Cleaning Up the Mess

Today’s guest post is written by Texas Stready.

All my life my parents have been in ministry. I never felt important compared to the titanic events that claimed their attention. The Smiths’ marriage is falling apart. The church drainage system is backed up and the pews are floating. In addition, all humanity is being seasoned for hell’s big BBQ.

I couldn’t be angry, because all that did seem more important than blisters or name-calling boys. I wanted my parent’s attention, but they were in salvation mode and I didn’t need saving. Yet.

Our enemy is crafty, well known for twisting reality; his constant babble fed my hungry mind with the paralyzing poison of wrong conclusion.

The importance of my feelings seemed negotiable to everyone but me.

God does what’s right and if my heart gets walked on in the process, oh well. I’d learned in Sunday School that serving Him almost cost Abraham his son. I thought, Wonder how He feels about girls? 

A desperate, deceived mind is powerful material. When mixed with naive, raw emotion, and encased in a flammable heart, it’s explosive. And not in a good way.

God won’t look out for me. His extravagant, pre-formulated plan is all that’s important. My parents are too good to sin and neglect the job He’s given them, but if their mission is to aid those in crises, than crisis it is.

Craving Attention

One of the earliest readers in first grade, I contracted a rare eye disease that blurred my sight. No one had ever heard of this vision problem. Unable to see, I could no longer read. What could be done?

God healed several blind folks in the Bible and now I needed healing. I was sure He was smart enough to ask my parents to help in my healing, since they were close by. My condition did not improve. At the eye doctor, the testing confirmed my eyesight was 20/20.

Teachers notes turned up next:

• “Too much chatter,”
• “Texas was caught cheating”
• “Great student but needs to do her homework.”

I had already decided the way to be noticed was to break the rules. Other than the paddle factor, I loved it – all eyes were on me.

My smalltime, attention-seeking kit was getting old. Huge infractions called for heavy duty concern. My problem became how to come up with better material. I performed bigger stunts, but the ending was never what you would call better.

We are all victims of childhood. Different events of every sort have shaped each of us. Some appear minor and many are horribly tragic. The thing that never varies is the Devil’s underhanded attack, launched for one purpose—destruction.

I remained in rebellion for years, trusting my needs to be met that way. When I slowed down enough to look around I was engulfed in a tub of sin. I’d become comfortable soaking there, deceived and trapped.

All that time in the same standing water left me shriveled, infected, and weak. I no longer had the energy or resolve to climb from that bath. Once the pain became so unbearable – and I saw even my best plan was useless – I finally cried out to God.

Believe it or not, He was still listening. I wasn’t feeling any different, but I heard the Holy Spirit say, “You must trust me enough to get out of that water.” I decided to set the date and climb from the cesspool. I had to trust God and do it no matter what.

The morning of my departure arrived. With no clue what I’d do, or how I’d do it, I turned my back on the rubber ducks I’d befriended, pulled the drain plug, and stepped out onto dry ground. Tired of that stagnant life, and unwilling to remain a victim, I asked God to show me what to do next.

Somehow, that took me to a new place. Finally, I had no plan. I simply obeyed God.

Desiring Truth

As a result, I now have the desire to do what it takes to discover what’s true. Not my truth, not your truth, not even church truth. I’m talkin’ brand new, sticky, pungent, hair-raising truth. The kind of truth whose raging presence chokes out all distraction.

This is the attention I’d longed for and it took truth to recognize it.

There’s only one way to get this type of truth. Ask God, and don’t stop asking till the revelation rushes in—gigantic, pressed down, shaken up and spillin’ all over the place.