By nature I was one
of those children
who is compliant,
motivated by praise,
and for the most
part, a stern look
could keep me in
line. I longed for
affirmation, to know
I had done a good
job and made my
parents or teachers
proud.
And I loved the
Lord. We have walked
together since I was
nine years old. I
longed also to
please Him. To be
virtuous and good. I
loved attending
church, singing in
the choir,
participating in
youth group, helping
with Vacation Bible
School.
When other young
ladies dreamed of
being romanced and
wooed, or having
their careers, or
becoming moms, I
dreamed, literally
had sleeping dreams,
of Jesus calling out
my name on the
mountaintops,
seeking me to spend
time with me. I
dreamed of sitting
in a garden in the
cool of the evening
and chatting with
Him about the things
that were on my
young heart.
At 15 I had the
wonderful privilege
of attending a
Christian school for
a year, and then
going on missions
the summer between
my junior and senior
year, during which
time I felt that I
was called to
full-time mission
work. My last year
of High School I had
to return to public
school, but my goal
and dream was to go
to Bible College and
then serve the Lord.
When High School
ended, so did youth
group, and much of
the structure and
support that I had
previously had
suddenly shifted. My
parents vetoed my
college plans, not
believing that I
knew what I was
doing, or what I
wanted, and also not
able to pay and not
willing to sign
financial aid forms.
I was at that normal
age when the primary
developmental task
for a young person,
is to differentiate
from their parents.
But with my one and
only plan gone up in
smoke, I found
myself cast adrift
as my friends all
moved on with
college, engagement,
and jobs. I felt God
Himself had rejected
my desire to serve
Him, knowing He
could have made a
way but didn't.
Everyone seemed to
have places to go
and plans in place,
but me.
I took a job with a
great company that
was very positive
and faith-friendly,
had a very high
standard in their
hiring and training.
They invested in
their workers, even
helping facilitate
their education,
whether or not they
would remain with
the company, the
goal was to mold
them into fine,
contributing members
of society.
At that point I was
in dire need of any
help and direction
that I could find.
There was a young
man whom I worked
with, the "company
darling" actually,
who was a real up
and comer: Honor
student,
white-collar
aspirations, all
that. He was
well-liked by
everyone who worked
there, and a little
older than me, and
we found ourselves
the center of many
match-making
efforts.
He was polite,
clean-cut, and a
very hard worker.
And he certainly
seemed to maneuver
through life as
someone who knew who
he was and where he
was headed. He had
his 5-year plan, his
10-year plan, at 21
he already had his
retirement plan.
He seemed in
agreement with the
matchmaking efforts
and pursued me for
many months, asking
me out again and
again, while I
politely declined. I
was not attracted to
him though I was
impressed by him in
many ways.
As more time went
on, I began to feel
a little like
"defective goods",
like a loser, with
no goals.
Disillusioned in my
faith, I was
vulnerable, feeling
lost, and beginning
to feel pretty
lonely, until
finally one day I
capitulated and
agreed to go with
this young man on a
daytime outing,
which I did not
consider a date,
hoping that if I
did, maybe that
would be the end of
it.
But it wasn't.
He treated me like a
princess at first.
All flattery. He
lavished me with
attention and gifts,
and praise. He told
me I was beautiful
and I believed him.
He said I made him
feel like a million
bucks. He gifted,
wined and dined me,
and it felt good to
feel wanted. He made
me feel "like
somebody".
But the clean-cut
"All-American" boy
had another side.
Being with him was
ultimately like
being in a "cult of
two". He found me
when I was already
questioning
everything I ever
thought I knew. He
had the instincts of
the perfect
predator. He never
had my heart, but I
fell for the head
game, having never
been able to
tolerate idling in
neutral for very
long. He
systematically went
about remaking me
into the "perfect
for him" girl he
wanted me to be, as
the icing on the
cake of his perfect
future.
Everyone who knew me
"before" and "after"
would tell you that
the person they knew
just "went away" and
some other person
took her place.
He isolated me
first, and then
stripped away
everything that
didn't fit into his
plans. And then one
day he stripped me
of something I would
never be able to get
back, laying
ultimate claim to me
in the Biblical
sense. That was the
moment that the
person I once was
really did go away.
I went away deep
inside my mind. It
would be years
before I could think
clearly enough, and
muster the courage
to break away. And
strange as it
sounds, I did
benefit some from
those years. I
learned what I was
capable of. I did go
to college. I did
get a career and a
means to support
myself. But it would
be many years before
I even told anyone
the truth about that
period. There would
follow more
heartache and
damage, and loss
because once
distanced from God,
I felt trapped in
no-man's-land. I
felt like God had
given me a "clean
garment" when I was
9 but I grew up and
got it soiled. I
felt that I was no
longer worthy to
call myself a
Christian, so I
didn't think I had
the right to call on
God anymore.
I was so ashamed, so
stripped and
decimated. I was all
shattered inside. I
had trouble even
thinking clearly and
functioning in my
work. One day I was
on my way out the
door to my job, when
I just couldn't take
one more step. I
collapsed 2 paces
from the front door,
and crumbled into a
sobbing heap on my
living room carpet.
I felt like I hadn't
taken a deep breath
in years. My wounded
heart just ruptured.
I was such a far cry
from that virtuous
girl I had been. And
God seemed very far
away. But I did cry
out to Him: "Lord,
you know my life. I
have made a real
mess of it, and I
can't fix any of it.
I have sinned and I
have failed You, and
there is not much
left to offer, but
if there is anything
of me, or my life
that you still want,
that you can use,
that you can
salvage, will you
take it Lord? Will
You accept me back?
The instant the
prayer left my lips,
I felt the bands
around my chest
break loose! The
inner turmoil
instantly ceased and
I had utter peace
like I had not known
since I was just a
child. It just
seemed as if the
Lord had back-handed
the hounds of hell
off of me and I
could almost hear
Him proclaim "
Enough! She is
MINE!" That was when
I really knew that
He had been there
all along, only
waiting for me to
call on Him. It took
Him a while longer
to help me
understand that I
had never been
"worthy" to be
called a Christian
to begin with.
I had thought Him a
hard master. But I
didn't know Him. I
only knew what I had
been told. I grew up
in a "tradition"
that was heavy on
rules and piety, and
didn't teach grace.
When I got up off
the floor that day,
my troubles were not
magically gone. My
life was still a
mess. But I was able
to get up off the
floor, blow my nose,
wash my face, and
take one more step.
The first step of
letting God be not
just my savior, but
my Lord.
I was never out of
His hand. Do you
know the
implications of
that? It means that
the scars and wounds
were applied while I
was in the Master's
hand. He is the
potter, and I am the
clay, and even evil
is used to achieve
His ends. God in His
wisdom broke me of
the notion that I am
capable of being
good. He showed me
the worst of human
depraved nature,
both my own and that
of others who harmed
me, and He showed me
how destructive that
nature is.
Yesterday I had to
leave church because
I was sick. I was so
disappointed because
I wanted to be
there. But God had a
reason in it. I came
home and I listened
to a friend who
webcasts his sermons
by live stream. He
is all the way in
Missouri. But his
sermon was meant for
me to hear
yesterday. God used
that pastor's
illustration to
bring it all home.
I don't blame the
people who harmed me
in this life because
I know they act from
the very same nature
that is in me.
"There but by the
grace of God, go I".
God has allowed and
used all of it to
shape me for a
purpose that He has
had in mind all
along, to be a
useful vessel in His
hand. Cuts heal into
scars that aren't
pretty but are more
durable and less
vulnerable than
untouched skin.
Broken areas of
bones grow back
stronger than the
original bone. And
wounded and broken
people become
compassionate and
humbled, and
therefore useful for
God to comfort and
reach others.
He didn't make me a
dainty china cup to
sit on a shelf and
be admired. Though I
wanted to be "good"
we don't have it in
ourselves to be
good. Through life's
trials I am more
like that old tin
cup that is all
dented up, but
sturdy and useful.
Jesus Himself was
not beautiful by the
worlds standards.
The Bible says "he
hath no form nor
comeliness; and when
we shall see him,
there is no beauty
that we should
desire him".
I see now that God
had a lot to teach
me before I could
ever really serve
Him. The missionary
dreams of my youth
had more to do with
my misplaced
admiration for those
on the mission
field. I thought
there being there
was like the
crowning achievement
of "arrival" as a
Christian. I coveted
"goodness" within
myself, and the
praise of God.
Wanting to be good
doesn't sound like a
bad desire. But it
is an unrealistic
one. Goodness is
never achieved. It
is not within the
scope of human
capabilities. When
men called Jesus
good, He asked them
why they called Him
good, and said only
God is good. This
was an
acknowledgement that
Jesus was God in the
flesh. But goodness
is only in Him.
I had thought God
made me righteous at
the age of 9. But I
was never righteous.
Only Christ was
righteous in me. The
tradition I grew up
in was very
unforgiving. When I
was faced with the
very depths of my
own sinfulness as an
adult, I was missing
any understanding of
the part grace plays
in salvation. I had
the faith. But I
didn't understand
that God remembers
our sins against us
no more. Past,
present, or future
sins have all been
laid to account on
the cross, if we
have trusted Jesus
as our Savior.
It has been a battle
of my pride, even
this many years
later, to finally
fully tell my story.
I have posted many
pages on this blog.
Facts and truths
about myself that
even in their layout
here, are buried in
layers, and poems
and stories.
But I stand today
with no longer any
pretense of there
having ever been
anything good in me.
And what a relief it
is. I am a sinner.
The only difference
between me, and the
vilest offender in
the worst prison, or
hell itself for that
matter, is that I am
forgiven.
http:www.servehiminthewaiting.com
s_tlloyd@verizon.net