eirenemaker

Loosing Myself

I have a theory. How we relate to God as "Father" depends alot on on how we relate to our own father's on earth. That said, I simply couldn't relate to Him as Father at all. Jesus, I got. I even had an image of Him standing between me and God, who just wanted to throttle me. It didn't help that much of the teaching I received centered on Jesus's role as "intercessor" for the saints, "mediator" and our "go between". This conjured up images of Him running back and forth, brokering some tenuous peace agreement between me and God. I entered into my Christianity with a fear of the Lord, but it was the unhealthy kind of fear that binds in legalism and works. Of course, I didn't know this as a 13 year old new Christian.

Even after I accepted Jesus as my Savior, not much changed in our house. No miraculous character conversions here. The fighting continued, except now I felt guilty afterwards. I wasn't just pissing off my mom anymore...now God was angry with me too. I was such a bad Christian!! Where was all that love and peace and joy and "turning the other cheek" stuff that they kept telling us about. So, I'd try harder. That meant that I had to make it up to God. If I screwed up at home mouthing off to mom, or fighting with Lori, then I'd work harder at church. Read my bible more, pray harder, teach Sunday school, find some church activity to volunteer for. If I accumulated enough good Christian girl points maybe they would outweigh the sinful behavior and God would let me into heaven afterall. I clearly didn't understand grace.

I'm not going to lie to you. Mixed in with all this was an insatiable need to be liked. Nothing was more important to me than the good opinion of others, so I can't blame my "backsliding" on lack of a good godly mentor to disciple me. If push had of come to shove...and it eventually did... I suspect I would have chosen the ways of the world at the end of the day, anyhow. Truth be told, I was ashamed of the gospel, with all it's "goody two shoes" expectations. That became evident to me the first time I tried to tell someone about Jesus and they laughed at me. The mortification shut me up for good, which only heaped more shame on my head. Now I was a bad and completely failed Christian.

I remember thinking that if I could just stay in church Monday to Saturday, I'd be alright. Every Sunday I'd renew my vow to God after begging Him to forgive my sins that week. I'd promise that if He'd just forgive me one more time, I wouldn't do it again. Then Monday would come and there would be the lure of skipping class to get drunk, or smoke a joint, or hang out at Mr. Mikes and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes all day, and I'd bite. Then on Sunday, I'd repent all over again. Crazy eh!? Eventually, I just stopped going to church on Sunday's.

Just before that though, mom did something utterly insane. She'd gone through a round of about 3 or 4 boyfriends and one day announced that she and Rick - yeah, that one - were going to try again. I believe I was 15. Are you kidding me? He moved in with us and even started to come to church with us. About 6 months later he made a move on me. I stood my ground, said no, and within the week he'd packed his bags and was gone from our lives forever.

If you'll indulge me, the next part of the story has more or less been told on my other blogsite, http://3forward2back.blogspot.com , in a posting entitled Working Step 4.....& 5. It was the summer after I'd turned 16, and mom had started dating a man named Lance. Lori had moved away. She also was a long way from Jesus by then. She dropped out of school, was heavy into drugs, and had moved in with a boyfriend at least 10 years her senior (she was 17). My believing aunt Sharon, who always saw the potential in us both, was heart broken. She rescued Lori. She gave her a home and put her through a private Christian school. Lori returned to the Lord and never left His side after that. Again, if you'll indulge me, go to http://3forward2back.blogspot.com and read "It's WaaWee's Birfday!"...my tribute to my champion and heroin, my amazingly gracious and loving sister, Lori. Meanwhile, long story short....mom told me she was moving up island to live with Lance. I could either come or leave. We had a huge fight that day. I screamed at her all that Rick had done, and all that she had been blind to. I heaped it on her like the sticking, rotting manure it was. At first, she didn't believe me. She called me a liar, then called Lori for verification. Lori said it had happened to her as well. The disclosure never changed a thing. Mom put the house up for sale that summer, and I was out on my ass.

Over the next couple of years, from 16 to 19, I completely lost myself in drinking, drugs and promiscuity. I kept the bills paid working as an office clerk in the day and serving drinks in the local bar and nightclub on the weekends. The spiraling behavior got out of control, and by New Years of 1980, when Lori came to visit me, it scared her so much, that she rallied the troops (my aunt Sharon) and it was my turn to be rescued next. I'll tell you all about it tommorrow.

posted by peaceMkR @ 9:02 PM