THE REAL REASON FOR NOT SHARING

The real reason I don’t share.

I go through intense issues in life, and immediately after figuring it all out, and seeing the reason behind it all, instead of expressing it like I know I need to, even if only to myself. I run from the exposed truth. I run from me. I have every excuse in the book. Why bother? Who cares really? The world doesn’t need another expressed opinion. My Gosh! Do we reeeealy need another blog expressing yet another bunch of poetic emotional blah? What difference does it make? You’re just trying to make sense out of, or bring significance to your pain, like who hasn’t done that before….puleeez…. get original already!...ummm. that cynical nature raising it’s ugly head again.

The underlying thing I have come to realize from all of the above cop outs would be FEAR. Fear masked under many guises, but the bottom line, the truth on the matter is I don’t write because of fear. Actually I don’t do a lot of things I should because of fear. Fear seems to be what has gripped and completely paralyzed me my whole life, and although initially it cunningly disguised itself, instead of digging deeper under the obvious and shallow surface to find the truth, I’ve just accepted each façade as the truth. The sad situation is that even as the surface veneer cracked and chipped over the years, exposing the blatant truth staring me in the face, I would continue to choose to ignore, and rather believe the peeling surface paint that so clearly resembled nothing of reality or substance. Rather the devil you have come to know than the supposed one you don’t. I don’t know the truth or what do with it, so instead, I continue to ignore it, problem being I have reached the end of the painted surface. There is no more veneer, it has all but peeled away, and I am facing nothing more than the blatant truth. I think over the years I have come to not only love the pretty peeling surface, but trust it wholeheartedly. So much so that I have invested all my time, energy and resources trying to restore it. Now that it has finally been removed I have NO CLUE what to do with the revealed truth.

I seek God on it and He tells me that the truth will set me free, but freedom is the last thing I have experienced thus far. Rather it has been a battle of wills from the beginning. God peeling away while I frantically restore. Today I am naked. Somehow God won, and I am left with my shameful and very naked truth. The truth I see:

I am NO BODY and I am NO ONE.

Well, that would be MY version of this truth, but thankfully the story doesn’t end there. For God completes the sentence. He brings the completion to us if we will allow Him to and say’s:

“Correction Kid. You are NO ONE without Me.”

He doesn’t leave me shameful, I have to believe that in spite of the naked and terribly shameful place I find myself in, I AM NOT left here, but rather my loving heavenly Father cares enough to cloth me in his righteousness for His name sake. In other words, this ain’t just about me, but it’s about His name too, so the longer I stand naked, ashamed and afraid, the longer His name sake suffers. Problem is I am still fighting Him. Pathetic, I know. But like a wounded animal, that has been beaten one too many times, I continue to fight for my right to hold my own head up high in all my naked glory…..ugh!! Instead of embracing….okay, let me drop the poetic here. Instead of grabbing with both hands, arms and legs his righteous clothing for me naked little ass, I choose to stand in my prideful, yet very pathetic place and deny my nakedness….. This might be the very definition of the word ridiculous. Like the story of the Emperor’s clothes, I too have been deceived. The difference between the Emperor and myself is that I don’t believe I am clothed in invisible clothing but rather that I am doing some good by suffering my nakedness, by possibly paying for my own sins. You got yourself into this, now you will suffer the consequences. Take responsibility for yourself already! God extends His shielding robe of righteousness, but I refuse it, I reject it even, in some stupid “holy” attempt to save my own butt from a shame so deep and so awful that not even every human on the planet put together could overcome. A shame so huge and insurmountable that it could only take God’s perfection to blot out. Yet, I figure that little ol me in all my nakedness can take care of.

I know this comes from not knowing my God like I used to, not knowing Him on the intimate level I used to walk with Him on. Before I allowed myself to be corrupted by the religious blah not only in the church but even the world. My Godie and I were connected, I was not part of any church at the time and I was hearing from Him in very real terms. Don’t get me wrong, it is not that attending a decent church is not a good idea, but I truly feel we have churchified God. We have even done this to ourselves. There is this little box we call church, we define it, label it, and try to keep it under this control. God is stifled, we are stifled, but we continue with what doesn’t work and wonder why we have lost all intimacy with the Master, and disconnected our hearts from all that matters. When I first began to find God, completely by accident, and funny enough during a very exposing and vulnerable time in my life, it was a fresh walk with just He and I. I wasn’t allowing man’s opinions of Him to flood my spirit, but rather I was connecting with the one and true living God, and He would direct my paths, He would tell me what preaching to listen to, what preaching I was not yet ready to digest, what opinions to stay away from, which people to connect with etc. We had real conversations, and connected. When did I trade all of that for the latest Christian cliché? Yuck!

Today I realize that I’m alone, I am completely alone and there is no one to turn to with the advice I need. No this is not a self pity moment, but rather a very real acknowledgement of the fact of the matter. Oh trust me there are plenty people I could call for the pet answers and platitudes if I really wanted them, or thought it might help. There is an abundance of people I could even invite to a self pity party and solicit some sympathy from, but I know that won’t help. Actually any of these ideas make me nauseas just typing, let alone acting on.

NO! That is not the answer. None of that is an answer. My life has reached a far too real, far too serious place. My wounds are too deep to fit a band aid over. Hell! I wonder if a surgeon could rescue this mess. The wounds are gaping, raw and bleeding. The depths of these wounds a band aid would only further infect rather than assist. How did I get to this place? When did I get here? Why did I even allow this place? In answer to all of the above…… I have NO idea. The point right now is how to deal with what is.

So what is?

Well, like I mentioned earlier…. I’m butt naked. Vulnerability doesn’t even describe the complete exposed and open place I find myself in. God I could blame for this, but no, it is my heart’s desire to actually be naked enough to not only need clothing, but also humble enough to receive it. Truth be told, I think I allowed this nakedness to happen. Secretly I knew the truth, detested the peeling veneer and have probably been peeling along with God just as the other part of me was furiously restoring the exposing of myself….

I am so desperately trying to drop the poetic wadda wadda here and just call things as they are. So forgive the innuendos and colourful description of some very real and raw wounds I would rather not expose right now. Yup, still clinging to my scraps of surface paint. Bottom line, I am exposed, and suppose just trying to get used to the nakedness, seek the righteous garments God is probably dangling right before my eyes, and then cloth me naked butt before I catch a worse cold….

Maybe tomorrow I can share a little more on the reality of what is in my life, but for now don’t stare at me naked butt.