Sonship

I'm learning that it may be time to really listen when Jason talks about spiritual matters. For years Jason has been ranting about the epiphany of sonship.  I listened with one ear, but not both because I'm not in agreement with his attitude towards the church and it's 'set up'.   For years Jason has been telling me that I am a son of God, but I didn't get it.  I thought, "Of course I am.  Your clueless!"  I felt he didn't understand me.
However, as I was speaking with Marc last weekend he suggested I read:

Sonship: The Journey into Father's Heart

I agreed because I was desperate and was able to hear the discernment he was operating from.  He was right that I have an orphan mentality.  He was also right that I had no concept of God the Father.  I not only had no concept of it, but my bitterness/wounding prevented me from having any INTEREST in knowing God the Father.

That is until I started reading this book.  It's rocking my heart.  I wish the book was a bit more polished, but it's totally rocking my heart.

I'm realizing that Knowing JESUS is NOT The Same as Knowing the Father.  I'm going to say it again because I think this is HUGE.

Knowing Jesus is NOT the Same as Knowing the Father!

Christ's entire purpose for coming to the world, living with us, teaching us, dying a horrid death, and then rising again was to Bring Us to the Father!  I know that I've had a revelation of Jesus and a revelation of the Holy Spirit.  I've based my christianity on these two realities (which are good realities), but the revelation of the father hasn't become a reality to my heart.  However, everything in Chrsitianity is about the love of the Father.  I've known the the doctrine about God the father.  I've even spoke on knowing God as a father, but I haven't personally known that reality myself. Having knowledge of the scriptures is far different then having a revelation of scripture.

I'm realizing that I've experienced Jesus.  I've experienced the Holy Spirit.  I've even experienced the Father's Love in countless ways that have changed my life, but I still don't know the Father's Love. 

My heart has not had the revelation that God is real.  God is Love.  God loves me.

For my entire Christian walk I've always called on the name of Jesus.  That, in itself, is Not a bad thing!  Jesus is Amazing!  He's my intercessor.  He's my Lord.  He Died for me.  He Loves me.  However, how did I miss that he's the Pathway to GOD - His - and My - Father?  How sad.  No wonder so many components of my heart haven't changed or been healed.

I have to wonder if I've really experienced Christianity to it's fullest.  I have to wonder if the reason we aren't raising the dead, healing the sick, loosing people from demonic influence... Changing the WORLD with LOVE... is because most of us don't know who the Author is.  We only know his son.

I feel so thankful that the Lord is showing me how to forgive.  How to count the cost of my loss, face the loss, release it, and ask God to help me replace it with something far more uplifting.

I don't think I could have ever realized how broken my heart is if I hadn't made that step to starting forgiving.  I don't think my heart would have ever had the revelation that I'm missing God and experiencing His love if I hadn't been able to count the cost and release my earthly father from his debt.

Lord, please change my heart.  My emotions, my will, my soul, and my body are all mine, but my heart is WHO I am.  I want my heart to be changed with the revelation of who God, my father, is.  I know that my heart won't change without that revelation.  I don't just want to know Jesus.  I don't just want to know the Holy Spirit.  I want my heart to know who my Father really is.  I want to know what it is to be a son.  A daughter.  Not just a friend of Jesus.

What was the cost?

Throughout my life I've had experience with forgiveness.  I can tell you what the word means, how to go about it, that it's healthy for you emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  I can say I've gone through phases of forgiveness... I guess I would liken it as to an onion.  A metaphor most americans have used to describe a multitude of things.

However, I had an experience this weekend, but especially yesterday, that has left me in deep thought.

I will say that I've always known I had keene abandonment issues when it comes to the choices my father made.  The moment, at age 8, that I had to be strapped down to a hospital bed so that the nurses could take my own precious blood to prove Edward Kamerer was my father damaged me to the very core of who I was.  I'm 33  and I can still remember that moment in vivid detail.  It's a memory that damaged my psyche and planted the seed of self hatred, anxiety, and abandonment. I believed that if my own father didn't want me then no one would.  I've had people come into my life that only validated my belief because they always professed to adopt me as family (whether naturally or spiritually) , but then ended up rejecting or abandoning me. I knew that day haunted me, but I didn't know how to really deal with the damage.  Not to mention the damage it caused where I was unable to accept that God loved me.  Actually, I not only haven't been able to accept it, but I secretly hated him.  I felt he failed me.  Not only failed me, but failed in creating me.  I would sing the songs at church, or read scriptures about God's love, and subconsciously I'd always change the word, "God" to "Jesus" because I could accept that Jesus loved me, but not God the father.

To say that I've always struggled with depression is an understatement, but this last 1.5 year has been particularly difficult.  I've been screaming for help so long, with no help in sight, that I started to believe that no one could help me.  Actually, that's the message I was receiving from the doctors I visited.  I was clinically depressed, but this area didn't have any good resources to help.  I was floundering horribly because I couldn't see a door out of the hopelessness I felt almost every day.  It frustrated me to no end because I know triggers.  I know psycology.  I know how to help someone else 'snap' out of the funk, but I couldn't pull up anything to help myself.  I'm embarrassed to admit I woke up last week ready to check myself into the hospital because I saw no hope in front of me.  No door.  I couldn't think or analyze myself out of it!  I didn't want to check myself into the hospital because I was going to hurt myself.  I thought that if I did something that drastic that maybe I could finally find someone to help me.  I called Jason's pastor who was trying very hard to be helpful and ended up calling a therapist that I've heard about.  The experience was interesting and helpful.  I told him my life story in record time and at the end he asked me if I had any questions.  I did.  I asked him, flat out, if this was a waste of my time... could he help me.  He proceeded to tell me what he saw and it was quite shocking.  He believes I have a form of PTSD from the trauma I experienced as a child always looking over my back, trying to make sure I wouldn't experience abuse, ducking and dodging to make sure everything was okay.  He also thinks that my biggest problem isn't depression, but anxiety.  That if you look at a house no one ever thinks about the basement, but that my basement, and foundation, is full of anxiety.  That my anxieties actually trigger my depression.  He helped me remember/understand that I had simply forgotten how to recognize my 'triggers' to anxiety and told me he'd help me figure them out so that I could cope.  I left feeling very encouraged, but two days later I woke up in a funk, once again.

This weekend Jason forced me to go to something like a revival with people who are like minded believers.  I'm not too sure if I agree with everything Jason believes, but I will say that I met a remarkable wise man by the name of Mark.  His wife was great too, Lori.  We ended up talking for quite some time and the revelations he had about fear/anxiety/depression left me in tears.  Fear is actually the counterfiet of the prophetic... where you foresee the worst case scenerio and project it onto everything and everyone in your life and that depression comes in when you can't see an escape or door to escape.  That's when hopelessness creeps in and tries to suffocate the life out of you.  He also identified, clearly, that I have an orphan mentality.  An orphan believes that they have no one to count on.  That they are the only means of survival.  They figure out how to survive by will power, strong intellect, through their emotions, etc.  I've always survived off of my intellect and having the ability to read people or situations.  Not being able to do that, with this bout of depression I've had for the last year, has been suffocating any hope I had.

But that's not what left me pondering.  I met with them yesterday after having a horrible night thanks to anxiety.  They sat with me and then Mark looked right at me and told me it was time to forgive my father for his choices and failures that led to that painful experience when I was 8.  I kind of nodded, smiled, and thought, "Well, that's no surprise."  But, what he said after that has changed my viewpoint of forgiveness.  He said, to forgive, that we must take account of the COST that the incident or person caused you.  What did that cause me?  Well, I took on the belief that I had no worth.  That I wasn't wanted.  That father's were untrustworthy.  That I was unlovable.  That I deserved an apology... amongst a few other things.

He then told me that I needed to acknowledge the cost verbally and then RELEASE my father from his debt.  Acknowledging that he couldn't pay that back even if he was alive to apologize.  Then, ask the Lord to heal those areas and show me the true love of a Father.  Because, the one thing I've always wanted, and felt I deserved, was an apology.  The hardest thing I had to struggle with, after his murder, was that I could never hunt him down to ask "why" or to hear, "I'm sorry."  It's never going to happen so I believed I could never really gain healing.

It sounds so crazy as I type it out, but it was real... and very interesting.  It was freeing to finally identify just what that incident cost me, saying it out loud, choosing to release a debt that couldn't be repaid, and then asking the Lord to help me see the truth of a father's love.

But normally, to forgive, people think they'll jsut give it enough time until the pain goes away.  But, that's not true.  It's not validating the pain you've experienced, or the lies you've adopted, and then really realizing that xyz couldn't repay that debt even if they were able to.

I don't know.  It was interesting.

Also, as I reviewed that situation in prayer, it became clear that day also marked the beginning of my anxieties.  As they strapped me down, held me down, my mom left the room, and they proceeded to draw my blood I went from fear to straight up PANIC.  That moment, as I panicked in raw fear, the seed of anxiety was planted deep in my heart.  I believe that's when all of my high anxieties were born.  Interesting, huh.

I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I'm hoping life gets brighter.  I'm hoping this process of forgiveness  will help me finally be the woman, and mother, I'm supposed to be.  That, as I heal, I can finally accept God as my father.  I hope that I'll no longer hate him, fear him, and cringe when I read, "God is love."  I hope that I can finally accept it, trust it, and see it for Him for Who/Want He really is... and that's Love.

I will also be seeing a specialized doctor in Lubbock in three weeks.  I'm hoping he can help me figure out what's going on with my body/hormones/chemistry that's aiding in the depression/physical struggles I've had since a child.

I realize I'm putting myself out into the world, but I have to believe that there are other women, and mother's who are struggling with such a personal struggle with depression.  It may not be depression you struggle with, but everyone needs to forgive someone who wounded them.  Maybe my journey, and struggles, can some how encourage others to know that they aren't alone.  That God cares for them even if they don't feel it... and that somewhere, some how, there is hope.

God Bless.

Clinical Depression?

I think I might have clinical depression.  It's kind of nice to admit, but exhausting to look at.  Just admitting it makes me want to take a nap and cry a little bit.

Yet, am I REALLY surprised?  No, not really.

I went to the doctor last week to do an annual appointment.  I asked her to do routine blood work including my thyroid.  I sat in her office weeping because I felt like something was wrong with me... hoping they'd find something that could be fixed with a pill of some sort.  She listened to me, very patiently, but at the end told me she doubted my blood work would come back with any problems.  She told me, very compassionately, that she thinks my problem may be bad clinical depression.  Then, in the next breath, she told me there was no resources in this town that could help me.  She said she sees people come into her office in a darker place then myself, but all she can pray is that they don't hurt themselves because there are no resources in this town to send them to.

I left her office very bummed, but still hopeful she was wrong.  Then I get the call today that my blood work is normal.  You'd think that would be something to celebrate, but I cried instead.  Then it's true, without God's grace, I'm screwed.  At least I'm screwed as long as I live here because the resources are limited.

See, this isn't the first time a medical professional looked at me and said something very similar.  I remember, in high school, I admitted myself into the psych ward because I just had no desire to live.  I sat there telling the intake lady how I was almost raped, bullied, abused, panic attacks, massive weight loss due to anorexia, rejection... the list when on.  They tested me for everything under the sun!  The doctors were all bewildered and told me, flat out, they couldn't find a single thing wrong with me.  They couldn't understand why I was so depressed.  A few days later, I was having a massive panic attack.  The nurse, who changed my life, was rubbing my back to calm me down when she said, "Janine.  There is nothing wrong with you.  The devil is just trying to kill you."  I realize, to my friends in the medical field, that sounds insane, but I find it to be true.  NORMALLY, if I can keep my eyes on Jesus, stay in the word, and work on my perspectives I can stay on top of the darkness/funk/fog, but once I lose track then it bombards me again.

Yet, I'm weary.  Exhausted.  My kids deserve better.  They deserve a mom who doesn't find it a chore to play with them.  Mind you, no one ever played with me as a kid, so I really struggle knowing 'how' to do that.  That doesn't mean my kids aren't loved.  I kiss them, hug them, and tell them I love them all of the time.  Yet, just the simple nursery rhyme overwhelms me because I don't know the lyrics.  No joke.  My friend just taught me the complete nursery rhyme "bakers man".  Now I sing it with Ben all the time because I know the lyrics.  I may hate playing with them, but I'm good at teaching and encouraging.

I've begged Jason to move out of this town for years, but recently I've increased my nagging.  I want to be in a town that has programs like, "Celebrate Recovery."  I've never been at my healthiest then when I was apart of that ministry at Vineyard.  I need to find people who understand depression and help you process your perspectives.  I've reached out to every pastor, or their wife, about my struggles and they always look at me like I have four heads.  They will say they'll pray for me, but no one - NO ONE - in this town has ever given me any follow through.  Or!  They have compassion and some kind of understanding, but once I leave their building I no longer exist.  I 'get' that pastors aren't equipped to help someone with depression, but what about follow through?  It's just so discouraging.  Am I really that screwed up that no one can help me? 

Ugh.  Thoughts/feelings like that only breed darkness because hopelessness creeps in and it's very difficult to combat hopelessness.

I've seriously battled depression since I was a small child.  A CHILD.  I've experienced every kind of abuse one could experience.  Thankfully, some of the abuse was less severe then what you hear about on the news, but nonetheless it was extremely scarring.  From sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, spiritual abuse, HORRENDOUS bullying when I was younger, rejection, abandonment... No wonder I struggle with self hatred and depression.

But, once again, I'll "put my big girl panties on" and battle to have a normal life.  I'll look into exercise again to release good endorphins and lose weight.  That alone, at the very least, will help combat the self hatred that I struggle with.  I'll plug into the books and biblical resources I have.  I'll hope that, as I seek His love, that the Love of Jesus will finally heal this weary soul.

I just wish God would heal me.  I'm 33.  Haven't I battled this 'demon' long enough?  I understand empathy.  I understand compassion.  All of my friends come to me with their problems because I can empathize, have experience that has given me some wisdom, and because I love them where they are at.  Thank you Lord... but, seriously... Can't this battle just be over with?