What is the Gospel?

I've been hearing for the last six months how the gospel needs to be the center of my life. I need the gospel beyond salvation. It needs to be "the main thing". Live out the gospel, I'm told.

I just don't get it. How can the gospel be the center? What does that mean? How does the gospel effect me past salvation? I know what the gospel is, at least I think I do. How do I live out the gospel? What does that look like? What does it mean to live out the gospel?

Grace used to be just a word to me. I don't think I can explain it very well yet, but I'm recognizing it more in my life. I've experienced God's grace in my life and am increasingly aware of it. Grace is so much more than a word to me now. My life is so much richer for having grace as God's action in my life.

I hear christians talking about the gospel and it's not just a word to them. It really means something. There is a depth and richness to their understanding of the gospel that I don't have. Is it something that can be taught and learned or is it another gift that God gives in his own time?

How can I love my unloveable child?

What does unconditional love look like when the "performance" is so wretched?

How do I make a distinction between accepting him but not accepting the behavior?

I have a hard time with living like I know that God loves me even when I mess up. I most often live like I have to earn God's favor by my actions. Underneath what I "know" is what I actually believe at my core. I know that God loves me by his choice, but really believe that my actions determine whether He "likes" me.

That's the way I parent too. I love my kids but don't like all of them. I choose to love them, but their actions determine if I actually "like" them at any given time.

Do I have to like my kids in order to truly love them?
How do I love a child who is so awful without seeming to either reward or ignore his behavior?
How can I demonstrate love to my child even while disliking him.

Guess what yesterdays sermon was about.
Yep, one of the points dealt with our relationship to God as Father. I've been chewing on it ever since. Three of my kids are great and teachable and want to do right; but one is not. (Read that as understatement of the year) I would be insufferably proud of my parenting skills if I didn't have the one. I've learned that I don't know it all. I've learned that I don't even understand my relationship with God as my Father. I am still bound up with legalism in my parenting. I don't know how or even if I should do things differently. Is is okay to be legalistic in parenting? Should kids have to earn approval by their actions? Do I tie up my approval of what my kids do, with who they are? I think I do, but should I?

My "one" is not allowed back at church unless Hubby is there. How do I explain that to him? For now I'm not. He doesn't even know. I told him he can go with Grandpa on Sundays and mow the grass etc. to pay back the mirror he broke off his car(a genuine accident, not rage)

How does that fit in with God's love and acceptance of us in spite of what we do? The "one's" acceptance at church is based on his actions. That's the way life is. But shouldn't the church reflect how God relates to us instead of how the world relates? This brings up the idea of covenant children. Since Hubby and I are christians where does that leave our children? Are we to view them as part of the covenant and treat them as such? At what point do we concede the point that perhaps a particular child is not included and should be treated as an unbeliever?

I wish I understood more. I just come up with more questions.

Eat, drink and be merry; for tomorrow we die---I wish

Sometimes we go through such terrible periods of time in life that we don't want any written record of it, as though it never happened. I am going through such a time right now. I've come up with a new twist on "Eat, drink and be merry; for tomorrow we die". Instead I say, "Enjoy today because tomorrow will be worse"; and it is. No matter how bad today is there is a tomorrow coming that is so much worse.

Moving-so I'm taking a blog posting break

I have more to post about the conference but I have to pack because we are moving. I probably won't post for a couple of weeks.

Reflections on Conference of The Lambs and what I learned

The dam is breaking. I don't cry, but from June 14 on I have been. We arrived in Charlotte and checked into our room. The first thing I saw was the gift bags Jeri made for us. I looked through it and it was filled with good snacks and useful stuff you end up forgetting to bring. There was also a small silver colored box. I opened it up and inside was a silver lamb and shepherds staff pin. Instantly my eyes filled with tears at this kindness. This is now a forever treasured possession of mine. I find myself melting at kindness. I can toughen up and take about anything someone dishes out, but kindness in word or action is taking out my walls and is causing emotion to reemerge from me.

We left the hotel and headed over to Northside Baptist and found the conference. Jeri greeted us when we walked in. Tables were set up at the front near the stage. I was intensely nervous and drove my husband crazy until we actually got there. I haven't been inside a baptist church for 5 years and I was so stressin'. In the last month I've met baptists who were nice, didn't condemn and were normal people. They were even people I learned from and I could talk to without too much fear. I haven't knowingly talked to one in the last 4 years. I even avoid the Reformed Baptists. That's a rabbit trail, but I have somewhat altered my avoidance policy of all baptists now due to the love shown by some baptists at the Conference of the Lambs.

Dan Burrell said some things about discipleship that really hit home with me. It gave words to a hurt feeling I've had for the last 2 years. He said that people "win souls" and then just leave them on their own. It's like having a baby and then just leaving it on the sidewalk. It's abandonment. You wouldn't do that to a baby and it shouldn't be done to a new Christian either. He may have also said that it shouldn't be done to a hurting one either or else I was thinking it so loud that I think he said it but I'm not sure.

Along those same thoughts I realized what hurt so much after coming out of the church we did. There were two ladies who were very helpful in the early days of getting to know me and help me work through some difficult things. I dealt with twisted teaching that made it very difficult to understand the Bible. I came to Christ; my marriage began to unravel; My memory was triggered by a confession made to me; the blanks in my memory began to be restored and I vividly remembered past sexual abuse by my teacher. This was not an easy time for me. At the time I thought these ladies were friends, all too soon I discovered I was only their project.

As their project I came to Christ and began dealing with some of this stuff. In different ways they backed way off from me and once again I felt rejection and abandonment. It wasn't real friendship. I tried again later with someone else, same thing. Basically I've just been left on my own to figure things out. That abandonment and realization that I was only a project led to me being even more self-protective for the next two years. I was wrong to do that, but I think it was a way for me to cope with more rejection. I don't handle it well.

Dan wrote up on the white board YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I have felt alone even though I knew that others have had very similiar experiences. To sit in a room with people that you know have been hurt, to see the words written, to hear them said and to experience the love of Christ in action through this conference finally caused the truth of the statement YOU ARE NOT ALONE to sink into my heart. Tears were just below the surface and leaked out slowly.

The main thing I came away with was that God loves me. My mind knows that God loves me, but the rest of me has a hard time believing it. I know it, been told it but haven't really experienced it until recently. One huge expression of that love was the Conference of the Lambs.

Had a great shrimp fry Monday.

Will write more later. Todays blog is that I don't feel like writing/thinking right now.

I Don't Have This Transparency Thing Figured Out

I feel out of step. An observer. disconnected


Maybe it's because lately I've been asked "What's going on with you?" and similar things. I just smile(I think I'm smiling, but maybe I'm not) and give some lame answer. I can't answer. I don't know how to answer that question. It's a harmless and well meaning question, but the answer to it is overwhelming. I give my avoidance answer. I say, "Yeah, there's a lot going on." and then I name some busy thing we're doing or should be doing. I haven't used the "game over" answer yet. Maybe it's a little harsh?


I give my answer and feel like they know I'm not saying something, that I'm holding back. I don't know how not to hold back. When people give prayer requests, I stay silent. How can I say what my prayer is? I've always despised the hiding behind the "unspoken" prayer request. It's unspoken because Christians are too afraid to let others see their struggle. We don't trust the people we're praying with. There comes a time when the inability to trust the Christians around you, slowly begins to kill you. You have to have real fellowship or you shrivel up and die.


That's the problem. Real fellowship. Biblical fellowship. That means transparency, which I still don't have figured out.

Someone asked me how I knew I was a Christian

Someone asked me the other day if I was a Christian. (Neither one of us was being ugly) I told him I was and he asked me to tell him how I knew. I couldn't. I don't have the words to explain it except in an arminian/semi-pelagian way. I do know I'm a Christian. But I didn't do anything, so I don't know how to explain it. It started with the Bible church and the preaching I heard there was truth. I was intrigued by the stark contrast of this preaching and any other I'd ever heard.

This is the article that started it all. My four year old was bringing home Sunday School papers that were very different than any I'd seen before. They weren't just cute little pictures to color and a nice moral story about a perfect family with children who are wonderful little soulwinners. I wanted to know more about the place that made these Sunday school lessons. What was so different?
http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Articles/ByTopic/105/1487_What_We_Believe_About_the_Five_Points_of_Calvinism/

So I looked up the website that was in extremely small print at the bottom of my childs paper. I had never read anything about the five points of Calvinism before. Back in high school in Bible class I had to know what T.U.L.I.P. was. We studied it in the sense that we took notes on what our teacher was saying, but there was never any true study. I was taught that Calvinism was heresy. So there I was reading this article, trying not to listen to a lifetime of conditioning that was telling me this was heresy and dangerous doctrine.

I had LOTS of questions. So I hit the internet. I also wore through everyone I could see face to face. I was warned about the dangers of looking for answers on the web, but at the same time no one had enough time, in real time, to spend answering questions. I'm not saying they didn't take time to answer questions, but my questions never stopped. I could talk for an hour and just be getting started. I sent lots of emails with questions about what I was reading or something from the sermon. I pulled in a lot of people to ask questions of. I couldn't get enough. I read lots of books, good ones like: How Can I Be Sure I'm a Christian?: What the Bible Says About Assurance of Salvation; The Almost Christian Discovered; A Treatise on Regeneration; Knowing God and several others.

I spent six months, mostly on the Puritan Board, reading and then later asking questions. Many on that board spent a lot of time answering my questions and were so kind. I'll never forget it. I don't know when I slept. God was drawing me. It was like a crash course in knowing God. I was saved in the first week of Nov 03, but I don't know how to explain it. But I know I'm a Christian. I know I belong to God. I hope to have the words for it someday. I know it was God, not me.

Kindergarten through First Grade

School- Kindergarten

I learned to read in kindergarten. We had little paper books from Abeka. All the good readers made it to the purple book. The reading group I was in never made it to the purple book. At the end of the year I asked and then begged my kindergarten teacher to just let me look at the purple book. I knew I could read it, if she'd just let me.


I hated reading group. I would rarely know where we were when it was my time to read in the circle. It wasn't because I couldn't read, it was because I couldn't multi-task. I couldn't read ahead in the story, and keep track of where little Susie was as she laboriously sounded out her section of the story. Inevitiably it would be my turn and it would seem that I couldn't even read well enough to follow along.


The teacher moved me from reading group to reading group the whole year. I didn't read well out loud. I tried to tell my teacher I could read in my head really good but the words wouldn't come out fast enough out loud. She didn't believe me, and she never would let me even hold the purple book in my hands because I didn't earn it by reading all the other books that came before it. I still resent that. I don't know if it's the purple book or the fact that she didn't believe me that I could really read. I spent the summer between kindergarten and 1st grade practicing reading out loud so I wouldn't miss any of the books the next year in 1st grade.


I remember other things about school too, but at this point it may be too identifying.

School-- First Grade
My first grade teacher liked me. She was still around when I graduated from high school and gave me a present.

I don't know why she liked me. I spent a lot of time with my nose in a circle on the board or standing in the corner. I was always getting fussed at for going to the creek during recess. I'd edge my way over there and when she wasn't watching I was down the hill and tucked out of sight from the playground above. I never got in real trouble for disobeying, just fussed at. Maybe it was something she wanted to do to.

I got all A's in first grade. I read a lot, too. I loved The Bobbsey Twins. I bought them for my own kids and they don't like them! I'm still holding out hope that my youngest will like them. If not, I guess I'll try again with my future grandkids.

Home
We lived in the same house from the time I was 2 until I was 7. I was about 4 or 5 and I wanted my mom to like me so I was the little helper. I didn't like emptying or filling the dishwasher, but I did want her approval. She thought I liked to help with the dishwasher. I would have done anything for her to smile at me and love me. So I would help with the dishwasher and earn a smile from my mom. I don't know why I knew at that age that she didn't love me.


My favorite drink was Tang. I don't even know if they make it anymore. I used to climb up on the counter to get a glass and the jar of Tang out of the cupboard and make it nice and strong. I liked putting extra scoops of mix in the water and stirring it.


Soup. My dad usually let me pick the soup we were going to eat. My favorite was cheese soup. I always picked it if we had it, or rather if my dad let me know that was one of the choices. He still won't eat soup to this day. He says it reminds him of being poor.


The neighbors next door on the right had a sandbox, but no kids that I knew of. They also had a HUGE dog that I wasn't afraid of. I would constantly climb over the fence to play in the sandbox. The dog would stand over me as I played. My mom would always come to the fence and in a fake calm voice would tell me to slowly get up and come to the fence. I still don't know why she was so scared of that dog. The neighbors had a good sandbox that nobody used except me when I could sneak over.

I learned to ride a bike by balancing using the edge of the curb. My dad held the back of my bicycle and ran with me and lied every other time I'd ask if he was still holding on. What is it with parents that they have to lie to their children when they are teaching them how to ride a bike? We didn't lie to our kids when we taught them to ride a bike. Our friends all did. (Am I being judgemental here, or just making an observation?)
A teenager who rode a ten speed with no hands tried to teach me how to ride with no hands. A couple of wrecks later I decided that I was going to work on getting good with one hand first. I wanted to impress him with my new-found bike riding skills. He went on to teach me how to jump curbs. Back then a curb was a CURB. Concrete must have been cheap because the curbs were like castle walls. If you hit a curb wrong then you ended up bending your bike rim. People who drove cars got flat tires when they hit a curb. When I was 16 the worse thing I could do was hit a curb. That's the only thing I really got in trouble for; staying out to 3am wasn't that big of a deal if it wasn't a school night. (Was I ever asked what I was doing?)
Back on topic...







Once I've covered these items then that will pretty much wrap up 1st grade. Stay tuned for future updates on this post. :)
kids across the street, boys peeing letters on side of house, learning, chris batman, nick, laurie, choir

How to put up walls in a door kind of church

I talked to a pastor at the church we're looking into. He didn't play the dance around the question and answer game. I didn't expect a follow up to the follow up question. I was only ready for the follow up question. But in the q and a game my answer was supposed to win and then its game over--no more questions. It didn't work that way.

At this new church we're going to they don't play the question and answer game the "right" way.

This is how it's supposed to go. If the topic ever begins to get somewhat personal or is danger of heading that way then everyone knows the "game" has begun. A question is asked. A vague non-informational answer is given to ascertain if the person asking even gives a flip. If the person asking, returns the answer with yet another question; then the "game" can take one of two paths. On one path the conversation can continue on said topic to a certain point. On the second path the one receiving the questions gives a "game over" answer. That answer contains enough general information in it to satisfy inquirers without opening ones self up too much. The "game over" answer is clearly saying that's far enough and everyone knows that's as far as you go.

They don't play that game at this church. We're figuring this out the hard way.
They ask, "How are you doing?"
We say, "Fine."
They return with, "No, really. How are you doing?"

What do you say to that? You can't stand there and lie. How do you get around it? They expect a real answer. Fine, just doesn't cut it with them. The ones who let you get away with it; let you know, that they know, you're getting away with it.

Most people who haven't suffered the way you have, or don't see that type of suffering as a possibility in their future, just can't handle that different type of pain in your life. They back off and once again there's rejection of some sort. Trust becomes harder and harder to give. We haven't been at this church or type of church long enough to experience that, but...

My husband and I talked about this today and devised a plan. I told him we needed an answer that would stop them because they don't play the dance around the question and answer game. We need a brutally honest answer that will stop them in their tracks. So we crafted a definite "game over" answer.
I don't know you well enough to really want to answer that at this time, because most people can't handle the pain that's in our life and I'm tired of the rejection. So unless you're willing to share your deepest darkest, so I can see if you can handle it, then I can't answer any further.

Now we'll see how far they're willing to take this transparency crap! (tounge in cheek:-)
That's our answer and we're sticking to it. Hope it doesn't bite us.
My husband is testing it tonight at church. We'll see how it works.

They seem to have the idea that if you ask enough questions at a wall that you can turn it into a door. I don't want to sound like these people are pushy and ugly about it because they are not. They have shown themselves to be real. I don't know how to handle it. I love it and I hate it and it scares me. I don't know what their walls look like so I don't know how to put up walls that they will recognize as being a wall. Aside from the in your face "game over" answer, I don't know how to stop their... I don't know what it is I'm stopping. Is it fellowship? transparency? And after all my crying around about wanting fellowship, here I am hollering "TMI !". Is biblical fellowship and transparency the same thing? At what point does information/transparency really become too much information?

Do I fellowship with sinners?

I hope so. Jesus did.

Does it matter when a sin was committed as long as it's repented of? Ohh, you did what? Was that before or after you were saved? As if we're the judge whether that has been forgiven or not. Here's a great example I read somewhere recently online but forgot where. I think it was only a story. I don't have it all right, but I have the basic gist of it.

There are two men who were both in jail and were saved. One of the men murdered his wife and the other robbed a store. Parole day came and they both got out. The wife of the man who robbed the store had gotten involved with some other guy and now wanted a divorce. She divorced him.
Both men went on to be faithful and involved in a local church and after a while felt God leading them into ministry. The one time wife murderer asked and received counsel from his pastor and was encouraged to go to seminary because "brother, all your sins are under the blood". The second guy was really relieved that the guy who murdered his wife got the pastors approval and blessing to go into the ministry. So he goes in to talk to the pastor. The pastor asks him about his divorce and whether it was before or after he was saved. Verifying that it occured after salvation he told him he was disqualified from the ministry. "What do mean, disqualified? I didn't kill her. She divorced me."

Yeah, that makes a lot of sense doesn't it? He should be free to remarry, pastor and live the Christian life a forgiven sinner like the rest of us. How many people did Paul have killed before he was saved? God forgave him and used him greatly. Paul never forgot where he came from, but he didn't allow it to chain him in the past and keep him from loving God and serving him in the present.

Sometimes I feel chained to the past. In a way I am. My past influences my present and my plans for the future. It's all connected. I'm not sure how to disengage from the past. The abuse I suffered at the hands of my teacher has affected me my whole life, even though I didn't remember the worst of it until fairly recently. It influenced the type of men I was drawn to or repelled by. My experiences drove my parenting practices. I had a big push with my kids on sneaky child catchers who seemed really nice, but just wanted to steal them away from mommy and daddy and hurt them. We watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang with them at age 3 and used that to teach them. The teaching paid off.

Someone tried to get my 5 year old son at the park one day. He was playing in the sandbox and a man came up and talked to him. He told him he had some candy for him if he would go with him to the bathroom. My son said he wasn't done playing yet, he'd go later. The man walked down towards the bathroom. When he was almost there my son jumped up and took 2 steps towards the bathroom, did a 180 and ran straight to me. (I was on the way to him) He was so proud of himself for tricking the child catcher.

So yeah, that's one good thing that came out of my abuse. That's a great thing, but I think God could have used a different method than that to get me to teach my children about the "bad guys who look good". Romans 8:28 is a hard sell for me. It's kinda like getting hit with a baseball bat to get your attention when a "hey you" would have worked just as well. Faith,Trust, Understanding, I wish I could understand. I push it down and pretend everything is ok. It's not. Eventually it comes back because it refuses to stay pushed down. What do I do with it?

Honesty Hurts

I don't know...
It just seems like honesty hurts. The kind of honesty that bares your soul to someone else. I've never done that before. I've been on the road to it and realized that the other person was putting up road blocks and didn't want to "see" and "know" me any more. What hurts is when the other person is one that you so desperately hope will know you and still love you or still be your friend.

I have a few very good friends, but I won't risk our friendship by letting them know the things that tear at my soul. Things that rip me apart in the struggle against them. I have whole catagories of me that no one has ever glimpsed. Only God. Am I wrong to want someone here on earth that I can talk to about everything? My everything is pretty intense.

One time, about a year ago, I thought there was someone who could handle my everything. So I asked her a question. This wasn't just any question. It was a real doozy. Took me weeks to work up to it. She didn't know the answer and said she would ask her pastor. I've called her a few times since then, and I've even asked her about the question a time or two. She evades. We don't really talk anymore. I over estimated what she could handle and lost a friend.

What do people do? There are so many layers of me and I can adapt and fit on the surface with many different types of people, and in diverse situations. What do people do around other people? How do they decide who they are, for that person and situation? Is that what people do? Do they consciously decide what part of their life they will allow others into? Does everyone have walled defenses many layers deep, but just keep everyone to the outer layers?

I'm tired of the walls, but I don't know how to keep up the right ones. I hear a lot of talk about the need for transparency in our lives with other Christians. What kind of transparency are they talking about? to what extent? I don't get it. It comes back to the fact that honesty hurts. It hurts when you're too honest with people. It also hurts when you hold back because they can't handle it.

It's me. Hello, it's just me. I have to live with me and I can't even let anyone else know me, not all of me. It's kind of lonely just being with me and knowing that if I was really honest, in a bare your soul kind of honesty, that I would be all alone because no one would stay. No one really knows me, but God. Is that how it has to be?

Mother's Day is hard to take.

Mothers Day can be such a rough day. Fill in the blank as to why. This is the first year I didn't have to hint to my husband about having the kids do something. We did talk this week about how awful it has always been for me. On the one hand it holds painful reminders of the past, but on the other hand it exists for me in the present in a good way as the mother, not the child.

I get tired of telling my husband things that really matter in life, and then he forgets. He has never remembered Mother's Day until this year. I buy his mom's cards and tell him to sign it. The last few years I've told him to buy his own card for his mom. So he forgets things I tell him, like how much I hate Mother's Day and why. Today he remembered.

We're going to this new church, which I really love, but it scares me spitless to meet so many new people and not know where I fit in. I did a lot better today and didn't walk as many laps to the restroom and back so I'd look like I was doing something or going somewhere. When we walked in the moms were handed a colorfully wrapped card, and I thought that was very nice. I also thought that would be it but it was a shortlived relief. I think it was near the end of the singing time that they had all the mothers stand. I stood along with the rest and he just talked and talked (it probably wasn't really that long; just felt like it) and then everyone clapped. I sat down, the rest of the moms stayed standing and the clapping went on and on. Once I sat down my husband put his arm around me and kept patting my shoulder to the point of it being overdone. What can I say? This is the year he finally got how rough Mother's Day is for me. I wonder if he'll remember next year.

SBC in the news in Tennesee

http://wkrn.com/node/94808#top

Check out this TV news story from Tennesee about the Southern Baptist Convention and their own sexual abuse problems.

I keep changing my categories

I keep changing around the categories on my blog. The idea was that every post should fit into a category. It's hard to make that work. So I just keep messing with it.

If you read a post and can't find it I may have moved it around in the category section. I did remove one post. I don't know if I'll put it back or not.

I'm tired. Yay! I haven't been able to sleep much this week. It's not even daylight yet and I'm off to sleep.

Vulcan Mind Meld During the Sermon

Do you ever listen to a pastor when they start off a sermon and the topic is going to cover suffering and wonder if this time things will make sense? I do. I listen and I watch him preach as though I could do a Vulcan mind meld from my seat and suck the understanding about all kinds of suffering straight through his eyes and into my heart. Sometimes the topic does cover what I'm wondering about and it is a huge help knowing that the pastor "gets it" and yet I'm still left with questions.

• How does God use sin sinlessly?
• Did God plan sin? Is he sovereign over all?
• Did God allow sin? He didn't plan on it, but he can make it work.
• Does God listen to the prayers of those who will be saved or does he not listen until they actually are saved?
• I can understand suffering for Christ, that's in the Bible.
• I can't understand suffering without a point to it. The point can't be--You suffer so you can help others who suffer. That's just circular reasoning.

I know God is sovereign. If I didn't believe that; then I couldn't trust God for anything, not even salvation. I just don't know how to understand the sovereignty of God in relation to my own suffering. I didn't suffer because of persecution and standing for Christ. I suffered because of someone elses sin. How can God use that? There has to be more than II Corinthians 1:3-4. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
What about verses five through seven which continue the thought of suffering for Christ? For as we share abundantly in Christ's suffering, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort.

These verses are talking about suffering for Christ and yet are used to "help" people with all kinds of suffering that have nothing to do with persecution. I don't get it. This is where I just can't wrap my mind around God's sovereignty and my suffering. I have to separate it and know that somehow I'm just not understanding something. But I want to understand, hence the Vulcan mind meld stare during sermons.
Another question I have concerns the timing of when God listens. Did he not "listen" to me all those times I was begging and crying out to God in my mind? Was I not one he listened to yet because I wasn't his child? Does he listen to those who will be his child? How was I viewed by God? Was it as his child even though my salvation was years in the future or not as his child because my salvation was years in the future?
These are not just intellectual arguements and hypothetical questions. These are questions that drive me to understand who God is. These questions also tear at me. There has to be answers, doesn't there?

Some Poetry

Disclaimer: I am including this because it accurately showed how I felt at the time not because I think it's any good

Written in January 2004

Long Road Ahead

The road that lies beyond the bend
Is mercifully hid from my sight.
It is time for the hidden me to mend
Of all I have kept locked up tight.

Little by little, things come to mind.
Memories like pictures return for me to see.
It may be only a whistle of some kind
That brings it all back to me.

( I never finished this)

The End of Hiding

I hide behind a wall of fear
Quite unable to shed a tear.
Dare I step out once more
Reaching, testing, risking that door
Leading to the terrified me?

I panic; need to run.
What have I done?

Slow down I say, it'll be okay.
Your night is turning to day.
This time help is here to stay.
They'll stay by you in the fray.

Can this really be the end? I ask
Holding together has been such a task.
Can I really let go of my mask?
It shelters me from the past.

You can let go, layer by layer.
It will take much help and prayer.
The stories of the past you can share
As you allow others to care.


Written in September 2004

My Prison

I try to protect my heart
I've locked it away in some hidden part.
I've lost the key.
I thought these walls I've been building,
Brick by brick and wall upon wall,
Would keep me safe from it all.

But there are no doors.

I'm barely alive in my fortress of fear and pain.
Who am I? Where am ? Who will find me?
My walls of protection have become my prison.
How can I be free?

There are no doors.

The walls must be broken through
But the walls have become me.
There are some cracks and missing bricks;
It is there where the pain is intense.
How can I survive the agony of these walls coming down?

My daughter can't frown

My daughter just came in to tell me that she couldn't frown anymore. When she tried to frown her mouth just twitched and stayed smiling. "Mama, my smile is stuck on my face. I can't stop; my cheeks are aching. I've been smiling all day."

The contrast between her and me at her age is worlds apart. At her age I couldn't smile. At her age I had been horribly violated by a teacher I trusted and that everyone seemed to love.

She reminds me of myself "before". How can I protect her? There are several registered sex offenders of minors who live within several blocks of our house, and we live in a good neighborhood.

My daughter can't frown. I am so glad! She smiles and bounces. So far she is safe. She hasn't been robbed of her childhood innocence.

Title questions?

Well, if anyone's read enough of this blog so far you may be wondering a few things.

What does the title of this blog have to do with anything?
answer   Everything! I'm writing from both ends of my life at the same time, so it doesn't look so great. If you stick with reading; eventually you will see Gods grace working in my life. A lot of times I can't see it where I am, but I can see his grace where I used to be. I hope I can show it in my writing.

You may have thought this was going to be a real spiritual kind of blog that would be a good read. answer  It's probably not. It's real. I haven't sanitized it for the "good" people. I write about my life, my journey and Gods grace and mercy in that journey. Some parts of my life are really crappy. That description may offend some, but "crappy" is the sanitized version.

If you're looking for heavy doses of talk about grace; you probably won't find it.
answer  I'm just learning to see it, but I'm looking for it in my life and in the lives of my family and friends. It's kinda like I have training wheels on. I wobble a lot and fall, but still move closer to God. I'm not running from him. I just don't ride too well yet.

Painful questions**trgrs**

I stare at my palms and see the sweat gleam in the light and occasionally drip off my hands. Breathing is somewhat uncomfortable. My heart feels squeezed and seems to be working overtime. My stomach is tied up in knots. I ask myself is this worth it? Should I be dragging up the past again? I can't believe that I thought I was dealing with things so well, when all it takes is a TV show or reference to abuse in a book for me to have a hard time. I deal with it by not dealing with it. Is that what I'm supposed to do? Is "dealing with it" wrong? Is ignoring it right? Am I the problem in the here and now? How does one just get over it?

Where is justice? By not actively pursuing justice am I in some way allowing him to continue to abuse others? Am I responsible for what he possibly has been doing for the last 3 years? Or does it go back even farther? Or am I just being stupid right now and I'm not in any way responsible?

I am doing what I can right now in this very difficult blog to be found by others who were abused by their teacher/coach/principal. He has had many roles in various christian schools across the country. I want to stop him from continuing. He hasn't repented or even acknowledged any wrong doing when confronted. I only need one person to stand with me to stop him. If that's you; then please contact me. (I'm working on fixing my email--it's a spam magnet) I think it's fixed now :) Please use either The Journey of Grace or Abuse in the subject line, that way I can find it in my email.

The Pre-School Years-home

I have a lot of scattered memories up through kindergarten.

• The upstairs carpet was red shag and we had black leather couches and lamps with red glass bases on tables next to the sofas.
• I had a parakeet that shed feathers a lot. I picked them up before my mom vacuumed and put them in an old green light bulb.
• I used to "fish" off the sofa in the living room with a toy fishing rod and fish.
• I was scared of the vacuum.
• My mom used to rock me in the rocking chair and sing "Rock a bye baby" with sound effects and rocking chair wrecks. She didn't rock me after my sister was born. I remember I was seven and she wanted to rock me and I told her I was too big. She still wanted to and I let her. That was the last time I remember feeling loved by my mom. A year later she got mad at me and said she was leaving me. I never trusted her again.
• I had a spiderman with parachute that I would drop down over the railing to the basement.
• My dad taught me how to make jet airplanes instead of the boxy ones all the other kids made.
• It snowed one year and the snow in our yard was up to my waist. I followed my dad around the yard walking in the way he cleared for me. I tried to make my own trail, but couldn't. My dad had to come pick me up and put me back on his path.----That sounds like how God deals with me today.

I'm going to keep adding to this section as I remember stuff and have time.

Why I'm Not Sweet

I don't usually yell, but I get intense. I can't be sweet. I'm only sweet when I'm am extremely angry or scared. ie "Yes, Mommy Dearest" with Joan Crawford.

My sister and I were at my aunts house for Thanksgiving or Christmas one year and all the family was there. "Mommy Dearest" was on TV. I'd seen it before and knew what I thought, but didn't dare say anything. My sister was about 8 or 9 and she was my mom's darling. Well, everyone was in the living room talking and kinda watching the movie. After a while my sister turns around to my mom and says, "Mommy, she's just like you." My mom was so ticked, my aunt tried to get details and everyone else was aghast that the cute one would say such a thing. Great peace-maker and keeper of the status quo that I was, it was up to me to save the situation and deny the likeness when questioned about it. I said it was the hair that reminded her of mom, not how she acted. What a lie I told.

I started a story when I was five and kept it going until I was twelve years old. In my story I imagined myself in a Robin Hood kind of role and rescuing all who needed help. Somehow I just knew even when they said they didn't need me, that they really did. I think I had telepathy for the scared ones, but when I was younger I didn't know the word. In my stories they always thanked me for saving them and for not listening when they said they didn't need me. I wished I had my own Robin Hood type character to rescue me. Like the characters in my story I was too afraid to answer truthfully that I needed help. I would say one thing with my mouth while screaming in my mind what I was too afraid to whisper out loud. Where was my rescuer? Why couldn't he hear me? The noise in my head was deafening.

Do you pray...for real?

Prayer is not made so that God can find out what we need. God wants us to pray because prayer expresses our trust in God and is a means where by our trust in Him can increase. ---Wayne Grudem

Do you pray? I mean really pray, not just give God your list and thank him for the nice day. I don't really pray. Sometimes I do, but usually I'm just glad to hear other people pray. Do you ever hear someone pray and you think, "Wow, that was real!"? It may not have sounded great and wasn't pre-scripted to catch grammar errors, but it struck a chord in you and you wished you could talk to God like that.

Recently I've heard some people pray and I felt like I was overhearing a conversation between them and God. That's was prayer is, but it's different when it seems like the person praying isn't thinking about people listening, but instead is just talking to God.

My "real" prayers are when I'm overwhelmed by who God is. I want to know how to stay in awe of God. It seems like I get used to him and no longer hold him in true reverence. The other times my prayers are "real" are when my world is falling apart and I run to God because I have to. Any other choice than complete dependence and trust in God leads me to despair. Been there and have lots of t-shirts to show for it.

I don't pray if people can hear me because I think about them and what they think of me... It's stupid, but it is what it is--fear of man. Maybe someday I can talk to God and let others overhear. For now, I just need to talk to God, period.

We've been warned...

We've been warned...

We are now "outside of fundamentalism" while we are visiting this church. The man who warned us is someone we knew from a previous church we went to that was firmly inside fundamentalism. I guess he wanted to make sure we knew we were in a different camp. ----Oh, yeah. We figured that much out before we ever came to any of the care groups or to a church service. There are a lot of fundy hills that we're not going to die on. The style of music is just one of them. I couldn't care less whether there are electric guitars and drums or violins and flutes. If my boys never wear a tie to church again, so what. The last time I checked the Holy Spirit was still part of the trinity and I don't mind Him in church either.

No one in the PCA warned us that we were outside of fundamentalism, they just welcomed us to orthodoxy and were glad we had left Arminian beliefs(fundamentalism). To be fair, there are somehow those who consider themselves to be 5 pointers and are still in fundamentalism and yet not necessarily even a Reformed Baptist. I don't understand that.

I'm not exactly sure which part of the differences besides music and gifts are the ones which cross the fundamentalism line. I don't really care either. I'm not sure if its a "in your face I don't care what they think" or if it's because I see what these people have, and I want it so badly, that it doesn't matter that to get it, I have to "leave" fundamentalism. There is a lot we don't know about what this church believes in practical ways like "How involved can/should Christians be in politics?" I have gotten a taste of the fellowship this church has and I want more. It doesn't matter that the churches I came from wouldn't approve. They don't approve of the basic doctrines of grace I now hold so dear. So what's a little more disapproval? There is so much I need to learn over the right way or learn for the first time.

To my husband and I we left fundamentalism is stages.
First we left the "don't drink the kool-aid" dictatorship type of fundamentalism.(it's scary)
Second we left the guilt trip, work your butt off so God is happy with you, but you can wear pants(sometimes) type of fundamentalism.
Third we left the really nice kind that helps you out a lot when you need it, but once you need serious help you are now a designated project. If you ever graduate beyond project; then you must turn someone else into your project. It's hard to be transparent without someone turning you into a project, when all you want is a friend.

I don't know that we have left orthodoxy because it seems to me that every type of presby thinks the others are either too strict or too loose. I do think that the presby's will join together in saying that just because a church calls themselves reformed doesn't mean its so because they at least have to be Presbyterian for them to be truly reformed. Oh well, I guess we'll just "love God and enjoy Him forever" without man's approval.

Myth Buster: The Ice Cream Truck

Yesterday my kids heard the ice cream truck. They were so excited! We've told them stories about the ice cream truck back when we were kids, but until yesterday only one of them had ever even seen one and none of them had ever had anything from the ice cream truck. A friend of theirs ran home to get money, just like in our stories. The music played and kids gathered around the truck looking at the pictures of various frozen treats and agonizing over their choice. It was like going back in time. Do you know what my oldest said later? He said, "I thought the ice cream truck was a myth like Santa Claus."

Now we've never told our kids Santa was real, played Santa or took pictures with Santa. They never even watched all the cute little Christmas cartoons until this last year, and I have two old enough for youth group. The first time they heard the story "The Night Before Christmas" was one of the Southern versions that I bought for Christmas this year. At first I didn't know why he would say he thought it was one of the things adults make up as a conspiracy just like Santa Claus. (He likes the word conspiracy) Then I remembered snipe hunting. I don't know if anyone hunts snipes outside of the South, but down here its a big thing. It's also a big joke. We've played our kids on this until they reach the ripe old age of twelve before we let them in on the secret. They want to continue it with the younger ones so they never let on and so the snipe hunts continue.

He made the leap from snipe hunt to ice cream truck within minutes. That again verified to my husband and I that we made the right choice about not doing Santa Claus with the kids. The comparision of Jesus Christ to Santa Claus in our minds was too easy to make. We feared that if we did Santa that one day our kids would question if Jesus was real or not. None of our friends and family agreed except a very extreme family member. So we've taken a lot of hits over the years on our Santa stance.

Maybe we should reconsider snipe hunts?......nah, they are just too much fun!

I'm Not Sweet

I like to read blogs. I especially enjoy the really feminine ones that sound so sweet and really with it concerning managing their household, raising children and being a help meet for their husband. Every once in a while I think that maybe I would be a better wife and Christian if I implemented some of those things I learn from those type of blogs or websites. So I turn it on and crank out the sweetness and perfect dinners and the kids always in bed on time, and the house looks good--even closets. I become very supportive and appreciative of my husband.

I do all this and I scare him. He wonders what's wrong with me, have I been watching Martha Stewart again?--he outlawed that about 2 years into our marraige;)-- in general he misses me. He misses the soapboxes I get on, and just me. I'm not sweet. I say it like it is. I have an opinion on almost everything, but when he "puts his foot down" I'm fine(usually) and follow what he decides. When he puts his foot down, he stands up, lifts his knee up high in the air and brings his foot down and says "I'm putting my foot down". Wonderful man that he is; he knows I need a definite answer in a non-threatening way. We both can laugh at the caricature of what we were taught in our early years of marriage.

Some part of me wants to be like those sweet women I know in real life and the ones whose blogs I read. I'm sure if I just did one, new for me, thing like keeping up with the laundry I wouldn't scare him. How is always having clean socks and underwear scary?:) What really scares him is when I agree with him too readily. I think we have a good balance of discussion and submission. I usually know when to concede even when I don't agree. I'm usually right on things we disagree on and he usually sees it eventually. We agree on most things and, depending on what it is, love to dig in and discuss(not the fundi word for argue/fight) what we don't agree on up one side and down the other. Well, I'm not going to be like the sweet, soft-spoken ones any time soon 'cause I'm just not sweet. I'm me.

What is Fellowship?

I'm done for now on dredging up past crap. It wears me out. I can't do anything!!!

I was up all night coughing too bad to sleep, and that was after I took one of those 12 hr cough medicines. I tootled around on the web most of the night. I guess I should have read a good book. Maybe not, though. I came away from my forum readings with a strong sense that the church we are now attending is the right choice.

We've had more real fellowship recently than we've ever had. God is good. I know he is, but sometimes things happen or fall together in a such a way that the goodness and love of God just grips me. God knew we weren't ready for this type of realness in fellowship even though we were hungry and looking for it. We had to be "starving" before we began to look again outside of the church we were in. That led us to a totally new kind of church, one that we wouldn't have touched with a 10 foot pole even a year ago.

What is fellowship? real fellowship? biblical fellowship? I say we've had more real fellowship recently than ever before.

My definition of real fellowship

1. Doesn't center around small talk
2. People will dig into your life and expect you to dig into theirs. This is also called transparency.
3. This transparency is pouring out of people. Many mask layers are removed.
4. Christ centered and life changing
5. It's WOW! because it is radically different when it reaches past the pastor level and floods the rest of the church

I don't know if I 'm prepared for this fellowship, but I plan on jumping in with both feet.

Who else was abused at either school or church by someone in authority?

Sometimes I obsess on a topic. Right now it's back to really wanting to find others who were abused by the same teacher who abused me. He has been a teacher, girls basketball coach, principal, and taught various subjects in the middle school grades. I last saw him in the office of the Christian school where he was currently teaching, 20 years after he abused me.

I really didn't plan on writing this tonight, but sometimes I just can't get it out of my mind. It helps to write.

I wonder if there is anyone else out there blogging or reading blogs who thinks they were the only one. I may have been one of his first, but I doubt that because he was too good at it. He was in his early twenties at the time.  Did you all know that the state this happened in has lifted the statute of limitations on rape? I could get him now if someone else came forward too. If we come together we can stop him, but there needs to be more victims of his found.

He looked me in the face and said he didn't know what I was talking about. But when he walked into the office his usually red face turned white and the color drained instantly.(I thought that only happened in books) He recognized me although he denied even that. I don't know what else to do. The lawyer said I needed someone else to come forward before there was a case that could be won, even though he said I had very credible testimony.  I have since found out that lawyer is considered a BJU lawyer.  I found out some other things too that I can't share here.

Do you remember his tie always flapping in the wind? Do you remember his anger? Did you cry too?
I think his kids are through college now. So this won't screw up their college days if we go after him now. He denied it all and was very angry. Don't you remember how he looks when he's angry? I don't think he's stopped. What little girl has he hurt this school year? I'll be the name and face on this as much as possible if you'll just help me do what has to be done to stop him.

Why an anonymous blog?

According to some people it's a bad thing to write anonomously. I can't spell it either:( (All the spellcheck does is verify that, yes, I can't spell this word) I don't think I could ever write under my own name. I put too much of myself in it.

Hopefully I can remain anon. Someday I'll let my kids read this after they're grown. It'll explain of lot of things to them about why I did things certain ways and was so careful with what I let them do. I try to balance my fear of someone doing harm to them by allowing them to climb high into trees, dig holes and make forts in the yard, play with fire under supervision, have bb guns and bows and arrows, ride the pony bareback, and all kinds of other things.

I want to protect my family from my musings on my growing up years. My dad was a good dad to us and my mom seems to have changed. She was never altogether a "bad" mom, but it's easier to remember the things that hurt. I'll try to post about both.

I don't necessarily want to protect my 6th grade teacher, but I sorta end up doing so in order to protect my identity. If anyone thinks they know who it is and you're also a victim; then I'm ready to roast him with you. In a future post that I'll get to, it will be clear as to why he is ready to roast.

I don't think it's bad to write anon. It depends on a lot of different things. If I received letters that had people yelling at me in them and they didn't even sign their name; then I shouldn't pay any attention to it. If I received a note from someone and they were just hurting but not ticked at me personally; then I would be glad they at least trusted me with their info even though not with their name. I end up talking to complete strangers in stores because I ask if they're okay. (They don't look okay) Usually we end up talking for about 30 minutes. The record was at Toys R Us last summer when I talked to this lady for about 2 hours. I guess people feel safe talking to a stranger who cares enough to ask. It's kind of like an anon note. All the info is out there but who they are is kept private.

Pre-School Years-school

This is what I remember from up to age five. I'll add to this along the way if I remember any more.

School: We had nap time every afternoon. This was back before kids had cushy mats to sleep on. We just unrolled our towel and laid it on the hard floor and were expected to sleep. I always hurried (but never ran of course) to get my towel and claim the best spot. I liked to "sleep" near the inoperable coin-operated ride on horse. It was huge and sat on a brown metal base, which if you laid there the teacher couldn't see if your eyes were open or not. It was a great asset during nap time if you didn't want to nap.

We always had a healthy snack sometime during the day. I know I used to know what time, but I've forgotten now. I learned how to tell time somewhat in pre-school, because I always wanted to know when/what time the next thing was. Anyway, one time our snack was a canned plum. It looked nasty and I wanted nothing to do with it. My teached said I had to eat it because I said I wanted one. That wasn't exactly true. That plum was misrepresented. The teacher asked for us to raise our hands if we wanted a plum. Of course I raised my hand. I loved plums. We had a plum tree in our front yard and those plums were great. She did not ask "Who wants a really ugly plum out of a can?" So when that plum was plopped in my bowl I said I didn't want it. I'd never seen a canned plum before and this one looked rotten to me. After a long time, I don't know how long, but everyone else was playing and I was still at the table looking at this plum, I ate it. It actually tasted good, so I asked for another. I guess because I was such a stinker they wouldn't give me another one. There were more because I saw the teacher eating them.

We had coloring time, but for some reason we were only allowed one crayon. One day I picked yellow because it looked so bright. The problem was that it wouldn't show up on my white paper. I asked for a different crayon and was told no. So I proceeded to color really hard so it would show. Well coloring time came to an end and we were told to put down our crayons. I didn't and I think actually "backtalked" and said I wasn't done yet. So I got a switching with the pointer stick. I still think it was stupid for us to only be allowed to pick one color to use. No wonder most of the pictures my mom has in my baby book only have one color. --sarcasm alert--- "Oh, you like blue? How nice. You can color the sky, trees and grass that color."

My life: The Short Version

Should I start at the beginning? I'd like to skip the first 33 years of my life, but it's part of the journey. I'd like to have skipped it the first time around.

I was born in 1972 (that sounds like a long time ago).
In order to protect the innocent and the guilty I don't think I'll use names of people and places.

• I went to the baptist church my father grew up in from the time I was born until sometime in first grade.
• My parents put me in christian school for preschool at age four. My younger sister started at age two.
• We changed churches when I was in first grade to attend and later become members of the baptist church that had the school we went to.
• I remember several things about school and church--some good and some very bad
• I worked hard from about age 5 until I was 10 to get my mom to like me---it didn't work
• I remember my dad putting my sister and I in the car in our pj's with blankets (I was probably 7 or 8) and him driving to where my mom worked and just weeping in the parking lot. He thought I was asleep in the back seat, but I was watching. I saw my mom coming out of a darkened furniture store that we had sat in front of for a long time. She was supposed to be doing inventory. You don't do inventory in a dark store. She had said "everyone" was working late. Apparently it was just her and some guy.
• 4th grade--I remember my dad picking us up from school and sitting in the car and watching for some guy to leave our house. My sister wanted to know what we were doing. She just didn't get it. My dad didn't think I did either.
• In 5th grade I gave up trying to please my mom. Nothing I said was right. If I opened my mouth I got in trouble. I couldn't carry on a conversation with her, no matter how hard I tried.
• 6th grade was the worst year of my life. My teacher molested and raped me repeatedly. I began smoking the last day of school of 6th grade. Suicide attempts were many in the years to come.
• 7th grade- I was scared to death of my male teachers. No shit. One of my teachers asked my dad why I seemed to be scared of him. He didn't know and no one asked me or at least I don't remember being asked.
• 8th grade-- I ran away from home for a few days. Some guy tried to follow me one night. I hid in the middle of some very prickly bushes to get away. Scared me too bad for me to travel far. I ended up calling my youth pastor late one night and he and his wife came and met me and we talked for about 3 hours. (Actually he had just been replaced but he's the one I knew and trusted at the time) I was still very suicidal. When I ran away I was choosing to run rather than hang myself from the train bridge. I was afraid of dying but hated living. My mom was totally out of control and scared me real bad.
• 9th grade-- My mom and sister and I moved out of state; my dad was to come later. By this time I learned icy control and "the stare". I could emanate hatred and a coldness that none could withstand. I used it to control the beatings my mom gave to my sister. If my sister had been a pain to me; then I'd let my mom beat her to a point before I'd stop her. I was still deathly afraid of my mother and would sleep with a baseball bat under my bed and a knife under my pillow in case she tried to kill me during the night. To piss her off I would answer her ever so sweetly "Yes, Mommy Dearest". I wanted her to come after me so I could kill her in self defense. I told my dad that she left us all night and had nighties in the trunk of the car. (This was true) She also made us sit out in the middle of the yard with no shade in the hot afternoons (temps were over 100) while she talked to her lawyers. I would call my dad collect from a payphone at the grocery store and beg him to get me. I finally told him that if he didn't come get me that I would take the car and drive through the mountains to get home. (I was actually planning on going the long way through Texas) He came and got me. I guess the thought of a 14 year old driving through the mountains did the trick! My parents divorced that year and my dad remarried the next. This is also the year I saw my old 6th grade teacher again. He was coaching a rival schools girls basketball team and was at our school for a 3 day tournament. Day 1 I saw him. He seemed a bit nervous to see me at first. Day 2 and 3 I laid in wait for him with my knife ready to kill him as soon as he was alone. The best chance I had was when he was with his wife and son. I wouldn't kill him in front of his son. There was God's grace in preventing me from acting on my plan.
• 10th grade-- Life sucked. Friends needed help and I hurt so bad. I had a friend whose dad did things. To this day I don't think she told me everything.
• 11th grade-- I tried so hard to be a good Christian.
• 12th grade---ditto
• College life-- I was such a mess. I was angry, depressed, suicidal, and working so hard to keep God happy with me. I had a teacher who reminded me of my 6th grade teacher in how he looked and some quirks of movement. I could barely remember to go to class. I never remembered quizzes and tests. Pop tests are sure rough on the gpa. My freshman year was a fog. The only thing that "cheered" me up was the thrill in going to off campus parties with the trouble crowd. (I was at a conservative Christian college where unchaparoned, male and female together, spiked punch, smoking and a make out room were very much instant grounds for dismissal) Can you believe I talked my way out of it in the deans office?
• I was 19 I think when I saw my 6th grade teacher again. A friend that knew I hated him called and told me there was a rumor he was moving back to town and back to our school. I showed back up at church during the summer I was home. He saw me and wanted to talk privately in some other room. (Yeah right, I'm not 11 and 12 any more. I didn't stay stupid) He apologized if he had done anything. He said he had confessed it to his wife and she forgave him. (Even in the middle of the foyer at church with people walking around I was still afraid) He grabbed my upper arm and left fingertip bruises on it. Nice apology huh? We did talk for a little while. I told him if he ever touched my sister or anyone else I knew that I would make him wish he was dead. He followed me out to the parking lot. I put a car between myself and him and told him to back off and that my sister was waiting for me and if I didn't show she knew who to blame. I also told him that there were others who knew. He backpeddled and stopped being overtly threatening. He said he just wanted me to go with him somewhere where we could talk and get things right. (I'd bet anything he would've killed me if I'd gone with him. He would have had his fun first. I saw how he looked at me)
• My cult years-- Some would say it's harsh to call something that calls itself baptist a cult. You wouldn't if you experienced what we did. My dad always told me not to drink the kool-aid. I should have listened. I got started in that church my sophomore year of college and didn't get out of it until years later.
• Sophomore year at college-- I had settled down away from the wild crowd. They weren't to be trusted because someone was always going to "confess" something or other and got others kicked out while all they got was probation. You never knew when someone was going to develop a conscience. I was doing all kinds of good works to please God.
• Junior/Senior year-- The anger erupted again. I scared my roommates. They backed off, but I ended up in mandatory counseling for the rest of the semester and the next year. I got real good at giving all kinds of info about crappy stuff in my life, yet avoiding the real problems.  I went through one counselor, she sent me to someone who could help me more, that one wanted to send me on to the dean of students for counseling the next semester because I wouldn't admit to her that my dad had done stuff to me.  He hadn't, it was my teacher.  She just needed to ask the right question and I would have said everything.  She gave me a list of books to read that was all on the topic of sexual abuse and mostly incest.  I couldn't talk to the dean again, I was scared of him. It seemed like he could see right through me. So I stayed out the 2nd semester and got married in the summer and when I came back to school for my senior year I wasn't a dorm student anymore so no one came after me. I did look up the lady who counseled me last to tell her I was fine. I wasn't though. We were married for our senior year(Soooo stupid!!)
• After college-- We stayed in the cult church for a few more years. Traded it in for a more balanced Baptist church for about 5 years.  That one was still like the cult one, just nicer on the surface for a longer period of time.  Moved on to a Bible church for 3 1/2 years. Tried a Presbyterian church for a while, then on to a couple different Sovereign Grace churches and then another PCA church, a Southern Baptist church, then a Covenant Presbyterian Church(CPC) and now we're in a Communion of Reformed Evangelical Church(CREC).  The last two have been the best places for us.  Where we are now(May 2013) is a place of hope for me. (That's a whole 'nother blog post and then some)

I'll have to elaborate a lot more on our church moves because it's amazing how God worked and moved us and brought us and me specifically to himself.

Just a few questions

We're trying to figure out what we believe and why and at the same time trying to find a church to grow in and worship with. It's hard to figure things out from a distance, but it's scary to get too close. I guess that sums it up fairly well. I talk big, but if its face to face I fall apart. I usually get out what I want to say but only if I wrote it down beforehand.

Here are some things that are important to us, but I don't know if we're looking at the right things and saying this is important.
1) family integrated worship- no age segregated ss on a regular basis
2) homeschool friendly-not just tolerated
3) not KJV only-strongly prefer the KJV not to be preached from
4) 6 day literal creation
5) fellowship that's real
6) the doctrines of grace unashamedly believed and preached--no tiptoeing around the buzz wordsHere are things we know are important to understand, but don't really get it yet(not in any particular order)
1) paedo-communion vs credo communion
2) infant baptism
3) believers baptism
4) wine vs juice (Lord's Supper)
5) bread-leavened or unleavened; yeast? (Lord's Supper)
6) the whole covenant thing
7) excommunication....shunning? ...barring from the table
8) household baptism
9) regulative principle of worship
10) how do you chose a denomination?--do you figure out what you believe first or do you just pick a church and plan on leaving in the future after you realize you don't believe what they believe?
11) What are the true fundamentals of the faith? the Westminister Confession?
12) what about the exceptions and the different versions of the Westminister Confession? What if I get the "wrong" version that's twisted somehow, or a study guide written by a nut with a familiar name? I'd rather do nothing than do it wrong.
13) militant Scottish presby history-Scottish presbyterian denominations
14) church history
15) How are dissention or doctrinal differences/disagreements supposed to be handled?
16) the whole church gov't and court- how does it work?--do I really need to understand it?
17) barring from the table/fencing
18) closed vs open communion
17) Are we to pursue justice?

Here are a lot of questions I've thought of to go along with #17:
a) Is the answer different if the person is a believer or not?
b) what if he claims to be?
c) Let's say he's been confronted and denies any wrongdoing; do you pursue justice by actively looking for information that would cause justice to be carried out on earth?
d) Do you pursue justice based on the severity of the offense?
e) Is seeking justice too close to seeking vengeance?
f) How is it common grace that one hasn't received justice; isn't that more mercy than grace?
g) Is mercy permanent and (common)grace temporary?
h) I heard/read somewhere that God's justice is mercy in that it stops one from continuing in sin unabated. How are justice and punishment related? and how do they differ?
i) How does one decide that it is time to pursue justice or to wait on God to carry it out?
j)If one decides it is right to pursue justice; then how is that done without it taking over every spare moment and more?
k) Do you wait until you have time or do you fit it in?
l) What criteria should one have to determine whether it is right or the right time to pursue justice?

These thoughts have been on my mind quite a while. I usually push them aside, but it seems that God keeps bringing them up due to sermons or Sunday school lessons and even fluff books I've read recently. I don't know, maybe it's just something to sidetrack me and it's not from God at all. I can't tell the difference.

There's a lot of things that are on our minds. I don't know how to order them. I do know that I belong to God, but some days that's all I'm sure of.

Where's the grace?

There doesn't seem to be any room for grace for people who haven't had their lives click along the right track. Why else do the ones who are really hurting leave the church? Some of them never come back. IFB's(independent fundamental baptist) will shoot the horse with the broken leg rather than take the time to heal it. Once you've been wounded either through your own sin or someone elses, you better not let any one know it because the vultures of gossip will circle as the wolves of self-righteousness move in for the kill. IF you survive the initial onslaught; then you must harden yourself to the pain that will be yours as a second-class citizen among the righteous.

I don't have all the answers or even know all the questions; but I do know that my God has a truckload of mercy. None of us are righteous in his sight. I thank God I don't have to measure up to other people's expectations and standards. I'll just do what I do and trust God to show me when I'm messing up.

I've lived most of my life knowing I was a second-class citizen at church. My parents divorced and my dad remarried and was then publicly kicked out of church. My dad continued to go to that church until I could drive myself because the youth pastor and his wife were a help to me. I had run away from home a year before the divorce, and was gone a few days. I talked to them and no one else. My dad and stepmom put up with a lot of looks and comments for my sake. I know it hurt them. "Those people" in the church also hurt us kids. I "knew" I wasn't as good as everyone else. Finally somewhere along the way I was "good enough" to be pitied, but not good enough to really associate with because of my family situation.

When my sister was in a near fatal car accident and was in ICU for over 3 weeks the pastor didn't even come to the hospital. That was the final straw for my dad. That really drove home just how second class he is. He's been in church just a handful of times in the last 9 years. I didn't go back to the baptist church we(my husband and I) were members of because I knew they would say it all happened because of either my sin, my sisters sin or someone in the family.

Well, all that is a long story I'll start on some other time. Consider it a preview to one of the tough times in my life.

We're going to die young and stupid.

I've been fighting the pollen the last few days and right now I feel like crap. The trucks are covered in the yellow dust pollen. I'll need to start sweeping the long pollen strings up pretty soon. My tolerance for our yapper is at an all time low. I just hollered at the son whose dog it is to "Train that yapper to shut up or keep him with you at all times. I'm sick of hearing him yap 24/7." We've bought bark collars at $50 a pop. They don't work. I wonder if a zap collar that I mash the button on would work any better. Do I want to spend that much money?

Last night I was pessimistic/depressed over how much there is to learn about God and what is the right way to believe and act. So I was being very negative in the conversation with my husband. I was comparing our life span to Adam's and our brain/smarts to Adams and my conclusion was that we could never learn enough to figure it out and we were going to die young and stupid. Well J set me straight. He basically said that if we had it all figured out and knew all the right answers that there'd be no one we would agree with and we'd still be alone and we'd be bored because we wouldn't have anything else to learn.

So the current thought is that we'll connect with a -----------Church and not worry about infant/believers/household baptism, end times, credo/paedo communion, covenant theology/new covenant theology, music, worship styles, the regulative principle of worship, gifts, cessationist/continuists etc. By the time we figure things out we'll be dead and we could still be wrong! There are a lot of smart people disagreeing on all these things, and I think I'm going to get it right?

It's kinda like going to Christian college and getting the rules handbook given to you your freshman year. I remember looking at it and thinking "I'm never going to get all this. I can't remember which places at which times with with who is off limits." I decided I'd just do what I do and hope I didn't get kicked out. I managed to make it through 4 years and graduate without ever even being "campused"(Christian college version of being grounded). So here we are thinking we're just going to go with it and learn along the way. We can take a lot of leeway on things if the relationships and true biblical fellowship are present in the church. The non-negotiables are the sovereignty of God and the doctrine of salvation along with the rest of the five points/doctrines of grace. We are definitely reformed, we're just not sure how much. Should we look for strong doctrine and give up on fellowship and accountability? We tried that and just about starved even while we were being comforted by the doctrinal preaching we were hearing. So now we will try a church that has fellowship as a main component of its practice. Hopefully it's not just talk or just something that exists in the goals of the pastor that hasn't yet made its way to the people. We agree on our non-negotiables. I guess we'll see if thats enough agreement.

Why blog? What's my theme?

Why am I starting this blog? My honey and I started one before. That was a flop. Neither one of us wanted to put our hearts out in cyberspace (at least that's what I was thinking). He just didn't have the time and I didn't know what to write about.

Now I'm more comfortable with where I am and can write without thinking I have to pick a theme like homeschooling or country living or politics. My theme for this blog is life and my journey through it searching for what's missing. At times the missing part has been huge, at other times it just seemed so. The biggest part that was misssing for most of my life was God. The thing is...I didn't think He was missing.

Anyway back to my theme not being a theme. Since my "theme" is my life then I can cover any topic I want. Ha! Not even a blog is going to tell me what to do. Do you sense some small prob with authority? -sarcasm alert-

I Need Fellowship

I'm tired of being surrounded by people I "know" and yet they remain strangers and I'm still alone.

Anyone I get close to still somehow isn't a "peer" because they're older and/or have a position of quasi-authority. So, anyone in a position to get to know me and speak truth into my life and seems to be making that effort, ends up relegating me to "project" status; but never a friend. I'm a project, not a friend. That's what I get for transparency.

I'm not saying, "Poor me. I don't have any friends." I am saying that I need friends who will look at me as a friend, not an off and on project. I'd like to have some friends who are on the same page as I am theologically. Your theology makes a big difference in how you live your life. It'd just be nice to have someone care without it being because I need some serious help. And for me to know people who care because they care and don't have to be in the position of "official helper of this project(me)" before they care.

Ahhh fellowship...what does it look like? I need fellowship. Is it wrong that my husband isn't fellowship enough? Is this starving feeling a sign that I'm avoiding God and trying to replace Him with people? I really don't think it is. It's not an emptiness without God in it. Am I just wimping out? Many through the ages have been alone in their Christian life, why can't I hack it? I have my husband that I can actually see, and my children I have with me all the time. I have various versions of the Bible to read, lots of great books and online Christian resources. Why is it so lonely?

test 1

Testing to see if this works