painting pretty pictures

We've been here two months, ONLY TWO MONTHS; and I am miserable. Everything is hard. I have only two friends; I need dozens more.  I am very tired of this culture.  Everything here---yes! EVERYTHING is done half-ass. Everything needs to be fixed.  EVEN BRAND NEW FURNITURE NEEDS TO BE FIXED!!  I hate hauling water! I hate not having what I need to bake! I hate improvising for measuring cups---the cookies never come out right!  I can not understand how anyone can think THIS life is so exciting and fulfilling??

Not so pretty, eh? Kind of ugly, actually.

Ugly colors make ugly pictures. So here I am, a missionary---with the responsibility to communicate back to the church on how God is working.  But, truth be told, I think it's more like helping the church feel good about supporting us. Ya see, during our previous missionary travels, I publicly shared my personal struggles---honestly, openly, and without filters. So many from over 20 other supporting churches expressed sincere appreciation for my true colors, which, of course, encouraged me to keep sharing.  However, after being confronted by our church leadership about my not so pretty depictions of life on the mission field, I realized they preferred a lighter shade of my true colors---don't change them, just lighten it up. The message I got: Paint pretty pictures with not so pretty colors.

So that's it...people want to feel good about supporting missionaries.  Why of course! And pretty pictures feel good.  It's so missionary-like to write and express about the wonderment of living on the mission field, the great work being done in the name of Christ, and the utter satisfaction of living a life set apart. The irony is that every missionary knows that this is not the real story. But it's the story my church leadership wants to hear--oh, let a touch pity be seen, but if the missionary's experience is too ugly, or too hard, or too sad, or too whatever, then it must not be from God.  Surely, God's will is 'happily ever after.'  What a pip!

And since I mentioned God's will---could it be that God's will is wherever we find ourselves, regardless of our personal comfort or present state of mind? Is not God's will to be with us? Sometimes life just ain't pretty...even when we are walking humbly with God in faithful obedience. Sometimes the journey is just hard, ugly, sad, and utterly lonely.

Sometimes there's just nothing pretty to paint.

open minds

So, how often do we pass judgment before we have all the facts?  Like, all the time.  I just had a conversation regarding someone's opinion about the Vagina Monologues who didn't have all the facts because they didn't see the show, only read the critical reviews. I was even put out and offended when I read the reviews...and not to say they were not correct, they were.  However, they missed the point.  The whole premise of the message of the Vagina Monologues was about women being sexually abused and assaulted. A couple of monologues were for comic relief. Were they vulgar?  Perhaps, that is if you consider talking about orgasms as vulgar.  Religious of any sort? Definitely not.  Pure female human sexuality, as it is in today's western culture.  For adult audiences only.

Frankly, I think expressing our sexuality openly is a sign of maturity.  But some would like to keep it sacred.  Surely, our intimacy is sacred, created by God for our pure pleasure and oneness.  It is indeed the most spiritual human interaction of our existence.  I can not wait to meet the Creator of this wonderment face to face and thank him for such a beautiful act of love and oneness.  What an amazing God to give us such an amazing gift!!  It is sacred, for sure.  However, when it's stolen, used against women and girls, hated, and made more than dirty then we have a real problem.  Women have been abused and assaulted sexually and then are told such things are not to be talked about, therefore we suffer in silence.  Breaking the silence is what the Vagina Monologues are all about.

Breaking the silence, however it's done, is always good.

redeeming sex

I was a beautiful child.  As such, I was invited to sit on the laps of men while they visited at my parents' house.  I never really wanted to but sensed from my parents that I had to accommodate our guests.  I was touched and used as a rubbing post often.  

So there was my role in childhood---a sexual play thing for men.  

But it started even before then; I don’t actually remember when.  I know I witnessed the sexual abuse of my sisters by our uncle while I was in the crib.  Then my uncle started with me when I was 6 or 7 and continued until I was 16 years old.  I was a very angry and rebellious adolescent; rebellion empowered me to confront him in the act.  He stopped.  I won, so I thought.  Little did I know the bondage sexual abuse had on the soul.

My first sexual intercourse encounter was when I was 13 years old.  I was raped.  Funny how I never considered it rape.  I did say no, but no wasn't an option.  So I obliged, naturally.  Isn't that what girls were for?  Thereafter, I was unable to say no to any other advances that came my way.  I was filled with so much shame.  I remember considering becoming a prostitute, thinking it was all I could do.  I thought so little of myself and even less of men. 

I met Jesus at age 18.  When I became a Christian, I really didn’t think believers even had sex at all.  I thought when I gave my life to God I was going to be a nun; a Baptist nun.  And I would never ever have to oblige another man with sex again.  But God knew that all my experiences with sex needed to be redeemed.  And God had chosen the perfect person to walk this path with me.  This man loved me so gently and completely.  I dare say he was unaware of the deep brokenness I cradled in my soul when he married me, but he never once made me feel ashamed, broken, or ugly.  He holds the key to my ongoing healing.   

Of all wounds, it is the sexual wounds that reach deep within and affect the very essence of our womanhood.  Each of us must tend to our own past, nurse our own wounds, and confess our own brokenness.  It is our process, our journey, which then becomes our story.  Wonderful stories that meanders through the changes and seasons of our lives.  And as we share them, shame is released and healing comes.

What was once broken is now made whole: Redemption happens.
            

jagged edges

I am so afraid so much of the time and of so many things. Seems to me I've been afraid ever since I can remember.  I fight it with hate, judgment, and isolation.  I just don't know how to shake it off. God promises me that He has not given me a spirit of fear, but of love and sound mind.  And yet, I find myself hateful and full of anxiety.  And what do I fear? Do I fear love itself? Am I so broken that I can't even allow others to love me?  Do I ultimately push them away in order to fulfill my own fate of isolation?  My own self loathing? 
I have been hurt so deeply by those entrusted to protect me and care for me. I have stories, sad stories of what was done and how I responded. It shattered my little soul and now I'm left with jagged edges that cut others who get too close in order to protect myself. 
I know the God of all creation, the Savior of all humanity, and yet, I find myself fearful and unable to response to uncomfortable situations without hate and judgment.  God help me.