Mislabeled

How can a wall that is so full of ugly things be so comforting? I should by all accounts want to erase it with water and maybe even a fresh coat of paint.

Instead I stood in front of it; jeans smeared with chalk dust,  a little teary and feeling mixed battles happening in my heart.

It took me the better part of an hour to surrender. To be truly obedient.

At first thinking I would be writing a dozen words and phrases—I had filled the entire 8×10 wall with words that spoke to my lack. All the things others had said that I used as judgements to keep me “acceptable”

Every phrase that still stung, every word that I used as a bumper between me and becoming a complete waste of time. Every mocking judgement that I used as a basis for word vows I hadn’t seen.

“Naive, burden, too much for anyone, wrong, broken, misleading, failure, too young, not smart enough, not usable by God, too sensitive…”

The list went on.  And then kept going.

(Is this truly what you think of yourself?)

I felt the Lord press gently on my heart.

“Yes and no, Lord. These words somehow feel comforting. I know some of them aren’t true, but some of them are truly how others see me. I don’t want to be seen that way, I don’t want any of them to be true so I remember. I remember and learn how not to be these things by avoiding becoming them.

Burden? Fine I wont need anything.

Naive? Fine, I will study and learn everything I can.

Failure? I know. I can’t stop failing, but I will just do better. I will try harder. I will suck it up and make it count. Nothing is easy and nothing is free. I have just been lazy and not been doing my best.

Too young? I’ll just prove my worth by selectively acting more mature in front of those people. They won’t see my lack of experience again”

And the word vows went on. I could feel my breath catch as I felt the constriction of “do better” take hold again.

(Daughter, that doesn’t feel like freedom)

It didn’t. It doesn’t.

I had been sick the week before in a way I had never been. I ignored it for a few days…ignored the ache and pull in my side and pressure in my back. Ignored the low-grade fever and room-spinning nausea. I even ignored the lack of appetite and energy, it wasn’t anything crippling so it wasn’t anything. I shut down the “what if’s” that come so naturally to worriers. Nope. Nothing.

The brain-fog and forgetfulness started to get my attention, but it was really when I started getting major details wrong that I started to think I should maybe take it a little more seriously. I miscounted things at work, and couldn’t keep times and dates straight.

I finally decided it was bad enough to take care of myself. Finally started drinking extra water, taking extra vitamins, using oils in capsules around the clock. I needed to be able to function, I would care for myself that much and no more.

Two days later the physical symptoms were the same but my detachment was worse. I was weepy at the thought of doing anything but sleeping.

I was drinking close to a gallon and a half of water a day and sleeping as much as possible. But my mental fog persisted and my attitude and energy level worried both me and my husband. So I went in to get checked out.

Every nurse we saw said, “Let’s check you for a kidney infection, maybe appendix.”

So we followed the steps, got the tests and I slept while we waited.

“Your blood is squeaky clean, everything looks perfect. Did you want me to send you home with some tylenol for pain?”

I kind of lost it. That’s it? It’s in my head and they’re drugging me with tylenol?

–not really what they had said, but I was hurt and interpreting instead of listening.

I was hurt and upset on a deeper level than I thought possible and definitely on a level beyond what this situation warranted.

“So no kidney issues? No appendix?”

“You don’t have any symptoms. Nothing in the tests we ran, no real fever, no actual throwing-up and you’re not doubled over in pain. Ultrasound was clear of stones. So if you’re still experiencing pain I can give you something to take home, but there’s nothing there.”

Well okay then. What about my mental state? It didn’t matter. I had obviously jumped to conclusions and I couldn’t be trusted with reality. (Still not what they had said, but pain doesn’t treat words fairly)

I muttered to myself as we headed for home. The afternoon was awful. I was wrestling with myself, painful memories, my physical feelings and emotional shame coming from every direction. I was not feeling well and I let it show. Ugly words flowed from my hurting heart. I formed them into spears and I spoke every lie the enemy whispered in my ear. I misdirected my pain at my husband instead of crying out to the Lord.

Friends prayed, asked about how I was feeling and followed up.

I was embarrassed to answer that nothing major was wrong.

“What is wrong with me, that I would rather have something be horribly broken and be right, than be wrong and recovering?”

Pride slips into our hearts unnoticed sometimes.

“God you win. What do you want me to see in this? What is going on? I confess that I don’t know, and I have acted badly, but seriously. What do I do from here? You know I didn’t want to get checked out in the first place.”

He was doing what I had asked Him.

Refining me.

Uncovering dark and broken things and asking me to throw them out.

He was being faithful and I didn’t see it.

So I stopped and started listening.

“What do you want me to see? I don’t feel like listening. I feel like running and being angry. But I want to go forward more than I want to sulk. So…I’m angry, but I’m here to listen.”

I saw a picture of me filling up my wall with the ugly names I called myself.

So I went home and stood in front of my chalk wall. And I began writing.

One column on the left so I could write God’s counter next to it.

(Keep going.)

“Another column? Okay. I probably could come up with some more.”

(You will fill the whole wall)

“The whole wall? Like with lots of space, and room for you to work?”

(This is not my work. I am undoing all of the work you’ve put in to protect yourself in your own strength. It separates you from me. Keep writing)

I went through three pieces of chalk. Then a fourth. Then I stood back to look at the framework of my identity. The studs that formed what I felt was my life’s goal to overcome.

I sat down and stared at the wall. I felt the Holy Spirit press me to pick up my pen and notebook. As I put the tip to paper I began to write as quickly as I could keep up. A note to me from my Heavenly Father.

(When you’re trying to live without bumping into any of those labels, there isn’t any room to breathe. Every time you touch one…it yells out at you. Carefully positioned by the enemy to be where you didn’t expect it to be. It isn’t a coincidence that you ran into “hypochondriac” and “not important” with your diagnosis-which you also knew why you didn’t get.

The oils were working and you were willing to pray. That sickness was a test to see if you would choose to care for yourself. And you did. You surrendered the road-blocks.  

Your victory was in coming in a way that even science could see. You weren’t defeated. You were discouraged by not having words on paper that you already knew. Not one person doubted you, not even the doctor you’re bitter at. He offered you pain meds-he welcomed your questions, he respected your emotion, he was simply going by the book.

I told you you would end up there and that it would be hard and get worse. It did. You needed to trust me and know that I had you. I did. I do. I gave you vision of how I loved you when you could still accept it and how I love you still. 

But you can’t see me or feel the warmth of my love because you won’t let me in.

These ugly words are not as appalling to you as they are to me. You know them well, the truth is this wall has been swirling around your head for a while. You know them so well that you expertly dodge being hit by the words and have stopped questioning them. 

You can’t live freely or dance with them in the room. So word by word and brick by brick I want you to tear them down-forgiving the speaker and letting me bless them. Break the soul ties and break these down .

You will feel like you are blindly walking in the dark scared to stub your toe. This is where you must trust me to guide you. You may not feel my love yet but you know it’s there. Start with that as we remove these layers. We are removing all of them-even the ones you think are good. We are rebuilding your vision from the ground up.

These words have been the structure for your identity but your freedom won’t ever fit this box or maze and the movement you need to have a relationship with me isn’t possible within these confines.

You cannot serve others and go where I call you when you are a slave to these death-movements. Life is freeform. Singing in the spirit follows no rules-living in the spirit even less. Freedom lies on the other side of this wall. Life is a victory over death, when you stop dwelling there you will see clearly and step out of the fog you hate yet clothe yourself in.

Daughter, look at your bondage, your cage, it holds you by your will-not mine. And it is a false sense of security. 

Erase these words as we address them one at a time, refuse each bar on the cage from holding you. Until you get angry at the one thing you should be angry at. 

Be angry that the enemy that dared to hold the king’s daughter hostage as a slave. Dared to hold her beauty as the standard for ugliness and called her special because she could listen to the lies longer than before. How abhorrent! Call out the slime and muck you have been in. It is not your cage, it is not your worth, it is not your name.

If the enemy lies to you about who you are, then you cannot see the light within. You do not know I am there. And he is safe.

He knows the threat so he binds tightly. If he looses even one knot, then he sees the light and fears you will discover it too. 

Call it out! See the truth. Let your joy spill and erupt from you! It is contagious!

Stop letting worry bind your mouth, fear-your ears, shame-your hands, trouble-your feet

Burst from this cage of lies and run with the power my love gives you. Let my glory come rushing from within and fuel your joy. Daughter, open your heart to home.)

Stunned I sat and stared at the wall and the note that had so gently corrected my heart.

My identity matters to Him. He loves me too much to leave these ugly words in a closet in my heart. They corrupt over time. Blacken and spoil the healthy parts that touch.

The ugly hurt-words that I spoke came from these dark parts.

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. –Proverbs 4:23

 

And I wasn’t without warning. I just thought I could shove those thoughts and hurts far enough below the surface to avoid them.

But once my strength failed, I could not hold them down any longer.

I wrote with chalk over a week ago. A few at a time I am clearing the wall and forgiving and clearing my heart.

The Lord is doing surgery on all the parts that need to go, carefully stitching and creating a path of deeper healing; drawing me near.

I’m a mess. And that’s kind of the point.

My mess reveals my need for His grace and strength.

I love you and your mess friend, so does He. And you’re not alone, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all have stuff and shame keeps us from laying that stuff at the feet of Jesus.

Will you bravely let the light in?