Thoughts Of My Heart: God, My Safe Space

It had been a long time since a certain dark force swept through me. Something devouring, intense, and bitter. I had not forgotten its name, or purpose. Hatred. 

I will not go into the details of what has caused me to harbor it. Those are things reserved for the privacy of my journal and my personal conversations with God. But what I will say is that this began with the well-meaning intentions of one who fights fear, and this fear triggered a series of events that left me feeling betrayed, traumatized, and broken beyond belief. 

I have come to believe there is truth in a certain Star Wars character's words - fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate. In fairness, it is not as bad as it could be. I need to acknowledge the cliche - it could be worse. It could be so much worse. There are things that could have happened, and didn't. God, in mercy, came through and answered desperate cries. He healed what could have been permanently broken. He is still healing now. Yet at the same time, I have had to learn to build myself back up, gather the courage to forgive, and fight to move ahead with my life. It has been a battle of several months now. I am still battling this demon with the name hatred. 

Scenarios pound through my head, visions of payback. Revenge. Justice. At least, my weak, flawed view of justice. I want to make them pay for what they did, not only to me but to someone I love. Verses in the Bible about hatred being murder and vengeance belonging only to God both haunt and confront me. I am drowning in darkness. 

I grew up the daughter of a pastor. I am beyond thankful for this blessing. It was a gift, a replacement for the father who abandoned me at birth and left scars that have never truly healed. My dad always told me that it's ok to yell at God. "He can take it," he said. I have done this in previous seasons of my life. I cried out to God when my birth mother showed her true colors. I cried out to Him when I wanted to end my life. I cried out to Him when I was feeling friendless and alone. I cried out to Him when I was going through a breakup. I cried out to Him when I found myself battered and broken from a toxic relationship in my first year of college. 

More than anyone else, God, my first Love, has seen my darkness. He has seen the darkness I caused, the darkness others caused that I was swept up in, and the darkness I myself have contributed to. None of it changed His mind. None of it could chase Him away. This truth came back to me now. It was ok to admit my hatred. It was ok to admit my hurt. I could pour all the ugly and gross and messy out on His feet, and He would take it. He, the Light, could handle my darkness. 

So, one afternoon when I had the house to myself, I let it all go. The dark, the ugly, the broken, the sinful. Tears and hateful words spilled out, desires of revenge and threats, the pain of betrayal and the pain of shattered trust, it all flowed out as a river to Heaven. I sent my deepest, darkest thoughts straight to the heart of the Father, and found my own heart relieved and freed. Soon the tears were regret, my heart reproaching me because I know that so much of what I battle right now reflects a character so unlike Jesus. 

But in spite of the chaos, I knew that I had been heard. Perfectly understood. The darkness and light alike in me were exposed and known. I wasn't ashamed of what I had poured out in the sense that I tried to retract or hide it. I had been honest with God. 

I am now wondering if the only way hatred can be overcome is by acknowledging it rather than forcing it away. My only moments of peace in this battle are the times I have poured it out instead of bottling it in. Not on others. Not to others. Only to God. Honesty with Him brings freedom. He is my safe space. 

In this safe space, I can not only learn to let go of my hatred, but I find forgiveness. Forgiveness that I can give others because my stubborn, dark heart has been forgiven. 

This experience reminds me of Job, a man of God who was brutally honest. He was also angry. Also bitter. Yet he did not curse God. There are many lessons in his story, yet I would consider the most important is that he maintained his relationship in the midst of suffering. He didn't abandon his faith. He held on to God. He fought, cried, complained, even blamed, but he held on. He never turned away. 

So, like Job, I will keep coming with this burden, continuing to give it, continuing to release it, as long as I must until this battle is won. Because the point of Christianity isn't that there isn't a battle. It's the One who fights in our stead, our safe space in the war zone. 

Thoughts Of My Heart: Election Fears

It's time to share my heart, or as much as I can permit myself to share. 

My fear in this election goes beyond human politics. It's a fear for where I stand in my faith, and a fear that I'm having to say goodbye to something beautiful and precious in November. 

I know what I believe about the end times from growing up Adventist. I see things that mirror the prophetic interpretation I'm familiar with. I see people, people I know and love, falling for the culture war battles and creating American Messiahs, as if we aren't explicitly told in Scripture that the kingdom of Heaven is not of this world. I see church and state beginning to merge, and Christians rejoicing over it. I see fingers pointed at worldliness and evil on the outside, but never any spotlight on the problems within. I see a country and people ready to tear each other apart. 

I see what I believe to be prophecy fulfilling. I see the signs. The end is near. Jesus is coming. 

I should be happy. 

I'm not. I'm afraid. 

I'm afraid of what's coming. I'm afraid for my friends and family who have fallen for the deceptions. I'm afraid of those who pay too much attention to the world and they don't seem to care or see that Jesus and Christianity are being horrifically weaponized and abused. I'm afraid for myself, because my faith is weak. 

I'm not just afraid. I'm heartbroken. Because if things play out how I believe they will, many of my dreams may not come true. 

I may not graduate college, have my own family, or travel. The same things that my Adventist identity has impressed upon me as critically important (education, marriage, children), the interpretation, if true, will take away from me. Within this is yet another fear, that my dreams have become idols and they're more important to me than Jesus. That my fear of the future tramples my love for Him.

There's a lot of talk in Christian circles about sacrifice and taking up one's cross, and while there's worth and value in that, I don't believe God intended the Christian walk to be entirely suffering and miserable. That has not been my experience. The biggest thing that I'm having to sacrifice isn't necessarily my dreams. It's my own heart. There's a difference. Sure, it would be a sacrifice to give up those dreams for the sake of Christ, but I believe those are dreams He gave me. I guess maybe it's true - He gives and takes away. 

It's something I'm praying about and trying to work on. But either way, it's painful. 

Whatever the answer or result - the time approaching, this election, is spiritual. Nothing scares or saddens me more than the realization that so many don't see that.