It’s taken me a week to publish this…a tough one…

Mayim Hayim–Living Water

John 4…At the well, Jacob’s well, on the outskirts of town, a Samaritan woman comes during the heat of the day to draw water. Jesus meets her there, and asks for a drink. He offers her living water, and tells her to go and bring her husband. She admits that she is not married, which, of course, He already knew. He refers to her five ex-husbands, and her current live-in boyfriend. This woman was a social outcast, caught in a life of sexual sin. He essentially tells her He knows her fruitless pursuits: seeking fulfillment, escape, belonging, and more, in mere men and the things of this world. She is amazed and runs back to town to tell the rest of the Samaritans about the Messiah, whom she has just met face to face, and who told her everything she had ever done. Many Samaritans believed after hearing the woman’s testimony about Jesus’ words.

I think about the woman’s words, what Jesus called her to, and the Samaritans’ response.

I think back to my first encounter at the well…

My initial response to sexual abuse was to withdraw, turn inward, and insulate myself almost completely. It was easy to convince everyone that I was just stuck up, being a cheerleader and all…

Truth be told–I was afraid:

…afraid of boys…the only ones who seemed to take much notice of me hurt me, binding me to a life of darkness, confusion, and secrecy…
…afraid of being found out…I couldn’t bear for anyone else to know the shame, horror, and humiliation I had experienced…

Dysfunction and chaos at home just added fuel to the fire…

I walked a fine line
                       …between the external confident, fun-loving feistiness
         …and the internal shame, fear, and self-hatred that consumed me.

It’s taken me a long time to realize what was happening to me…
        what I was doing to myself…

                                               I began walking two paths–
   …the one most could see–of apparent perfection: 
           high grades, prudish chastity, full of accomplishments…
                     …the other was much darker–the road to self-destruction:
                                                     alcohol, partying, casual dating…

Along both paths I experienced
                        further betrayal
              more violations
                                      and a brutally terrifying assault.

Unable to deal with the assault or other abuses at the time, I needed other reasons to hate myself.

Before long, I plunged almost completely into the darkness.

Into the abyss…

          …immersed in the poison, deceit, confusion…

Within a couple of years, I found myself
                     nearly flunking out of college
                                              drinking and partying almost every weekend
                           squandering my soul piece by piece
      on the verge of a life I had never imagined for myself
                     …nor ever wanted for myself.

Then…one morning…I woke up…
Literally…

…next to an older man I barely knew…
                   so hungover that I couldn’t remember how
                           the previous night had ended…

…and still can’t remember…

…I woke up at the well…

I heard a Voice inside ask me,

“Wendy…what are you doing here?
This isn’t who I created you to be.
Is this what you want for yourself?”

No.

I walked away…
                  from the drinking
     the partying
              the clubs
                        the dating…

I was ready to walk away…but was not yet strong enough for the battle…
                      so I locked that part of my life away…
 

    …while traces of the poison still coursed through my veins…

 
        …and I ran headlong back to the life I had envisioned…
               graduated college with honors, married a good man,
                          went to graduate school… 
                                     I have two beautiful children, 
                                            my dream career
                         …and Christ…

After many years, Jesus brought me back to the well
                 –to join the battle–
                      it was time to begin bleeding out the toxic sin
                        that had plagued my life and relationships…

   …it was finally time to tell the other Samaritans about the Messiah
                            Who told me everything I had ever done…
                  Who called me out of my life of sin
                                 Who offered me Living Water
          and invited me into a life of mercy, grace, redemption,
                                    restoration, healing, wholeness,
                  sacrifice, joy, servanthood…

                                    …into a life of Immanuel…

Mayim Hayim…Living Water… 

Have you been to the well?

There is a war going on. In my heart. In my mind. In my wallet.

Last night was the first night of B4A. I’ve been waiting about 8 months for this.

As I arrived at the meeting, I could hardly hold back the tears. The other women naturally assumed it was the anticipation of the journey we are all embarking on. Hugs and encouragement surrounded me. I exclaimed, “it’s not even this–it’s all the other crap going on!”

Finances have been stretched so thin this year, my husband and I having both taken pay cuts to move to new jobs with better advancement opportunity, expecting things to be better in the long run. Now we face the likelihood of deeper cuts, furlows, and even potential layoff and hiring freezes on the horizon.

Job security gone.
Financial safety net gone. 
My achilles heel…
I’m the financial minister…
I’m not supposed to have these problems…

blah, blah, blah…

Yesterday afternoon, the weight of it all just came dumping into my lap, just a couple of hours before our meeting was to start. As others were facing similar spiritual battles trying to keep them from showing up, I faced my own battle…for my thoughts. While the thought never occurred to not go to the meeting, I had trouble getting my mind fully there. Yet, by the grace of God, we all made it.

During worship, we sang Blessed Be Your Name. Our leader talked about the words within the song “you give and take away”. The words are inspired by Job 1:21. She described this beautiful exchange that takes place with Christ–where He replaces our ashes with beauty, our mourning with joy, our despair with praise.

I described to my breakout group that I feel like I’ve been carrying around this load of garbage. I know it’s a bunch of garbage, but I’ve been waiting to find a place to dump it. I’ve been able to manage the weight and bulk for a time, only by knowing that relief was coming soon. I know that there is treasure among the trash, so I can’t just drop everything. I need to find a place to sift through it, separate it, keep the good stuff, and leave the rest behind. This group promises to be that place.

Last night I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. So much on my mind. Finances. Group. Ministry. School. Work. Students.

I thought about those words…about the exchange.

Then it occurred to me… 

I’ve had it backwards.

I’ve been waiting to sift through the load to separate the trash from the treasure.
I’ve been looking for a place to lay it all down.
I’ve been trying to figure it all out.
I’ve been holding on to control.

It’s been all about me.
Again.

Just when I thought I surrendered, I slowly picked it all up again. Little by little, so that I didn’t realize it until it became too cumbersome.

Last night it occurred to me. I need to allow God to take first. Then give.

It’s not my job to sift through the garbage and decide what I’m supposed to “let Him take”, and to keep what I think is treasure.

It’s my job to let Him take everything.
To lay it all down at His feet.
…they’ve been waiting there the entire time…
Then He’ll return treasure to me…
on His schedule…

Polished.
Restored.
Renewed.
Better than before.
Better than I could ever do.

Letting go. Completely.

If only I knew what that really looked like.

Lord, help me to let go. Release my grip. Take it all. Give me what You will.

I will trust in You. You alone. Help me to believe.

I’ve had two significant situations with my classes this week that have really stretched me spiritually.

The first came with my OM class, filled with mostly seniors. At first, I anticipated that this course (my first time teaching it) would be one of the more interesting and fun courses to teach. I was nervous, but optimistic as well. Then I faced some challenges in teaching this course. The previous instructor was an adjunct, who is no longer teaching for the university. I inherited the text used before. There was minimal resources or materials available to utilitize in preparing the course for the semester.

I had great expectations and ideas for the course. Then I panicked. As the beginning of the semester approached more and more rapidly, I decided to play it “safe”. To follow the text and use the instructor resource lecture slides. The “safe” choice turned out to be a disaster. Students were not happy, not engaged, overwhelmed, confused, anxious. There is not enough time in class to give everything adequate attention. The textbook does not provide enough depth to rely on it as a valuable supplement to the discussion time. My students, as well as myself, faced every Tue and Thur morning with great anxiety and reluctance. What I thought would be the more exciting course transformed into the bane of my existence.

Word began spread to the dean at the school, and a couple of students approached me directly about the class. After some prayer and discussion with the dean, I decided to make some changes. I got authorization to go outside the box to pursue the greater objectives of the course. I sent a survey to solicit feedback from the students. I read the responses. I took the honesty and integrity to heart.

Tuesday morning, I began class with an apology. For not living up to the standard they deserve. For not living up to my own standard. For trying to play it safe, rather than pursue true learning.

I thanked them for their honesty in their feedback. For trusting me enough with the truth to be candid. For providing ideas to make class a better experience. For bringing their concerns to my attention, rather than suffering silently through the semester, and then tank me at evaluation time. For being respectful and courteous in their approach.

We agreed on some modifications to the class structure. It seems to be working well. The feedback I’ve been getting is amazing. Word again has spread to the deans…that students are excited about the changes and have had a more productive experience in class. They are engaged. They are offering great insights. They are thinking outside the box and contributing to a great learning experience. For them and for me.

A spiritual exercise in humility, encouragement, integrity, and risk. It looks like the tangible reward will payoff. Regardless, the spiritual reward has already been great. The connection it has created with my students is amazing. We all got a challenging, uncomfortable, lesson in honesty, respect, humility. I believe we will all be richly rewarded for it.

I’ve got an amazing group of future business leaders there…

Then, yesterday another situation came to surface. In my Macro class, filled mostly with freshmen, it came to my attention that there has been dishonesty. Students are signing in absent students on the roster. My first reaction was disappointment that they would take such a big risk for virtually no reward. I considered whether to make a big deal of it.

I could hardly sleep last night. It weighed heavy on my heart. This is no small thing. This is an integrity issue. This is an honesty issue. The Holy Spirit impressed a piece of scripture on my heart…He who is trustworthy in what is least, is trustworthy also in much. And he who is unrighteous in what is least, is unrighteous also in much…Luke 16:10

See, they have an exam coming up on Monday. That’s important. If they are willing to lie about attending class, they are also likely to lie, cheat on an exam, term paper, homework, etc.

But that’s not even the point. There is a greater issue at stake.

Character.

As an instructor at a Christian university, I have an obligation to teach them how to integrate their faith into their academics…into their lives. This is a moment of truth. An opportunity for each student to learn a lesson, however difficult it may be, at potentially great cost. An invitation to build character through an act of humility, respect, honesty, and risk.

I wrestled with many questions last night. Will I just be preaching to the choir? Is it fair to take class time to devote to this issue? How does this impact those students who have been honest and hardworking?

How do I address this in a way that re-establishes the expectation of integrity, honesty, responsibility, hard work, and other Christian and professional etiquette, without encroaching upon students’ learning time, without directly accusing students (I don’t have direct evidence at this point), and that honors Christ?

The question I’ll be posing to them today: Which characteristic of God do you find most valuable? Justice or Mercy? Why?

Reflecting on God’s character, and applying it to one’s own life.

No, it’s not economics.
It’s much greater.
It’s reflecting the character of God,
   loving His ways, and
   living within His presence.

What extremes between my two experiences this week. I see, though, the greater calling I have here at CBU. I’m not just a teacher of economics and quantitative analysis.
My responsibility is much higher.
I’m an example.
I’m an advocate.
I’m a spiritual mentor.
I’m a light.
I’m a guide on this part of their journey.

We’ve got a way to go…

Yesterday I prayed one of the most difficult prayers I can remember. Probably the most difficult.

I’ve resisted facing this healing process, and named all kinds of reasons to wait.
Truth is, I’m afraid.

God gave me a truth over a year ago that has stuck with me. He gave it to me even before these memories started surfacing.

He told me very clearly, that if I wanted to get to Zion, I would have to travel through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

He keeps reminding me of that truth.

I’ve resisted.
I’ve feared.
I’ve doubted.

I resisted because it’s dark. It’s ugly. It’s painful.
I feared because I don’t know how deep the wounds go. I have so much I could lose.
I doubted because I was relying on my own sight, and not His guidance.

No more.

He has given me an invitation…
An invitation to walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death…with Him.
An invitation to experience Him in ways I couldn’t even imagine before.
An invitation to trust Him with everything.
An invitation to offer myself completely to Him…to be a living sacrifice.
An invitation to heal.
An invitation to rebuild the former ruins.
An invitation to Zion.

I can’t–I won’t–resist the invitation any longer.

I reflect back and see how His grace has brought me this far. I have no (good) reason to doubt.

His radical, un-relenting love, mercy, and compassion, will carry me through.

I’m stepping into the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

He’s not waiting on the other side of the Valley.

He promised to walk through it with me.

I work out this redemption with much fear and trembling.

But I know He is with me. He is Immanuel (God with us).

Yahweh is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows. Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the Yahweh forever.  Psalm 23

I always thought I lived in a grace bubble. I thought I had been protected from things, even though the world is filled with danger.

What I have come to realize these last few months is that
my perception of God’s grace
and the truth of His grace
were two very different things.

While new memories have surfaced, my mind continues to be filled with black holes…pieces of information, details of events…that my conscious mind still cannot access.

This has been a great source of frustration for this detail-oriented woman.

But as I continue to discover and relive the horrors of what took place that day, I have come to accept that what has been the source of my frustration, is actually the gift of God’s tender grace toward me.

The ability of my mind to block out the memories saved me from the potential destruction that the experience attempted to effect. As I remember more, I have found myself thinking “that poor girl”, only to quickly realize that I am that poor girl.

The realization came when I found myself overwhelmed with emotion at the thought of how the experience might have altered my life today had I been forced to deal with it at the time. At the time, I feared that I was going to die. Guys don’t do these things to girls and let them go, I thought.

But somehow…I don’t know…I survived. I thrived. I buried. I stuffed. I continued on.

When Satan intended to destroy me, God shielded me.

The source of my frustration…blocked memories…is actually God’s gift.

He held me and carried me through. He shielded me from the horror, until now.
Until I was ready to face the truth.
Until I was ready to grieve.
Until I was ready to forgive.
Until I was ready to heal.
Until I was ready to trust Him completely.
Until I was ready to understand the weight of the cross.

It’s time.

I’ve got a long road ahead. Thanks to Him, I’m not alone.

I don’t understand His grace.
But I do accept it.
I receive it.
I embrace it.
I’m here because of it.

I know I’ve been MIA lately. I tried to tell myself I’ve just been really busy with classes beginning, getting notes and other stuff ready for the semester, getting kids back to school, blah, blah, blah…Truth is, I’ve been resisting. Lots of heavy stuff to deal with, and I’m having to consider timing right now. More later…I’m making myself get back to this…Give me a push here and there…

Wow…It’s been almost two weeks since I really wrote anything. Things have been crazy busy getting ready for classes (less than a month away), trying to wrap things up at the other job, ministry work…plus being a wife and mommy.

Plus, much of the current bits of my healing are not really appropriate for sharing in this forum. I’ve been processing more memories as they continue to surface. Don’t want to assault anyone with the details…they’re pretty horrible. Just realizing and accepting why I blocked this stuff out in the first place.

I’ve mostly been chewing on the words I wrote last, meditating on the promises in Isaiah 61, and witnessing the sweet, tender, healing love and power of Christ. I’ve also had the opportunity to do some deep healing prayer with a couple of people…I am in awe!

In awe of how sweetly He faithfully comes in to minister to people in the midst of their brokenness.
In awe of the tender ways He chooses to minister.
In awe of the power of the Holy Spirit.
In awe of the blessing to be used by Him in this way.
In awe of the deep connection and intimacy it creates.

I’ve also been challenged personally in my own healing.
I’ve recognized areas of pride, which I’ve allowed to stall the process.
I’ve remembered that surrender is a daily process.

I’m moved beyond words (rare for this wordsmith) by His extravagant love.

It’s funny how sometimes the words our soul desperately needs to hear the most come right out of our own mouth…just directed toward someone else. As I’ve shared the past couple of weeks, God has been giving me words to pass on to others. A couple of nights ago, I realized just how much my own heart needed to meditate and hold on to those very words.

I was sharing with my counselor and my husband the frustration in processing the flashbacks I’ve been getting lately. I can understand how I blocked memories from early childhood. What’s been hard to understand is how I blocked events from adolescence. I know there are black holes during my teenage years, but I can’t place the snapshots within the timeline.

There’s been one flashback that has been particularly troubling–a rape. I don’t remember forgetting it. That sounds weird, I know. But since I can’t place it, even to which year of high school it happened, I can’t remember how I reacted for the weeks, months, or even year after it happened. I can remember later in high school, and am sure I didn’t remember it then. So I wonder, did I suppress it immediately? or did it take a while, and that’s why I can’t remember the surrounding period?

What was troubling me most about it is that for me to accept how or why I blocked it completely from memory, it must have been darker, more disturbing than what I had already recovered from memory. A couple of people have asked me, Isn’t that traumatic enough? But I suspect, because of my feelings surrounding it, that there was more I wasn’t able to remember that was even more terrible. These past couple of days, body memories are providing more fragments of the horror of that day. I’m sick to my stomach. I’m now understanding why I was not able to deal with it as a teenager. If these memories had come before my deep healing and deliverance prayer session a couple of weeks ago, I don’t know how I would have coped today…

It’s strange. While I’m recovering memories buried deep within my subconscious, and gathering the missing pieces of my mind, It feels as though I’m losing it at the same time. Everything I thought I knew about myself, my childhood, my adolescence, my personality…it’s all being turned upside down. I don’t know who I was, because there’s so much I can’t remember. I’m having to re-define who I am. Thank God I have Christ. I don’t know how anyone even tries to heal, or what kind of hope one could possibly hold on to without the promises of redemption, deliverance, and restoration. Without Christ, what hope would one have?

So, the words I needed to meditate on most during all of this are words I gave to another person also healing from sexual abuse…
Out of the deepest sorrow can come the greatest joy.
Out of the darkest pit, we can come to see the most marvelous light.
Out of the loneliest shame, we can experience the sweetest redemption.

I meditate on Isaiah 61

“The Spirit of the Master Yahweh is upon Me, because Yahweh has annointed Me to bring good news to the meek. He has sent Me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim release to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound, to proclaim the acceptable year of Yahweh, and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, to appoint unto those who mourn in Zion: to give them a crown of beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. And they shall be called trees of righteousness, a planting of Yahweh, to be adorned.”

I reflect on what Christ gave and endured, so that He could fulfill this promise.
He submitted to being arrested, to proclaim my release…
He endured ridicule, beatings, and the cross; He did not open His mouth, and through that proclaimed His acceptable year and His day of vengeance…
He wore a crown of thorns, so He could bestow on me a crown of beauty…
He tasted vinegar and hyssop, to anoint me with the oil of joy…
His garments were taken and divided, so He could dress me with a garment of praise…
He hung from a tree, so He could plant me in righteousness, to be adorned…

What crazy, incomprehensible mercy! His love is so radical! His grace is so indescribable! His ways are far above ours.

HalleluYah! My Wounded Healer! Take my broken heart and make it sing…

It’s funny how God sometimes beats us over the head with something. The intersection of seemingly random encounters, blog-finding, and teachings just come together and a light goes on.

As I’ve been journeying toward healing, I’ve experienced and learned alot. I knew early on that what I learned and the healing I experienced wasn’t just for me, which is why I started blogging. After the workshop on deep healing with Dr. Kraft last month, I have felt a strong desire to practice this kind of ministry. After my session with him last week, that desire has grown.

Since I’ve been delivered from much of the spiritual and emotional bondage that has held me (though there is still much to heal from), I now have clarity to see the prison that others are still locked inside. I’ve been praying about it, reading about it, and discussing it with a few people. I desire to both be used to bring His healing and freedom to people in bondage, and to develop deeper intimacy with Him through the process. It also deepens and reinforces my own healing.

Anyway, this past week, a couple of more intersections.

Being new to this blogging thing, I’ve been surfing, clicking, and finding alot of great stuff. I joined in a discussion about truth a couple of weeks ago. Then, last week, I came across a blog post stemming from it about the scars most of us have, and the need for us to become wounded healers.

Then at church, God brought me to someone I’ve had the blessing of getting to know, and talking with about our similar backgrounds. We talked a bit about some difficult things she would be facing this week. I offered encouragement, assured her I would be praying for her, reminded her that my phone is always on, and gave her a hug.

During the service, God had given me some words I felt I needed to share with her, and I had planned to call her later.

After church, she was discussing with someone else how God has been speaking to her about linking up with others who are grieving/healing to share experiences and help each other heal. She expressed her resistance (I know the rebellious tendency all too well), and mentioned how it seemed God kept bringing me to her. Just as she was saying that, I happened to be walking their way, just a few yards away. Since I saw her again, I decided not to wait to make a phone call, but to bring the words to her then.

Don’t know what it all means exactly, or where God will take this desire of mine. But, my eyes and heart are open as I await more specific instructions.

Awesome how He works, this Wounded Healer of ours…

Waiting in expectation…

Last night, I saw a woman I have known my whole life.
I’ve seen her face thousands of times.
Last night she looked different.
Last night I noticed something had changed.
I stared deep into her eyes for several minutes.

First I saw a newborn baby girl recovering from surgery.
She felt so alone and abandoned in that incubator…
…because no one could hold her…
She knew her daddy was very afraid…
…until she saw Jesus pick her up,
               smiling as He held her,
           singing to her…
He then handed her to her daddy
                          and told them both that everything would be all right.

Next I saw an 8-year-old little girl huddled in a dark corner…
      …because some older kids started a “game”
which quickly degenerated into something
                       very dark,
                  very disturbing,
           very degrading.
She was scared, confused, anxious, and very timid…
…until Jesus took her hand,
                held her,
and assured her that He had hold of her now.
         He would stay with her,
                  and would never let go.

Then I saw a 16-year-old girl curled up into a ball of confusion and disbelief…
           …because he would not stop until he had taken everything he wanted.
She was all alone in her shame, guilt, self-hatred, and anger…
…until she looked over and saw Jesus kneeling beside the bed,
weeping for her,
                   and then weeping with her,
                         stroking her hair,
        and telling her,
Everything will be fine.
This is why I came.
This is why I surrendered to the cross.
Give it to me.
It’s mine.
I’ll repay.
You don’t have to carry this anymore.

Finally I saw a 32-year-old woman, standing in a field of wildflowers,
           a soft breeze blowing her hair back,
                   she was smiling,
and looking up as the rays of sunshine fell down on her face,
         experiencing the sweet taste of freedom…
…because she had been delivered…

Delivered from the bondage she had been prisoner to for most
of her life.
             …some of which has had a hold on her family for generations…

She remembered feeling…
                     Abandonment…Rejection…Self-rejection…
           Worthlessness…Inadequacy…Perfectionism…
                                    Shame…Guilt…Self-hatred…
                  Anger…Bitterness…Resentment…
     Vengeance…Death…Destruction…
                    Worry…Anxiety…Fear…
           Rebellion…Fantasy…Deception…
                             Doubt…Confusion…Insecurity…
…until she handed it all over to Jesus, and He cast it all away.

It was all a distant memory now.

I could see something in her eyes.

She knows she has many more memories and experiences buried deep that still require healing.
She knows it will take time to re-visit them and heal from them all.
She faces that with
         a new courage,
                        a fresh spirit,
                  renewed determination,
      and total dependence on her Friend.

When I used to look at this woman, I would see the flaws…
                  the unevenness of her eyebrows,
         the asymmetry of her lips,
                        the marks on her face that accumulated over the years,
              the scars,
                   the imperfections…

Last night, I looked at this woman, and I saw something new.

I saw peace.
I saw joy.
I saw serenity.
I saw a woman who embraced her femininity.
I saw a woman who was finally comfortable in her own skin.

I couldn’t help but smile at her.

I saw this woman again this morning.

She is a royal beauty…

She is the daughter of a King…

She is me.