What We Look For in a God

Jake and Suzie-1-4In 2005, I was involved in a terrible motorcycle accident. For a month or so, I hung in the balance between life and death, my punctured lungs succumbing to pneumonia and ARDS, in and out of comas, every rib broken, liver pierced, heart bruised, and on and on. No one was convinced I would live, or could live.

But I did. God was clearly involved in my survival, and several months after entering the hospital dying, I walked out alive.

When I returned to my life, though, I found rising deep inside of me a

Dj, Caitie-Bug, and Rebekkah
Dj, Caitie-Bug, and Rebekkah

genuine anger. Yes, my body had begun to mend, but I hurt badly all over, my ex-husband had not paid any of our bills for months or taken very good care of our kids, and I found myself weak and overwhelmed with the task of putting all of our lives back on track.

Up until that point in my life, I had been careful to direct any anger about things in my life anywhere but in God’s direction. And there was a lot of anger to direct. I left my childhood home and family enraged, and my first few years of adulthood, while on the surface seemingly normal and calm, concealed beneath a churning ocean of anger, disappointment, betrayal, and sadness.

My mother and me...
My mother and me…

I believe that we have a better ability to ignore the wounds of our childhoods when we are young and strong, both in body and in mind. But after my motorcycle accident, with my mind still reeling from the shock of what had happened to me and my body still groaning beneath the pain, I found that I was unable to ignore certain emotions that were threatening to swamp me, and frankly, my dark thoughts were frightening me.

Chef has always been super popular with people who knew him. Me, notBandido Chef so much. It isn’t that people didn’t like me. It was just that I don’t collect large numbers of people to invite them into my life on an intimate level. I have always been careful about who I consider a friend, and I’m too introspective to have much energy left over to give acquaintances. And whenever I don’t feel well, or I’m sad, or stressed, or whatever else, I tend to withdraw and isolate a bit. I can’t manage social niceties while dealing with whatever it is I’m dealing with. It just isn’t how I function.

broken windowsSo, you can imagine how much I enjoyed parades of biker clubs coming to visit me in the hospital, along with the other supporting cast of Chef’s life. Plus, he went on television and spoke about motorcycle safety laws and held a rally in honor of those of us who had been hurt in this accident. I have memory after memory of waking up in a fuzzy state with faces looking down at me in pity.

When I got home, my three teenagers were pissed off too. Chef had Don and the kids 001farmed them all out to different biker households, and as is our family tradition, it would seem, they had all started smoking weed to cope. For 3 months, they basically did whatever they wanted to do, smoked a bunch of crap, and had to wait patiently to see if their mother was going to die.

So, yeah. I came home pissed at the world. Chef has never been a Christian much more than in words, but I had tried hard to make him understand why I was upset. It did no good to accuse him of anything. He thought his wife was going to die, and who knows how well or how badly we will handle that kind of stress until we have to? I couldn’t really direct my anger at the person who caused the accident either, because he’d been a fifteen year old kid, the same age as my own son, and with about the same maturity level.

When it was all stripped away, it came down to me and God. And for a person like me, that is a very scary place to find oneself. It could not be ignored anymore. I was upset with God.

Chef reached out to the most religious person he knew, hoping to find godsome help for me. I don’t remember exactly how he knew him. He wasn’t part of our biker community, but I don’t think they worked together either. But this man had purchased a prayer cloth from a television evangelist who had prayed over it and sent it to him for me.

Yep.

(Clearly, my ex never understood me much, even after twenty years.)

I was touched by the kindness of this man, but disgusted by television load of crappreachers who peddle in this nonsense. I accepted it politely, pressed it into a scrapbook, and plunged into the unhappy ocean of being disappointed in God. So, of course, Chef invited this man to come council me a few months after I went home.

c-s-lewis-quoteI listened for hours as this well-meaning man gave me all the reasons why I shouldn’t feel the way I was feeling. What really stood out among his various mis-teachings was his belief that we were on the same footing as Jesus Christ, demi-gods, if you will. He lectured me in the Word of Faith doctrine that has been corrupting our churches for decades now, and he sought to build me up with promises that if I could summon up enough faith, God would have no choice but to give me anything my heart desired.

As he was talking, the Holy Spirit seemed to wake up inside of me. I was polite to him, all the while disputing his beliefs. And finally, it came down to this — “Why do you believe what you believe, and what in you makes you want to believe what you hear?”

What are you looking for in a god?

It is a sad reality these days that people believe what they hear others tell them, but put little or no effort into finding out the truth about the Lord by looking for themselves. Even worse, they lack the self-awareness needed to understand why they are looking for certain versions of God.

When the man left, and for the first time since the accident, I went to my bible and started looking for the truth. The real truth.

It took no time for me to find it. I was angry at God for so much about this 18c6326b9228e34bc10dca933c81b7e4accident. Forget the physical pain. I’m no wimp. I can handle pain with the best of them. It wasn’t the myriads of visitors being directed into my hospital room by a husband who should have known by now how I hated people around when I don’t feel well, or the sudden drug problem by not one, but all three, of my strong-willed, not-easily-managed-on-their-best-days teenagers, or the stacks and stacks of threatening bill collection letters. No. It went further than that. Deeper.

I won’t go into the harsher depths of my crisis of faith back then. This is already a really long post. But I will tell you His simple answer:

“One of you will say to me: ‘Then why does God still blame us? For who resists his will?’ But who are you, O man, to talk back to God? Shall what is formed say to him who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’ Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?”

Romans 9:19-21

I know it sounds like an odd, not very comforting answer, considering how rough the times I was going through were. But for me, it was the perfect answer. It spoke to a truth in me.

how-to-wait-upon-the-lord-for-your-breakthrough-3-638I’m not one to want to be enslaved to a weak authority. If I am going to place all my hope in a god, I want it to be a real one, with power and godlike qualities. I want to be able to ask my god, why? But I want to be fearful of him as well. I don’t want to serve an ATM in the sky, or find special mantras that will force a deity to succumb to my infantile authority. I don’t want to imagine my god wringing his hands in worry over anything I think about what he says or what he does.

I want the God who predestined His own Son’s death at the beginning of cropped-sad-girl1.pngthe world. I want the God who shuts up the sea behind doors, who gives orders to the morning, who has seen for himself the gates of the shadow of death. I happily give over my life and all that it will ever mean to a god who is really a God. I want a worthy God to strive for a life that is worthy of Him.

Here I am, years later. All those terrible problems have resolved themselves in one way or another. But the most valuable treasure I took from the experience is the knowledge that my God will do as He pleases with what belongs to Him. For me, there is a trust that comes from understanding the God I serve is powerful, and He doesn’t serve me.

who_do_you_serve.jpgI’m saved by His mercy and by His grace, which He has freely given me without a single iota of it being commissioned by me at all. And because of this, I can trust that He doesn’t need mantras, or powerful pieces of cloth purchased from holy men, or some twisted exercises designed to summon up immeasurable things like faith. He doesn’t need anything from me at all, and because of this, I both fear Him, as well as respect Him.

~ Bird

 

 

 

The Stuff Happiness Shields Are Made Of

good_evil_wrestle_9844I don’t know about other people, but I find it is always easier to write a post about negative things going on in my life than positive ones. It isn’t that I don’t have a balance going on with both. I normally do. Maybe I don’t really write too much of the positive stuff because I assume the reader will find it boring, or even worse, weird. I get an extraordinary amount of enjoyment from experiences other people would consider just plain strange.

The downside of writing only about the stuff that bums you out though, is you paint a picture of yourself as a depressed, bleak, and generally whiny individual. I am not happy playing the part of the martyr or the victim, and not just because no one invites those kinds of people to their parties. It’s just not an accurate picture of me. I do have my share of cool stuff going on too.

I haven’t had any real mind-blowing positive stuff to write about recently, but after carefully weighing the pros and cons, I’ve decided I’d rather bore you with some boring-to-everyone-but-me positives than to risk being overlooked when you’re sending out party invitations.

So, here’s some of the boring, yet mostly good stuff, that’s been going on around in my world.

  • Sophie, our assumed barren cat of almost 2 years, had 6 kittens. Our other cat, Piper, who we had reason to believe was born barren as well, Black and White Boy 1aalso had some babies —  two of the ugliest kittens I’ve ever seen. So, instead of just having one dog, Sparrow, recent mother of 8, to get fixed, I now have two cats, long barren, who need to be spade as well. What the hell? It’s like we moved to some Magical Sterility Hill. I’m glad I am not getting lucky myself these days. Who knows how deep this rabbit hole goes?!
  • We found homes for all 8 of Sparrow’s puppies, 5 of Sophie’s 6 kittens, and one person’s promise to return for one of Piper’s hideous spawn. We will be getting Sparrow fixed asap. The whole puppy experience has lost its charm.
  • I will admit, Sophie’s kittens were kind of fun. If Piper’s kittens hadn’t been so unnerving and kind of scary looking, I might not have been in such a rush to make sure no more miraculous cat births take place. Yikes.
  • Chef came into a nice little amount of money recently, and he was really generous about helping me out with some of it. He not only helped meChef-1-12 out by buying my car insurance for a whole year, but he got me AAA as well. He bought me a photographer’s camera, clothes, and a ton of other little things I no longer take for granted anymore. It was an unexpected kindness from a least expected source, and I can’t really say thank you to him enough. Thanks, Chef!!
  • I paid my ticket during Tulsa’s Amnesty Warrant round-up, and Rebekkah did as well. Now, once I scrape together the money to reinstate my license, renew my expired tags on both the car and the truck, and avoid being pulled over by the cops while doing so, I’ll be almost normal again. Normal is freaking expensive.
  • With all the Bandido stuff in the news, there has been a mad rush for news media to cover all the different angles about outlaw biker clubs.Bird (4 of 1)-40 The Huffington Post found an old article I had written about being a girl in that culture, and they printed it. So, hey! I’m bonafide!
  • My son Dj, who very nearly died while in Missouri’s custody, spent the majority of his incarceration in ICU fighting pneumonia and some kind of infection in his blood. No one bothered to tell me he was in the hospital on life support because, as I was told afterwards “he wasn’t allowed to have visitors in the hospital when in custody”. I know one jail that is mighty lucky my son didn’t die on their watch, because this mom would have wreaked all kinds of havoc on them for not telling me he was near death, not to mention whatever they had done to make him that sick in the first place. He was healthier than usual when you took him in, and he was almost dead 2 weeks later. Hmm.  The upside is, he was also an expensive inmate. He racked up such a high Dj and His Dadbill in the hospital that the jail couldn’t wait to be rid of him, and he is now awaiting his transfer back home to Oklahoma while staying with his biological father in Missouri.

So, there’s my boring, though positive, list of happenings lately.

Happy Memorial Day!!

~ Bird