Lightning Strikes (Know where to stand)

When I first went into a Baptist church, I was a little afraid that lightning would strike me as I walked through the doors. So much fear to go, but even more fear to stay home. I spent the following two years, week after week walking in and finding my seat. I stood to worship, and learned to sway. I slowly started to hum the words after over a year. I made friends, joined life groups (and eventually led one!) I studied and learned what was in the Bible. And as they say... to know and love the real Jesus. Not the Jesus I made up in my head, or what I thought I knew. The Jesus I thought I knew was the one where children gathered at his feet and he gave a good feeling to. Despite my past, and in no way placing blame... This was the lens of what I saw everything through until that view broke and I needed a savior. 

The Jesus I knew prior could not fix me, in fact that God I knew I was angry at. What changed was when God told me to be angry at him. This permission, I did not understand. Wasn't he the one who could do no wrong and my disposition was all my fault? But regardless, I was on the floor of my room desperate to do, feel, be something different. So I gave God my anger, I told him it was all his fault. 

After that moment I spend the next two years deep in scripture learning that when God told me "You're angry at the wrong person, be angry at me." What he was doing was allowing and inviting me to bring my anger to him. I learned through scripture that God was the only one who could do something with it. 

What that baptist church gave me was love, through understanding God. I found that God is my husband. He is my friend. He is my children's father. He is my defender, but most of all he is my rest. All the rest that I need. I found total autonomy in being Christ's alone. Conviction that explained how I reached rock bottom before. And a path forward that said "I'm never going back (to my old life)." I found refuge in Jesus, and a place to be loved on in person. 

Slowly I felt a pull to leave. It was incredibly confusing. I prayed for over a year for clarity because I was part of an absolutely incredible church. A church that to this day I have so much gratitude for being part of. I celebrate their growth in numbers, I listen to all their sermons still, and I unofficially still have potlucks at my house with our old life group. I love this church! So what was with this pull? I heard a sermon on church hurt and thought this is not why I'm looking other places, but what will these people who've embraced me think when I stop coming? So I ignored it. 

Slowly that pull began to feel like a push. The church was growing rapidly. Parking was becoming an issue, and a sea of people is the only way to describe it. God was (and is) moving in that church! And a child of mine did not like the crowd. Going became hard. His feelings about the amount of people was not letting up. Frustration was building in him that was saying "Mom no more!" I sobbed. Outside the children's ministry I sobbed. My son refused to go. Here I was so happy at this church, staring at my son saying if he can't go to church, where can he? This was not church hurt. This was God using my son because I was ignoring his call. I didn't want to leave. So God made me listen. "If he can't go to church, where can he go?"

In a story that only God could write, I found myself at a different church. Having to walk into a different building, making new community, and tired. I knew it was home, and then God made it abundantly clear. One night while in bible study I got a text from the children's ministry at the new church "Ronan is having a hard time can you come here?" I saw the text and jumped up. I thought "not again." My stomach sank as I power walked to the door. She explained what happened and that it seemed like he was feeling overwhelmed. It was a new church, same script. I was devastated, beyond. I said "I'm so sorry, please go get him I will take him out." She paused and said "Oh, no... what I'm asking is how can we support him." I felt faint and my face got hot. Tears streamed down as she touched the door knob to get him. "Wait." I said. I started to explain how they can support him through my tears. I said what I do to help him and how it would take more work but if he can have x,y, and z in forms of support. She responded with "How can we support you?" I lost it. What I didn't know I needed to hear. I went from my son's advocate and explaining him like a manual to telling her of our past, of his heart. Of the boy I see every day when he's emotionally regulated. I said how hard it is when he gets overwhelmed and is not mature enough yet to express it appropriately. I said that he needs a grownup to help him and look for the signs that he needs help. I felt in that moment he had support. In fact, I knew it. 

But what next? I called the life group coordinator at the baptist church. I told her of the new church. I was scared she would say "we aren't suppose church shop!" But she didn't. She asked me to tell her everything I wanted to tell her. I explained the above, and how the baptist church made me into a leader. It gave me the biblical background and truth to stand on my own two feet. I had two years of solid sermons that I didn't have to feel defensive of. I didn't have to wonder if I was being tricked or deceived. I learned for myself and then I learned how to lead. Then I said, I feel it in my heart to make room for the next person to come in and learn from the Pastor. I wanted to, and was ready to "give up my seat." Then, I said something that was a lingering thought. A forbidden mom thought. I said "I'm so sad that I have to give up my church because it's what's best for my son. I want to stay because it's good for me and I want him to just have to be ok with that." We ended the call and I felt better. She knew why I was leaving and my deep gratitude. That was incredibly important to me. I felt my claws that were sunk into the baptist church retract as I knew it was time for me to pursue the new one. 

The following week I took my son to volunteer at the new church in helping them set up for their Christmas program. On the drive I thought about the small talk that would enviably come. I braced myself for it. I knew that what I put in, is what I will get out and now starting over again I felt behind the curve once again. We got out of the car and started our group huddle for instruction. With my son at my side we introduced ourselves and the next person in the circle spoke. I was there in that circle for my son. For him to meet some new friends his age that were also volunteering. I stood firm in doing what was best for my child. And then the introductions ended and the lead for the group shared. He said "last night I was woken up from a dream at 3am. In my dream, it was my life 20 years ago. There was so much darkness in my life at that time. I did not know God. It felt so strange to be back in that time, to remember what it all felt life to live without Jesus." He continued stating "God saved my life." I could tell it was uncomfortable for him to speak about but also the reason that pushed him to was because he knew how serious a relationship with Jesus is. God saved my life. Those words were meant for me. The circle broke with our assignments and I approached him. I told him that was for me, I needed to hear that. He remembered that so he could share it with me. 

I was sad that I had to leave my old church for my son and never thought that this church could be good for me as well. I was blessed enough that the following week at church when I had gathered myself a little more to tell him that this experience helped me understand the Bible better. When the Bible was being written for people in the generations that proceeded them, how was it possible that they would know exactly what to say. Hearing him say "God saved my life" those specific words meant something to me. His past, meant something to me because I could deeply relate. It gave me perspective that this church could be a move that wasn't just for my children but for me as well.

In the past few months of attending I've still been pulled into to talk about my son in children's ministry. They have given me advice that has help so much. I've still been met with "mom I don't want to go." But my son goes. 99% of the time there is no issues. He told me the other day "sometimes I don't want to go, but I know it will be ok in there." And everyone still reading, if that wasn't enough God showed up again. 

The previous year in I was privileged to help launch Never Alone Widows in San Diego. A non profit that has healed me beyond words. Did I mention we launched the San Diego Chapter on what should have been my 10 year wedding anniversary? Talk about not knowing the future… We spent the next year being loved by many churches throughout San Diego as they hosted us. But we didn’t have an official home. God always came through and we always had a space, but month to month not knowing where we would be wore on me. I prayed for a church that would “willingly and enthusiastically embrace us and offer us a home.” I had no idea that a different journey of finding a new church for my family, would put me in front of this willing and enthusiastic church staff. Their response was “Yes please bless our church by bringing your ministry here.” On the one year anniversary of our launch and 3 months into calling this church home, we were home in our Widow's ministry as well!

The final driver and a clear closer happened last week. I kept thinking how clear it was made to me that I had entered the church for me. How everything felt almost cinematic. I had written thank you letters to my baptist church, I got clear signs my son would thrive and I was seen in all of it too, but if I was nit picking my daughter hadn't had a "moment." And that was fine. None of these big moments needed to happen, but I sure did appreciate things being abundantly clear. On a Friday morning my daughter had a horrific anaphylactic reaction. It was scary for everyone involved. Her anxiety was high and after our second visit to the ER for a rebound reaction I drove home at 11pm Saturday night with a sleepy drugged up child. The next morning was Sunday and I while my daughter was moving towards physically well, spiritually we were drained. 

I took her into church and she sat next to me coloring the whole service. When they announced there was a wall where you could get prayer she stood up and said "take me." We walked over and approached a man. I expected him to sympathize with her and say "how scary" let's pray for your anxiety. But in what completely sums up the tenderness that we have received at this church he knelt down beside her and said "I understand. I also have to carry an epi pen because I have allergic reactions too. I get anxious over it also." And then he prayed with us. We did not need this church to offer us such a customized experience. We did not need mountains moved, or paths clearly laid. We needed support, a home, a place to be. All of that could have happened without it being so personal. But, it was. And many might say why share every detail of my life. Why blog so much. Aren't some things meant to be kept to yourself, between your family and God?" But here is my response. If you want to know about me add me on Facebook. If you want to know me, read my blog. And if you want to walk alongside me and speak into my life like this church I found... that takes making me feel safe. It takes no games, no motives except to glorify the Kingdom. I can't be convinced otherwise that this isn't happening at this church. Vulnerability, response to the Holy Spirit, and passion to help others only comes from a relationship with the Good God I know.