The Life of Glory

The greatest gift that my Elohim (God) ever gave me was to tell me that He was set apart from the “Church.” Different from, and not equal to all the shit I was experiencing from church people and all the doctrine I was wrestling with. It happened several years ago. I was just done with everything. Believing in God was exhausting and too painful. So I set out to become an atheist. Only God wouldn’t stop talking. He reminded me of Scripture I didn’t even know I had memorized while watching movies, tv shows, reading books that weren’t supposed to be his mouthpiece. Every day, He spoke to me. So, I challenged Him. I went for a hike and I challenged God’s existence and character, until finally I said, “If you are like [list of names I won’t mention] then I want nothing to do with you.” The answer was earth shattering for me. I sat down and cried for an hour, probably. Completely confused and dumbfounded by its meaning. “I am not the church.” “Who are you, then?” I asked. “Rea...

Have you ever had friends reject you because they were apparently incapable of meeting you where you were at? Had friends that made you feel like everything you ever said fell on deaf ears? It has happened to me more times than I'd like to admit, but the latest one hurt the most. Maybe because of all the ones that had come before, but I'm not doing a good job of getting over this one . It fed my fears and insecurities just when they were starting to heal.  So, let me speak what I need spoken to myself: It's okay to be broken, you won't always be broken. It's okay to question and search, it means you're not giving up. It's okay to vent, it means you're trying to work through everything. It's okay to be silent, it means you're tired and in need of the rest that will help you heal. It's okay to not be okay  people! It is so easy to give up. Especially when Christian friends treat you worse than non-Christian...

The word, "repentance" used to make my skin crawl. I remember telling my youth pastor in Jr. High that I didn't have anything to repent of and he acted as though I was an even worse person for thinking  I had done nothing wrong. But I was a good kid. I never did anything that I was told was wrong. Ever. But this  belief  lead me to  years  of feeling guilty for things the Bible does not declare sin.  In my previous post ( breaking the shell one piece at a time ) I mentioned that I read the Torah in eight, life changing days. This was back in 2013. The year I toured across country and released my self-titled debut album. The year I almost became an atheist. The year I made peace with repentance.  I dug into the Torah to answer this one question, "what are sins?" I ended up with a lot more than I bargained for.  Not to say that I have all  the answers, I only have the answers I, personally, needed in order to heal. That b...

Religion hurt. Religious people hurt worse. There were always gems, of course. Genuine people that were an absolute blessing. But the bad and misguided outweighed the good in my life. I have a Bachelor's degree in Ministry Praxis, having studied Theology, Ancient Greek, Ancient Hebrew, and Pastoral Care. I was an intern as a Pastor's assistant and a TA for my Bible Professor. I worked as a youth pastor for two churches. I was a worship leader. I've seen people healed right in front of me. Prayed over someone having an asthma attack, unable to breathe, and watched it subside before my very eyes. I've met prophets and intercessors to be reckoned with, and been one myself. But abuse and abandonment followed me wherever I went.  The straw that broke my camel's back was a woman sending me awful emails every Sunday because her husband side hugged me. When she wrote, "your very presence causes me to stumble," I was done. She gave me no choice. I caused ...

I took this selfie today while my dogs were eating. I had just woken up from a post seizure nap and flopped on the floor to feed them. I wasn’t going to post anything but this photo was so beautifully honest and raw, I had to. This picture shows my sadness, my weakness, my frustration, my real and beautiful self. Yesterday I went hiking with my husband, friends, and our dogs. Today I’m sitting on the floor, weak and in pain from another seizure. But all I can think of is a song by India Arie called Break the Shell. “Child it’s time to break the shell Life’s gonna hurt but it’s meant to be felt You cannot touch the sky from inside yourself You cannot fly, until you break the shell” I know I personally have a thick shell from a lot of pain but today, in the midst of my post seizure recovery, I know it’s starting to break. After years of wrestling with PTSD and NES and other incurable diseases while being shunned and ignored, I finally feel like freedom is around the corner. Hea...

Muscle weakness may last just a couple of days sometimes, but the emotional struggles it triggers linger much longer. Each day is one task at a time, pretending that I'm not afraid it will happen again. Especially now, as work is extremely busy, I push away the anxiety that threatens me around every turn. I have to remind myself that I can only do what I can and I have to be okay with not doing what I cannot.  It has taken me years to recognize this. That there are things I cannot, in fact, do.  ...and that is okay. Saying you can't do something is not saying you can't do anything .  So I stop to smell the wildflowers, make time to read, play Solitaire or Kings in the Corner. Whatever I can make time to do to quiet my mind and think of nothing or anything else. But most importantly, I focus on people.  The people around me don't care if I use a cane, or don't come to work for a couple days, or need to ask for help with a few meals or with my dogs....

There is little I like less  than intermittently being unable to walk. I just spent two days painfully using a cane to walk. I wish I had a wheelchair to get around in for these moments but neither my house or work has wheelchair access. Using a cane when your legs don't want to hold you up is so painful. The palms of my hands, my fingers, my wrists, my arms all hurt from holding me up for two days. Yesterday morning I pretty much slid down the ladder from our loft bed to go to the bathroom, which is currently in a different house because ours is out of order. When I reached the steps to my tiny house on the way back I literally sat down and dragged myself up them. I was so exhausted when I made it inside I just sat on the floor with my head on the couch crying. This is life. This, apparently, is Porphyria.  It hurts to be this physically weak and I hate  feeling useless . When you suddenly can't walk and you don't know how many days the muscle weakness will c...