Monthly Archives: April 2015

We are all the Same

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I work for a church somewhat different from the churches I have been apart of in the past. I was told when I went to work there that I had to be careful because they knew the church I had come from. My manager did not go into to what I had to be careful about, but I gathered is was about the power gifts. So from that day forward, I always wondered what part of me I could show to my co-workers and what part I had to keep hidden. We felt like since I was working there, God was calling us to attend this church. My daughter loves the youth group. Worship is great, but a little too short. The pastor is always engaging and is a great speaker. I had questions like, can I pray for someone to be healed? Can I see a picture about someone and tell them when I think God might be saying to them?  What can I do and not do?

Because of this, I had somehow gotten the idea that I could receive nothing from them. So when the annual Women’s Retreat came around, it never entered my radar to go. First of all, I’m an introvert and I know very few women in this large church. Secondly, I’m working two jobs, going to school, and homeschooling my daughter. I just didn’t have the time. Thirdly, it would interfere with one of the few times a month I get to flow in the Spirit and am free to share. But all of those were just an excuse, because in reality people intimidate me.

Then I clearly heard God tell me to go on this retreat. I thought, I can’t go, I have to be at the coffee shop with my friend. We facilitate spiritual encounters there every other Sunday. God still kept saying go. He was so emphatic about it, I told my friend I had to go on this retreat and I wouldn’t be able to be there.

I started thinking, why am I suppose to go on this retreat? Who needs me there and the prophetic gifting God has blessed me with? I was insecure. A lot of these women have way more money than me. They seemed a little more put together. What can I give them that they will receive? It never dawned on me that they had something to give me.

I knew this was going to be the kind of retreat that stretched me and built character. I was terrified to be among so many women I didn’t know. I at least found a ride with my co-workers and was able to help with checkin. This helped me have something to do before the retreat actually started. What I didn’t realize was, it helped others recognize me later in the retreat as they had seen me during checkin.

For the first few meals, I made sure I sat at a table where I didn’t know anyone. After that I decided to sit at an empty table and see what happened. What I found, was those new to CPC or new to the retreat, sought me out because I was a familiar face from checkin.

I was so bent on finding out why God sent me on this retreat that the first night I dreamt about it. I had a skateboard and a group of young men went by. The one said he needed to get to work. I knew I was suppose to give him my skateboard. In my dream I turned to my husband and said, “I have to give him this skateboard, that’s why I was suppose to go to the women’s retreat.”

So I actually did have a few words for a couple people. Thankfully both of them were used to this and gladly received them. I thought, okay, maybe that was it. I then went on a ropes course. It was a small one and not very high up, but it terrified me! I did it just to feel that high you get when you accomplish something that is so very scary. My two co-workers were my cheerleaders. They said I inspired them and maybe next year they would try it. I thought, okay, maybe this is another reason I’m here. I then had a great chat with one of the women sharing our room. I told her what God has been doing in my life. She said it was amazing and so inspired her. So I thought, okay, that could be another reason I’m here. And all those were great, but it was not the real reason I was there.

Saturday, God decided to start showing me why I was there. He started revealing all my judgmental thoughts towards people. I had preconceived notions of who people were before hearing their story. It was very humbling. I was sent there to receive what these great women had to offer me.

Saturday, during quiet time, I was exhausted because I hadn’t slept the night before. I lay on my bed and asked God what he wanted to say to me. I heard Ps. 49. I didn’t want to get up, but I did and got my Bible. (internet was not working on my phone) I read until verse seven. It said,

“No one can redeem the life of another or give to God a ransom for them – the ransom for a life is costly, no payment is ever enough – so that they should live on forever and not see decay.”

I had never seen that verse. I was like whoa. Jesus you did that for me. You paid a cost that was too costly for any human to pay. You came down to us, lived with us and then died for us. I had this picture of all people. We are all the same. We all needed Jesus to die for us. No one is better than anyone else. We all have things to give away and we all need to receive some things. I just saw the sameness of the whole of humanity. Rich or poor, we are all the same.

That night, we had communion. I was sitting a row back from the front. There was one of four communion stations there. All these women came down and started getting in line to receive communion. One by one they filed past me and I would hear our speaker for the weekend say,

“Jesus’ body was broken for you.”

“Jesus’ blood was shed for you.”

Every time I heard her say that, it was as if a nail was being pounded into my hard heart. I was looking down at the time and all I could see were these different sizes, colors and shapes of feet walking past me.

Another pair of feet,

“Jesus’ body was broken for you.”

“Jesus’ blood was shed for you.”

Over and over and over again, until I became so overwhelmed with the enormity of what Jesus did and his love for every single person in this world. I live in the SF Bay area. It is very culturally diverse. So it was like seeing the whole of all the nations coming to hear.

“Jesus’ body was broken for you.”

“Jesus’ blood was shed for you.”

I must have heard it at least 50 times and finally the line of women was gone and I got up to receive.

“Jesus’ body was broken for you, Kimberly.”

“Jesus’ blood was shed for you, Kimberly.”

I sat down and I could hardly keep it together. I was thinking, “are you going to undo me in front of all these women? I don’t know most of them and this is not the kind of church where people fall on the floor weeping. What will they think of me?” God said, “you can receive what I have for you or you can resist it out of pride.” I chose to receive and I just lost it. I didn’t make a huge scene, but I just started crying and then worship started and I had to get on my knees in the isle. I put my face towards the floor and just allowed Spirit to do the work he wanted to do. When I was done, the head knowledge of what Jesus did on the cross became heart knowledge. God broke through my hardened heart and helped me realize what Jesus did for us and how much he loves each and every one of us. We are not different, we are the same.

Love this song by Hillsong, Ocean.

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Taking the Terrifying Plunge to Stop Dieting.

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A few weeks ago, I decided I would no longer diet. I would no longer call any food off limits. I was terrified. I knew I was going to blow up like a whale. As you know, I’m reading an awesome Geneen Roth book and this was some of what she talked about.

So I decided to try it. I was going to give it two weeks, knowing I’d gain about 10 pounds during that time. I decided to trust my body and eat what I wanted even though I didn’t feel my body could be trusted. It’s called mindful eating and it was liberating. I am no longer on a Gluten Free diet. I’m not allergic to wheat, there was no need. I can have ice-cream whenever I want. I can have anything whenever I want.

Here’s the kicker. Once I took away the restrictions, once I realized nothing was off limits, I didn’t want those things very often. If I do want them, one or two bites is plenty. I seriously can’t imagine eating more than one Ritz Cracker. That is all I need to get the yummy tastiness of it.

I still have days when I crave mindless eating. But these are signs of something else going on with me. I stop, feel myself breath and try to get still to see what’s going on. I feel. I pray. I am still.

Here is what I found out when I really stopped to taste my food.

1. I have been eating some bland food. Yuck! 2. I like my food super hot as in temperature – it gives me warm fuzzies. 3. I like my food spicy. 4. I don’t need a lot of food to feel full.

This last one was a shocker. If you know me, you know I can pack the food away. I can out eat my 6″ 2′ giant of a husband any day. (I’m 4″ 10′) It was truly amazing to myself and my husband how small of an amount of food could make me feel full when I took the time to actually taste it.

This mindful eating has made me realize how much of the time I’ve just been shoveling it in. I’ve been trying to fill the empty places with food instead being still and filling it with being alive and filling it with the Spirit.

To top it all off, I’ve actually lost a couple pounds!

I heard this wonderful song while going for my walk: You Make Me Come Alive.

Feelings Continued…

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My feelings scare me. I see my feelings as a giant octopus. I’m standing alone in my mind. A large tentacle of fear slaps me across the face and retreats into the darkness. Another tentacle of loneliness smacks me in my chest. Abandonment punches me in the gut. I cower from them and busy myself with other things to block them out.

Sometimes I determine to hunt them down and eradicate them. I throw open the curtains to my soul and open all the doors. I flood the room with light. Instead of freezing like terrified fainting goats and falling over, I see the door to a another room in my mind slam shut by those tentacles as my feelings flee to a darker area of my being.

Today, instead of reading, watching television or stuffing my face, I stood still in the darkness. I could hear my slithering feelings creep closer and closer threatening to overwhelm me. In my hands, I hold a flashlight. I slowly turn around and clicked on the small but steady stream of light. I catch one of my feelings in the beam.

Imagine my surprise when instead of a slimy, ugly creature, it is a cute little baby squid cowering in the corner just as scared as me. I gently pick it up and examine it. I then release it back to the ocean of my past where it belongs.

It is Well With My Soul Kristene DiMarco & Bethel Music

Feeling My Feelings

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I found out recently that my spiritual father died – Vern Seeley. I got to stay at their house one week during the summer and I officially accepted Jesus during that week. After that, things were a little less lonely. I did have God and I spoke to him as only a seven year old can about everything. God helped me get my 10,000 words in that no one else was interested in.

I’ve always loved God, but recently I’ve realized I felt abandoned and betrayed by my parents and God. It is a feeling I’ve never allowed myself to feel. I’ve alway stuffed it down guiltily.

As I stated in my last post, I’ve been reading Women Food and God. One of the things she tells you to do is question everything. Ask yourself what your body really wants. Does it want food or does it want sleep. Or do you really need to talk to someone. It was a revolution when I started asking myself what I wanted. I wondered why it was such ephoria for me to simply ask what I wanted. What does my body want? What is my body telling me? I’d never asked those questions before. I started feeling angry. Something was welling up inside of me and instead of stuffing it back down, I allowed it to bubble up and out.

What I heard myself say was, “Nobody ever asked me what I wanted.” I thought about that. No one, especially as a child, asked me what I wanted. My mother did not ask me if I wanted her to leave. My father did not ask me if it was okay that he checked out for a while. My sisters did not ask me if they could leave me and go live somewhere else. My brother did not ask me if he could ignore me. My father did not ask me if he could marry a woman and four children who were mean and took their own anger out on me. My mother did not consult me when she married an abusive husband and my only choice was to live with a step-mom and her mean children or live with just my mom and one abusive husband. I choose the later. My step-dad didn’t consult me when he decided it was against God to take food stamps, but God was okay with him not working. He didn’t ask if I minded never knowing where my next meal would come from. Most of all, God did not ask me if any of this was okay before he allowed it to happen. I know that hurting people, hurt people and I hold no ill will towards my family. I love them.

After allowing myself to feel and say these feelings that I’ve alway buried, the anger and betrayal seemed to bubble up and out and then drift away. There are small pockets still left, but I let them come up and then they go away. I have been living with those past feelings and stuffing them down only to realize I could feel them and let them go. They didn’t have to affect me. It’s okay to feel and once felt, it’s okay to let them go. They are the past and they can’t hurt me anymore.

It’s okay to feel the guilt and shame in realizing I did the same thing with my children. I made choices they might consider bad, without consulting them. I can feel that guilt and shame and then let it blow away along with the past. (Apologizing is a part of that.)

A friend of mine was asking me about the book I was reading. I told her a result of not stuffing my feelings was this concept of no one asking me as a child what I wanted or basically they didn’t ask me if they could wig out and leave me alone to fend for myself. She said, “Yea, but that’s how it always is.” I was taken aback for a second. I actually felt hurt. I didn’t know how to respond so I said, “that’s true, but I was realizing I was angry about it.” I thought back on why her statement hurt my feelings. I allowed my self to question and feel those hurt feelings instead of stuffing them like I normally would. I realized it felt like she was negating my feelings. Like she was negating my experience. Once I was able to name what I was feeling, I was able to feel it and let it go.

You know what song has to go here, right. Let it Go Sing-along. Enjoy and sing your heart out!

Self Destruction

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When I was 14, I tried to destroy myself through alcohol. I don’t remember the last part of my 14th year because I blacked out so much from too much alcohol. I didn’t stop drinking until I became pregnant at the age of 15. I didn’t stop drinking for myself, but for the new reason I found to live. I never stopped to question why I didn’t like myself, why I was set on self destruction. Before the alcohol, it was food. That started around age 7 when I would sneak to the bread drawer in the middle of the night and start stuffing my face. After the alcohol, it went back to food. I remember at age 25 telling someone I hated hearing my name – hated it. Just hearing it made me cringe. Why the self loathing? I’m still not positive, but I know it’s not how God sees me.

Recently I started reading this amazing book a friend told me about, Women, Food, God, written by Geneen Roth. It talks about getting to know your present self. It talks about allowing yourself to feel. It has been an eye opener, but I keep thinking, why should I spend so much time on myself. Again, it went back to self loathing. Why didn’t I think I was worth it?

It is a lie that has been passed down through my family, women to women. We see the example left from the previous generation. They treated themselves as less than divine. They showed my generation they were the exception to God’s love. The thing I need to remember is I’m not a child anymore. I don’t have to accept what I was taught. I am now willing to question those generational lies.

What example do I want to leave my daughter? I want her to know she is a child of God and God sees her as precious – he gave his life for her. People see actions, not words. I want to influence my daughter and maybe even the generation before me. They learned it from their mother’s. Maybe I can be the generation used by God to put a stop to the lies and start passing on truth. A very strong motivator to put in the work of learning about who I really am and waking up to the life that is mine through Jesus. I am made in the image of God.

A song that comes to mind is Furious by Jeremy Riddle.

Who am I?

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I was thinking again about who am I and the significance of knowing who I am. If it was necessary or if I was being narcissistic. I was reading John 13 and something caught my eye. The NIV, 2011 version starting in verse 3 reads like this, “Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist.” Jesus knew who he was. He knew the Father had put all things under his power and this allowed him to be secure enough to wash his disciples feet. 

It is not until I know who I am in Christ, that I can be secure enough to reach out to all people. The fear of being exposed will be gone. The fear of vulnerability will disappear. The fear of people realizing I’m a fraud, that I have more fear than faith, will disappear.

God gave me Isaiah 54 over 24 years ago when I was a single teenage parent with two small boys from two different fathers. I didn’t realize I would carry the shame with me for so many years. Even though those two beautiful boys are grown and are amazing in very different ways, I am still walking in that shame.

I feel the chains coming off. The time to step into complete freedom in the knowledge and security of Isaiah 54 and Colossians 2 is now.

A song that is coming to my mind is You Make Me Brave.

Picture by Pearl Schulz.

Picture by Pearl Schulz.