Honestly

Honestly, I had a craptastic weekend.

I'd rather just forget about it. Forget that all weekend I felt like a knife was twisting in my heart as I felt ignored. Invisible. Cast aside. Rejected.

Melodramatic? Honestly, no. I'm blunt enough with myself to be able to know when I'm just being emotional. And when it's legit.

How in the world am I supposed to cope with the fact that I no longer have a place of safety? That the place I could call home is no longer safe? How does one deal when best friends are no where to be found? When sisters are silent? When the tears just won't stop flowing because my worst fears have come true?

I've been through stuff I would never in a million years wish on my worst enemy. I've kept the pain and the secrets locked up. Hid the key where no one could find it. I swore I'd never tell a soul. Because then they'd reject me. For sure the truth would be seen that I was unlovable. If anyone knew, they'd see me worthy of condemnation. The equivalent of dirt. Not fit for life. These feelings surfaced over the weekend. But they are the lies satan has whispered to me for years. Since I was about 10. So I've strived to hide it all and pretend like I'm unscathed, pretend like I can't be touched.

But that's not who I am. I am by nature relational. I love being open, catching those little glimpses of myself, of the heart that lies behind the walls. And I've been able to open up to an extent. I told people when I swore it'd be my secret for life. Isn't that enough?

No. Because now comes the hard part. Now comes the healing.

I don't have to heal. I could live like I've been living for the past 7 years. But that's not good enough. Honestly, I want more. I'm tired. My heart needs to be free. Telling someone has opened the prison door. But the shackles are still on my wrists, reminding me that I need more. Reminding me that my God is in the process of removing each link until I am free. And that takes time. And honesty.

So this weekend, in the midst of all the craptasticness, God met me on a path in the woods. He took me to a place I fear. Into myself. To be honest. To come clean. To be real. And it hurt.

But honestly, I wouldn't have traded that moment for a better weekend.

He reminded me that in Jesus, the accusations are null and void. In John 8:3-11, an adulteress is brought before Jesus. As He is questioned about what should be done, He simply says, "He who is without sin should cast the first stone."

My accusers have no authority.

He looks at the woman, looks at me, and asks, "Woman, where are your accusers now? Has no one condemned you?"

"No one, sir."

Realization.

"Then neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin."

A declaration of freedom.

Honestly, I have no excuse to hold myself back from God. Honestly, it's time to heal.

And honestly, I'm going to keep my heart open.

It was something my dad said tonight. He was telling me about the weekend that he and my mom spent with the one percenter biker clubs at an event that would cause a coronary in many of today's "Christians". Bikers for Christ had a booth set up there. In the middle of the drunks. In the middle of the bike games and stripper poles and bawdy entertainment.

Right where Jesus would have sat.

And Dad said they didn't have many people come over to the booth. Not many people wanted to talk about God. But they showed a level of respect that not even Billy Graham would receive. The topless bike games were changed to include tops because of the proximity of the BFC booth. The nearby bathrooms were kept clean, and the men and women alike of BFC were respected.

Even if their presence wasn't acknowledged by everyone, Dad said he still knew that people didn't mind the group being there. That most welcomed them. These so called heathens welcomed a completely different group from themselves into their midst. And their presence was appreciated.

I could back down. I could step away and try to find a new nitch. A new place of safety.

But God isn't safe. Or comfortable. Ministry sucks and not everyone wants you around. Not even the Church. But my hope and prayer is that in the midst of all I'm dealing with, my authentic, open, healing heart will be used to inspire others deeper into the heart of God.

And honestly, that's worth it.

Maybe one day I'll be able to write about what happened.

No.

One day I will be able to.

God, keep opening my heart and breaking down the walls. I've told You that all of me is Yours. Now when it comes time to test that, I pray that You would give me the strength to surrender. To live like I'm Yours. To truly be Yours.