At first, I wasn't interested in the style of prayer that the testifier was using. But I kept listening because I wanted to hear his story, because I knew it was one of addiction. I arrived home and switched the key back, so I could keep listening. He gave an undeniably power packed witness of what God did in and through his life that began as a child of addicted parents.
I've been thinking lately on passion, that it gets a bad wrap. God does not want us to squelch all that is inborn in us. Sometimes it only needs to be redirected, because a passionless life is hardly worth living.
Wondering where I've been? Or better yet where Mike has been? He's been at Bethel Colony of Mercy, as far as I'm concerned the best addiction recovery center in America, right here at our back door in Lenoir. You know how I found out about it? When one of Mike's friends intervened in a drunken roll he was on over eight weeks ago. When he went in handcuffed under police custody to the hospital, his blood alcohol level was well over .3. He was drinking himself to death.
When I realized that he would be confined if only temporarily to state care, perhaps with no spiritual guidance whatsoever, I reached out to our pastor for advice. He immediately recommended the voluntary program at Bethel. I got busy advocating for Mike's placement there. Everything was in line for the day they would release him from his involuntary stay at the hospital, when I got a call that there would be no room for him for two weeks.
I was floored. And I decided right then, it was do or die. So, I took the young kids who were home and I prayed a prayer that the devil tempted me not to. He said, "What if you ask and it isn't given? What will the children think of God then?" I slayed that thought and went before the throne boldly with my children as witnesses. I said, "God, make a place for him. I don't care how - just make a place for him there."
The next day I called the same man I'd been in communication with and he said, "Have him here at 6 pm tomorrow." I was stunned. God did exactly what I asked. I couldn't even register it just yet. So, that next day as the snow poured, the sheriff's department transferred him to the place that has altered his future solely with Biblical principle, where he still is today.
Wondering how he's doing? So well that it makes me question my own belief, that I can't fathom such a drastic change that I myself requested. When God says he will do "exceedingly abundantly above all" that we ask, he isn't kidding. I have to ask God daily to help my unbelief. It's not really something I can tell many people about, because a lot of people, oftentimes just trying to lend an understanding ear, tell stories of a family or friends who have been in and out of rehabs. But they haven't read the letters or seen or heard from my own husband. Things are happening that are only explained by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.
But these things could easily have been prevented/killed if my obedience had not been what it was. God has shown me and I have "hearkened," especially in these last three years to obey, no matter what I feel or think, ESPECIALLY when I don't understand. So, I have studied through His whole Word, to the point of wrenching my gut. I have given over my own tendency/addiction of comforting myself with food and lost 35 pounds. I am still learning to be quiet and listen, no matter how good something I have to say is. I was learning how to serve my husband in spite of his emotional or physical state; I am thankful for the opportunity soon to continue it. I heard recently, "A successful man does daily what an unsuccessful man does occasionally." I believe every word of that and try to instate it every single day, if only a little of each thing.
Then the trial came, not the one you're hearing about here, but the one only a handful of people know about. In the chaos of our move last September, I must have had my guard down and walked straight into the biggest temptation I've ever had.
It was "necessary" for me to be at a particular place at a particular time, which was the same place that this man also had to be. Over time, I almost involuntarily took notice of his attributes of quietness, humility, work ethic, mannerliness, much less his outward rugged, earthy appearance. Whatever was worthy about me in his eyes completed the "master plan." The mind game began.
I literally had to confess to close family and friends, and oddly some strangers, to hold myself accountable. I even took it to the altar, which is something I very rarely do. But, the demons inside are much more threatening than the ones without. You see the devil wanted me to believe that my time had come, that I had taken enough. Even though I admit I did not bring every thought into captivity to Christ, I clung to my Bible and every sermon I could get my ears on, even and especially when I felt too condemned or guilty to do so.
And on a particularly strong day, I was reading Joshua, where he told God, "give me this mountain ...," and I thought, that's it. Lord, give me this mountain. I don't know what in the world is going on. I can't even remember the last time I "loved" my husband, but I know you have a plan for the protection and provision of my children and me, as you always have, so give me this mountain, whatever is on it. I will bear it, for the sake of your truth, your staff that rules and your rod that reproves. It's all I have to trust in, even as good as this other "plan" looks before me. And by the blood of Christ alone, it never grew past a mind game.
I would be lying if I said it is not still a struggle. Would it have been easier if I asked God to take away the passion that I have to connect with another person, specifically a man? I know for a fact that's what a large percentage of women have done. You sit and sneer at me as though I were a "harlot" and think how happy you are that you don't lower yourself to be tempted so. But because you have murdered your passion altogether, that you ought to have at least kept for your own husband, does not make you any less guilty. Perhaps, you are in a much more wretched state than mine, a ho-hum existence of getting by, living as a martyr, numb to the "perverted" ways of men. Really?!
We have fallen headlong into the civility of not being stirred up about much of anything. Where is the fire of your salvation? Where is the earth shattering realization that you are saved for eternity and that everyone should know about it?
It is subdued so as not to offend anyone. It is stifled to get on with the work of the day. It is handicapped because of the ones who come against it. For the last thing, I am at fault. At home with my husband, I just couldn't take another day of his ridicule about my knowledge of the Bible or my prayer or my whatever, so I just got quiet. On its own, that is a Biblical mandate, to win our husbands without words but by our actions. Slowly but surely though, walls around my heart were being built to stop the arrows from penetrating. As I heard Sunday in reference to alcohol and drugs, "It's feels good not to feel." Man, that hit me. We are ALL guilty of doing something to not feel the hurt.
When I start feeling, I often start crying. And I don't like to feel out of control. After all, somebody has to keep the ship from sinking, so we trudge on. You and I, we stay busy. But these last couple of days, I've been able to catch my breath and just live. I took Macklynn fishing on Sunday. Yesterday, we pitched the ball to each other to bat (yes, he has full function of his hand!). Then Madalynn rode her new birthday bike. And afterwards, Macklynn grilled his first burgers. We had things to clean and lessons to learn, but kids know your love by the time you take to do with them what they love.
Now THAT's my passion and I know full well in hindsight that the devil wanted to disrupt my relationship with my husband so that he could steal away the souls of my children, by removing me from my rightful place. That's the trouble with divorce.
There is no place in this degenerating world for part time parenting. I thank God every morning that I am able to converse with my older kids before they go to work, that I am able to take conversations as they come with my little ones, because I am present at the very moment I'm needed, nothing rehearsed, most of the time nothing planned. We wonder why we walk around in a haze, half-hearted, half blessed, wondering what our purpose is, wondering what our next step will be, wondering what life is about. I say this about the Christian, as well as the unChristian. Because we don't whole heartedly do anything. Wives and/or mothers, pursue your husband and/or your children like there's no tomorrow and the aspirations of jobs and hobbies will fade. You don't have to reserve "me" time. You don't need a "back up" plan. God knows His daughters and what they are in need of.
Mike has said that it's too bad everyone can't come stay where he is. I say it'd be good if there were such a place for self righteousness, coldness, bitterness, slothfulness, and rigidness.
As part of his testimony, he spoke before the men and told them that the kids and I had been tithing, and still are, on our earnings and that we have been taken care of in his absense, not by one lump sum but in surprising places here and there, but that he had not been tithing and look at where it landed him. How disgusting would it be for me to come there and be glad that I'm not one of them. I say to anyone who has even thought it while they have been reading this, Pharisee! We are all about 5 minutes from needing an intervention from something.
I went to watch a community outreach movie about longterm recovery. I didn't get a whole lot out of it, because even AA does not direct people to the One True God, but what I did get was a sign I saw for addicts, "Don't quit 5 minutes before your miracle happens." It gave me hope. No, I'm not the addict; my husband is. Was. And now, HE is my miracle.
