The rain fell rigorously against the tinted windows of the gray Porsche. You could see the admiration or perhaps it was envy of those driving by. Sergio’s Carrera was fully loaded with everything and anything he could have added to the car. In the past, I would be chastised for not applying enough perfume or perhaps forgetting to add the lipstick. I wanted tonight to go well, so I reached for the small bottle of perfume I had thrown in my purse before we left. We were just minutes from the club and I was thrilled to find the little thing in that huge purse.
“This car is worth more than you are! Put that *$#@!* thing away. I won’t even fart in this car!” I had upset him by trying to please him. I knew that would set the tone for the evening. I didn’t realize that odors like perfume remain in the “leather” of the vehicle decreasing its value. I’m not sure I fully believe that, but he was so much smarter than me. At least, this is what I told myself as well as several other lies. Things like, “You deserved it... You can’t do anything right... What is wrong with you?” Ah, what is wrong with you? Those famous words had been said by my mother almost every day of my childhood. They resonated in my own head for most of my life. Sometimes they sounded like my mother’s voice. At other times, they were in my own voice. At other times, it was the voice of whatever abuser was in my life at the time. Later in the evening, James Sergio would push me out of his moving vehicle onto the Mopac expressway. Several cuts, scrapes, and broken ribs later
I sat in my boss’ office explaining, with great difficulty, why I did not want the police called. I had trouble breathing and speaking. Broken ribs hurt worse than childbirth! I was blessed that I managed that medical clinic and the physician cared a great deal about me. His clinic was the safest place I had ever felt up to that point. It saddens me to think of all the times I sat in that office while he put me back together again.
There was a period of time where I no longer heard those voices yelling at me in my head. I no longer heard my mother asking me what is wrong with me. For a while, I started to believe that there wasn’t anything wrong with me and that I was just good enough… period. Then came abusive man number… hmm… I have lost count. This one was a Christian though and he didn’t abuse me; he abused my children. I have since learned that abuse takes many forms. You don’t have to throw someone out of a car to cause injuries as serious as broken ribs.
I have days where I realize I am enough to God and that is all that matters. Then I have other days where I consider all of my mistakes, all the people I’ve disappointed and hurt, and the situation at my church recently yells in my head. “What is wrong with YOU!” So many loud and cruel words hurled at me.
Then it occurred to me this evening that God has never yelled at me. Actually, I sometimes think he isn’t speaking to me because His voice is that “still, small voice”. God doesn’t lose patience with me and throw a toddler fit in heaven. “She won’t obey me! WAAAHHH!! She won’t submit to my expectations for her! Out you go!” I have never heard God say those things to me. Even when I really have deserved excommunication from Him. He tells me I belong to Him no matter what.
Tonight, I questioned God. Are you sure you still want me, Lord? I continue to do so much wrong no matter how much I want to do right. I live in utter confusion most of the time and fall short of the things I know I should do. Are you sure you don’t want to excommunicate me, too? I felt the need to explain to God, as if he didn’t know, what the gal at church had said to me right before we were asked never to come back. She told me that it’s obvious I don’t know my identity in Christ and would not benefit from discipleship with the church because my life was in shambles. Don’t you know my life is in shambles God?
I heard His voice in my head clear as day. “Its okay that you don’t know your identity in Me. I know your identity in Me.
I started sobbing because the words were so clear and so gentle. I realized that even when God redirects me and right out disciplines me; He still doesn’t yell at me. He shows me His ways gently. I get the image of a shepherd going after that one lost lamb. The lamb that has stupidly walked right into a black pit and is now covered in mud, its fur matted, smelly, and dirty from wandering in lonely places. Yet the shepherd isn’t looking at the shambled lamb. This lamb belongs to me is all God thinks. The shepherd gently picks up the dirty and shivering lamb and wraps His warm, strong, and safe arms around the little creature. Yes, God is that shepherd and all of us at one time or another are that smelly, wandering lamb.
I have been guilty of putting my own experience into God’s identity. I sometimes see Him as an angry abuser just waiting for me to fail. But, I know this isn’t true. God isn’t waiting for me to fail. He loves me despite my failure. He doesn’t discard me. Even when God spoke to the sea, He didn’t have to scream and shout. He just said, “Peace. Be still.” And it was done.
I have been so unfair to God. I have gone from one unhealthy relationship and friendship after another. Searching for someone to love me unconditionally. Searching for that gentle and accepting voice. Trying so hard to be the perfect friend, the best wife, the most giving girlfriend, the most exemplary employee. I had that gentle and accepting friend the entire time. God has been right here.
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