A Teapot in the Dark

In my last regular post, I ended again with that long walk to my van. Faith gone. Disillusioned. Crying. Frightened. In spite of the bright August sun, I was in the dark. I didn't know anyone or anyplace I could look for guidance. All of my regular sources bore the stench of betrayal, and I turned inward.

I feebly attempted to appear happy. It was nice to stay at home, but I grew restless quickly. I tried to make up for the loss of income by clipping coupons, and looking for deals. And I learned that I HATED clipping coupons. (Seriously, still do). I started working fervently on a wedding for a friend, and that became a welcome distraction, but I still felt sick at heart, and numb. Numb, at least until the realization of what had happened in a place that I had loved and defended for years washed over me. So I capitulated between disinterest, empty euphoria, and tears. 

I had a health issue that had grown worse during the year or so before that made my emotions all the more volatile. After a falling out with the bride I was helping, I turned over all the work I had done, and was not able to see the fruits of my labor at the wedding. And, honestly, the dark got even darker. And I was bitter, bitter, bitter, and so sad. God had deserted me. I was sure of this. And Satan whispered often to me that I was of no worth, and that God was distant and uncaring.

There were many conversations with acquaintances that ended in "If you could just pray and find a good church, you will be so much better." At that point they might have well told me to slather my self in syrup and stand on ant hill. Prayers ended in tears and bitterness, and church services? They turned my stomach. "All these stupid people gobbling this stuff up. What have they done differently than me? Just wait. You'll all find out just how futile all of this is." This inner monologue went on and on. I am still grateful that no one could read my mind. It all just. . . . hurt, both physically and mentally.

It would be a wonderful thing to say that all of this is now resolved, and that every, single day I am a happy, giddy Christian flitting about Greenville with wings strengthened by God's grace, but that's a lie. Many days are still dark. The story of my dark times continues, but I will soon share what God does for a sad, short, stout gal who has lost her faith, and trust.

Even as I write this, my heart heaves with a recent, new hurt, and my emotional state is, let's say "fragile." (Goodness-I do seem to cry in some way with every single emotion. I am soooo not a Vulcan). I struggle with a loss of support from someone close to me. I know that God sent that person along to help me during the dark times after leaving Bob Jones. But, for now, due to a transgression on my part, that support is gone, and I'm not sure I will ever gain it back. 

I say that not to discourage, but to share a lesson I am learning right now, in this moment. Because God did bring me through those dark times before, and

He did show me the light even when I tried to close my eyes tight and turn away, I know that He is still there. He does still care. I know what my heart wants, but I am willing to follow Him, even if it pulls me away from people very dear to me. No, I don't want that to happen. Not. At. All. But God sees all, and He will provide what I need. He is never the problem. It's me. But, He loves me anyway. That's pretty amazing. 

So, my plan in my next post is to share a few more details of my lessons learned, and how God works in those details.

Prayers for all of you.

Serve God. Love others.

Teapotjan

Teapot's Interlude

Not enough time this week to finish another post, 

but this sums up a lot of my life.

Love,

Teapotjan

Teapot's Long Walk

At the end of my last post, Satan had delivered his one-two punch of guilt and self doubt. I was leaving a job I had truly loved, and a place that I had thought rested on the pinnacle of the Christian faith, and I was walking toward my van to leave both forever. And everything was black. Everything. My faith in man and God was gone, and I did not want to move forward.

I resigned of my own choice. But that decision was based on how the administration of my department had treated me as a woman, and co-worker, as well as the lack of support from the school administration. I had fought, since my husband had left the school two years before, to receive the same benefits as my male co-workers. After a long year of paying tuition for the only child enrolled at that time, and a struggle to work until five and throughout the summer without the benefit of paid child care, my struggles seem to pay off, and I was granted back tuition and child care. I was exceptionally happy, and I felt validated. The news came while my family was on vacation in South Dakota, and I actually looked forward to the end of vacation and my return to work.

Someone posted the other day on Facebook saying that if you can tell your story without crying, then you are healed. But, even four years later, I still can't talk or write about this without shedding a least a few tears. 

When I returned to work after vacation, things became much worse. I had a staff co-worker lie directly to my face, and then deny it. I overheard comments and implications about how I, along with one or two other department employees needed to be forced out because we demanded too much training for our student workers. And I found that many of the female students did not want to deal with that same co-worker because of the questionable things he said to them. Scheduling changes in training were made and I was not informed, along with many other actions and talks that I now realize were harassment. At one staff meeting, I made the statement that if I were a man, I would be more respected. One co-worker said to me under his

breath "You know, there's an operation for that."I did report it, and I was brushed aside. Yet I still heard in chapel, and in faculty staff meetings that all these kinds of decisions were made by godly men, making prayerful, godly choices. And I kept trying.

But day after day, I returned home from work, crying, stressed and sick. Rumors about me and my family flew around the school, and made their way to my church. It wasn't that I was worried about the rumors because that's just what they were. But it was those who heard them, knew they weren't true and did nothing. At all. In fact, the main rumormonger was promoted above to "keep him away from the students as you requested." As the school year passed, I knew I had to leave for my own health, and for my family.

That long walk was only a hundred feet or so, but by the time I reached the driver's side door, I had determined that God must be watching from very far away, if indeed He existed, and that I had been an idiot to trust that He would bother with me.

So, here I am again-at that van. The walk is over, but the next few months were very dark. Again, I say that if God had not watched over me, and lead me even in my blindness toward Him, I would not be here to write these words.

Next, I'll finish the details of those darkest months, and share how God in His wisdom and grace delivered me.

God is Good,

Teapotjan

The Teapot Has Left the Bubble! A Look Back

Way back at the start of spring before weddings, and graduations, and broken air conditioners, and cars that wouldn't start, and a few weeks with a sweet friend with Alzheimer's, and the loss of a beloved aunt, I wrote a blog about how some happenings had triggered a return of an old enemy: bitterness.

All the things in that list, along with a few recent ponderings brought that post back to mind, along with that same old feeling, along with its more malicious buddies, guilt and self-doubt. I think these three emotions are some of Satan's most malicious weapons in the lives of Christians.

If you know me, or have read any of my posts, you know that I have physically stepped away from the IFB (Independent Fundamental Baptist) movement and all of the churches, speakers, and groups similar to or related to them. In fact, four years ago on August 27th, 2011, I walked out of the entrance building on the campus of Bob Jones University, leaving behind a job of 11 years, and a lifetime of IFB mentality. The Bubble surrounding the university and all of its satellite churches, had popped for me, and the regular world loomed before me. And, as I walked to my vehicle, my faith in God dropped out from under me.

I was scared. I was angry. I felt betrayed, abused, used, stupid, and very, very alone. And that's where I left that post long ago back in April.If God had not smothered me in His grace, I'm not entirely sure I'd be alive to write this post. That was not a good state for someone who already battled clinical depression.
The problem was, and still is at times, that much of what I had been taught all my life had been man's opinion of God's Word. I had based my life choices on these teachings. I worked at being the "ideal Christian" daughter, teen, college student, wife, school teacher, and mom. When I failed, as I often did, the guilt could be overwhelming. It seemed incredibly difficult to be what God wanted me to be-futile really. But, I was assured Sunday after Sunday that this was the way a Christian's life should be spent: in a desperate struggle to attain Christlikeness. Cue the song "I've Got the Joy-Joy-Joy-Joy Down in My Heart" in a minor key.

Oh the guilt, the wretched, wretched guilt. Not repentance. Just a hopeless feeling of guilt of not being good enough. Of failing yet again. Paying for a moment of what I thought was guilty pleasure with far more guilt than pleasure. 

On the way home today, I had a flash back when Barry Manilow's "I Write the Songs" came floating out of my van speakers. I instinctively reached out to change the station because that song had been "uncheckable" since 1975 until about 2011 for me. I laughed, and then listened to this "evil" song that had I listened to only when my parents, pastor, and teachers would not know of my grave indiscretion. Some of you may think I'm exaggerating, but those who grew up as I did know that I truly am not.

And then? As I continued to listen to the innocuous, but "uncheckable" lyrics, I became bitter. Just for a moment. But there it was. Flashes of the lecture on the evils of rock and pop music ran through my mind. Good grief! What a religion to cause good-hearted, God-loving people to feel guilty over listening to anything

secular besides very old songs,opera and classical music! How does that help the cause of the Gospel?

The answer is that it does not. If Satan can use guilt to cripple one of God's children to the point of hopelessness, then he has scored a victory. A hopeless, guilty Christian will never be as effective in God's service as a Christian who has embraced the full knowledge of God's grace. And after enough years of guilt, and failure? Cue the self-doubt.

I remember thinking as a young mother that I failed my children everyday that they didn't go over their verses for Awana, or when I was just too tired to get to church on my own. (My husband's schedule has always been difficult, so I was often a "single" mom through no fault of his). I also remember, the passive-aggressive suggestions from leaders in the church and their wives that I surely could do better in my attendance, all the while never offering to help or making one phone call for encouragement. Hmmmm. That's another blog post right there.
I wallowed in self-doubt. I asked for help, and I was told to "believe and pray." I already was. But, I thought I must be doing that wrong, too. Yay! Guilt AND self-doubt. Satan delivered his one-two punch, and I was down for the count.

This is getting long, but up next, is that walk to my van.   

Prayers and blessings,

Teapotjan