Saying Goodbye to Hate...Confessions From a Punching Bag

2016 was one for the record books for sure.  We lost creative icons, we elected a billionaire to the U.S. presidency, we deleted, blocked, or unfriended people with whom we disagree. We not only cut people from our social media feeds, but many refused to even spend the holidays with family because of opposing political views.

In 2016 we seemed to be obsessed with hate.  We spread it, wrote about it, spoke against it, produced it, and lamented about it.

We can be so mean.

I’ve been living in a culture of hate for most of my life.  It’s very simply been a fact I came to expect and tolerate.  Donald Trump is, in my opinion and experience, NOT an anomaly.  Rather, he is a reflection of who we are as American humans.  We make fun of people, call one another hurtful names, jump to conclusions, put ourselves in bright and shiny lights while dimming the value of others, and spread hurtful and untrue gossip.

I can’t change the world, but this punching bag is standing up to the hatred once and for all.  I’m sick of it! 

My husband told me last week that I was living my life as if I’d done something wrong and I needed to stop it!  He’s RIGHT!  There’s a long list of places I won’t go because people quite simply hate me and have made me feel unworthy.  That list includes churches, businesses, neighborhoods, and a hookah bar.  The most hurtful hate has come from my Christian “family”.  I believed that God had put people in authority over me and I was taught to submit to said authority.  I believed that the “hard” people were there to teach me grace, mercy, forgiveness and love.

And while I still believe those things to a degree, I’m angry that I’ve allowed myself to take on and believe their shit! 

I AM DONE! 

I was dumped by one “friend” because I DARED to show compassion for the Black Lives Matter folks in my Facebook feed.  What part of “ALL lives matter” do you not get?  The fact that you twisted what I said and made it about YOU, is not my problem – it’s your problem.  I won’t take on your hate.  You don’t like me.  You don’t agree with my opinions.  You think I agree with everything YOU think and say?  No way!  BUT, I understand that opinions are formed by experience, education, and emotion and I would NEVER have cut you out of my life just because I disagreed with you.  I loved you.  I NEVER made your opinions about ME!

I was accused of thinking horrible things about certain people because I quoted a statistic from a book.  Let that sink in…A STATISTIC FROM A BOOK!  I personally feel compelled to help the needy with my prayers, good thoughts, AND expendable income.  That does NOT make me a bad person.  No, I do NOT expect others to feel as I do nor do I condemn anyone else for the way they spend their dollars. 

I want ME back.  I am sick of living my life like I did something wrong just because someone decided they wanted to believe the worst about me. 

This:

-To the pastor I loved, admired, and thought the world of: NO, I NEVER EVER EVER lied to you!  You were wrong, plainly and simply wrong!

-No, I did not tell a family member anything unkind about you and did NOT deserve that hateful email.

-No, I did NOT put a hit out on you.  You’ve hated me for years and you’ve told multiple lies about me.  I was simply sitting in the church pew listening to the teaching when I suddenly realized you were standing guard behind me – arms folded, eyes strained on me.  What is your problem?  Enough is enough! 

-No, God did not “close the door of opportunity” for you to confront the afore mentioned crazy woman.  The God who made “don’t lie” one of His top 10 would never close the door of opportunity to tell the truth! 

-To the church leader: how dare you refuse to serve me communion at church just because your wife is filled with hatred for me. 

-To the pastor of the big church on the corner:  Simply standing on that enormous stage and teaching the ways of Jesus isn’t enough.  Do you not think it’s important to practice what you preach?  I don’t think it’s crazy to expect that when your leadership team speaks from that pulpit about reconciliation, that they also PRACTICE the same.  Church has NEVER been a safe place for our family – NEVER!

-To the LONG list of people who've said judgmental, cruel and untrue things about my children - unless you're in the arena getting your ass kicked, I don't need your feedback!

-To the pastor who told me I was on a “dangerous path” because I wouldn’t submit to verbal abuse and lies – you are WRONG.  Period!

I can’t change the hateful, but I can change me.  I’ll continue to show love to those with whom I disagree.  I will also SPEAK against the lies.  I DESERVE to be defended – even if only by me.

2016 was hard for many of us.  Enough is enough.  I can’t change the world, but I can stand against the hatred in my world.  I’m tired of being your punching bag.

The Long Ugly Goodbye

It is with a heavy heart that I must (once again) walk away from the church I chose - I CHOSE - to attend.  It wasn't my decision to leave 14 years ago, and I wish I didn't have to go now. 

I've written A LOT about the circumstances surrounding us leaving the church the first time, and about how that event changed the spiritual landscape of my family forever.  I always believed that one day there would be - surely there had to be - restoration and reconciliation.   I returned after 11 years, believing the time had come.

I was wrong.

Lest you judge me, please know that I've done everything to reconcile according to scripture.  I went to my offender one on one, then I took someone with me, and then I went to the leadership to help with the restoration process, but all to no avail.

Some people have told me I still haven't forgiven.  Not only have I forgiven, but I go home nearly every Sunday and have to go through the phases and steps that result in forgiveness all over again because of new offenses.  It's exhausting, demoralizing, heartbreaking - and completely unnecessary.  I've given it three years this time around.

I'm a good person.  It's ironic that I have been, and continue to be, highly respected, loved, admired, and embraced in my "secular" life.  I have a great reputation as a teacher, an actor, and a director.  My gifts and talents are recognized, my strengths are celebrated, and my weaknesses are made less weak because of the strong support of my unchurched friends.  The people with whom I work know me as a woman of integrity and heart.

I, however, am NOT embraced by the church (note the little "c") that I attend.  I've never been forgiven for accused offenses - misunderstood words that resulted in false assumptions.  And why do I care?  Because those I attend church with are the very same people who will be my neighbors for eternity in Heaven.  It'd be good to be reconciled here on earth first!

I returned to the church three years ago, believing that time had healed.  Since I've been back, I've been shunned, walked away from, told I could NOT serve, ignored, refused, and even denied communion!  One woman told me my children "deserved" to be kicked out of church and that I should give up on them as they "made their decision a long time ago".  I told her she missed out on having front row seats to miracles and that I felt sorry for her.

Yes, there are wonderful and loving people, but I do NOT deserve to be mistreated by the few.  I deserve to be seen for who I really am.  Even if the accusations of years ago were true, I deserve grace.  I'm a child of God.

I sincerely believed that I was back in the right place at the right time for the right reasons when I learned you - the church - would be reaching out to a community I love and have worked with for many years.  I adore the people that are The Tower District - the men and women, the vibe....the truth.

I ask you, dear church, to see The Tower population as I do.  Please don't run in with your sword and shield with the intention of changing them.  I ask that you spend time getting to know them, and allowing them to teach YOU.  Let them show you unconditional love, acceptance, authenticity, and art.  So many of the people down there are not only unchurched, but many have been de-churched.  They've been wounded by those they once trusted. They're not going to respond to being told they're bad.  They'll respond to a new kind of love - one they've never known before.

John 13:35 reminds us that the unbelievers will know we are Christians by our love for one another.  We need to be so accepting, loving, and warm toward our own body that the world is drawn to us, not repelled by us.  We can't win them over until we accept, love, support, and show grace toward one another.

It wasn't The Church (with a big "C") who held me in their arms and let me cry when my drug-addicted child was missing.  It wasn't The Church who walked the streets of Fresno at 7:am on a Saturday morning putting up "missing child" posters.  It wasn't The Church who said, "I believe in you" or "I forgive you" - it was those people - the very same who need God.  They weren't afraid to get messy.  They loved my family right where we were.

So, it is with sadness that I walk away.  It's with a broken heart that I accept - finally - that I cannot be a member of your family.

I don't know what else I could've done.  I wasn't good enough to be shown grace and my family wasn't good enough to be part of your club.  I'll say it again - you missed out on being part of the miracle of restoration and you've missed the miracle that is my children.

What could I have changed?  I was always honest, authentic, faithful, and dedicated to keeping my word.   I'm a good mom, a loving wife, and a loyal-to-a-fault friend.  I would NEVER have said the things I was accused of saying and I'll never understand all that was at play against me.  I loved serving the body. This has been a long, ugly chapter in our family, and I still don't know why it all had to happen.

All I know is....I've always loved you.

Do I Belong?

Belonging. Of all the needs shared by mankind, I believe the need to belong is one of the strongest.

This powerful essential is the foundation on which gangs are formed, friendships are forged, families are created, churches are built, and towns and cities are incorporated. We all desire the security that comes from knowing we are part of a greater whole.

There really is strength in numbers. The opposite is also true—we are weakest when we are alone.

Dale preached a powerful sermon a week or so ago. He pointed out that most churches teach principles for right behavior. Right behavior is a good thing, but it is often taught in the form of a mathematical equation—behavior + believe = belong. If you behave in an acceptable manner and believe as we believe, you get to belong.

Jesus, however, teaches exactly the opposite—Belong + Believe = Behavior. In other words He wants me to know first and foremost that I belong. He hopes that as I spend time with Him I’ll come to believe and then my behavior will reflect my beliefs.

We definitely see this truth played out again and again on the evening news as it relates to gangs and gang activity. Kids find a place where they belong, they get acquainted and indoctrinated into a certain way of acting and thinking, and finally their behavior reflects what they know.

I definitely grew up in an environment where behavior came before belonging. I was raised in a church whose practices were extremely legalistic. We worshipped on a certain day, ate certain foods, and didn’t wear jewelry. There were a lot of “don’ts”. Don’t go to the movies, don’t dance, don’t eat shellfish, and don’t go out on Friday night dates…just to name a few.

One day I got a letter from the church elders. I was no longer considered a member because they’d “been told” that I attended another church. My behavior meant I no longer belonged.

I was hurt.

You know, the unfortunate thing about behavior-based belonging is that you really do feel that you unconditionally belong, until you don’t. I mean, I knew what the church taught, but I had no idea that attending another Christian church was on the “don’t” list.

I was the oldest of four kids (a little sister came along MUCH later), and I was always confident of my place in my family. We first-borns are given very defined roles and the expectations placed on us are often crazy high. In the past several years I discovered that I was no longer able to successfully live up to all the familial expectation. I found that I was no longer able and available to be the mom-of-kids-in-crisis/wife/employee AND a sister/daughter/hostess.

My family did not react positively to my inability to do all that was expected of me. I discovered then that my belonging was in serious jeopardy because my behavior had changed. Performance-based relationships seldom survive the long haul.

Despite my intense desire to never, ever attend a church that put legalistic rules ahead of grace, I ended up in just such a church for many years. Dysfunction can be comforting when it’s all you know. I really did feel I belonged. I know I believed, and my behavior reflected my heart. My behavior, however, was deemed less than perfect and I was booted from my church family.

I’ve written about some of the “sins” I committed while attending that church (working in the theatre is the most egregious), but being accused of saying and thinking things I never said or thought was the most personally offensive and heartbreaking.

I really hope and pray that each one of you belong. I hope you unconditionally belong to a family, a group of friends, a church body, an employment community, or a neighborhood.

Do I belong?

No Excuses!

I’ve been asked why. Why would I share some of the painful details of my life and the church’s role in both the good and the bad? Well, allow me to answer that here and now.

Church is, and always has been, a huge part of our life. Of the many and varied paths our road has taken we have seen the worst and the best in human nature. We’ve met people from all walks of life—some have been helpful and kind, others were selfish and cruel.

I would love to say that every good person we’ve had the pleasure of knowing is a God-fearing, Jesus-with-skin-on kind of Christian. And, I’m sure some of you would feel better if you knew that all the “bad” people in the world are not Christ followers.

But, as a pastor friend of mine likes to say, “people are no damn good”.

This is what I want all of you to know—I have never, ever allowed the bad behavior of a few to influence my love for God or my understanding of who God is. Tom and I have always trusted God to work in and through our circumstances. As I’ve said again and again, we’ve had a front row seat to some serious miracles!

I hear people tell me all the time that they don’t want anything to do with a God whose kids are so mean to one another. But I know that people are human beings who make stupid and careless mistakes all the time. I wish we were perfect, but on this side of heaven perfection will forever elude us.

A few weeks ago I sat in a church service where the pastor asked the congregation to tell him who Jesus is. People said words like, “kind”, “miracle worker”, “unconditional love”, “grace”, “forgiveness”, and many more. The pastor then removed his jacket and revealed a t-shirt with the word CHRISTIAN on it.

What, he inquired of the congregation, do you think of when you see this word?

It took a few minutes for people to begin, and they started quietly, but soon the words came. “Hypocrite”, “judgmental”, “haters”, etc… The number one adjective used by unbelievers to describe Christians is “hypocrite”. There’s a disconnect between who Jesus is and who we are.

We’re all hypocrites—every human one of us! We all say we stand for things, but when push comes to shove, we fold under the pressure. We say we don’t lie, but we tell our boss we’re sick on a day we want to go to the beach. We say we don’t steal, but we use the copy machine at work to make those posters for the weekend garage sale. We gossip, we judge, we covet, and we keep angry accounts.

While I've come through the fire with my faith in God still intact, I sometimes find it difficult to have faith in the people who make up the body of the church.

I struggle because we’re so busy checkin’ out the speck in one another’s eye, that we neglect the tree trunk protruding from the middle of our own head. We do this. I do this. Come on people, let’s acknowledge this truth and hold one another accountable with love and gentleness. That’s what we’re supposed to do. If you don’t know how to do this, please read Matthew, chapter 18.

There are days when I can’t stand the thought of ever walking into a church again. But then I remember the words of the author of the book of Hebrews, Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another--and all the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:25

Did you catch the word in the middle of that passage? Look again. Encourage. We are to encourage one another.

You wanna know why people aren’t coming to church, why they aren’t being drawn to Jesus? We fail to encourage one another—not always, but too often. In addition, we are called upon to sharpen one another, to hold the pew sitter next to us accountable, to love, to carry, and to grow each other up in the light of Christ’s teaching. We are supposed to meet the needs of the hurting and hungry. We are SUPPOSED to be Jesus with skin on!

I have NEVER, nor will I EVER use the bad behavior of a few as an excuse to not serve God. I’ve made mistakes, errors in judgment, and I’ve flat out sinned. I don’t excuse my behavior and I don’t blame anyone else for my choices.

Further, I know you’ve sinned. How do I know this? It’s the human condition. I don't know what, when, or how, and I don't want to know. But guess what? I love you. If I don’t show it, call me on it. I’m not asking the church to water down The Gospel or to compromise Truth. I’m asking God’s kids to seek first to understand, then to be understood. I’m asking the church to love.

The other day I wrote about an article I came across in the January, 1962 edition of LOOK Magazine. Several thinkers of the day predicted what life would be like in 25 years. Martin Luther King, Jr. said he expected the world to “blush with shame” at the way we treated people of color.

The history of the church is peppered with embarrassing atrocities—traditions we no longer hold to. We are still growing and learning. I trust one day we will “blush with shame” at some of our ugliness.

Fear of Vacation Planning!

Confession…I have a fear of vacation planning!

Fear can be a crippling thing. Some pastors will tell you that ALL fear is sin, because fear indicates a lack of faith. Jesus rebuked his disciples for their lack of faith.

When my kids were lost in their drug addiction, I woke up every morning afraid that this would be the day I’d get “the call”—word that my child had been found dead or dying. Was my fear a manifestation of my lack of faith, or was it simply the natural instinct to get out of a dangerous situation?

If a ravenous lion was chasing me, I assure you I would not stand before it and say, “I have faith you will not eat me”. I guarantee you that my fear would light a fire under my feet and I would RUN!

For me, the fear of the drugs and what they were doing to my family was very real and it wasn’t my lack of faith that spurred me to fight. It was the very real dangers that got me out of bed every day and drove me into battle.

I’ve developed some rather irrational fears over the years, but in my defense, they are a result of conditioning. A ringing phone causes my heart to skip a beat, my blood pressure to rise, and fear kicks in. I really hate making phone calls. The counselors have told me it was all those years of getting bad news calls about my kids and my fear of rejection (which I’ve had a lot of) that has caused those fears.

The fear that has raised its ugly head most recently, is my fear of planning a vacation. Sounds like an irrational fear, doesn’t it?

This is the deal, every single time Tom and I have planned a vacation, stuff happens and a dark cloud hovers over what should be a time of peace and relaxation.

Once we planned an after-Christmas trip to San Francisco—just the two of us. We were kinda poor back then and we saved money for a few months. A couple of days before Christmas we hid all our kids’ presents in the trunk of our car—away from prying eyes. On Christmas Eve morning we woke to find our car had been stolen! The gifts! They were gone.

We took the money we’d saved for our trip, and went out and bought all new presents for our kids.

One Summer Tom and I planned to take our first cruise. I LOVE the water and I was so looking forward to cruising. A few days before our scheduled departure our daughter ran away from home and we cancelled our trip (of course). We would never have left knowing our daughter was in trouble.

A few vacations have been cancelled or shortened because of car problems, unexpected bills, or kid issues. Last year just before we left for a much-anticipated trip to New Orleans, I was fired from my part-time job.

I’m afraid to map out a vacation. I guess I feel that vacation planning will invite trouble. Superstitious? Maybe a bit, but every respite we’ve ever planned has been thwarted in one way or another.

So, here we are—vacation 2010. Tom is two days into a six-week sabbatical. We’ve been saving money and we are really looking forward to a trip to someplace we’ve never been. But…

The refrigerator died, two cars are broken, and kids are in need. The contract for my second part-time job ended last month, so money is VERY tight.

I’m gonna be real transparent here—this sucks. I know life is not fair, but this is so not fair. Don’t we deserve a vacation?

When Gia went to rehab, we had a few friends whose kids were also in trouble. Every one of them found people who helped them pay the massive cost of saving their child’s life. Some of them got help from the school district, some were helped by the state, and others received donations from their church. We asked for help, but we were denied, and we are still paying that large debt.

Now, don’t misquote here, I would give up EVERYTHING to save my sons or daughter. There is NO price too high to save the life of a child! My Lord gave up his very life for me, and I would happily die if it meant my child would live.

It just makes me sad that despite our faithful giving of tithe, offering, talent, and time, the church wouldn’t help us in our hour of need. My human heart feels sad about that.

I have friends who, like us, have a son who was in prison. Now that he’s been release, people are lining up to give him a job. But my son—he can’t get a break. Here’s a bit more authenticity comin’ at ya…why them and not us?

Life can be overwhelming and going it alone is hard. Our challenges have caused us to lose a few friends, and others have distanced themselves from us as if we are contagious.

The upside, of course, is that my family is closer than ever as we really do count on one another. We know that when all else fails, we are there for each other.

We’ll be okay. The fear will subside. We’ll keep going just like we always have. We are survivors.

We're Game Changers

Last night some 25 women gathered at a beautiful home in the gorgeous “Van Ness Extension” neighborhood in my hometown. We came together for the purpose of brainstorming and thinking outside the box.

The girls who showed up last night share a dream—a desire to create a Valley wide Christian women’s group. It was inspiring to be in the company of so many amazing, talented, beautiful, and creative ladies—true game changers!

There’s a disturbing trend in churches today to separate and divide the church family into tiny little subgroups. Large gatherings, events, and Sunday school classes have given way to small groups. I don’t mean groups of say…50 people. I’m talking about clusters no larger than 8 or 10 people. Groups numbering more than that are encouraged to divide.

“The Church”—that is, the world church—has already been broken into denominations. The denominations then break off into factions. The Mennonite church, for example, has several sub-groups. There’s the (Old) Mennonite Church, the General Conference Mennonite Church, the Mennonite Brethren Church, and the Amish.

If I were a Baptist, I could choose to be a Southern Baptist, a General Baptist, a Calvinist, or a Seventh-Day-Baptist, just to name a few. Whether you consider yourself a liberal Christian, a conservative, or a legalist, there’s a church out there for you.

Further, we’ve divided ourselves over music, food, jewelry, make-up, and public education. Jesus called us one body. We fight, argue, gossip, condemn, and judge the very same people we share the pew with on Sunday morning.

Paul wrote this in Colossians 3:14-16 (NIV): And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God.

When people are divided they fight. Where there is unity, there is appreciation and respect. “United we stand, divided we fall” is more than just a clever cliché. It’s the truth!

So, we hope to gather thousands of women together from all over the Central Valley to support, love, encourage, and challenge one another. I hope California is ready to be nurtured and cared for in a whole new way!

Look out Central Valley. The girls are uniting! We’re gonna love on you big time—ready or not!

A Light in the Darkness

I’ve really been struggling the past few days. I mean, really struggling. I am looking for my voice—my purpose.

I’ve shared my “mountain-top” experience with a few of you, and I’ll share it again now. For the skeptics out there, let me say—I understand! But, it happened to me.

It was ten or eleven years ago. I was at a women’s retreat at Hume Lake Christian Camps in the Sequoia National Forest. I was really struggling that weekend. Two people who I thought were dear friends had waged a slanderous campaign against me (see previous post) for reasons I could not understand. The minister who oversaw our team had relieved me of my ministry duties. I was so sad, lonely, and broken.

About a month before the retreat I had been asked to put together a drama presentation that was to be performed at one of the weekend meetings. Every time I’m asked to do something like this for a church event, I meet with major opposition. A friend told me, “Satan must be really afraid of you, because he sure puts a lot of stumbling blocks in your path.” As I prepared for the retreat, I felt so alone and the darkness was frightening and oppressive. I spent a week praying and reading and crying. I wrote a sketch called, “A Light in the Darkness”.

A few hours before I was to perform the sketch, I went for a long walk around the lake. I was praying and crying. I stopped and sat down on a rock and I said, “God, please talk to me. I’m scared.” I heard an audible voice. I HEARD the voice say, “Pray for D and K”. D and K were the couple who were back home saying cruel things about me. I did NOT want to pray for them. But I did, and I felt peace and love wash over me. I heard the voice say, “You’re dealing with jealous people.” I said, “Okay, but I want you to tell me about me. What do I need to do? What do I need to change?” The voice said, “Tell your story.” “Okay. Which part?”

I felt like I’d lived through a lot in a relatively short life. I was raised in a broken home, and then I’d survived an abusive marriage to a cocaine addict, an unplanned pregnancy, and single mother-hood. After marrying Tom, we experienced job loss, a failed business, and bankruptcy. And now, finally, life seemed to be settling down a bit. But these judgmental attacks started coming from the most unexpected of places—my friends and ministry partners.

So, after asking which part of my story should be told I heard the voice say, “Your story is just beginning.” I was pissed! Just beginning? The voice said, “Your story is for the church.”

In the years since that day by the side of the lake, I’ve come to understand. I’ve been hurt, attacked, gossiped about, and shattered by the behavior of Christians. The church has let my family down again and again and again, but I’ve kept my eyes on God. I have NOT always been faithful to what I believed. The pain has led me down dark paths. My children have rebelled because of the in-your-face hypocrisy of the spiritual leaders and the personal criticisms of so-called friends. I have never, however, stopped believing.

I have a family member who has accused me of “blaming” others for my woes. Listen…let’s imagine I lost a leg in a car accident. If people asked me how I lost my leg I would say, “in a car accident”. Would their response be, “Oh Liz, stop blaming the car accident for your loss”? Um…no! It’s not about blame. None of us are islands unto ourselves. Our actions affect those closest to us, and their actions affect us. That’s just the truth.

My whole life I have taken personal responsibility for everything I’ve ever done. Further, I’ve accepted that the ills of others are also my fault! Global warming? My fault. Financial meltdown? My fault. Ozone depletion? You guess it—I’m to blame for that too!

I remember once when I was trying to rectify a broken relationship with a Christian friend. The woman sitting across the table from me was pointing her finger at me. She was telling me how weak I was and called into question the condition of my heart. I said, “If you were so sure that I was such a bad person, why didn’t you say something to me? Don’t friends do that for one another?” She said, “Let’s get something straight, you were never that good a friend.” I said, “I’m more…I’m your sister in Christ.” She said, “I won’t yield to your victim mentality.”

So, I’ve kept my mouth shut for many years about many things because I didn’t want people to think I was “blaming” anyone, or that I was playing the “victim” card. But I’ve been remiss. That day on the mountain sitting on the water’s edge of Hume Lake, God told me to tell my story. He told me the story was for the church. A few weeks ago I heard God’s voice say, “Don’t let them hush you”. Within minutes that message was confirmed!

I know this blog entry is long, but I can’t sit silently anymore. We are not islands! We are pebbles whose actions create ripples that touch everyone around us. Your ripples have changed my life, and mine have changed yours.

My story is about pain and recovery, sadness and joy, brokenness and miraculous healings. Above all, my story is about hope! After the hurricane, restoration comes. It may take years, but it does come.

The church isn’t perfect because it’s full of imperfect people. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. God just wants us to bring our weaknesses and failures to him so He can restore us and reconcile His kids. Let’s shine a light on the darkness and talk truth. Let’s be a light in the darkness.

Forgive Me If I Have A Bad Day

-My parents divorced when I was 10
-I was in a physically and emotionally abusive relationship
-I came face to face with an evil spirit (who talked to me)
-My drug-addicted husband threatened to kill our unborn son
-The cops told me they could protect me, but not my child
-Strangers used drugs in my home
-A man with a gun sat outside my door – with my baby inside!
-I got divorced
-I was a single mom
-I was fired for something I didn’t do
-I was the subject of gossip and lies
-My children were the subject of gossip and lies
-My husband was fired
-We owned a business that ultimately failed
-We filed bankruptcy
-My best friend failed to defend me and chose my abuser over me – twice!
-My family was told to leave the church we loved (“Your son is too hard”)
-We lost our circle of friends (church loyalty?)
-My children were drug addicts
-Another marital separation!
-We kicked our son out of the house because of drugs
-I didn’t know where my son was for weeks at a time – dead or alive?
-My daughter was a drug-addicted run-away when she was 16
-I roamed the streets in search of my child
-I woke early every morning to staple “missing” posters to light poles
-I sat in the middle of a “crack” house and searched through needles and other drug paraphernalia in search of evidence that would lead me to my child
-Strangers stole from me
-I sat through numerous court dates and then watched my son go to jail, then prison
-We sent our daughter to a rehab hundreds of miles away (more debt…still paying)
-My family told me it was my fault my kids were drug addicts
-My family stopped inviting me to their homes
-I stopped inviting my family to my home
-We were forced to leave ANOTHER church we loved
-My body went through traumatic menopause without asking me
-I was told we were not welcome to ever come back to the church we had once loved as I work for the theatre, and therefore am a “danger to our reputation”
-I was “replaced” (a kind way of saying “fired”) in a job I was good at so they could go in a “new direction”
-I have family members who have cut me from their life completely
-My cousin tells me how to live my life because “God showed me things about you”
-Once, when I asked why no one offered to help me during hospitalizations, traumas, loss, etc… I was told, “Because you’re the strong one.”
-Now I have PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, for those of you who hate acronyms)!

AND, AS IF THAT WASN’T ENOUGH…

-I have stretch marks!

I’m tired. Each and every aforementioned event left a cut – some deep and all still in varying degrees of healing. So…forgive me if I have a bad day once in a while.

BUT -- DON’T MISS THE GOOD NEWS! THE GOOD DAYS OUTWEIGH THE BAD!

“For God loved the world so much that He gave his only son, so that WHOEVER (that’s ME!) believes in Him should not die, but have eternal life.”

Thank You Kay!

Several years ago I met a young girl I will call “Kay”. Kay was maybe 16 or 17 when I first became aware of her. She was a not only a beauty, but she was a gifted singer and dancer. I had been working with the Junior Company (a performance training ground for talented kids) for a few years, and then – as now – I loved working with those great kids. Anyway, Kay was brilliantly talented, and she was around the same age as my own kids. I absolutely loved watching Kay perform on stage – and she performed a lot.

Like many kids that grow up in and around our theatre company, when Kay was around 19 she stepped out of the spotlight for a time while she went to college and worked. Kay was growing up. I would occasionally run into Kay’s mom at church and although we didn’t know one another outside of church or the theatre, we would exchange polite conversation. Then life happened. All my focus and energy turned to my kids as two of them plummeted into the giant abyss of drug addiction. One day I went with my son to a family drug counseling session and sitting in the room was Kay’s brother and her parents. Like so many of us, the evil ravages of addiction were assaulting their family. Kay’s mom and I connected immediately.

I grew to love Kay’s mom. My son was living on the street, and her son was in the same predicament. We encouraged and prayed for one another. Sometimes Kay would be at church with her mom, but it was apparent that she was wrestling with demons of her own. One day, about a year and a half ago, I was driving down the road and Kay’s name popped into my head. Okay, it was more like her name exploded in my head. I pulled over to the side of the road and wrote down her name and the date. I prayed for Kay everyday for the next two weeks. Then, on a Tuesday night while driving home from choir, I was listening to the local news in my car and it was announced that two arrests had been made in connection with a string of home invasion robberies. They said Kay’s name. I pulled over and called Kay’s mom, who had not yet heard that her daughter was in jail. She said, however, that she hadn’t heard from Kay in over two weeks and just that morning she had prayed, “God, please let me know by the end of the day that Kay is alive”. I said, “she’s alive and she’s in a safe place”. I knew then why God had placed Kay on my heart two weeks before. I wrote to Kay while she was in jail and did my best to encourage her. My son had been right where she was and I hoped my letter would lighten her heart. We exchanged several cards and letters over the next few months.

It has been a year and a half (or more) and Kay’s sentence was severe, but she was given the option of being sent away for a two-year stint in rehab. That is where she is today. Sunday at church someone said, “Liz, do you know that there’s a gift in the office for you?” It had been in there for two weeks! I collected the Christmas bag, stuffed with red and gold tissue, and I found tucked inside a beautiful flowerpot that had been hand made and painted by Kay! She had sent it home with her parents when they had visited her in October. The poor little plant had been neglected and was turning yellow, but it was alive. I cried as I read the card. I cried as I unwrapped the pot. I cried and cried. Kay was working on getting well, but had taken a moment to think of me. I am humbled!

Thank you Kay! I pray for you and your family every day. I’m so proud of you.

Who let who do what?

Yesterday I had a late afternoon meeting with an adorable young woman from my church. She is mature beyond her years and has had much more responsibility thrust upon her than most adults her age - and she handles it beautifully. Anyway, she shared a quick story with me during our time together. We were talking about the judgmental nature of us human beings.

The other day my young friend was at a sports game with her husband. Since his son from a previous marriage was playing, the husband's ex-wife was there as well. At one point a few years ago, we attended the church at which the ex-wife is still involved. During a break in the game my friend was going over her calendar with her husband and she happened to mention the upcoming meeting with me. The ex-wife overheard this, leaned over to my friend and said, "Liz Stoeckel. Isn't she the woman who let her kids take drugs?". My friend said, "Don't talk to me", and that ended that.

Yeah. I "let" my kids take drugs. Doesn't every good mom? Honestly. What possesses people to say such completely ridiculous things? I'll tell you what I am not about to "let" my children do - I am not about to "let" them die and that's why I've stood by them every step of the way as they've fought to survive and recover.

I refuse to LET you beat me down.

Family Resemblance

We’ve all seen them. They’re in the mall, in the grocery store, in the car sitting next to us at the red light, in church, even at family functions. They are kids – other people’s children – who misbehave, throw tantrums, scream, and just generally act obnoxious. When we encounter these obviously undisciplined little monsters, we’ve all done it…..we’ve asked ourselves, “what is wrong with the parents and why aren’t they fixing that kid?”

Lately we’ve heard all the stories about “young Hollywood” running amok – Britney, Paris, Lyndsay, Nicole – these girls provide seemingly never-ending fodder for gossip papers, newspapers, and late night talk show comedians. The daytime talk shows have been asking the question, “Where are their parents and what did they do wrong?”

I’m a mom whose own children were challenging (to say the least) and my kids have made more than their fair share of mistakes. I’ve heard many a condemning whisper from so-called friends about my parenting skills and my children have been the topic of hushed conversation among the busy bodies in my world. My kids are now young adults and they are the first to tell you that my husband and I were very present and were indeed tough but fair disciplinarians. My children will tell you that they themselves are responsible for the poor and dangerous choices they made. But…the judgmental whispers about me – the mom - rattle about.

So, using the same logic – that the missteps of a child are a direct reflection of poor parenting, I submit a question for you to ponder today. For those among us who claim to be Christians, how often do you think people look at our behavior and judge The Father? Don’t you know that when we treat one another callously, thoughtlessly, selfishly, judgmentally, or rudely, we are a reflection of God the father? Wait! That’s not fair! Well, fair or not, why would people want God for a Father when they see His kids battling one another in word and deed every single day?