Hey Sister,
I read it and personally, I like it :) Actually, I even like this email that you sent as well, it made me smile. I think about the Lord and how He's used you to bless me with encouraging words and a true friendship. Sometimes, I go back and read the words that the Lord has shared with me through friends and complete strangers. When I read the word that you gave me then in this email, I felt God's peace just flow in my heart and it made me smile. Why? Because just last week I was thinking, "I wonder if the Lord still sees me as that gladiator, going over that hill? Am I still God's man for that task, that thing, whatever it is?" And this is one of the words that has helped to sustain me over time. You're right, it's funny how we all meet the Lord; how He meets us where we are in our lives.
Here's what it made me think about:
I think that people need to know that relationships are horizontal and vertical. One of the reasons our friendship was such a blessing was because it also helped me to "hear" the Lord again. Not just because you were sharing His heart, but because I was also missing being in relationship with other Christians...I had become somewhat disconnected from Him. I was praying etc., doing all of the normal things....repenting, fasting, reading the Word...I was wondering why I couldn't hear Him like I had in the past.
One day, I had a conversation with Alan and we discussed hearing the Lord. He shared his own experiences with me about not hearing and the causes of not hearing. One thing that struck me was that he said that in his past experiences, he saw a link between not hearing the Lord (A Vertical Relationship) and not being in relationship with others(Horizontal Relationships) in the body.
He asked me to think about the times when I heard the Lord the most and it was when I was in heavy relationship with other Christians. I needed to work on developing more horizontal relationships at Gateway. So, Alan invited me to that class for two purposes: (1) To help me to develop my gift, and (2) To develop more horizontal relationships at Gateway. So, when I walked into the room and saw that you were there, I felt a certain amount of relief. I think that one of the reasons that people can have such a hard time with Christians and going to church, is that Christians...can be very people like :). I mean, I walked into that room and I only saw three friendly faces in my mind: Alan, a lady named Doris, and You. Then Debra came and said, " Is this the guy that you were praying with that day?" And she smiled. So, that made four friendly faces.
I needed that because sometimes church can feel like a theater with all these actors. We all come, smile fake smiles, applaud, and then go home. I was looking for authenticity...Jesus, right there to meet me where I was at the time. I was searching for understanding, because I had no idea what in the world the Lord wanted me to do next and why in the world He was so quiet about it all. You guys were authentic and it made me feel comfortable. I'm sure if you took a survey and asked people if they thought Gateway was a "friendly" place, they would say 'Yes!" I didn't always feel that way, so I struggled sometimes. you know, that big sanctuary might as well feel like the Grand Canyon sometimes. I use to look across it and scan it for friendly faces. Deep down, we all want to connect. The Lord wanted me to get into relationship with people again, I had become too isolated. That happens to people. So, when I started to connect horizontally again, the vertical did open back up for me. I really think the Lord was intentional in this respect. I had been so busy with work and school and all the other normal life stuff, that I had neglected connecting with people. He wasn't going to allow me to get that guidance by myself, like I wanted to get it.
So, the message that I got out of my experience was that I shouldn't be Solo Christian. Stay connected. I want people to get that out of your message, stay connected. And you know, its really funny....sometimes, it seems like as adults, we have to "learn" friendship all over again. Or, maybe it's just that our definition of friendship becomes more defined and narrow. I'm going to have to read your entries about it all.
Big Hugs!
Me
Friday, June 5, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
In a Class by Himself
If I told you how I met Al, you wouldn’t believe me. He and I talk about it, and we just blink and shake our heads. So I’m just going to skip to our second meeting. I was on the altar team, and I prayed for him. Then the next service started, so we moved to another room where we prayed and talked…through the whole service and next altar ministry time.
But that isn’t what kick started our friendship.
God’s fascination with irony and His somewhat twisted sense of humor is how Al and I came to be friends. You’ll see what I mean.
Believe it or not, I’m an introvert. If you walk into a room full of people, I’ll be the one by the wall. Seriously. I will either be at the podium or by a wall. Those are the two places where I know the social rules and what is expected of me, so that is where I hang out.
When I go to a class or any kind of meeting, I take a book, journal, or something to keep my head down and avoid conversation because I struggle with conversation skills. I don’t really understand that role, so I avoid it. And that is exactly what I was doing when Jesus put Al into my class at church. In fact, Jesus not only put him in my class. He sat him close to me.
Now, I don’t know the whole proper conversation thing, but I do know it is polite to ask how one is doing, so I did. And Jesus laughed really hard…because my hiding place turned into the launch pad for one of my favorite friendships.
We didn’t talk during class, but afterward, we stood in the parking lot and chatted. Usually, we wound down about midnight, but once we talked till nearly two. We sort of wandered all over the map, but mostly, we talked about the Lord and what He was teaching us. The Lord used Al to stretch me, and it was good.
It was also guarded.
It’s easy to be comfortable with someone when I’m in my element—praying for them, offering advice, sharing what I’ve learned, but when life gets hard, I don’t have a lot to say.
Last fall, I quit saying much. I went a few months without emailing or calling, which wasn’t the norm. Al kept in touch. He emailed and sent some text messages. He tried to be connected. I just didn’t know what to say.
Then one day the Lord got pretty stern about my not appreciating His gift. He had given me a friend with discernment, a sincere heart, a heart that seeks Him, a love for my whole family, and the ability to trust vision despite circumstance. Why would I ever consider going into battle without a soldier of his caliber and heart?
I took a deep breath and started to type.
I wrote and cried. I cried because I hurt. I also cried because I was embarrassed. I didn’t like showing him this weak side of me that needed friends so desperately, the side that simply could not weather this storm alone. And, I was embarrassed that I had not told him sooner.
The email took a few hours to write. I’m not sure if it was even coherent. I had no idea when he would write back, but I knew what he would say. I knew he would say, “Jerri, I love you all, and I’m praying for you.” And you know what? He did.
He could have taken offense at the silence, at what I said, at my not wanting to say anything, but he didn’t. Instead, he loves me and my family. He prays for us. He lets us pray for him, and he isn’t afraid of honesty.
He’s proof God has no respect for hiding places.
And he’s in a class by himself.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009
But that isn’t what kick started our friendship.
God’s fascination with irony and His somewhat twisted sense of humor is how Al and I came to be friends. You’ll see what I mean.
Believe it or not, I’m an introvert. If you walk into a room full of people, I’ll be the one by the wall. Seriously. I will either be at the podium or by a wall. Those are the two places where I know the social rules and what is expected of me, so that is where I hang out.
When I go to a class or any kind of meeting, I take a book, journal, or something to keep my head down and avoid conversation because I struggle with conversation skills. I don’t really understand that role, so I avoid it. And that is exactly what I was doing when Jesus put Al into my class at church. In fact, Jesus not only put him in my class. He sat him close to me.
Now, I don’t know the whole proper conversation thing, but I do know it is polite to ask how one is doing, so I did. And Jesus laughed really hard…because my hiding place turned into the launch pad for one of my favorite friendships.
We didn’t talk during class, but afterward, we stood in the parking lot and chatted. Usually, we wound down about midnight, but once we talked till nearly two. We sort of wandered all over the map, but mostly, we talked about the Lord and what He was teaching us. The Lord used Al to stretch me, and it was good.
It was also guarded.
It’s easy to be comfortable with someone when I’m in my element—praying for them, offering advice, sharing what I’ve learned, but when life gets hard, I don’t have a lot to say.
Last fall, I quit saying much. I went a few months without emailing or calling, which wasn’t the norm. Al kept in touch. He emailed and sent some text messages. He tried to be connected. I just didn’t know what to say.
Then one day the Lord got pretty stern about my not appreciating His gift. He had given me a friend with discernment, a sincere heart, a heart that seeks Him, a love for my whole family, and the ability to trust vision despite circumstance. Why would I ever consider going into battle without a soldier of his caliber and heart?
I took a deep breath and started to type.
I wrote and cried. I cried because I hurt. I also cried because I was embarrassed. I didn’t like showing him this weak side of me that needed friends so desperately, the side that simply could not weather this storm alone. And, I was embarrassed that I had not told him sooner.
The email took a few hours to write. I’m not sure if it was even coherent. I had no idea when he would write back, but I knew what he would say. I knew he would say, “Jerri, I love you all, and I’m praying for you.” And you know what? He did.
He could have taken offense at the silence, at what I said, at my not wanting to say anything, but he didn’t. Instead, he loves me and my family. He prays for us. He lets us pray for him, and he isn’t afraid of honesty.
He’s proof God has no respect for hiding places.
And he’s in a class by himself.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Gratitude 21--The Man of My Dreams for 18 Years
Today is our anniversary. We've been married 18 years. It is hard to fathom that it has been so long, but according to the calendar, it has...and I am thankful.
1. Laughter
2. The good times
3. The bad times
4. Two children
5. Forgiveness
6. Mercy
7. Kindness
8. My cheerleader
9. My reality checker
10. A man of integrity
11. A man who pays our rent
12. A man with a good work ethic
13. Common jokes
14. Quotable movies
15. The Carrot Joke
16. Life recorded in 8x10 black and white glossy pictures with the circles and the arrows and a paragraph on the back...
17. His quirky sense of humor
18. He's exothermic...especially wonderful when my toes are cold
19. He hates getting his hands messy
20. His Christmas song issue
21. His shoes are big enough I can just slip them on and clunk around in them instead of taking time to untie and tie mine. Saves me seconds that way.
22. He can make ANY song into a twisted swing version
23. He laughs at my jokes
24. He is a walking trivia file
25. He can be insanely meticulous...I'm usually the one who ends up insane from this
26. Camping
27. Holding hands
28. He reads my blog
29. "That" look
30. Being spoons
31. He tells me he loves me and kisses me before he goes to work in the morning
32. He never holds grudges
33. He grills really good asparagus
34. Rummikube
35. He understands I'm not as fast at Sudoku as he is. He can bury me in that game.
35. Going somewhere we've never been and seeing things we've never see before...together.
36. Yard work
37. Pictionary--I always win. :-)
38. I know how to turn my computer on. He handles everything from there.
39. His smile
40. The Backward ABC song
41. Scrabble
42. Wildflower bouquets
43. He didn't get upset when I bent his specialized license by running into the camper tongue
44. Scripture on wedding invitations
45. That a chord of three strands is not easily broken
46. For the joy of looking forward to seeing him when he gets home today
47. For the expectation of a joyful tomorrow
Honey, I love you! You are the Man of My Dreams, and I am so very thankful to be your wife.
1. Laughter
2. The good times
3. The bad times
4. Two children
5. Forgiveness
6. Mercy
7. Kindness
8. My cheerleader
9. My reality checker
10. A man of integrity
11. A man who pays our rent
12. A man with a good work ethic
13. Common jokes
14. Quotable movies
15. The Carrot Joke
16. Life recorded in 8x10 black and white glossy pictures with the circles and the arrows and a paragraph on the back...
17. His quirky sense of humor
18. He's exothermic...especially wonderful when my toes are cold
19. He hates getting his hands messy
20. His Christmas song issue
21. His shoes are big enough I can just slip them on and clunk around in them instead of taking time to untie and tie mine. Saves me seconds that way.
22. He can make ANY song into a twisted swing version
23. He laughs at my jokes
24. He is a walking trivia file
25. He can be insanely meticulous...I'm usually the one who ends up insane from this
26. Camping
27. Holding hands
28. He reads my blog
29. "That" look
30. Being spoons
31. He tells me he loves me and kisses me before he goes to work in the morning
32. He never holds grudges
33. He grills really good asparagus
34. Rummikube
35. He understands I'm not as fast at Sudoku as he is. He can bury me in that game.
35. Going somewhere we've never been and seeing things we've never see before...together.
36. Yard work
37. Pictionary--I always win. :-)
38. I know how to turn my computer on. He handles everything from there.
39. His smile
40. The Backward ABC song
41. Scrabble
42. Wildflower bouquets
43. He didn't get upset when I bent his specialized license by running into the camper tongue
44. Scripture on wedding invitations
45. That a chord of three strands is not easily broken
46. For the joy of looking forward to seeing him when he gets home today
47. For the expectation of a joyful tomorrow
Honey, I love you! You are the Man of My Dreams, and I am so very thankful to be your wife.
A Sweet Gift-In MaryB's Words
When I wrote the pieces about my friends, I sent them to the respective friend first to read and make sure they approve. MaryB was the first to respond, and when I read her response, I wanted to share it because it is part of the friendship picture. I'll talk about it and the other responses more toward the end of this series. In the meantime, I suggest you ask the Lord for His wisdom to see what He wants you to hear and know through this series--both in what I write and the responses. He is excited to meet you where you are and to give you what you need...and show you His heart toward you.
And now...
From MaryB...
Aww, now you made me cry, lol. You can post it if you want to. I have to laugh - you and Eleanor both - how much our friendship means to you. Don't get me wrong - I think it's wonderful! But what I have in return is just as priceless! I was in much the same place as you. The edge is such a cool place to live and it's hard to find other edgers. Although Donna is one - that's why Papa sent Jenny out to be mentored under her - Jenny is destined to live farther off the edge than I can imagine. But it was the way you spoke of your relationship with the Lord that drew me to correspond with you further. I had never heard anyone talk of Him the way you did, and it was what I wanted. And whatever your own struggles were, it didn't matter - we're all on a journey and the closer we get to the end of our journeys, the more of our burdens are laid down. He simply loves us to pieces all along the way. Laughs with delight over us.
Love you! MaryB
And now...
From MaryB...
Aww, now you made me cry, lol. You can post it if you want to. I have to laugh - you and Eleanor both - how much our friendship means to you. Don't get me wrong - I think it's wonderful! But what I have in return is just as priceless! I was in much the same place as you. The edge is such a cool place to live and it's hard to find other edgers. Although Donna is one - that's why Papa sent Jenny out to be mentored under her - Jenny is destined to live farther off the edge than I can imagine. But it was the way you spoke of your relationship with the Lord that drew me to correspond with you further. I had never heard anyone talk of Him the way you did, and it was what I wanted. And whatever your own struggles were, it didn't matter - we're all on a journey and the closer we get to the end of our journeys, the more of our burdens are laid down. He simply loves us to pieces all along the way. Laughs with delight over us.
Love you! MaryB
Sunday, May 31, 2009
A Sweet Gift
We met online. In the beginning, it was innocent enough. We chatted on the same message board. We had similar interests. Then one day, she said something really sweet…
And we’ve been close friends ever since.
Sounds like the stuff you’d hear from a commercial promoting online relationships, doesn’t it? Sort of the stuff that either makes you swoon or makes you gag. I know. If it wasn’t my friend, I would roll my eyes, too. Instead, I just laugh. It cracks me up how Jesus puts things together sometimes.
MaryB and I really did meet online. Actually, we’ve never met in person. We were part of a message board focusing on the worship arts. She and her daughter lived further on the edge than anyone I knew, and I was thankful to have a place that allowed some freedom. People I knew really didn’t understand my intimacy in worship. They seemed to think it was…a bit skewed.
While I was begging to dance like David, people I knew were excited to raise their hands. Not saying raising one’s hands is bad. I do it myself. However, I wanted more. I didn’t want just a God or just a Lord. I wanted the Lover from Song of Solomon. I wanted passion and intimacy. I wanted to know and be known as is meant in the Bible. I was tired of a comfortable God that lived nicely in a church service on Sunday morning. I wanted a God that took my breath away every day at any time He wanted.
I was also considered…odd…except by MaryB, who had the same fantastic ideas of a God and King who wanted a passionate bride, not just an obedient servant.
So, we chatted, pushed others’ ideas of Christian decorum, and encouraged each other to believe our desires were more than fantasies but rather desires given by the King Himself, who was speaking that He desired the same.
I praised God for MaryB.
Then came the gift.
For Christmas, MaryB sent cookies. I sent her a glory hoop I made. It was for her worship, a banner for her dancing. I shared with her what each element represented, and the Lord spoke the rest.
After that, we started emailing regularly. She shared what the Lord was doing in her life, and I shared what He was doing in mine—the good stuff that is because I knew how to perform via email, too.
Over time, MaryB shared deeper things. She shared about her struggles, her wounds, and her hopes. I prayed for her and with her. Slowly, I started to share, too. I dropped the mask a bit and showed some of the ugly stuff in life. She responded with compassion, love, and prayer. I dropped the mask some more. She never budged. Her friendship and acceptance remained steady.
Then came the inevitable. We had a misunderstanding or disagreement. I don’t remember what it was or what it was about. I only know whatever it was put us at a crossroads. We could take offense and walk away, or we could love through.
We loved through.
Now I tell her anything. There is nothing too ugly or too dark. There are no wounds too pussy or nasty. She doesn’t wallow in the mud with me. Instead, she acknowledges and prays. She’s one of those Acts 12 friends always praying for my release from whatever prison Satan is using against me. She is one who points me in the direction of freedom, and she rejoices with me when the prison gates open up and I walk out onto the path God has for me.
Every so often, she reminds me of that Christmas when she sent me the gift of the cookies. I smile because I remember it as the Christmas God gave me the gift of MaryB.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009
And we’ve been close friends ever since.
Sounds like the stuff you’d hear from a commercial promoting online relationships, doesn’t it? Sort of the stuff that either makes you swoon or makes you gag. I know. If it wasn’t my friend, I would roll my eyes, too. Instead, I just laugh. It cracks me up how Jesus puts things together sometimes.
MaryB and I really did meet online. Actually, we’ve never met in person. We were part of a message board focusing on the worship arts. She and her daughter lived further on the edge than anyone I knew, and I was thankful to have a place that allowed some freedom. People I knew really didn’t understand my intimacy in worship. They seemed to think it was…a bit skewed.
While I was begging to dance like David, people I knew were excited to raise their hands. Not saying raising one’s hands is bad. I do it myself. However, I wanted more. I didn’t want just a God or just a Lord. I wanted the Lover from Song of Solomon. I wanted passion and intimacy. I wanted to know and be known as is meant in the Bible. I was tired of a comfortable God that lived nicely in a church service on Sunday morning. I wanted a God that took my breath away every day at any time He wanted.
I was also considered…odd…except by MaryB, who had the same fantastic ideas of a God and King who wanted a passionate bride, not just an obedient servant.
So, we chatted, pushed others’ ideas of Christian decorum, and encouraged each other to believe our desires were more than fantasies but rather desires given by the King Himself, who was speaking that He desired the same.
I praised God for MaryB.
Then came the gift.
For Christmas, MaryB sent cookies. I sent her a glory hoop I made. It was for her worship, a banner for her dancing. I shared with her what each element represented, and the Lord spoke the rest.
After that, we started emailing regularly. She shared what the Lord was doing in her life, and I shared what He was doing in mine—the good stuff that is because I knew how to perform via email, too.
Over time, MaryB shared deeper things. She shared about her struggles, her wounds, and her hopes. I prayed for her and with her. Slowly, I started to share, too. I dropped the mask a bit and showed some of the ugly stuff in life. She responded with compassion, love, and prayer. I dropped the mask some more. She never budged. Her friendship and acceptance remained steady.
Then came the inevitable. We had a misunderstanding or disagreement. I don’t remember what it was or what it was about. I only know whatever it was put us at a crossroads. We could take offense and walk away, or we could love through.
We loved through.
Now I tell her anything. There is nothing too ugly or too dark. There are no wounds too pussy or nasty. She doesn’t wallow in the mud with me. Instead, she acknowledges and prays. She’s one of those Acts 12 friends always praying for my release from whatever prison Satan is using against me. She is one who points me in the direction of freedom, and she rejoices with me when the prison gates open up and I walk out onto the path God has for me.
Every so often, she reminds me of that Christmas when she sent me the gift of the cookies. I smile because I remember it as the Christmas God gave me the gift of MaryB.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Out of Solitary
Last week I told you about the amazing friends the Lord gave me and how they were right with me during this very hard season. In the past, if I had read such a story, I would have been sad and envious of someone who had such good friends, who had relationships where they could be real and not have to perform. It occurred to me, that some of you reading this might feel the same way, so I want to share with you about the three friends who have walked so closely with me the last few months.
Before I tell you about the friends I have now, let me tell you about the friends I haven’t had. Honestly, until a few years ago, I could not have identify a “good friend” for you, little less a “best friend”. There were people I did things with, people I loved and still do, people who loved me and my family. However, there was a lack of realness there. I won’t say it was their fault.
Believe it or not, I’ve never been good at being transparent. When I was growing up, I learned acceptance came from performing well. I learned to perform very well. Instead of being the road to acceptance, it became a prison. One never performs perfectly, so one is never perfectly acceptable. Being analytical in nature, I knew well what not performing meant. No one had to tell me. I simply knew. Perform well, you are acceptable, but what about days when I didn’t?
Any actor or actress knows what you do. You keep the audience at a distance and cover the imperfections with smoke and mirrors. I was very good at what I did.
Except, I wasn’t. I was good at performing but horrid at being accepted. The very thing I performed to receive eluded me. Instead of finding a place to be myself, I just kept finding more places to perform.
Friendships were based on things others liked to do, not true common interests. In fact, I had no interests I could call my own. I just sort of followed everyone else and did what they wanted. I didn’t have wild friends. Nothing they did was immoral, so it didn’t hurt anything.
And yet, it did.
When my dad died six years ago, reality slammed me in ways I don’t think I can articulate. The harshest reality of all was that I had no one I could talk to about it. I had created such a lovely façade of a life that I had no one to take behind the scenes. There was no one to talk to when I took off the mask because no one even realized I wore a mask. I was stuck in solitary confinement of my own making.
One thing I have found, though, when I am totally alone, I’m really not. In my solitary confinement cell sat Jesus.
In Isaiah 61, we are told Jesus came to set the captives free. I was a captive, and all I knew to do was pray for Jesus to set me free. I confessed what I knew held me captive—arrogance, pride, low self-esteem, fear, low self-value, rejection, lying (about who I was and having it together), and other things. I asked forgiveness, and I asked that He would do for me what the angel did for Peter in Acts 12.
In Acts 12, Peter is in prison, and an angel wakes him up. The angel says to get dressed and follow him, so Peter does. Peter assumes this is a dream until he is standing on the street, and the angel disappears. Then Peter runs to his friends, tells them the story, and escapes to freedom. I needed that kind of jailbreak.
It wasn’t enough to get out of prison. I needed to know how to walk and live outside the cell. Which way was I supposed to go mentally and emotionally so I didn’t end up in the same prison again? What was I supposed to do to remain free? What did freedom look like anyway?
I had no idea. But Jesus did, and in the next few posts, I’ll share how He set me free because He wants to do it for you, too.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009
Before I tell you about the friends I have now, let me tell you about the friends I haven’t had. Honestly, until a few years ago, I could not have identify a “good friend” for you, little less a “best friend”. There were people I did things with, people I loved and still do, people who loved me and my family. However, there was a lack of realness there. I won’t say it was their fault.
Believe it or not, I’ve never been good at being transparent. When I was growing up, I learned acceptance came from performing well. I learned to perform very well. Instead of being the road to acceptance, it became a prison. One never performs perfectly, so one is never perfectly acceptable. Being analytical in nature, I knew well what not performing meant. No one had to tell me. I simply knew. Perform well, you are acceptable, but what about days when I didn’t?
Any actor or actress knows what you do. You keep the audience at a distance and cover the imperfections with smoke and mirrors. I was very good at what I did.
Except, I wasn’t. I was good at performing but horrid at being accepted. The very thing I performed to receive eluded me. Instead of finding a place to be myself, I just kept finding more places to perform.
Friendships were based on things others liked to do, not true common interests. In fact, I had no interests I could call my own. I just sort of followed everyone else and did what they wanted. I didn’t have wild friends. Nothing they did was immoral, so it didn’t hurt anything.
And yet, it did.
When my dad died six years ago, reality slammed me in ways I don’t think I can articulate. The harshest reality of all was that I had no one I could talk to about it. I had created such a lovely façade of a life that I had no one to take behind the scenes. There was no one to talk to when I took off the mask because no one even realized I wore a mask. I was stuck in solitary confinement of my own making.
One thing I have found, though, when I am totally alone, I’m really not. In my solitary confinement cell sat Jesus.
In Isaiah 61, we are told Jesus came to set the captives free. I was a captive, and all I knew to do was pray for Jesus to set me free. I confessed what I knew held me captive—arrogance, pride, low self-esteem, fear, low self-value, rejection, lying (about who I was and having it together), and other things. I asked forgiveness, and I asked that He would do for me what the angel did for Peter in Acts 12.
In Acts 12, Peter is in prison, and an angel wakes him up. The angel says to get dressed and follow him, so Peter does. Peter assumes this is a dream until he is standing on the street, and the angel disappears. Then Peter runs to his friends, tells them the story, and escapes to freedom. I needed that kind of jailbreak.
It wasn’t enough to get out of prison. I needed to know how to walk and live outside the cell. Which way was I supposed to go mentally and emotionally so I didn’t end up in the same prison again? What was I supposed to do to remain free? What did freedom look like anyway?
I had no idea. But Jesus did, and in the next few posts, I’ll share how He set me free because He wants to do it for you, too.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Job's Friends Could Take Lessons
The clock tells me it is nearly 12:30 am. I've been sitting here trying to find a beginning place for this post for...a while. It seems that posting has been extremely difficult for several months. I have tried. I have started untold number of posts only to close Blogger without posting anything. Two posts actually went public before I deleted them. Mostly, though, I sit here at the keyboard and wonder what to say that isn't continually depressing and is worth your time to read. Often, I find nothing.
That is not to say my life has been utterly depressing this whole time. It hasn't. However, I will tell you honestly the last eight months make up one of the hardest times of my life. Sometimes finding words to convey the reality of life is simply impossible. There are facts that cannot be shared for various reasons, and there are emotions that words cannot begin to express. When that happens, what is there to communicate?
The fact is that for much of the last eight months I have hurt more completely than I ever thought I could. I have amazing friends who are ready to answer a phone any time of day or night, but it seems pointless to call when all you can say is, "I hurt." There were times I lay on my couch or my bed, and my body shook with my sobs. I had no words to even pray. I simply cried until numbness took over, and then I would lie there staring at nothing. I didn't think God had abandoned me. I didn't feel forsaken. I simply had no way to verbalize the pain or address the cause of the pain. So I just was.
When I could talk to my friends, I would tell them without doubt that God's promises are solid. He never lies, and in the end, joy and restoration would abound. However, I wasn't at the end. I was in the desert, and the desert is a hard place that humbles you. It leaves you on your knees, desperate, gasping. "In the future things would be great, but right now, I hurt so much I feel like I can't breathe."
Thankfully, my friends weren't like Job's. My friends are more like Jesus. They prayed with me, for me. They gave me funny cards, encouraging emails, Kleenex. They kept reminding me that the fire might be hell but I wasn't alone. They never doubted the promises either. No matter how things looked or what twists came, they never doubted the promises that God would fully redeem, fully heal, and fully restore.
When I got tired of the battle, they stepped in and battled for me. I would call or email, and instead of being bogged down with me, they would pray right then and there. I'd get prayers via email and over the phone. Sometimes I would get emails letting me know they prayed and the Lord gave them verses or revelation. Often, it was the verses or encouraging word the Lord had given me. They were in agreement with the Lord, and when two or more agree, whatever they ask for is theirs. I listened to some of the prayers or read some of the emails, and I thought, "I'm glad you're on my side."
I know I must have repeated myself a hundred times or more. It felt like it, but they never fussed. They listened, let me pour out my heart, treated it tenderly. One of the things they did that opened the door for me to talk to them is that they knew when not to talk. They had no answers. There were no answers, and they didn't try to offer any. Instead, they had compassion and the wisdom to not not offer cliches or empty advice. Sometimes they would simply say, "I am so sorry this is happening. I love you."
One of the things I marvelled at through out the last few months is the ability of those I hold so close to allow me distance. The desert has so many facets to it. It's a place where survival is foremost on one's mind, and most of the time, it is utterly miserable. One of the things I have learned about survival is without God, I won't survive, so when I go into the desert, I try to make my focus God. I try to spend quiet time multiple times a day. I journal. I read the Word. I pray. I allow my body and mind to rest. For nearly a month, I took a nap every day just to be mentally and emotionally at my best.
When I "hunker down" like that, there isn't much time for email, Facebook, phones, or outside people. They are good support, but God is the only way through or out. And really, even the most amazing friends--and I have fabulous ones--can only be with you from a distance, but God is with you wholly. He is with you and in you. He understands what you can't put into words. He knows exactly what you need, and He is totally committed to getting you through the desert to a better place.
Thankfully, when the contact lessened, the commitment from my friends didn't. They gave me space to "hunker down" and God space to walk with me and to work in me. I'm sure more consistent updates--or updates at all--would have been appreciated, but they never claimed. They never pressured. They simply sent notes or left voicemail letting me know they were available when I needed them.
And I did need them. I still need them. They are my cheerleaders, my prayer warriors, the ones who hold up my hands when I'm weary, the ones who jerk me up by the collar and tell me I can do this, the ones who feed my heart and tend my spirit. They are the ones who know a well-timed, "I love you," can turn the battle. They also know silence is sometimes the best answer. And i know they are for me, with me.
They are my friends, and Job's friends who could have learned a lot from them.
That is not to say my life has been utterly depressing this whole time. It hasn't. However, I will tell you honestly the last eight months make up one of the hardest times of my life. Sometimes finding words to convey the reality of life is simply impossible. There are facts that cannot be shared for various reasons, and there are emotions that words cannot begin to express. When that happens, what is there to communicate?
The fact is that for much of the last eight months I have hurt more completely than I ever thought I could. I have amazing friends who are ready to answer a phone any time of day or night, but it seems pointless to call when all you can say is, "I hurt." There were times I lay on my couch or my bed, and my body shook with my sobs. I had no words to even pray. I simply cried until numbness took over, and then I would lie there staring at nothing. I didn't think God had abandoned me. I didn't feel forsaken. I simply had no way to verbalize the pain or address the cause of the pain. So I just was.
When I could talk to my friends, I would tell them without doubt that God's promises are solid. He never lies, and in the end, joy and restoration would abound. However, I wasn't at the end. I was in the desert, and the desert is a hard place that humbles you. It leaves you on your knees, desperate, gasping. "In the future things would be great, but right now, I hurt so much I feel like I can't breathe."
Thankfully, my friends weren't like Job's. My friends are more like Jesus. They prayed with me, for me. They gave me funny cards, encouraging emails, Kleenex. They kept reminding me that the fire might be hell but I wasn't alone. They never doubted the promises either. No matter how things looked or what twists came, they never doubted the promises that God would fully redeem, fully heal, and fully restore.
When I got tired of the battle, they stepped in and battled for me. I would call or email, and instead of being bogged down with me, they would pray right then and there. I'd get prayers via email and over the phone. Sometimes I would get emails letting me know they prayed and the Lord gave them verses or revelation. Often, it was the verses or encouraging word the Lord had given me. They were in agreement with the Lord, and when two or more agree, whatever they ask for is theirs. I listened to some of the prayers or read some of the emails, and I thought, "I'm glad you're on my side."
I know I must have repeated myself a hundred times or more. It felt like it, but they never fussed. They listened, let me pour out my heart, treated it tenderly. One of the things they did that opened the door for me to talk to them is that they knew when not to talk. They had no answers. There were no answers, and they didn't try to offer any. Instead, they had compassion and the wisdom to not not offer cliches or empty advice. Sometimes they would simply say, "I am so sorry this is happening. I love you."
One of the things I marvelled at through out the last few months is the ability of those I hold so close to allow me distance. The desert has so many facets to it. It's a place where survival is foremost on one's mind, and most of the time, it is utterly miserable. One of the things I have learned about survival is without God, I won't survive, so when I go into the desert, I try to make my focus God. I try to spend quiet time multiple times a day. I journal. I read the Word. I pray. I allow my body and mind to rest. For nearly a month, I took a nap every day just to be mentally and emotionally at my best.
When I "hunker down" like that, there isn't much time for email, Facebook, phones, or outside people. They are good support, but God is the only way through or out. And really, even the most amazing friends--and I have fabulous ones--can only be with you from a distance, but God is with you wholly. He is with you and in you. He understands what you can't put into words. He knows exactly what you need, and He is totally committed to getting you through the desert to a better place.
Thankfully, when the contact lessened, the commitment from my friends didn't. They gave me space to "hunker down" and God space to walk with me and to work in me. I'm sure more consistent updates--or updates at all--would have been appreciated, but they never claimed. They never pressured. They simply sent notes or left voicemail letting me know they were available when I needed them.
And I did need them. I still need them. They are my cheerleaders, my prayer warriors, the ones who hold up my hands when I'm weary, the ones who jerk me up by the collar and tell me I can do this, the ones who feed my heart and tend my spirit. They are the ones who know a well-timed, "I love you," can turn the battle. They also know silence is sometimes the best answer. And i know they are for me, with me.
They are my friends, and Job's friends who could have learned a lot from them.
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