CHATROOM HELL

One evening I was sitting at my desk and began perusing the number of chatrooms that are available. Many bear the appearance of all kinds of vulgarity and were dismissed quickly. However, I did happen to stumble into one that was...well...a different sort of vulgarity.

The chatroom (which will remain nameless) titled itself deceptively, as though to give the appearance of a Christ focused, on-line gathering. I was amazed to find I had stumbled upon people who took a great deal of satisfaction, it seemed, in simply flailing scripture around like children trying to handle a sword. While several of the attendees had a pretty good lock on scripture recall, as with anyone, they would pick and choose the scripture to best support their believes.

One person in particular was fond of bashing the letters of Paul, only because this person thought that the Bible had been somehow altered by the Roman church, and the only reliable foundation was the LAW. And while I found this person intriguing, and had several conversations in an effort to understand why this belief had evolved, what I discovered was this:
The LAW of God has its place and cannot be moved. And while these people cling to God's LAW as the only means of their existence, the LAW rendered them void of compassion, gentleness, goodness, courtesy, love, and the sweetness of spirit that I have come to enjoy in the people around me. The LAW in which they so desperately try to uphold leaves them absolutely miserable; yet they persist in the struggle, locked into a battle they can never win. They continue, night after night, to attack one another from the safety of electronic rooms, reveling in the anonimity that allows such reprehensible behavior.

Many of these poor people sadly miss the point. God gave the Law not expecting that we would be able to uphold it. Why, the very first command...only command..given to Adam "thou shalt not eat of the tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil for the day you do you shall surely die" could not be upheld. Try as one may to walk in perfect obedience to these LAWS, the inevitable rebellion to act apart from God will arise and render all efforts of their work useless.

They argue relentlessly and inexhaustibly about who is right and wrong, who knows the Word and doesn't, who keeps the Passover...they bicker like Pharisees, squabble like seagulls over a dead fish. They assail one another without mercy, without regret, without concience, and then return the following night to start all over again. Like a dog returning to its vomit.

I found myself shocked, intrigued, angered, sad, hurt, and simply reeling from the encounters that caused me to question my own faith and consider compromising my values. I cannot sit in judgement of these people, for I too was very nearly sucked into the modern day gladiator games. Through the grace of God, through an offense of simple naivity...my time with this experience came to an abrupt halt.

With great repentence in my heart, I returned to HIS arms and HE spoke to me.

"Rebecca, you witnessed only a tiny speck of what My Son died for. This is in every heart, every mind, from Adam until the end, every day, every night. My Son's blood is waiting to cover all of this." I felt His sadness then. I understood a little more about Passover...not from the ritualistic, barbaric, worldly standpoint...but from the cup that did not Pass Over my Kinsmen Redeemer: Jesus.

Christmas Tears

***I am re-running this. It is one of my favorites.***

Excerpt from “Someone Else’s Diary, Vol. II”
By Ree

We had a saying, my sister and I. “Christmas isn’t Christmas until somebody cries.” It seems our Christmas’s were fraught with family fights and stress, but every year I would make the pilgrimage back to the Upper Peninsula and crowd with my siblings into my parents’ tiny little house on the hill with the high hopes of at last having that “perfect Christmas”…with Christmas caroling, sledding and skating, big fluffy snowflakes drifting down to settle on the mounds of snow that glisten and sparkle. Christmas lights shining through the heavily laden branches of the pine tree out in front of the house, mountains of brightly wrapped artistry under the tree...each year was the same futile search for the perfect Christmas.

Our family dysfunction reached beyond Christmas; however, the end of the year seemed to be the pinnacle of outbursts. The magic of Christmas for us was to forget from year to year how difficult the season really was.

I have found myself disentangling from the traditional frenzy of the season of baking cookies at my sister’s while watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” and wrapping gifts for the family member whose name I had drawn at Thanksgiving. Christmas wasn’t about the traditional family celebration that led to someone breaking down in tears due to family feuds and long patterned behaviors. Christmas, I had begun to realize, was more than racked up credit card bills for gifts that would be forgotten about the following year. My quest for the perfect Christmas will never be fulfilled…because the perfect Christmas has already come and gone.

The Christmas of which I speak was not replete with reindeer, jingle bells, or Andy Williams singing “Chestnuts.” The Christmas I am referencing is one of a small stable in the middle of Nowhereville and a young, pregnant teenage girl scared, cold, poor, and alone, but for her husband who probably never had the experience of midwifery. The girl probably was a wreck when her water broke, in pain, bleeding, pushing, straining…lying on a stable floor with very little in the way of comfort. Even the hay would have been tainted with animal feces, urine, grain, dirt…and a baby crowning, slathered in mucus, pushed into excrements that the girl had no control over, and finally she is freed from the pain of birth. The boy child, cried at the cold, blue skin turning pink, covered in blood…but Christmas isn’t Christmas until Somebody cries….

Ordinary, almost 3rd world birth, is it not? Yes, but still, the perfect gift. Through the dirt, mucus, blood, feces…every filthy, unclean thing imaginable to subject a newborn baby to…arrives our hope for rescue from the dirt we have created in our hearts…He has arrived in the form of a squalling, cold, suckling infant. Our salvation has come. This is where my heart shall be at Christmas…with that Baby…Emmanuel…God with us.

Are you crying? I am.

What a Girl Should Want

Excerpt from “Someone Else’s Diary, Vol. II”
By Ree

Craving acceptance is innate in all of us, to a greater or lesser degree. Rejection generates the need to belong. This is why our children struggle with their peers and why adults succumb to the will of society. Everyone wants to belong.

My own desire to belong started as a very young child and within my own family. My brother and sister, whether knowingly or not, rejected me as they were very close and tended to exclude me from their activities. When forced to take me with them, I was dubbed a “tagalong”. But I really just wanted to belong; to be accepted.

When I was in grade school, I found myself again on the outside looking in. I wanted friends…needed friends. But friendships of little girls are superficial at best, and very fickle. I was often picked on and mistreated by my classmates. I never really fit in for a number of reasons. In high school, I had a couple friends, but I never was fully accepted or wanted by my peers. I was not the typical teenager…I didn’t smoke, drink, or party. I didn’t sneak around on my parents…but I wanted to. I wanted to be with my classmates. I wanted a boyfriend, wanted stylish clothes, and to be invited for sleepovers. None of these things happened.

As you can imagine, by the time I graduated high school, my need for acceptance had become huge. I found solace with Christ followers at my sister’s church, but they were all much older than I was. I sought God for awhile, but after a year or so, found myself backslidden. I stopped attending church and began seeking out acceptance elsewhere…and I found it….for awhile.

As long as I compromised my beliefs, my intelligence, and my purity, I found acceptance in a man. Finally…I was “loved.” I had a boyfriend! Unfortunately, with the loss of my virginity, I also lost my sense of who I was and what I wanted. I never wanted to lose my virginity before marriage…yet there I was, on the floor of my boyfriend’s apartment. There was nothing special, nothing loving, nothing pure or holy about it. It was just him needing sex and me needing love. He got what he wanted…I didn’t.

My insatiable craving for love and belonging drove me to ignore what I knew to be right. Instead of heeding God’s word, I turned from Him. Instead of respecting my body and my mind, I gave myself over to a man who would eventually dispose of me. Instead of deciding for myself what I wanted, I allowed the norm of society to convince me otherwise.

Lately, God has been revealing to me just what I am willing to set aside even now for the sake of belonging to someone. I never really consider what is best for me when it comes to acceptance. I have such an ingrained fear of rejection, I will do anything to work my way around the possibility…right down to accepting people regardless of how they treat me. And yet, rejection is inevitable. I have become spineless and incapable of setting boundaries. I have lost my self respect, become blasé about premarital sex and purity, and I allow my fear to steer my course with people.

When I realized just how damaged I am, God began to speak to me.

“Rebecca, your wants and needs matter to Me. They should also matter to you. Setting them aside for others’ approval is destructive.”

I thought of all the men I’d been involved with, all the poor choices I’d made, all the damage I’d done to myself for the sake of being part of something...without even realizing it.

“You are My child. You are accepted by Me. You have My love. I desire you more than any other.”

I didn’t know what to say to Him. I’d lost so much ground on the battlefield of rejection. I had never learned to stay within the shelter of His approval. And yet, here was the God of all creation, the Beginning and End, the Alpha and Omega, the Great I Am, the Lamb that was Slain, Emmanuel, Jehovah, Holy One, Wonderful Counselor, Ancient of Days looking down on me and assuring me that He understood me and loved me better than anyone with whom I had sought acceptance from.

Oh, Wonderful God…dirty, filthy, ragtag, battle weary, beaten me…matters to You? How could I miss that? How could I overlook just how enormous and significant this fact is? Why could I not see this before? And if I am important to You, can it be I am worth something more than lost virginity on a dirty carpet?

In Search of Peace

In Search of Peace


Excerpt from Someone Else's Diary, Vol. II
By Ree

Inspired by GQ. I hope one day there will be peace between us.

I have always struggled to find peace in my walk with Christ. It is difficult sometimes, since we are constantly in the midst of spiritual battle. How can we live peacefully, without conflict, if we are constantly putting on spiritual armor?

One may argue the armor of God is for defense only, but I disagree. Many of the pieces of armor are for defense, true enough…however, pieces like the shield and helmet were often used to bash the enemy's attack (hey, I watched Braveheart!). A warrior would grab his helmet and swing it around…and we wear the helmet of salvation. The shield would also be wielded as a weapon…we carry the shield of faith. So while all these pieces of armor serve as our protection, some serve as our weapon.

But if we are called to peace, why do we need weapons? How long must we stay in this battle? When will we be free from conflict and struggle?

Simply, we cannot have peace without first experiencing war. Since the fall of Adam, war is the method man has devised to reach whatever peace he has. On a global level, this remains true until the day Christ sets his foot upon the Mount of Olives in His glorious return.

But what of peace within our individual lives or peace within our relationships? Surely we must be able to live in peace, without arguing with our siblings, fighting with our spouses, or shouting at our neighbors!

The truth I am finding is this: As long as we encounter people, we will have conflict. People are imperfect, fallen…human. People have baggage, old wounds, weird humor, cold hearts, lying tongues…and we all are battle scarred and weary.

Our hope lies in the promise of Christ...His peace that passes all understanding. I believe this applies not just to the trials and tribulations we experience through this veil of tears called life…I believe this applies to relationships, because relationships are what wound us. We can cling to Christ when we misunderstand others; until He reveals the truth. We can cling to Christ when others have wronged us; until He brings His healing. We can cling to Christ when we are battle weary and feel we cannot take even one more wrong word, misstep, or mistake of another…and then find we can and do still love them.

This is the peace that passes all understanding…not in avoidance of the storm of relationships…but through them. And waking up on the other side of the battle refreshed, healed, and at peace…with one another.