I find it really interesting how music coupled with visuals can have a completely different effect on me than just the words alone. When I listen to this song my my headset, I can’t help but wanting to dance because it’s so upbeat. The other day I was on campus near Crawford Hall… and since there was nobody around I did dance.
This morning… it was the last song that I listened to before I started editing… and it had me standing on my feet and dancing. That was the kind of energy that I needed. Now? I’m tired… and really hungry. I’ve also got a toothache in the making… I do not have the bandwidth to dance right now. So THIS lyric video with the ocean and the sky? It reminded me of Maui. I felt peaceful just looking at the water.
Oahu is nothing like Maui. During the last school year I was too busy to find time to get to the ocean more than once or twice. Then COVID hit and the beach seems a million miles away as I dodge cars to catch the bus to campus and cry over the many homeless people in this city.
Moving to Oahu caused me a lot of anxiety and depression. It’s called “acculturative stress” and it’s actually a thing that can really mess with your mental health. I thought I’d be able to go to the beach every day like I did on Maui. The beach was a huge mood regulator for me… when that didn’t happen, I struggled. I’m claustrophobic. Being cooped up in my studio made it seem like my problems were bigger than God.
Now I’m reminded of what Jesus told the Samaritan woman about how God didn’t need to be worshiped on any sacred mountain. True worshipers would worship in spirit and in truth (John 4:19-24). It didn’t matter where I worship. It matters who I worship. Worship is also not all about emotional hype. It’s good when you feel that… but in the absence of any warm fuzzy emotion, my love and devotion to God are still rock solid.
If I’ve learned anything during this pandemic it’s that God is where I am. He’s not confined in church buildings, so I haven’t been all traumatized that we cannot meet in person. He’s also not only the God of the Outdoors. I miss not being able to pray and have quiet time at the beach… or at the Maui Tropical Plantation… or at the Maui Ocean Center… or at the Queen Ka’ahumanu Mall at 6am when it’s empty… but all that shows me is that I can worship God ANYWHERE. Even on Oahu in a tiny studio surrounded by buildings and people who mash my buttons.
Yes, I do get a bit stir-crazy living in community with a bunch of strangers who like to slam doors. Sometimes I need to get away so I go to campus to just to be. But the reality is… if I couldn’t go out, God would find a way to get my eyes focused on him. If Corrie ten Boom could worship God in a Nazi concentration camp, then surely I can find ways to worship and praise him in my little studio. And I learned after my hysterectomy in 2010 that true worship is not confined to singing. I don’t always have to be singing to worship God. Corrie couldn’t sing in the concentration camp. There are so many different expressions of worship. All God asks is that we mean it with our hearts.
Today is Day 16. My writing was my true act of worship today. At a secular university, I wrote a thesis proposal openly proclaiming faith in God in my search for truth and mental wellness. I couldn’t have finished this thesis proposal without all the people God put in my life. I am thankful for them and thankful to him. So I end this post with a really loud AMEN!!
Every now and then I get an email that I want to remember for posterity. This email sent from the UH Manoa Campus Climate Committee is one such email. This election has been making people crazy (or revealing how crazy everybody is)… Tuesday is going to take an emotional toll on our country and the world no matter who wins. I would like to point out AGAIN, that no matter who “wins” the election: GOD IS STILL GOD.
From the Annals of UH Manoa Gmail
Aloha UH Manoa ohana,
We are just four days away from election day. Last week President Lassner encouraged all of us to engage in this core responsibility and we wholeheartedly support his urging for each of us to vote. It is imperative. In the words of Susan B. Anthony, “Someone struggled for your right to vote. Use it.”
We recognize that this election is especially charged with energy at the county, state, and federal levels. There is a lot to think about in the coming days and weeks about how we can participate and be in dialogue with others. Here are a few ideas on how to plan and remain engaged and empowered:
Ahead of election day: • Determine your voting plan. Please refer to President Lassner’s October 23 email on ways to ensure your vote is counted, including mail-in and early voting options.
• Have you already voted by mail? You can check the status of your ballot with the Office of Elections.
• If you still have questions about the candidates, look them up and do your homework. For local elections, Civil Beat’s Election Guide is a helpful resource. ASUH has also compiled a list of voter education resources.
On election day (November 3): • Haven’t voted yet? It’s ok! The State of Hawaii has election-day voter registration. It is not too late to participate! The Office of Elections website provides information on this process.
•Decide where you will be and who you will be with. Ask yourself: How do I want to spend my day? How do I want to direct my energy in positive ways?
• The media environment may be overwhelming that day. Consider a hobby or participate in an activity. Take a break and go for a walk, or get a treat from your favorite cafe.
• Understand that final results may take time. This Washington Post article helps to explain why. Following election day: – Decide how you would like to engage with others regarding the elections. Do you really want to have that conversation? If so, how can you do so in a way that maintains respect for all parties involved?
– Consider these tips when engaging with others who have differing viewpoints:
• Listen to understand: everyone is entitled to their own opinion, even if you disagree.
• Prioritize your relationships over destructive conversations. Disrespectful language is counterproductive.
• Be prepared for disagreements, and know your comfort level on the topic.
• Know when to disengage: it is ok to walk away. At the end of the day, you do not have to agree.
Most of all, please continue to take care of yourself and one another. This includes taking care of our emotional and mental health as well as our physical health. These are incredibly trying and charged times. Let’s support one another through them.
I’m truly honored that I’m one of the individuals you recall from those quick 2 years. Please excuse the long email below, but it’ll be worth the read, I promise!
Your class and instruction really helped shape me into the type of student that I needed to be for those next several years (especially in the year that followed with Mrs. P’s). Looking back, I actually did lack a ton of self-control because I always sought the spotlight by being the ‘class-clown’-I wouldn’t have survived middle school!
My mom and I both agree that you were absolutely in the right and I needed that ’tough love’ from someone outside my own parents, and I have and will always be grateful for that! You have made a solid impact during my youth and please know that there is nothing to apologize for, I actually should be the one to do so for making you feel like you did something wrong for the last 20 years!
A couple months ago, as I was tidying up my home (yes, I still struggle with keeping things organized at times), I found a report card from your class. I attached it to this email. Look at that improvement through the academic year! I believe it brings validation to your methods since I kept it for such a long time.
I do remember Gold Camp being so much fun-it’s still also been the only time I’ve ever camped! Let me share a couple memories from your class that I can still vividly remember:
Greater appreciation of the beautiful history of California and it’s Spanish roots and the state’s rich agriculture (I learned to eat artichokes in your class and I still can’t help but remember your class every time I do to this day) 🙂
I believe we would have a ‘produce party’ on a few occasions where we’d all bring fruits and veggies to go along with the theme of learning about the state.
You taught us a Hawaiian hymn that also came with a dance
We went on SOOOOO many field trips in your class, it was the greatest thing EVER!
My 5th grade class was right across from yours, and I’d always visit your classroom after I finished my homework.
I’m so happy our Lord has brought us back into communication and I hope that one day we can meet again when the opportunity opens up. I recently reconnected with my 3rd grade teacher and saw her in Seattle a couple years ago. I also pray that He continues to guide both of us at all times and can’t wait for you to see that GRAD school ‘finish line’ (GO LORI GO!!)
Ms. G-you will have a special place in MY heart, too!
Kindest regards,
“James”
Do you see why I needed to post that? God did something in his heart too! Reflection is always necessary to get a bigger picture of the past.
When I looked at the attached report card… I cried. The me I remember and the me he remembers are not the same person. Yet all these years I’ve carried guilt and regret that added fuel to my sense of failure and depression over my earlier years of teaching. God did redeem my last few years of teaching so that I got to see me be the kind of teacher I had always wanted to be. I quit my last job at the top of my professional game.
But feel like God made me a little bit freer today than I was yesterday. I’ve long since believed the saying that “Forgiveness only takes one… but RECONCILIATION takes two.” Today I asked for forgiveness and God gave me so much more!
God blessed both of us today. Reconciliation is a gift. If only world peace was this easy.
When you teach… you take on a very huge responsibility. The bible says that we shouldn’t “presume to be teachers” because those who do will be held to a different standard of accountability. That I knew that scripture always made me mindful of what I said and did in the classroom and the impact my words and actions might’ve had. I used to confess and repent a lot when I was a teacher. I used to pray for my kids and their families all the while regretting that I wasn’t mentally stable enough to handle my job as a teacher and have a family of my own.
My students were my kids. Unfortunately, I wasn’t always the best mom. I made mistakes. Guiding and nurturing somebody else’s kid? It’s not easy.
Teachers have a largely captive audience every day for nine months out of the year. Teachers actually see children more waking hours in that day than some parents do. Shaping young minds is a responsibility that shouldn’t be entrusted to just anybody. There is the potential to do much good as a teacher. Without teachers… there would be no doctors, lawyers, firemen, professional athletes, entrepreneurs, or presidents.
There is, however, an equal potential for teachers to do great harm. I’ve heard horror stories of awful things that teachers have done. The news is quick to pounce on those kinds of stories. I’ve worked with a few teachers over the years who should never have been allowed in a classroom because it was clear that they didn’t really like children. I cringe to think of the emotional scarring that they did. I used to pray for their students too.
And then there were teachers like me… people who got into the profession because they wanted to help kids, but didn’t realize just how much they needed to be helped themselves. I didn’t know how badly I needed help until teaching started to trigger intense depression in me. I also didn’t realize that getting out of teaching would be harder than getting into it.
I knew in 2000 that teaching wasn’t my passion. Yet I was afraid to leave the profession. Two years ago I came a cross a journal entry where I told God (all my journal entries are to God or Jesus)… point blank that I knew teaching wasn’t my passion and that I wanted to write. I didn’t have a vision for what being a writer meant and didn’t quit the profession until 2019…thereby proving that scripture about how “without vision the people cast off restraints.)
Controlling my mood swings when I was a teacher took self-control that had to have come from God. Trying to control my anger so that I wouldn’t take it out on the kids was draining. It made me anxious because I never wanted my words or actions to hurt anybody as I had been hurt. I have lost count of the number of days that I came home emotionally exhausted from all the external stimulation. Teaching made my life hurt. I also had to constantly wear a mask because you can’t let students or parents know that you had been contemplating suicide the night before. I was living a double life. Christian school teacher by day, Bipolar Girl by night.
I made a lot of mistakes over the years and there were kids that I could’ve been nicer to, more empathetic towards, more patient with… but I wasn’t. There were a few to whom I was just plain mean. I wanted to be different. I just didn’t know how. Of course there were those kids who seemed to go out of their way to make my life miserable. This post isn’t about those kids. I had to do years of therapy because of those kids and their helicopter tiger parents.
But there were other kids… one or two every year… who I always felt like I’d failed. It was memories of those kids that used to haunt me.
A few months ago, one of those kids sent me a friend request on Facebook. I was shocked. It felt like God was giving me the opportunity to make amends. I reached out and asked for his email address. I planned to apologize for things I’d done as a teacher that might have hurt him.
For years God’s been talking to me about being a peacemaker. In order to have a credible testimony of being a peacemaker, you had to have gone through conflict and come out on the other side. I saw that friend request as an opportunity to make amends for things I’d done 20 years in the past. It is never to late to apologize. It took me a month to figure out what to say to him exactly, but I wrote to him this morning. His response, which came a few hours later, made me cry. It’s one of those “there’s three sides to every story: your side, their side, and the truth.” Sometimes… we need to get over ourselves (our pride and our guilt) and make the first move.
I want to share my email apology to him and his response to me. I think there might be some people reading this who may need to sit down and write some emails. God brought me peace beyond what I could have asked for or imagined and all because I was obedient and sent an apology. I am now free from all guilt and the door has been left wide open!
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God (Matthew 5:9).
I will NEVER forget where I was on 9/11. Having to go to work at International Christian School that day to be there for the kids whose parents had to go to work… meant I had to put on a mask for the kids so that my fears wouldn’t magnify theirs. That day was surreal. The days after were surreal. I will never forget.
While it IS important to never forget…It is ALSO important to REMEMBER that no matter what trials, traumas, or tears that fall into our lives individually or corporately…
God is still God.
He didn’t stop being God on 9/11.
He hasn’t stopped being God in 2020.
As we pray for his blessings, may we REMEMBER to pray for his mercy and his grace.
May we REMEMBER to come to him in confession and repentance.
May we REMEMBER to love him with all our hearts, minds, souls, and strength.
May we REMEMBER to love our neighbors as ourselves.
May we REMEMBER to pray for and pursue unity in the Church.
May we REMEMBER to be “ambassadors of reconciliation” to a hurting world, so that they might want to be reconciled to God, not driven away from him.
May we REMEMBER to thank God for all that he has done, is doing, and will do. 2020 has NOT overcome God.
May we REMEMBER that Jesus has overcome, is overcoming, and will overcome all the darkness in the world.
May we have healing for the things we will never forget… and growth as we seek to REMEMBER that God has been with us every step of the way shining his Light.
THIS should be the good news that EVERYBODY can embrace:
I do embrace communication even if hard truths, hurt feelings, chronic complaints, and other taboo subjects need to be addressed openly.
I do embrace admitting that there are problems or conflicts and then coming together to ask how MIGHT we come up with solutions?
I do embrace making people stakeholders in finding solutions rather than ignoring them or making them feel as if they are the problem.
I do embrace proactive planning that looks beyond band aid measures to a “bigger picture” approach that anticipates problems and ideates solutions before implementing the plan because this can eliminate a lot of confusion, wasted time, frustration, and hostility.
I do embrace clear conscience communication, open communication, and authentic communication of visions, dreams, goals, strengths, assets, barriers, and problems because it creates opportunity for growth mindset and student-centered design principles to change a center culture at the DNA level.
I do embrace inner healing of wounds caused by past and present abuse. When we take the time to speak life and healing words over people, we model and mentor respect, maturity, and mental wellness. By monitoring ourselves and other staff, we draw a line in the sand. Rather than being peacekeepers who protect the status quo, we become peacemakers who see conflict as an opportunity for growth.
I do embrace clear policies and procedures that are rooted in best practices that are clearly communicated, but also include rationale and room for discussion and collaboration. When people feel like they have a voice and that they will be heard, it builds unity and shared identity.
I do embrace leaders who lead by example and not by words only; who are willing to be vulnerable and accessible knowing that trust and respect are earned.
If we become intentional about what we do and do not embrace… and as we seek to model and mentor with our actions, rather than just with our words… there will be transformation. There will be change that everybody can embrace…
One of my favorite songs… is “So Will I.”
One of my favorite lines in the song says, “If You gave Your life to love them, so will I.”
That sounds SO great in a song… but what if the one you’re being asked to love hurt you? What if they accuse you of wrong doing and you both know it’s a lie. Do you love them then?!
Walking the walk of Christ is a lot harder than talking the talk.
Christians LOVE to tell people that they love them. I’m not so quick to use the L-word because it requires action to back it up and I’m not that good of an actor.
Yesterday somebody hurt me. Pissed me off is actually a better description of what happened… and I forgave her.
Unlike some people would have you believe, forgiveness isn’t always accompanied by warm fuzzy feelings. When you think about the cross, pause really long and think about what Jesus must’ve been feeling physically in that moment. There were NO warm fuzzies about the cross. It was painful. More painful than anything that I could even vaguely imagine and definitely cannot compare to what anybody has ever done to me in this life.
And it was a conscious choice.
Jesus made a conscious choice.
He could’ve opted out.
Forgiveness is also not the same as love.
He chose to forgive us because he loves us.
This person who tried to harm me? Part of me wants to hate her.
Hate is also a choice. But unlike forgiveness… it comes with red hot emotion.
I had to contend with that today because saying the words, “I forgive you”
may not make the angry, hurt, or whatever you’re feeling, feelings go away.
That might take time and a conscious choosing to forgive every time those
feelings resurface.
Forgiving doesn’t mean condoning the hurt. It doesn’t mean turning a blind eye to it or faking like it never happened. It doesn’t mean slapping on a mask and acting like everything is ok. It means recognizing that the hurt… whatever it is… was paid for by the blood of Jesus.
Wow.
I do not get that. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that Jesus died for this person too. He LOVES this person and has forgiven her. If I am REALLY intent on becoming like Christ, I have to surrender my very justified anger every time it surfaces. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t forgive her the first time. Remember…forgiveness is a choice. I have chosen by faithto forgive her and I believe (by faith) that God is going to show me what that looks like.
He’s taught me the virtue of building bridges, not burning them. And sometimes building bridges takes time, especially if there is a large divide separating you. I’m not going to adopt some phony love where I say that she’s “EGR” (extra grace required)… because that’s an enabling type of love where we let people do all kinds of crappy things under the guise of loving them or “loving on them.”
Yesterday, I needed to challenge this person’s narrative. I needed to speak the truth in love… and I did. She didn’t apologize. I highly doubt she ever will… but since forgiveness is a CHOICE… I choose not to wait for her apology. I forgive her.
Will we sit down and sing Kumbya together and braid each other’s hair? Not likely.
Reconciliation? That takes two.
When Jesus died on the cross, every person (man, woman, child…) was instantly forgiven. His arms extended for all eternity, beckoning people to come to him and receive his forgiveness. It is there, waiting to be accepted. But there are people who do not and perhaps never will admit that they did anything wrong, therefore, they do not need this forgiveness. For them… there will be no reconciliation because they just don’t want it.
Yesterday, I tried being a peacemaker… and that failed. My peacekeeper stepped in and the wind and the waves have died down. Today I found anger kicking in… and for an instant… I told God that I hated her. But then God reminded me again, that I have already forgiven her and NOT for the first time. I think I’m WAAAAAAAY past the whole 70X7 that Jesus says we’re supposed to do when asked about forgiving somebody who has sinned against us. The point being… when we are reminded of what they did and the hot emotions resurface, we need to remind ourselves two things: 1) We already forgave them and 2) Jesus forgave them too.
He’s not asking me to like her or what she did. He’s asking me to love her. Love… like hate… or forgiveness is a choice. But it’s also a feeling and I think that’s where people get stuck thinking they haven’t forgiven somebody because they still feel the pain. Honestly? I’m not ready to make the choice to love her. I could say that I love her by faith… and see what God does with that. Because right now? If I said that I loved her I’d be lying. I try not to lie to God seeing as he’s omniscient and all.
Tonight I am choosing not to hate her. I’m choosing to pray for her as I’ve been doing for nearly a year. Since I’ve seen God work wonders in conflicted relationships in the past… I haven’t lost hope about what he can do in this situation. Right now? My heart is hurt and pretty hard… but another one of my favorite lines from that song… is “If You gladly chose surrender, so will I.”
Surrender? Also a choice. So tonight… I’m choosing to surrender everything I have felt, currently feel, and will feel in the days to come for this person. I’m waiving the white flag to God.
And the God of Creation… the omnificent God of the universe… is going to take my surrender and see it as an act of worship. I have no idea how the next few months are going to play out… but next year… when I’m looking back at this post to see just how far God’s brought me? I hope to be able to say, “Since you gave your life to love her, so will I.”
I’m not sure why I find it easier to start my blogs in Facebook than I do here. Maybe the whole “micro-blogging” helps get me jump started. This week has been rough, but while I’ve been largely silent on the blog… I’ve been spilling my guts all over Facebook. I’m going to want to remember today’s post a year from now when I’m looking back to see how far God has brought me.
From the Annals of Facebook…
Thank you Ohana for your prayers!
The storm has been averted. God often delivers me THROUGH a trial, not FROM it. When I’m not so drained, I’ll appreciate today more than I do right now.
I’m on campus now. The library has ALWAYS been my safe place. These trees
outside Hamilton Library? Olive trees. The universal symbol of peace.
I am a peacemaker.
Peacemakers, unlike peacekeepers, say what needs to be said, EVEN if that means disrupting the status quo or challenging the dominant narrative.
Only thing is… I tend to be timid and fearful. Why?
Because I’ve never learned how to regulate my anger to communicate without getting emotional. And right now? The world has very little grace for angry black women… especially ones with a history of mental illness. Can you IMAGINE the headlines?
For my entire life I’ve hidden behind the written word. I’ve isolated myself from the people who hurt me, the people who might’ve helped me… and life became very small, depressing, and dark.
Problems that I couldn’t handle alone and conflicts that required a social and emotional intelligence that I didn’t have caused me to seek sinful and addictive ways to cope making me feel like a big hypocrite.
Begging people for help often invited more pain from people who were “well-meaning but soul-crushing.”
Living in a tiny world like that used to seem unbearable. Angry, unheard, unhealthy… yet earnestly trying to follow Jesus? How is that even possible?
One ignorant woman once asked me what kind of Christian struggled the way that I do… implying that I must not BE one. That wound still hurts. Wisdom says avoid people like her.
Today was different.
A big conflict hit me head on and I wanted to run and hide. God was telling me to speak the truth in love… but doing that when you’re afraid of becoming the latest #casualty isn’t easy.
Praise GOD for PEACEKEEPERS!
We are called to be peacemakers whenever possible… but peacekeepers when we can’t be. If ONE person in a conflict gets to keep doing wrong and hurting people or taking advantage while the other suffers in silence?? That’s NOT peace. That’s wearing a mask.
Today I took of my mask… I didn’t really have any other choice… BUT GOD had a different plan! He sent a PEACEKEEPER to soothe the storm. God gave me the words I needed to say and a WITNESS present to make sure I didn’t end up a hashtag statistic.
That we live in a world that I, a college educated former educator, has to be afraid of being “angry while Black” never felt more real to me until now.
I can be incredibly smart, caring, compassionate… a Christian who would never deliberately hurt anybody but all some people are EVER going to see is my brown skin. Note: The conflict wasn’t racial in nature, but RACE is always on the table.
The storm passed THANKS to my peacekeeper. The door is open to more communication. I forgive the other party… but my trust? Trust is earned… and she stomped all over mine.
Good thing I trust God!!
Good thing he tells me to “communicate not isolate. ”
Ohana… mahalo for your kokua.
PEACE!!!
This week… the body of Christ here on Oahu, on Maui, and various places all over the mainland stood with me in prayer. Though I had to walk most of this week physically alone… I was never truly alone and today, when it mattered most, God showed up by sending one of his kids to hold my hand and walk me through the storm. I’m exhausted. The storm is not yet over, there are details left to be sorted out… but the peace has been kept, I said what I needed to say… God has done all the heavy lifting.
When I was about 6 or 7 years old, my mom dropped me and one of my older sisters off at my dad’s house for a day visit. He was my dad… not my sister’s. Evidently, my mom didn’t feel quite right about leaving me alone with him. To this day, I’m thankful to God that my sister (who no longer speaks to me) was there… because my dad (who was an alcoholic) got drunk and proceeded to chase us around the house with a butcher knife.
We had to flee for our lives. My sister ran out of the house leaving me alone with him. For years I had nightmares and no real memory of what happened that day. I’ve been able to piece memories together… like how he held me on the ground… of me running out of the house… and of my sister and I running to a neighbor’s house… hiding under a table when he came knocking on the door.
The neighbor didn’t know us. We couldn’t remember our names or number. We had to wait at that neighbor’s house until my mom came to get us. And to my knowledge, we NEVER talked about that incident. I just mentioned it recently to the only one of my seven sisters who still speaks to me and was surprised to find out that she had NEVER heard about the incident. Silence kills. Silence separates.
For her, it was like it had never happened. The only reason I know that it happened… because for years… I thought I’d made it up… was when I mentioned it to the sister who WAS there. She remembered more than I did. Now, even what I thought I remembered is gone. To be honest? I’m glad.
Also when I was a small child (in the second grade), my stepfather got mad at me. My sister (his daughter) had broken a kite that I’d gotten. Our older sister R would by kites for me, my little sister, and my nephew in the spring and we’d go fly them. That year, my little sister accidentally broke my kite and I was mad.
My stepfather, recognizing my anger, asked me if I was angry. When I said that I was, he asked if I wanted to break her kite. When I said that I did, he told me to go ahead. He gave me permission to break it…so I did. And the minute that I did, he swept me up by my feet. Then, holding me upside down midair by my feet with one of his hands, he took the kite stick in the other hand… and hit me with it. To this day, I do not really remember the incident. I do not remember if he even hit me more than once. But one act of oppression and abuse is enough to change a persons’ whole worldview.
What I DO remember is being full of rage as I walked up the stairs. I told my sister (the same one who was present when my bio-dad went off) that our stepfather WASN’T my father (he wasn’t hers’ either) and that he had no right to hit me.
To say that what both of those men did to me impacted how I viewed Black men and “fathers” is an understatement. It instilled fear. To say that their actions impacted how I viewed God for many many years goes without saying. I was afraid of him too. I didn’t think I needed God, the Father. I’d had two fathers and look how that had turned out.
But God, in his grace and his mercy was not content to leave me alone in all of that. He revealed to me and CONTINUES to reveal to me what it means to be loved by God the Father, who will never leave me or forsake me or ABUSE ME, no matter WHAT my earthly fathers did.
There are some Christians who will tell me that I need to forgive them. That I need to dig into the roots of my anger and pain as if the thought never occurred to me once in the 26 years that I’ve been a lover of Jesus. Jesus NEVER told us to ignore the pain of the hurting and abused. He was not an advocate of phony forgiveness. Forgiveness takes one. Reconciliation takes two. And healing… might take time.
Healing… for me… hasn’t been easy. It took years of counseling, medication, journaling, prayer, and recovery work. My bio-dad died when I was in 6th grade. My stepfather… there are other issues that have made reconciliation not possible at this time.
But God gave me closure with both of them. There is a difference between forgiveness and reconciliation. Please do not confuse the two. Christians who would insist that telling your story means that you haven’t really forgiven only heap insult on top of abuse.
Father’s Day used to be really hard for me because people would confuse pain and woundedness with unforgiveness. I know that I’ve forgiven both of my fathers, though I still bear the scars. Jesus bears scars and nobody accuses him of being unforgiving.
Father’s Day in the context of the BLM movement and my struggles with identity just means that my roots are showing. And that’s only because God has more healing in store for me!!
Trying to dissect what I’m feeling today? I woke up feeling like crap. My body and my mind hurt because my neighbors on either side decided to assault my ears with their noise. It was 11pm and I was trapped in a hot sweaty room… and I was full of rage. I was tempted to view porn to make myself feel better. My plan today was to sleep in and feel sorry for myself.
BUT GOD had different plan!
I rolled out of bed just in time to attend online church. Pastor Jerry talked about revenge in the context of Romans 12. God KNEW that I needed to hear that message… because I’m honestly not desiring revenge on my fathers OR my neighbors. I just want the pain of what they did/are doing and the consequences of their actions to no longer impact me anymore.
Pastor Jerry also pointed out that calling sin what it is… isn’t wrong. He talked about being a PEACEMAKER when you can be… and being a PEACEKEEPER when that fails.
Pastor Jerry was confirming so many things that God’s been telling me for years. I felt a peace listing to his message that I hadn’t expected.
And if THAT wasn’t enough… Jesus and I attended the 9:30 service at Wellsprings Covenant Church where they did a tribute to fathers. When I found out the topic… I thought I was going to have to leave the room. Church on Father’s Day has been painful in the past.
I couldn’t take ANOTHER church service extolling the need to honor our fathers (even if they were less than honorable). I didn’t want to have to listen to a bunch of people share how great THEIR dads were.
BUT GOD had a different plan…
The WCC service was ALSO unexpected… and EXACTLY what I needed to hear.
No matter what our EARTHLY fathers were like… there is one Father who has always loved me, always accepted me, and always forgiven me no matter how far I’ve strayed or what I have done. Today is turning out WAY different than I expected when I woke up. I thought I’d spend my day in bed, bemoaning my physical pain. Instead, I connected with believers who love the ONE who unites us. The pastor at WCC encouraged people to share their stories about fathers. My story is where fathers, race, ethnic identity, and God intersect. As I type… a song is playing in the background: Light a fire down in my soul that I can’t contain and I can’t control. I want more of you God….
Today is Good, Good Father’s Day.
I want more of YOU, Father God.
Facebook is where I “micro-blog.” It’s where I stay stuff to people who know me (and are contractually obligated to love me)… that I don’t want to post here. But my season of remaining silent for fear of what people will think of me is drawing to a close.
I posted this on Facebook this week.. and in a year from now, when I’m looking back… there will be a record of how my life fit into the larger context.
People keep asking me how I feel about the drama erupting on the national stage…
as if by virtue of my skin color I will have a more informed point of view.
They assume I know all the ins-and-outs of the #BlackLivesMatter movement.
I don’t.
Honestly? I’d never even really heard of the Black Lives Matter campaign
until very recently. All those names of people killed by police that were
at the roots of the anger and the rage?
I’m embarrassed to say that I not only didn’t know their names,
I had no idea of their stories… because stories like those
didn’t filter into the Bipolar Bubble.
My platform… the reason I write…has always been to educate
people about overcoming mental illness, which can kill people
no matter WHAT your skin color is.
But God, made me Black “for such a time as this”
and he’s been having me share
my story… because I’m both privileged and marginalized.
He’s asking me to tell parts of my story that I’d rather not.
Talking about race and ethnicity is difficult for me
because I grew up thinking I WAS a racist.
I grew up believing that I didn’t like black people
because they were mean to me.
I’d been bullied by black people growing up
who called me an “Oreo” or said that I was “white–washed.”
Getting bused out of my neighborhood in South Central Los Angeles to
attend predominantly white schools where I attended a gifted program
where all my friends were white was both a blessing and a curse.
Those years I spent in “the valley” impacted my “ethic identity development.”
Big words that I just learned in my Intercultural Communication class
that help explain me to me…
Helped explain why… after all these years I’ve still
never found where I fit.
Trying to be colorblind in a world that won’t let me?
Not black enough for some
and too black for others…
Has made living in my own skin
stressful, fearful, anxiety making,
and depressing.
Seeing all the anger, rage, hatred,
and bigotry being fanned in social media
has made me want to retreat back
into the Bipolar Bubble,
but time for hiding is over.
When white friends post things
on Facebook not realizing how
hurtful or insensitive… or racists it is?
Makes me feel compelled to share
my story. Maybe is they see a familiar
face telling her truth, they will pause
and think before hitting “Post to Facebook.”
So… what am I FEELING about all of this?
As a Christian of African descent,
My heart is grieving. And as my heart aches, God’s prompting
me to speak, to educate myself on the diverse richness that
is my heritage, and to try to become a better human being.
Somebody who knows more of my story
shared this video with me today.
It made me cry because FINALLY
other people are boldly saying what I have been
too afraid to say:
All Black Lives Matter… even the ones who are “Not Black Enough”
Comfort for the Neurotic in ALL of Us: 