The Good Goes Beyond Friday

On Wednesday, our church had a special night where you could just come and pray, sing and empty your heart. 

I didn't want to go, because I was going through another relapse and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hear God anyhow, so what was the point? It would just be frustrating and disappointing.

Do I get an A for attitude (and sarcasm) or what? 

But Frank was doing sound and I hadn't seen him all day so I went. 

The evening started out just as I expected. Gorgeous music, a perfectly arranged church with creative stations....and me with my mental block, my head swimming with ungodly thoughts and really, just straight up dangerous and destructive ones. 

How did I get this way? Seemingly overnight going from doing great for quite awhile, to suddenly being half a step ahead of potential hospitalization? It had been a rough week. 

So I started to write. It's what I do when I can't pray or think clearly - I write out my thoughts and prayers. What came out of me was basically a middle school poem. Seriously. Apparently in the throes of depression, I turn into Dr Suess. 

Faith from a cage is no faith at all,

There's no room to grow, the confines too small. 

A mind trapped,

Hope snapped.

Wounds bleed,

Silent need. 

There seems to be no place to go,

Jesus loves me....this I know? 

People help, then people leave,

I try to trust but then I grieve.

I hear them say, "It's not that bad,"

"Don't listen to her, she's just sad."

But the blood runs hot,

The pain digs deep, 

You have no idea of the 

Secrets I keep. 

(And then my personal diss) 

Poems that rhyme are childish and dumb,

But it's all that comes out when I feel this numb. 

So after THAT masterpiece, I took communion and prayed - no, BEGGED - God for the chance to be healed once and for all. 

He said no. Of course not audibly, but over the past couple of years I've definitely come to know the "God voice" within my spirit. I am learning to hear it more and more, and quite honestly, I know it's God (or else my mother) - because I rarely agree with what it says. 

I roamed to the different stations around the room, trying to find a pocket of peace  to crawl into. I went back to my seat and tried to pray again. I hate these times of brain breakdown. I rarely literally hate things - but these I truly do hate. 

I picked up my paper to write another Nobel Peace Prize-worthy poem, when someone led me to the altar to pray. 

I almost stopped her, because really now, what was the point? God always says no. I have a Big Three on my prayer list that never changes. In the past hour I had gone from fight mode to quit mode. 

Our pastor had just given a little talk about being stubborn - about how it's rarely a good thing, but that seeking God and making vows to Him was the one time it was. Even though I can't remember now all of what he said, I remember powerfully how it weirdly felt as if he were speaking directly to me. Every single word made absolute sense. 

If nothing else, I am stubborn. Horrifically so. I could definitely keep on doing that. 

But for what? What vow could I possibly make to a God that I can't hear most of the time? 

As we prayed, I broke. I started sobbing the second I kneeled down and couldn't stop. Intense pain was surging through my mind, and my feelings on every junky thing that I've experienced came pouring out of me. 

I wonder how many people have snot stained the cushions up there since the 1960s? How many times God met with them? My guess is that altar's has a 100% success rate. Not with life going the way it's desired after walking away, but that God meets us there. He will meet us anywhere. 

I just had to be on my knees. 

My entire life I've held onto my fighting spirit. I am stubborn and terribly mean if I want to be. Kill or be killed has always been my subconscious emotional mantra. 

But Wednesday night, at a time I didn't want to be there, I experienced true surrender. 

I couldn't stop crying. I could hardly breathe sometimes, too. So much junk and poison came pouring out of me and wouldn't stop once I surrendered. I have no idea what was prayed over me, but I know what was happening within me. 

Once and for all, that altar was safe. 

Truly, I realized I can trust and abandonment is often a powerful threat that my darkness uses against me....but rarely a reality. 

Genuinely, I don't want to know people anymore who have hurt me in seemingly irreversible ways. I don't even want to "know" them in my thoughts - I just want God. More and more and more of Jesus. 

The past is dead. I can't fix it. The future is now, and that's where God stands waiting for me. 

God still said no to my ultimate prayer. I don't think Elizabeth prayed for complete healing from depression and compulsions and BPD, either. Some things are for life, and there's a reason for it. 

I made my vow to God Wednesday night. I've been wondering since the new year what it should be. 

I vowed to be kind and to show others His amazing, powerful, unchanging love in the simplest ways. I am incapable of grand things. I cannot even be trusted with a hot glue gun without some serious creative consequences. 

But I can love. I can speak. I can give. I can pray. God loves the simple. 

I cried and prayed at the altar alone for a good while after, and when I finally went back, I wrote down what that "God voice" was saying. 

I love it when you lean into me.

I love it when you call me Daddy.

I love it when you try to listen.

I love it when you thank me.

I love your broken heart.

I love your desire to do the right thing.

I love to hear about your day.

I love when you love.

I love when you trust me!

I love your tears.

I love that you're mine. 

Today is Good Friday. But everyday is good, because everyday God's love and mercy is new and available. How stunning it is that His love comes through the cross, but also extends beyond it - it's limitless, irreplaceable and ours.