My brain hurts....

"My brain hurts" is really an understatement... so does my body and probably the worst of it all, my heart. Let me explain... If you know me well, you know my background...how I was raised by a loving mother who tried to shelter me from the world, but was brow beaten all of her life by ALL of the men in her life, and by an overbearing, mostly depressed, angry father who was determined to 'beat the word of God into me.' Oh, and then there's the best part... my church upbringing.
I'm gonna go at it with both barrels here and just be honest. If I offend anyone, which I'm sure I will, here's a preemptive "Sorry!"
I was raised in the church of Christ, but not just any coC. I was raised by an extremely conservative used-to-be-a-church-of-Christ-preacher father who was and still is extremely legalistic (and to top it off, he's back in preaching school again). I mean there've been times that I thought he could put the Pharisees to shame! Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, and try to be respectful of him, but God's been opening my eyes to so much....
My dad is a product of his raising. His dad was old when he was born, already had 9 kids, was a sharecropper in rural Mississippi, and from what I hear, had quite a temper on him. My grandmother (which is what I was required to call her "Grandmother") was a mother of 8 and was 42 when she gave birth to her youngest, my dad. I never met my grandfather, but I remember my grandmother pretty well. I was 13 when she died, she was 84, I believe. She carried her faith like a cross on her back. She never missed a service. She never missed a gospel meeting. She never broke a law or rule. She never smiled.
My dad thought she hung the moon. She was the Proverbs 31 woman. On her 80th birthday he gave her a bronze plaque that was presented to her for "80 years of virtuous living." It had Proverbs 31 engraved on it. On my 18th birthday, I inherited it along with a letter written by my dad telling me what all I had to live up to.
Well, as you can imagine, I have issues with authority now and church in general. I'm at a stalemate. On one hand, I love God, am actively working on a relationship with Him, I am in an intense Bible study for the first time in years, and in a ministry position of sorts. But I don't wanna go to church. Not just a coC, but any church. I'm heart broken about it. I grew up in church, and I'm required to attend somewhere for my job. I just don't want to.... I think it's because I always leave feeling worse than when I went in.... and then there's that whole going alone thing. I HATE THAT!!!
Wait a minute, this is not what I started this post to say. I was going to talk about change and challenge. My BSF class is kicking my butt. Romans is kicking my butt. How can someone raised in church, a church that preaches Romans constantly, not get this book? It's like I'm reading it for the first time and I'm like, "Wait, it doesn't really say that does it?!" Guess what? It does!
We're at the end of chapter 3 and the beginning of the good part. But it's so much to absorb. I'm trying so hard to wrap my brain around it. I'm enamored and confused. It's so different from what I was taught growing up, and yet there it is in black and white. Faith, not what I do or what I did or what I will do, but just faith, trusting Christ, is my ticket in.

God's not going to hunt me down and smight me for messing up. He's not going to banish me to eternal damnation for forgetting to say I'm sorry for a sin I committed. I for the first time IN MY LIFE do not doubt that when I stand before Him on judgment day, He'll let me in. That's huge for me... That's huge.

Am I the only one that's just now getting this??? More on this later...

Let this day pass....

I couldn't let this day pass without a word... Thanks Niki for reminding me that I never post anymore. I'm using the excuse that life is too crazy. I've been incredibly busy with school starting, moving, moving sales and just life in general. I haven't taken the time to pour my heart out on here lately. I will not apologize, because I've come to realize that my blog is for me and what I need to get off my chest. I appreciate the encouragement I get from my friends here, but that is not the reason I write. I'm practicing a form of therapy here and lately I've been doing okay; atleast I tell myself that I am. But I couldn't let this day pass without a word....

I introduced my pain to a new group of people tonight at my BSF class. I had gone all day without a tear, but surrounded by other Christian women who I know love me without even knowing me, I broke loose and let go. I let them see a glimpse of my pain, and it hurt like new all over again. The good news is I know they'll pray for me. One of the ladies patted me on the back and said simply, "You're so strong." I didn't have the heart to tell her, 'No, I'm just a good faker.' I later realized that I'm neither strong nor a faker. I'm a child of God. He loves me and knows my pain and at times when I'm too weak to stand, too weak to speak out, too weak to even draw a breath, He's there. He stands behind me and picks me up, opens my mouth and breathes his life into me. That, my friends, is strength. Not what I am, but what God is through me.
My misery is my ministry and I pray God continues to touch others through my pain. It's easy for me to seek sympathy, but I'm working on letting God fix my brokenness and showing others his power through "my strength."


Thank you for your prayers, and if you knew Kyle, I thank God that He touched your life through my wonderful husband.