer depends upon the Spirit to give him both the desire and the power to do the will of God, he will not bring to fulfillment in action, the evil impulses of the fallen nature, but will be able to resist and conquer them."

5:17 The old sinful nature loves to do evil, which is just opposite from what the Holy Spirit wants. And the Spirit gives us desires that are opposite from what the sinful nature desires. These two forces are constantly fighting each other, and your choices are never free from this conflict. Wuest retranslates this. "For the flesh constantly has a strong desire to suppress the Spirit, and the Spirit constantly has a strong desire to suppress the flesh. And these are entrenched in an attitude of mutual oppoition to one another, so that you may not do the things that you desire to do." He comments, in part, " The purpose of each is to prevent the believer from doing what the other moves him to do. The choice lies with the saint. He must develop the habit of keeping his eyes fixed on the Lord Jesus and his trust in the Holy spirit. The more he says NO to the sin, the easier it is to say NO, until it becomes a habit. The more he says YES to the Lord Jesus, the easier it is to say YES, until that becomes a habit. The will of the believer is absolutely free from the compelling power of the evil nature. If he obeys the latter, it is because he chooses to do so.

5:18 But when you are directed by the Holy Spirit, you are no longer subject to the law. Wuest writes, "Again, the law finds nothing to condemn in the life of the person who is led by the Spirit, for that person checks every wrong desire which is brought to him by the evil nature, and so he fulfills the law."

I didn't underline anything in 5:19-21 When you follow the desires of your sinful nature, your lives will produce these evil results: sexual immorality, impure thoughts, eagerness for lustful pleasure, idolatry, participation in demonic activities, hostility, quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambition, divisions, the feeling that everyone is wrong except those in your own little group, envy, drunkenness, wild parties, and other kinds of sin. Let me tell you again, as I have before, that anyone living that sort of life will not inherit the Kingdom of God. That's pretty straight forward.

5:22-23 But when the Holy Spirit controls our lives, he will produce this kind of fruit in us: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Here there is no conflict with the law. Wuest: "The particular word for love here is agape...its chief ingredient, self-sacrifice for the benefit of the one loved...." I certainly wasn't being very self-sacrificing with my attitude, was I? Am I willing to sacrifice my timetable (needing to get to the meeting on time) or my need to matter to my husband (he wasn't bothered enough by how he inconvenienced me and caused me pain to offer a simple apology or statement of regret)? Frankly, not only did I not ACT loving, I didn't FEEL loving.

Wuest: "Peace here ... can be defined as tranquility of mind based on the consciousness of a right relation to God." This is what I needed, tranquility of mind. I was calming down but certainly when I had arrived in my prayer room I had absolutely no tranquility of mind. I was very untranquil. I couldn't get rid of the anger.

Wuest: "Longsuffering is from makrothumia which speaks of the steadfastness of the soul under provocation. It includes the idea of forbearance and patient endurance of wrong under ill-treatment, without anger or thought of revenge." Sigh. The current translation in most Bibles of "patience" hardly begins to cover this understanding, does it? Yes, I was sorely provoked. Was I steadfast in staying where God wanted me? Did I patiently endure the wrong without anger? Not at all! I burst into flames and spewed them all over my husband.

You can understand that by this time I was well (though gently) chastised by the Spirit and the anger had dissipated. I drank the contents of the goblet. God, cover me with your blood. Fill me with your character. Produce in me this joy, love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control!

I picked up the crown of thorns. God, I have said I want to be part of the fellowship of your sufferings and yet the moment an opportunity comes to practice this, I blow it. What suffering am I willing to endure? I can't even tolerate the unexplained disappearance of my van when I need it nor the seeming indifference of my husband to how he caused trouble for me. Make me willing!

The entire time I was down there, except for when I needed two hands for the books I was juggling, I held the spike in my hand. It originally was a reminder of God's forgiveness of me and a prompt to forgive others but it's also become a reminder of how much I need God. As I clutched it tightly, I repeated over and over again, I NEED you, God! I can't do this without you. Help me forgive my husband as you have forgiven me!

I stayed in my prayer room until I was at peace and knew that, at least for the time being, the anger had been dealt with.

It's been a couple days now and I've found myself being compassionate towards my husband as he's been dealing with difficult things at work. I've been able to look at him while he sleeps and realize how vulnerable and needy he is. Yes, there have been a gazillion things in the past several days that have made me cringe and for which I've had to continually go to God to say, "Help! I can't do this! Give me love for him!" My husband isn't the one who changed on that day after Mother's Day. It was me. He will continue to behave in all the ways that have angered me in the past. It is me who must learn to respond in loving ways.

And now we are leaving in 2 1/2 hours to go to a Christian family camp. I'm kind of nervous about this. I'm really looking forward to the camp itself--it is an awesomely Spirit-filled place from all accounts--but spending a weekend in close quarters with my husband? I'm going to need a huge dose of God's grace and Spirit's presence to enable me to do this. God help me!

Conference on Homosexuality

Focus on the Family's Love Won Out conference came to town last weekend. As one who has chosen God over where her same-sex attraction might otherwise lead her and as one who wants to help others who have that same desire for God, I thought it behooved me to attend.

It began at the ungodly hour of 8 a.m. and, since it was downtown where parking is tight, I arrived early, catching the last spot in a parking lot labelled, "Free for Special Event". I was told that these conferences always draw protestors but I guess the hour was too early for them for none were in sight. There WERE uniformed police present inside the church and security was tight. When I paid (it was expensive!) I had a red wrist band placed on me. Before I walked through the doors to the sanctuary, my backpack was searched. Women’s purses were also searched—thoroughly! When the conference began, the police stayed at the back, vigilant for any problems.

And then there WAS a problem, part way through the first speaker’s lecture. He stopped and asked if he should wait before going on. That’s when I looked back. A man had had a heart attack. They were calling for someone who knows CPR. People were jumping over pews to help him. The policemen’s radios were squawking. An ambulance was called. All around the sanctuary (there were 400 registrants plus at least a hundred volunteers and staff) people prayed. “Oh Lord, don’t let him die!” was my prayer. Someone from the front announced that he was talking to those helping him. “Thank you, Jesus!” Later that morning we were informed that he was doing okay at the hospital and it was pointed out that the top person who trains ambulance staff in the city happened to be in the crowd that morning and so was the first responder before the ambulance arrived. Isn’t that just like God? Still later, in the afternoon, we were told the man's wife had returned to the conference and her husband sent a message saying that if he was going to have a heart attack, the best place to have it was in the midst of a congregation of praying people. I’m tearing in remembrance. God is so good.

Dr. Joseph Nicolosi, founder of NARTH, is a psychologist, part of the American Psychologists Association, who does not accept the rhetoric that homosexuality is untreatable. He is not someone who came out of homosexuality (like all the other speakers present) but his practice focuses on helping men who want to. His talk on "The Condition of Male Homosexuality" was good and informative. It got me thinking about my own boys, the home in which they were raised and how much have I set my boys up (or not) to be pre-disposed toward homosexuality.

He showed a triangle with mother, father and son at the points. What fosters homosexuality in a boy is when there’s no close emotional connection between the parents and poor communication. The connection between mother and son is very close. Between father and son it’s guarded, ill at ease, distrustful, antagonistic. What is needed for healthy boys is bonding between father and son that has a physical component—the wrestling, the throwing up in the air and catching when they’re babies. Boys are hungry for physical bonding and Nicolosi quoted someone as saying, “Fathers, if you don’t hug your sons, some other man will.” Makes sense to me. Mothers need to surrender their sons early and fathers need to embrace their sons into their lives. Boys have to be allowed to be “rough and tumble” when they’re little. It helps develop the masculine in them. Same-sex behaviour is an attempt to “repair” childhood emotional hurts. It’s an attempt to fix what’s broken. There was much more that he said but in the interest of saving space, I refrain from sharing all the good stuff.

Melissa Fryrear, Gender Issues Analyst for Focus on the Family, spoke next on The Condition of Female Homosexuality. Both she and Nicolosi acknowledged that lesbianism is far more complicated than male homosexuality. She borrowed heavily from Jeanette Howard's book, Out of Egypt, listing four variations of lesbianism: 1) same sex experimentation, 2) emotional enmeshment, 3) “Generation Y” where young women think it’s fashionable to be bisexual, 4) classic lesbianism. For me, I think, the second, emotional enmeshment, has been the primary way I’ve lived this out. I never really embraced a lesbian identity or lesbian culture as the fourth would imply (though there have been times when I've wanted to). Emotional enmeshment is when one relies on another woman to gain an identity and a sense of well-being. This is a very difficult thing to leave. As the speaker pointed out, there are many, many women in the church today who live this way (enmeshed in their friendships) and who don’t realize that there is a problem.

Another topic Melissa addressed, borrowing from Howard, was the mother-daughter relationship. This really hit me because I have not yet completely addressed the stuff that happened growing up. My mother left my dad shortly after my eighth birthday and died a year later. As my mom returned to school to get, first her high school and then a teaching certificate and a degree, I was left in charge of my three younger sisters and the management of the home. In many ways I was my mom's partner instead of her daughter. It’s amazing to think that growing up in an all-female home, I had a same-sex love deficit. I wasn’t close to my sisters at all, however. I'm still not. The need for same-sex love becomes sexualized, an unconscious attempt to restore what was missing in the relationship with one’s mom.

According to the speaker, it is fathers who call forth their child’s gender identity, whether that child is male or female. Daughters need protection, attention, adoration and support from their fathers. Without these, a girl will develop an insecurity in her sense of worth and possibly be inhibited from effectively relating to men. Was my father’s presence in my life till I was eight, enough? I don’t know. I don’t remember much and what I do remember is clouded with the things my mother said or implied. How much was true and how much was self-protection on her part? I don’t know. I probably never will.

The talk on lesbianism was very hard for me and so I took few notes. A lot of painful memories and issues were stirred by this lecture and I sat there, tears streaming down my face and sobbing inside. I wanted to go some place and let all that was inside pour out but where? There wasn’t anywhere and so I sat there, keeping it all as stuffed inside as I could manage.

After a couple sessions of everyone together, we were given the opportunity to divide into smaller sessions where we could choose which we wanted to attend. The one I went to was in a building connected to by a third-story bridge/walkway. I walked up 2 flights of stairs and then back down 2 more flights of stairs. That was hard work! I decided that in returning to the main building, I would do so by going outside rather than doing the stairs again. On opening the door my spirit was assaulted by the presence of several dozen angry, noisy, demanding gay protestors. They were across the street, thankfully, but their loud, angry chants really felt like blows against me. I had known they’d be there. I had even thought ahead of time of taking them some coffee. The pastor of the church where we were meeting told us at the beginning of the conference that he had brought refreshments for them in the trunk of his car. But there was nothing about these people that would make it easy for anyone to go to them in a gesture of love and friendship. They were angry and proud of it, their chat relentless, “Hey, hey! Ho, ho! Homophobia’s got to go! Hey, hey! Ho, ho! Homophobia’s got to go!”

It was lunchtime and as I waited for a friend I’d agreed to meet, I watched what played out outside. The pastor indeed went over and spoke with them. So did Tye Gamey, the local director for New Direction for Life Ministries, an Exodus affiliate. In fact, I heard later that when Tye went over, the group handed him the megaphone so he could talk to the whole group and be heard by them all. I was pretty impressed by that. TV cameras were also present and Tye was interviewed by at least one. I didn’t see the news reports. I hope they were kind. When my friend and I stepped outside to find a restaurant, I was again assaulted by the protestors (in my spirit, not by them doing anything directed at me personally). I wanted to be friendly but I just couldn’t. Instead, I ignored them.

The first session of the afternoon blew away for me all the love and gentleness of the morning sessions. The topic was “Why is What They’re Teaching so Dangerous?” led by Dick Carpenter and by the time he was done I felt I had gone through the wringer. Again, my spirit felt assaulted. His message felt like one of hate against the pro-gay people. If you looked at his words, they were anything but hate, but that’s how it felt. Perhaps it was his rapid-fire delivery. In part, it may have been that he seemed to use the same tactics to discredit them as he accused them in using against us. I was very offended and at one point wanted to simply walk out and not come back. It was THIS kind of teaching that the protestors outside had good reason to protest, in my opinion.

I was so grateful that it was after his talk that Melissa Fryrear gave her testimony. What an awesome story! It helped bring me back to why I was there and, at that point, I changed my plans to ensure that I went a mini-session that Melissa was giving. I needed one voice that I knew was full of love and gentleness.

The rest of the sessions were good. It was just that one that was awful, in my opinion. I really liked Joe Dallas winding up the conference with the last session. He's so good, so full of love and compassion. I could sit and listen to him for hours (and have done so at a previous conference). The whole day left me with many clashing emotions, however—the identification with what Melissa said about lesbianism, the protestors outside, the assaultive nature of the one session and one friend's love, support and encouragement that touched me deeply—I couldn’t go straight home. I didn’t know WHAT to do with all I was feeling; all I knew was that I wanted lots of something rich, sweet and creamy. I went to a favourite restaurant and ordered TWO desserts. And when that wasn’t enough I ordered something from the main menu. All I was doing was drowning my emotions so I didn’t have to deal with them. Unfortunately, I drowned them so well I haven't been able to bring them back to examine the stuff I think God wanted me to look at. I pray I can.

Celebration of Discipline

Messy Christian is starting a group blogging project in June, where a number of bloggers are going to make their way through Richard Foster's "Celebration of Discipline", one chapter a week. This book is one of the 20th century classics and something I've started reading but never finished. I'm looking forward to participating. Here are the details for those of you who want to learn more.

Grid blog :: Pentecost--Dryness, Waiting and Life

I've been looking forward to the Pentecost gridblogging event ever since I heard about it. I was sure God would give me something profound to write come Sunday, especially if I managed to find a church to visit that celebrated Pentecost. I would have gone to my friend's church, her Sunday morning service sounded exciting but, alas, it's a thousand miles away. My own beloved little house church has been put on hold pending a decision by the pastor as to whether or not to permanently close the doors and so I couldn't go there. I didn't go to any church this morning, though I had one or two in mind. I woke up very sick, with headache, runny nose, sore throat and more. In fact, I've spent the entire day in bed and feel no better.

I thought yesterday might provide some fodder for a post on Pentecost. I was at Focus on the Family's "Love Won Out" conference on homosexuality. Perhaps God would give me some insightful connection between the two topics. It didn't happen. It was a profound event, no doubt about it. It left me reeling emotionally but unfortunately, instead of facing the emotions and asking God to sort through them all for me, I medicated the pain with food to the degree that I am unable to touch where I was and see what God might have to say to me.

And so I'm feeling dry with nothing much to say. As I've lain in bed, drifting in and out of sleep throughout the day, I've thought about this dryness. I imagine that this is what Jesus' disciples were feeling before Pentecost morning. Yes, they'd had wonderful teaching from Jesus himself. They'd even had some incredible spiritual experiences, none better than seeing Jesus alive after his crucifixion and then watching Him ascend into heaven. The teaching and the experiences weren't enough, however. They'd been told to go into all the world and preach the gospel yet they huddled in an upper room because they needed more.

What more could they need besides good teaching, time with the Master and awesome experiences? Surely such a formula wouldn't lead to dryness! What was lacking? Perhaps even they didn't know what yet they needed until their morning was ripped apart by the sound of rushing wind and the falling of what seemed to be tongues of fire. Did they rush out of the building in fear? Certainly they were outdoors by the time they started speaking in other languages because those who rushed to the scene, wondering what the windstorm noise was all about, heard them speak and understood them. What changed Peter and the others from timidity to boldness? What changed them from dryness to founts of Living Water? What more did they need than what they already had? The Holy Spirit.

Do we try to do God's work without His presence in our lives? Do we "preach the gospel" out of our dryness? Do we assume that good teaching, time with the Master and awesome spiritual experiences are all we need to bring others into the kingdom? Sadly, this is too often the case. We are unwilling to sit and wait for God to pour his Spirit on us. We hear the command Jesus gave his disciples, "Go and preach!" and choose to act immediately. His disciples were wiser. They sat in an upper room and waited. When God's Spirit DID come, there was no mistaking his arrival.

How willing am I to sit in my dryness and wait? I don't want to be moving on my own strength--I haven't much at all. I want to be propelled by the Holy Spirit of God. Come, Holy Spirit! Come! Fill me with life anew!

180º (Marriage Miracle)

I was so tired on Monday, I went to bed at 6:00. Hoping to delay when I went to sleep, I chose to finish the novel I had started the day before, The Scarlet Thread by Francine Rivers. I’ve read a couple of her more recent novels and been powerfully impacted by them. This is an older one and didn’t seem to be as packed with spiritual insight but it was certainly a good read.

Sierra marries Alex, her high school sweetheart, against the objections of both their parents. It’s a cross-cultural, cross-racial marriage. Both sets of parents eventually approve and become fast friends with each other and with their child’s spouse once grandchildren are in the picture. All seems idyllic until, ten years later, Alex accepts his dream job in the big city without consulting Sierra. He does the same about selling the house and buying a new one in LA. She feels trampled upon, uncared about. Doesn’t she matter? Why isn’t he including her in the decision-making? Despite his quadrupled income, Sierra is not happy. She resents him telling her to get rid of her treasured furniture in place of what the top interior designer he insists on hiring suggests. She resents his boss’s high-society wife and refuses to spend time with her. She resents Alex’s long hours, his cancelled family engagements, his increasing absence, his seeming disinterest in the kids and his criticisms of her choices, her ways of doing things, her. When she learns her mother is dying and returns home to spend her last weeks with her, Alex phones only twice. She needed him and he wasn’t there for her. On returning from the funeral, she learns he’s been having an affair and is moving out.

Her increasing anger, rage and bitterness are certainly justified. I could identify with how she felt. Nothing changes when he leaves his mistress and attempts to mend the bridges between them. Sierra’s anger grows. She doesn’t trust him. She wants nothing to do with him. Everything about him is irritating. “Jerk”, “Rat”, and worse are the ways she addresses him in her thoughts.

The last thing Sierra wanted to hear Sunday morning was a sermon on forgiveness. ...

'I can’t, Lord. I can’t forgive him and go through it again!’

But the words from the pulpit kept hammering the wall around her heart. ‘If you love Me, you will keep My commandments . . . love does not take into account a wrong suffered….”

I stopped short as I read this. “I can’t forgive him and go through it again!” Is this what I’ve been saying about MY husband? Have I been taking into account the wrongs I’ve suffered?

Yes. I didn’t realize it until that moment but I have. I’ve spent the past 31 years blaming my husband for all our problems. Even as he has begun to change, I’ve not trusted him. I’ve been afraid to “go through it again.” I’ve been angry, resentful, bitter. I have despised him and all the while I thought I was doing all I could to make our marriage work while he did precious little. He’s not mean like he used to be but the distance between us has grown. The barriers and walls are enormous. If only he really cared about me! If only he wanted to listen! If only he wasn’t so self-centred, boastful, deceptive or ill-mannered!

I didn’t realize it until I read that short passage but I’ve been incredibly angry with my husband. I’ve been angry, bitter, and unforgiving. It’s not my husband who has put the barriers between us, it’s been my anger, my self-centredness, my self-protection, my unforgiveness.

My eldest son had taken me out for lunch earlier that day for Mother’s Day. Our conversation eventually turned to my husband and our marriage. “He’s a good man, Mom.” I have never believed this. But now I thought about it. Maybe he is. I left him for 2 ½ years early in our marriage. During that time, my promiscuity resulted in a pregnancy. My husband had never given up hope during that time that I would return to him and when God made it clear to me that I should return to my husband, he welcomed me and the baby with open and enthusiastic arms. There has never, in 25 years, been anything in his behaviour or attitude to indicate that this was never anything but his beloved eldest son—a miracle when you consider the value of eldest sons in the culture from which he comes for, like Sierra, my marriage is cross-cultural, cross-racial.

This is what good men do though even most good men would have trouble doing what my husband has done. I’ve always chosen to interpret his goodness as twisted self-serving. I’ve been wrong. He’s not a snake with some redeeming qualities but a good man with short-comings. I’ve wanted him to accept me as I am, faults and all, not trying to change me but have I been willing to do the same for him? No. “It is better to live in the corner of a roof than in a house shared with a contentious woman.” No wonder there are such walls between us. I have given him no reason to want to be close.

As Sierra worked through her own thoughts and feelings on this matter, she admitted to God, “I don’t know much about the inner workings of his heart. It was always my own that mattered.” I’ve been the same. I’ve been incredibly self-centred and selfish.

God whispered to me about my housekeeping. I’ve been passive-aggressive in my avoidance of it. I didn’t realize that either. And my continual lack of energy, could it be that I have exerted so much energy on my anger that it’s completely drained me of the energy I need to do the things I need to do?

How can someone be so unaware of the anger they have? I am choosing to put my anger aside and to love this man who has so faithfully loved me despite my behaviour and attitude. Yes, he has faults. So do I. Frankly, the faults that come out of his insecurities and which have so rankled me, are not nearly so serious (if one could rank sins) as my repeated unfaithfulness to him. He IS a good man.

God has changed me. I think he’s just handed me the miracle I’ve been waiting for, though it looks nothing like what I thought I needed. I know I need to go to my husband and tell him how wrong I’ve been. I want to ask his forgiveness. Please pray that I will not lose courage in this.

Masturbation

A leader must have demonstrated awareness of personal vulnerabilities, i.e. the tendency toward emotional and sexual addiction. [By emotional and sexual addiction, we refer to an ongoing, uncontrolled pattern of seeking sexual and emotional release. This includes emotional preoccupation with a person, compulsive masturbation and fantasy…. Addiction by its very nature is habitual. We are referring to an ongoing dependency on these behaviours, not unlike a drug.] The leader need not possess a complete freedom from the temptation towards addiction, however, a leader must be free for one year of any habitual addictive behaviour pattern. Those who habitually engage in sexual and/or emotional addictions will be disqualified from leadership.

I was at a training event for a program with which I want to become more involved as part of the leadership and was brought up short by the above requirement. For the past 3 ½ years I’ve been working towards freedom from sexual and emotional addictions and have gained much. The bugaboo in the mixture has been masturbation.

It is very clear in the Bible that homosexual relationships, extra-marital affairs and lustful fantasies are sin. Masturbation, on the other hand, is not mentioned in the Bible at all. Is it wrong? If one can do it without fantasizing or lusting, is it sin? Some say yes, others say no. I’ve heard the case for both sides. There’s no doubt that there has been a compulsive aspect to my engagement in this activity and yes, I’ve been addicted. It’s easy to justify the behaviour. It helps me sleep. It brings me a lot of comfort when I’m unhappy or lonely. I can put my thoughts on God while I do it, thanking him for the wonderful feelings the action produces. Does justifying make it right? Whether right or wrong, however, if I want to be a leader in this particular program, I must be free from compulsive masturbation.

Sometimes I don’t want to be free. Sometimes I’m rebellious. I want what I want and I don’t want anyone telling me I can’t have it. I can be very selfish. But I want to serve God and I want to help others who struggle with the things I have. Regardless of the Bible’s silence on the topic, the program’s demands are very clear—be free or don’t lead. There is no choice.

I lay in bed this morning wrestling with myself. “No, don’t! You want to be a leader.”

“Go ahead, just once isn’t being compulsive.”

“But it’s been twice already in the last two weeks, that’s not exactly free.”

“But it feels so good!”

“You can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

I scrambled in my mind, searching for something to hold onto that would get me out of this battle.

“Truth.”

“Truth? What is the truth? What is the truth about masturbation?”

And then I remembered what I pray with the spikenard from my alabaster box. “Keep my eyes open to the truth. Blind me to the lies.”

The lie is that I really want to do this. I don’t. It’s a lie that it comforts me. The comfort leaves when the accusations and guilt begin. The father of lies has been whispering to me again. Why do I so readily believe him?

“Father, I want You.”

I get up and begin my day. “Thank you, Father! Thank you for showing me the truth and rescuing me from myself once again.”

Praying with Symbols

A few months ago I took the room vacated by my eldest son leaving home and created part of it to be a prayer room. I’m content to let the room grow into its function and haven’t rushed to do a lot of decorating but I have done a few things. I’ve covered a trunk with a white cloth to create an “altar” and on a beautiful wooden shelf my not-very-handy husband made with great pride that was already there, I placed some objects that have become spiritual symbols for me. Recently I discovered that these symbols make excellent prompts for prayer and have discovered a joy and power in moving from one to the next as I pray.

Alabaster box filled with spikenard. My friend gave me the alabaster box for Christmas because of my name, Magdaleine. It was Mary Magdalene who extravagantly broke a box of alabaster wiped the contents, oil of spikenard, over Jesus’ feet with her hair. The box my friend gave me begged for the same oil so I went hunting until I found some. I enter my prayer room, stand at the shelf, open the box and, my finger dipped in oil, anoint my forehead with the sign of the cross. I want to be extravagantly devoted to you, Jesus. Keep my mind fixed on you. I dip again, anointing my eyes: May I see only your truth. Blind me to the lies of the enemy. Give me clarity of vision. My ears: Help me hear your voice and obey, Lord! My lips: May I speak only that which will give you glory and honour. My heart: I give my heart to you alone, Oh God. Keep me extravagantly devoted to you!

A framed stamp of the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights). Three years ago a small group of people gathered to pray with and for me as I made my way through Neil Anderson’s “Steps to Freedom in Christ”. It took two very long, exhausting nights to complete. At the end, in celebration, I took the group out to a nearby restaurant. As we left the house, there in the sky was the most incredible display of Northern Lights. We don’t usually see this phenomenon in the city because we’re too far south and because of all the lights of the city but that night the display was awesome. It was as if God had made the heavens dance in celebration of the victory and freedom I’d just won. And so I pray, Thank you for dancing over me with singing (one translation of Zephaniah 3:17). You, the Creator of the heavens, who uses them as your pallet, you care about me! Thank you! Thank you for your love. Thank you for loving ME!

Pile of coins. No special meaning to these. I happened to have the coins in my hand and didn’t know what to do with them, so I left them on the shelf but they are a good reminder to pray, Thank you for your provision.

Book of Common Prayer. It’s a teeny, leather-bound book that I used for a while in my prayer time. Some of the prayers in there are so rich! Thank you for the prayers of the saints, God. Those saints are those who pray for me.

Bulldozer. The night of the Aurora Borealis, one of the interceders had a picture or vision relating to what God was doing for me. She saw a bulldozer, with an enormous light shining at the top, clearing away huge boulders to make a wide highway for me. And so I pray, Thank you for preparing a path before me, for levelling the hills, raising the valleys and smoothing the rough places. Thank you for working tirelessly to do this for me, God (the light indicates he doesn’t stop for the night). I stop and think (and pray) about how he has and is doing this. There is so much my God has done for me. I hold that little bulldozer in my hands (and the framed Aurora Borealis earlier in my prayer) and feel so loved by God. I know he’s taking care of me. He’s watching over me. He LOVES me!

Sea glass. It’s just a small bit of thick, green glass, worn smooth by the waves of the ocean. I was given the glass at a Christmas service of grieving a few weeks after walking away from Pearl. I had chosen God over her but the pain of losing her felt worse than death. The glass is a reminder of how much God cares and so I pray. Pearl is in your hands, God. You love her more than I ever could. Please take care of her. Protect her! Bless her and have your way with her, please! I return the piece of glass to the bucket of the bulldozer.

Railway spike. Three years ago, the day before Easter, I was making my way through a labyrinth of prayer that featured various stations of the cross. Many of the meditations at the various stations had deep and personal meaning for me but the one that was most revolutionary focused on a low table holding nails and a hammer. I spent a great deal of time here, trying to grasp what exactly it was that Jesus had done for me and for the first time I finally understood something that had eluded me for years.

In Colossians 2:13-14, Paul is saying that Jesus cut away my sinful nature and nailed it to the cross. Wow! Thank you for your forgiveness, Lord! Thank you for nailing my sinful nature to the tree. I stop here and I begin to search. Are there things I need to confess to God? Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time clutching that spike in prayer. As I did so the other day, I realized just how MUCH I need God. I can’t do anything, I can’t be the person I need to be without him. As the impact of that settled on me in a deeper way than ever before I found I didn’t want to relinquish the spike. My need for God is so very, very great.

Inkwell and quill. Father, keep me faithful in telling others about you and what you have done for me.

I move from the shelf to my makeshift altar.

Crown of thorns. I made this years ago from a hawthorne tree on my aunt’s farm. The thorns are more than 2 inches long—very hard and very sharp. I hold it up to my face in a way that causes the thorns to command all my sight. Lord, help me to embrace the suffering that comes to me rather than running from it or trying to medicate it in ways that dishonour you. May I be willing to share in the fellowship of your sufferings.

Wine Goblet of Grape Juice. I was at a retreat when God gave me a picture of Jesus’ blood covering me like an ice cream cone is covered with chocolate dip. Just as wasps can’t get past the chocolate to get to the ice cream, the fiery darts of the enemy can’t get past Jesus’ blood covering me. There’s another thing about blood. In many cultures, if you eat certain animals or drink their blood, you are thought to have taken on that animal’s characteristics. And so I lift the goblet I filled upon entering the room and pray: Cover me with your blood, Jesus! Protect me from the evil one! Fill me with the character of Jesus, God. I want to be like him. Fill me with your Holy Spirit. Produce in me the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control. I want to be like you.

Small dish of salt. I am the salt of the earth, God, but if the salt loses its saltiness it is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled by men. Please keep me salty, God.

Three-wick candle. When this was given me, I knew I had to keep it for when I finally had a place to be alone with God. I like to think the three wicks represent the Trinity. I stare into the flames as I quote Jesus and then pray: "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hid, neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they place it on its stand and it gives light to everyone in the house." Lord, help me to let my light shine so others will see my good deeds and praise you who are in heaven.

Length of copper piping. I don’t have this in my room yet but I pretend it’s there. God keep me a clean and unblocked conduit for you to flow through. Flow through me, God!