My experience of divorce – unmasked

I am delighted to welcome Kathey Batey to the Unmasked: stories of authenticity blog series today. For the last 12 years Kathey has worked with those going through divorce, as a mediator and by running support groups. But she has her own personal story, which she has bravely agreed to share here. The blog is long, but I’ve kept it long because I think her honesty will help others. 

I have been asked in numerous radio and television interviews about my personal story of divorce because I wrote the book series Suddenly Single and I have worked with hundreds of individuals and groups going through divorce. I skirt around my own story and try to “clean it up” as much as possible. I do this for a couple of reasons: one reason is to shield my children from the “grit” of the divorce, and another because my former spouse is deceased and I have no intention of dishonoring him. But in protecting or cleaning up my story, it doesn’t honestly relate to yours. I want to relate to you because chances are your story is ugly, hurtful and surreal to you. Mine is to me. I’m going unmasked, in the hopes it will relate to you and give you hope. Here is the unmasked version. I tell it only for you to know that you are not alone.

I stood in the kitchen and I asked God to hold me. It was the second time he left. Five days earlier, the day the divorce was supposed to be final, he asked if he could come back. He wanted our family back. I embraced the thought and I embraced him. He came back, to the same issues we had before. “You’re just not what I want”, he told me numerous times, I’m not sure how one responds to that statement, as if I could change my core self. I couldn’t, and at this point in my failing marriage where he was dissatisfied, unaccepting of me, being unable to meet his expectations, I wouldn’t. I had shut down years before because I felt I could do nothing right, so I retreated to that cave again. In that painful cave of hiding, God held me. 

 Satan was deceiving him and destroying our family. How could he buy into the lie there was something better, more exciting than what he had here? We had a family, three fabulous teenagers, who never rebelled and were a joy to watch grow and become adults. They were active in sports with great friends who made our home the gathering place for teens. We had reunions, church groups and church services on our ranch of eight acres, a pond in the middle of the property with fish and wildlife. The woods were filled with wildflowers of Trillium and Jack in the Pulpit. It was heaven on earth to me.  

I wasn’t the perfect wife. I was not his mother. She was the perfect housekeeper, the great cook. She never struggled with putting on extra pounds. Where is the maturity when we realize we are grown up and our spouses won’t be our parent? In all, my loving mother-in-law seemed the perfect wife and mother and I loved her dearly. She was very good to me. But she died of alcoholism, having been married to an alcoholic abusive partner. She didn’t know how to stand up for herself and she took her pain inward.

 In that kitchen where my soul plummeted to the bottom of the cave, God caught me. It wasn’t a superman swoop, but it was a sudden fullness and comfort in my heart that contrasted where I was at that moment and showed me I was not alone. I would need to depend on that Spirit in the days ahead. This was one of the many dramatic times in my divorce.

I remember to this day shortly after he left again, standing in the bathroom getting ready for work, listening to the song by Pam Thumb, “Life is hard, the world is cold, you’re barely young and then you’re old. Every fallen tear is always understood, life is hard, but God is good.” That song spoke my heart, life was hard and the world is cold. And I certainly had those tears, but God was so good to me. Flashback in that same bathroom when my husband came to the door once, and I slipped down my nightgown and he turned and walked away. Rejection is painful.

THE NEED FOR SUPPORT

Rejection brings it’s own grief. I questioned everything while going through my divorce: my value as a woman, my value as a person, my value as a life. I could go into those unhealthy thoughts easily because of his perception of me was degrading during marriage and listening to the words of rejection can put you into a dark spiral. But time passed and perception was gained. I thank God for putting the voices and the people He did in my life to walk through this with me. They were not profound, deep, directive voices; they were co-workers, pastors, church friends with simple kindnesses, compassion and listening ears. They related to me, they normalised my trauma. This is why I feel so strongly about how the church ministers to those who are divorcing. It is because I saw where the church was there for me, and I also saw where they were absent for me in my deepest time of need.  

It is mind-boggling, yet necessary to make the mind shift that the person you trusted with your life for twenty years, confided life decisions and submitted your body and soul to, has become an unsafe person. I struggled with it, as those in my support groups do. It does something to your mind and sanity when you try to wrap your head around that fact; it is indescribable, ironic and adds anger to the betrayal of the moment. To hear lawyers, judges and strangers get into your personal business; habits, priorities and what seems your underwear drawer, send you reeling! One of the reasons I believe in group so much, is they can walk through the cruel legal process of divorce. You don’t know who is on your side or who is there to rack up hours of legal fees.  

It is surreal to look around your established home of twenty years of marriage and see all of your belongings and your life on the table for bargaining. It is so unsettling, disorienting and bewildering. I’m reminded of my own experience every time I hold mediations and watch people divide their lives into two piles.

WHEN LIFE BECOMES A SOAP OPERA

Just when you think there is a moment of sanity or calm, things happen that sound like a soap opera, trashy episodes that you would watch in disgust, now come part of your story…

Sitting at the table with my daughter and my mother eating lunch, the phone rang. It was a woman, whose voice I did not recognize. She was brief and to the point of her purpose for the call. “I just wanted you to know, I’ve been sleeping with your husband the last six months.”

I had lived my life trying to be a woman and family of class. Raised in an alcoholic home, poverty was only because alcohol got more prominence than the children. My mother worked as a waitress to care and provide for us. My father bought drinks for his baseball team, his golf league or stole things to bring into the home. In contrast was mom, hard working, sacrificing everything for her family. I never went without because of mom. Dad, I understand more in hindsight, was a WWII vet, who had issues of his own to deal with after serving in the military and the atrocities he witnessed. He died when I was 13. Truth be told, he was my hero in many ways, but also a figure that terrified me.

On the way to a sporting event for one of my children, I went into Wal-Mart to pick up something for the kids, and was surprised to see him and the woman. I encountered her. This was my soap opera moment that I would never encourage people to carry out. Confrontation is dangerous in many ways.  At that time, I was naive and angry and I walked up to her and without emotion stated slowly, “You are a cheap imitation of me.” I waited for no reply. I left the premises. I was the wife, I was the honored one, the favored one in a holy position. I will not throw that away as I had been discarded. I will take claim of that God-ordained place.

KNOWING YOUR VALUE

Telling people you are divorcing is so difficult. You know there is no gentle way to say it. You know when you do you will cry when you start talking about it. Those feelings are normal and difficult to swallow (even though you try to swallow the tears). I chose only close friends and family first and then I was better able to speak it without the tears and later as stated fact.

 Years have passed, perspective has been gained – as I purposely and intentionally worked on my healing. Today, I hear the heartbreak of hundreds of people, men and women. When they are wide eyed in shock from the betrayal of their mate, I understand.When they feel their loss of value and ask the question, “Why wasn’t I worth fighting for?” I understand. You are, I was.

Satan is at work to destroy families, because he knows how vital they are to life. But God is the God of second chances. Jesus is our second chance. Now is time to see your value, and to discover the beautiful life God has for you. We are secure in him. Even in the most insecure times, we are secure in Him. He is whom you hold onto. He will guide you through. He will guide you and reveal to you things you never knew or understood. For many, it is the truth that sometimes the reason for divorce has nothing to do with you, sometimes spouses have issues you cannot fix nor be the answer to. It takes years to gain the perspective that helps you see your life clearly. Not saying years will ever make it right, but years make it clearer and more manageable.

My determination from that day he left the second time and since is: my story and my life will not end like this. I will not be the victim, even though so much was taken, wronged and a drastic contrast to the life we were living. What can you do with such trash, pain and injustice? You hand it over to God and say, “hold me, lead me, give me wisdom for the path I take.” God isn’t finished with you. The best is yet to be. Over the past twenty+ years God has been the greatest husband to me. He is the Provider, the Protector (even from myself), the Lover of my soul. Learn to know Him in this way.

This is part of my divorce unmasked; I could write a book…(Oh wait, I did!) on more of the details. It is real and it is messy. Just like your divorce. This is a painful, yet powerful time in your life. Use it wisely; it will make you or destroy you. I marvel at God’s patience and how He always shows up in my groups and in my life and takes the unmasked, messy moments and somehow restores and chooses to empower us through them.

Kathey Batey is the creator of Divorce Support Anonymous and author of the Suddenly Single book series published by David C. Cook. She is a domestic mediator and has held support groups for people going through divorce. Connect with her on FaceBook page Divorce Support Anonymous or her website www.DivorceSupportAnonymous.com

 

Prayer provides natural opportunity

Today I have the huge privilege of guest blogging on Like Minded Musings, as part of the 30 day, multi-contributor, Raising Godly Girls series. Not only that, the post is mainly written by my amazing daughter 🙂 Please do click the photo below to head across and check it out.


 

I also want to give you the opportunity to grab the ebook created from another blog series Lee Felix of Like Minded Musings organised (and which I was a part of). It’s particularly for parents of tweens (but great to get now if your children are younger – I can assure you it will be a great help in years to come!). Do click below if you would like to download it.

30 Days of Tween Parenting Encouragement Blog Party e-book

Kate Bowler on grief, cancer – and touch

There has been a lot of noise about Kate Bowler’s book Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Loved. And rightly so. In it she is incredibly honest about what it is like to live with a cancer diagnosis. How difficult it is to go through treatment, cope with friends’ and family members’ processing, as well as receiving endless explanations from strangers about why she has cancer (she wrote an article for the New York Times).

Knowing about my Unmasked blog series, Kate’s publicist and publisher offered me the chance to share an extract of my choice from the book. It feels especially poignant to be doing this now, as just last week I lost a dear friend to cancer. I am certain that she is now fully pain-free, and with her Saviour, but for those of us who are left behind we mourn and grieve. I am so grateful for those moments that I was able to share with her in her last days. Grateful too for this book, as it taught me how important touch is – and so I remembered to reach out and give my friend a hug as I said goodbye for what turned out to be the last time. It’s also taught me that grief starts early, which I am finding in another situation I am currently experiencing.

I know cancer is a particularly emotive subject, and full of pain for many. I hope that Kate’s naked honesty, and sprinkling of humour, will help others to understand what it is really like for those with cancer – and how we can be better at supporting them even as we process the emotional pain ourselves. Over to Kate…

There must be rhythms to grief, but I do not know them.

People begin to take their turns grieving me because it can’t be done all at once. Family and friends who could not be at the hospital for my operation come to stay at the house, and we start all over at the beginning.

I sit outside, wrapped in the same blankets and taking in the sunshine, all my favorite people orbiting around me. My pastor takes out her Psalms and reads a little, gripping my hand. My mom cooks a lot, stocking the freezer with everything that is suggested to be anticancer. My older sister, Amy, sends treats and constant encouragement, while Maria, my younger sister, gives me her words when she can’t be there, sending me poems and bits of trivia from New York, where she is working as an editor for a Catholic magazine. She has two big hopes for me: one, that I will be cured; the other, that, before it is over, I will punch the nearest inconsiderate person in the face.

I have so many fears, spoken and unspoken. When I first got my job at Duke and realized that I was going to live in the United States for some time, I made a lot of loud protestations about how “I will not die in a foreign land!” I also made clear that I would not die in my office, not only because that had happened before to professors (prone, as they are, to get preoccupied by their research) but also because it seemed sad, at twenty-nine, to feel exiled to the Land of Opportunity for eternity. I think back on how I casually strategized about where I would be buried, concerned that I would never be able to reconcile all the parts of my identity. A daughter who lives far from family. A friend who spends too much time at work. A wanderer but a type A planner. I wondered if I would ever be one, whole person. But now I am not hoping for completeness of any kind. All I can think of are the logistics. One night I wake up almost every hour because my mind has seized on a horrible question: Wouldn’t it be a paperwork nightmare to move my body? To take me home?

When I teach pastors at the seminary where I work, I lecture them about the First Great Awakening and religious responses to the Civil War and how their political differences will ruin their next Thanksgiving if they don’t learn to shut their traps. But as a historian, I have never spent any time teaching them how to perform baptisms, officiate weddings, or conduct funerals. And I have certainly never told them what to say when they visit someone who is dying and how not to sit on her couch, mouth full of cookies, and ask endless questions about how cancer treatment works. I did not tell them how few of their words are needed but how much their hands are wanted, a hand on my back as I tear up, a hand on my head for a soft prayer for healing. When I feel I am fading away, these hands prop me up and make me new. When my older colleague Frank, who lost his own adult son, found his way into my hospital room, he wrapped his strong hands around mine and said, quietly: “I wore this clerical collar to impress you. And also to get through hospital security.”

Kate Bowler is an assistant professor in the school of divinity at Duke University. She lives in North Carolina with her husband and son. Currently the experimental immunology treatment she is undergoing is working, and studies suggest Kate has at least another year to live.

 

 

From accused, misunderstood and labelled to precious daughter of God…

I am thrilled to welcome Joanna Chee to the Unmasked: stories of authenticity blog series. She is a true source of encouragement to those who connect with her, which I felt first-hand when she agreed to be a beta reader for my book Taking Off the Mask.

I love God’s timing and the way He knits things together – the subject matter she touches on in this blog post is one that God has been prompting me to speak on at conferences recently. Becoming the people that others labelled us as – even years ago – rather than who God made us to be is something many of us struggle with. And God, in His grace, may well reveal to us episodes in our own past that have an unhealthy hold on us. If Joanna’s story resonates with you, why not take the time to go before God and ask Him to minister to your heart, and let you know if there is anything from your past that still has a grip on you. He is a healing God and wants to see you walk into true freedom in Him… But enough of me – it’s over to Joanna now!

God has done an amazing unmasking in my life the last few years.

I have such new joy in being me!

I’ve thrown off labels. I’ve received deep healing. I’ve found freedom in being who I really am – a precious daughter of God.

I grew up ‘the quiet one’. I was shy, not confident of my own worth or talents (even though I excelled in every area at school). I often felt left out and a ‘hanger-on’. Into my adult years, there were times I felt misunderstood and unappreciated, especially by male leaders. This caused deep pain. I withdrew, feeling I had nothing worth offering. I desperately wanted others to take the time to get to know the real me. But I became who others said I was. I became what I thought others were thinking of me.

Then God stepped in!

He revealed an event from my childhood, an incident completely forgotten. He showed me the pattern it had set in place, a pattern of my feeling misunderstood, labelled and unappreciated, especially by male authority figures.

I’ll take you to my primary school classroom and show you how it all began:

‘Who wrote this?’ my teacher demanded, anger and disbelief filling his voice. My friend looked around, then turned her eyes on me.

‘Joanna,’ she said. 

*** 

I was nine years old. I loved school and especially my new teacher, Mr Stanwell. He was the first male teacher I’d ever had, and he was lots of fun. That morning we had free time in class, and I was making a folded paper-thingy – my daughter tells me it’s called a chatterbox – you know, the origami-style folded paper with flaps, where you ask someone to choose a colour, then a number, and open and close the flaps accordingly, till you end up with a witty comment like ‘You stink!’ or ‘You love Tommy Biggs!’ Lots of amusement for nine-year-old girls! I’d written something in every space but one, and was stuck for another idea.

‘What shall I write?’ I asked my friends. Lara came up with an idea.

‘_____ ____!’ she suggested.

I wrote it down. It was a phrase I’d never heard before. I was a good shy Christian girl with no idea it was one of the most offensive things you could ever say to someone.

We had fun playing with my folded chatterbox. A friend asked if she could do it on our teacher. ‘Of course!’ I replied.

What are the chances?

One-in-eight, actually.

Mr Stanwell chose a colour: open – close – open – close – open – close – open. Mr Stanwell chose a number: open – close – open – close – open. Mr Stanwell chose a flap. My friend opened it up, and read out loud, ‘_____ ____!’

***

Mr Stanwell said nothing more about it in class that morning. At lunch time, he called me in from the playground. I remember standing awkwardly with him in the school corridor as he launched into his diatribe: ‘I don’t care if you use that kind of language at home! I don’t care if you use that kind of language on the street! But don’t you ever use that kind of language in my classroom! Do you understand?’ All I could do was give a small nod as he dismissed me back into the playground.

I didn’t tell anyone what had happened.

Over the following months, Mr Stanwell organised lots of fun projects and activities for our class. He appointed students to positions of responsibility – class monitors, library helpers, and playground helpers. I longed to be chosen for something special. My friends were chosen. But Mr Stanwell did not choose me. It hurt.

The years passed. I grew. I forgot. I didn’t think about it again.

(An excerpt from the introduction of my book Forever Loved: Eve’s Story)

Accused. Misunderstood. Not given a chance.

Though I didn’t know it at the time, or until quite recently, that one event began my always longing to be understood, my always longing to be affirmed and valued. It triggered my longing for someone, especially a male leader, to take the time to know the real me (which I know now wasn’t an appropriate longing).

God ministered deep healing and release to me, as He reminded me of this classroom incident. I forgave my teacher and others I’d been hurt by. I felt God come close as Father, and pour His love out on me.

My ongoing journey is one of discovering my true identity as God’s precious daughter – valued, appreciated, truly known for who I am. I am learning to turn to God for affirmation and acceptance, and not to man.

God has revealed Himself to me as Father most amazingly through the biblical story of Eve. Eve is, perhaps, the most labelled, most accused, most misunderstood woman of all time. Yes, she sinned (as we all do), but she was also God’s precious daughter, the one He loved unconditionally, the one He walked and talked with, the one He sought out, cherished, rescued and redeemed.

My new book Forever Loved: Eve’s Story is the story of Father and daughter, as told by Eve. It is a revelation of God’s love for Eve. It is a revelation of God’s love for us, as women. My prayer, through the book, is for women around the world to encounter God as Father, whether for the first time, or in deeper measure.

Let me pray that for you too, right now. (If you’re a man, you’re just as loved – God’s amazing son! You’ll need to change some words in the prayer, but receive it as your own.):

Dear God,

Thank you for the precious woman reading this. Overwhelm her with your love and presence. Take her deeper into you. Reveal yourself as Father. Pour out on her. Thank you, she is beautiful, she is accepted, she is cherished. Bring healing to areas of hurt. Reveal, and gently remove, masks that have been put in place. Bring her into the freedom of who she really is in you. Thank you for the amazing future you have for her, as your treasured daughter!

In Jesus’ name. Amen

May you experience a fresh touch of God today. Bless you!

(And thank you so much Claire for letting me share as part of your Unmasked series.)

Joanna xx

I’d love to give you an Eve Devotional I’ve written (which includes excerpts from ‘Forever Loved: Eve’s Story’). You can get it for free here: 3 Things You Never Knew About Eve: A Devotional Study

 

Joanna Chee gets excited about God! She loves to write, and is often awake in the night with a million ideas for her next book or project. Joanna blogs at JoannaMayChee.com and MumsKidsJesus.com, where it is her heart to encourage and equip women to love their families and meet with God. She is author of Forever Loved: Eve’s Story, a creative retelling of the Bible story of Eve, and a #1 Amazon UK bestseller. Connect with Joanna: Facebook.com/JoannaMayChee | Facebook.com/MumsKidsJesus | Pinterest.co.uk/MumsKidsJesus

 

Important subscription information

I am afraid this is a post that has to be done, due to the new laws coming into effect on May 25 surrounding GDPR. But, to lighten the mood a little, the photo shows some rather more exciting news – which you can read about after we’ve got the legal bit done 🙂

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And now we have all the legal business out of the way (and I do hope you will take the time to resubscribe – I know it is a hassle, but I really value being connected to you via my blog) here is my news:

I have a new study guide out, which is pictured above: Cover to Cover Ezekiel: Dry bones can live. It is available to purchase directly from the CWR website.

 

 

 

The spotlight

‘Authenticity involves transparency, which only happens through vulnerability.’ That is a quote from fellow author Jen Baker, who I am delighted to welcome onto the Unmasked: stories of authenticity blog series today.

As a child, I rarely left the bedroom without my (metaphorical) mask securely affixed to my face. Acting as the lead character in my own performance, I could switch between timidity and boldness at a moment’s notice – my personality dependent on the atmosphere of the others present. Terrified of being known, wearing a mask was the only way I knew to interact with the world around me.

The road to authenticity in my life took many turns, several detours and more than one ‘about face’ – thankfully stepping away from the path of self-destruction before I found myself tumbling over a cliff of no return.

I have a feeling some of you reading this can relate.

Perhaps you have worn a mask which said ‘I’m fine’, when in reality you were crying yourself to sleep at night.

Or a mask which declared ‘I trust the Lord’, when in reality you were self-medicating out of worry and despair.

Please don’t beat yourself up if you’ve been there (or are there) – we all have worn masks and spoken self-protective untruths at one time or another.

Yet I have learned that being fully known by the one who knows all things – is the most freeing, beautiful and empowering choice we can make in life. When we allow ourselves to be fully known in heaven, we free ourselves to live fully here on earth.

Below is an excerpt from my new book, The Power of a Promise, where I share the moment I felt the seed of purpose being planted deep within the soil of my heart. As a young person living in a world of self-imposed hypocrisy, it remains one of the most transparent – and honest – moments of my life.

It was a moment I’ll never forget.

Before I continue, it is important to mention that while growing up (and until my late thirties) I battled intense insecurity and fear – I mean, intense. Hiding behind my mother, refusing to hold eye contact, face turning bright red when anyone spoke to me, terrified to speak in class and always believing that I was being laughed at behind my back. I lived in a continual state of shame, fear and anxiety. It improved slightly after I became a Christian, but in reality I learned to cope with it, work around it or – most often – put a mask over it.

Despite my debilitating insecurity, I loved the stage. When I stepped onto a platform I came alive, because I could be anyone except Jen Baker – which was the greatest desire of my heart for the first twenty-five years of my life. This particular evening we were rehearsing our high-school play The Mousetrap, in which I had the lead female role. It was late, the school had closed hours before, and nearly everyone except the janitor had left the building. I had stayed behind to practise some lines, and that is when it happened.

The director stepped out of the auditorium, and I was preparing to leave when I glanced up to see a small circular spotlight at centre stage. It was just wide enough for one person to be seen. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Looking around to make sure nobody else was watching, I put my things down and rushed to the platform. I carefully, methodically, made my way to the centre of that light where I stood – just me, the spotlight and my imagined audience.

Time stood still. I wasn’t yet a Christian, but I felt something divine over that moment, to the point where I literally could not move. I looked out to the ‘audience’, took command of the atmosphere…and I decided right then and there: this was my destiny.

The seed took root.

Let me say again: We can only fully live our purpose when we freely know our creator. Over the ensuing years, as my relationship with my Saviour deepened, the masks slowly came down and my purpose gradually came forth.

It says in Ephesians 2:10 “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” We have been created to do good works, which God has already prepared for us. He has given us every gift we need, to carry out every plan He has. As every woman carries the seed of new life in her body, even as a little girl, so we come into the world with the seeds of our purpose simply waiting to be born.

If God were to put a spotlight on the centre of your dreams – what would He find? Where would you be standing? Remember, the Word says that God only has good gifts for us and where He leads is always toward peace and prosperity. He is a good God who is trustworthy and who always has our best future in the plans of His heart.

My prayer is that today you can believe again for the promises over your life to become alive with power, infused with purpose and unleashed in possibility.

No more hiding. No more shame. No more masks.

Instead, standing vulnerable within the security of God’s love and grace, you will step boldly into the spotlight of your future.

Jen Baker is a speaker, author and leader who loves seeing the Holy Spirit and the Word change lives and impact nations. Called from America to live in England, Jen has been a pastor, director and consultant working with the local church and several anti-trafficking charities. She has written five books, including her newly released The Power of a Promise, which can be ordered on her website at jenbaker.co.uk.

 

 

Good and messy

I am delighted to welcome American author Allison Allen to the Unmasked series today. She has written Shine: Stepping into the role you were made for, which I read recently and thoroughly recommend.

It was a hot mess. And for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why.

I am speaking about my front porch.

Every morning I opened my home’s door to find it strewn with various bits of detritus. Chunks of styrofoam. Bits of netting. Straggle-y sticks and stalks. By the end of the day said trash would disappear, which I chalked up to a good, stiff breeze.

This mystery continued for several days until, finally, it dawned upon my toddler-addled brain to look up.

And there it was – the beginnings of a nest.

A. Really. Ugly. Nest.

Precariously perched in a small corner a mama bird was hard at work building a place to have her young. Her progress was not what one might call pristine or promising. Certainly not pretty. But she did not stop, and, eventually, she made something of a topsy-turvy home in which to lay her eggs.

I wondered what would cause a bird to build upon such a small, hidden eave, when anywhere else would have taken so much less work. Our front yard is full of perfectly good trees, ready-made for nest-building. However, I also saw that our neighborhood was full of mockingbirds, those aggressive birds that will dive-bomb the head of anything human, avian, or otherwise. This robin-mama wasn’t looking for pretty or easy. She was looking for protected, sturdy, safe. She was looking for close and hidden. And she was willing to do the awkward, messy work of creating that kind of home for her chicks.

All this reminds me of Psalm 84:3, where the writer cries out:

Even the sparrow has found a home – and the swallow a nest for herself – where she may have her young. A place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God.

It strikes me that the bird (and the psalmist who wants to be like the bird) is desperate to build a nest near God’s altar. Close. Tucked in. Intimate.

And it amazes me that Psalm 84 says God welcomes the messy process of his people (like birds) bringing the bits and pieces of who they are, strewing the altar with the trash, because, well, because He’d rather have us messy and close, than pristine and far away.

Intimacy, like nest-building, is messy.

But it is so well worth the mess.

Especially when what you end up with is a nesting place nearer to God than you could have ever imagined.

I’ve never wanted to be more bird-brained in all my life.

 

Allison is a graduate of the prestigious Carnegie Mellon University and appeared in 650 performances of the Broadway production of Grease. A former Women of Faith dramatist and current Bible teacher, she speaks to women at conferences and retreats around the country, exploring themes of purpose, value and identity in original and unexpected ways.

 

Her book, Shine, Allison looks at how actors aren’t the only ones who play roles – all of us do, nearly all of the time. Using her own personal stories she calls readers to drop the brave act and step into the role we were each made for – being our true selves in Christ.

 

What I learned about distance in Christian marriage

I am delighted to welcome Tiffany Montgomery as a guest blogger today – she shares insights from when she discovered her part in creating distance in her marriage, and what God prompted her to do about it. That forms the basis of a new online course she is launching, Finding Hope and Joy in My Marriage – and there is one free place up for grabs below!

Do you remember when you were courting your husband?  (or he was courting you 😉 ).  Our romance began with long nights playing cards, drinking coffee and talking about our hopes and dreams, fears and failures of the past.  We were so close, the best of friends. What happened?  

We don’t talk like that anymore.  Distance. It came with time and hurt and life.

I don’t always tell him things and he forgets to tell me things. Now we have to have a time on the calendar to talk deeper than schedule things and kid things.  When did that happen? There was a time – in the past – when wild bulls could not have kept me from calling him to talk about the joys and sorrows of life.

As a woman I feel the pain of that distance deeply, but it never crossed my mind that he feels it too.  He put distance between us at some point – just like I put distance between him.

The man I love – who once worked day and night to make me happy – his need for respect is as real as his need for air.

When he feels disrespected, when his pride is hurt again and again, he starts putting up a wall to protect himself – from me.  I think of it as a dam – with walls that are high and wide – behind which he can hide the well springs of his heart.

My man is human – a natural mixture of good, neutral, and bad character traits – just like me.  And, just like me, he puts distance between himself and hurt.

Proverbs 21:19 says: “It is better to live in a desert land than with a contentious and vexing woman.”

This scripture describes a wife with a mouth that can maim her husband.   Can you relate to the conviction in those words?  

When I am not a safe place for my husband, he puts up a wall between us.

When I challenge him for the leadership role in our home, he builds that wall higher.

This wall grows and grows over the years until he has a built a huge dam.  Our husbands are protecting themselves from the pain of not being good enough for the most important person in their world… his wife.

When I think of it this way, my very soul is laid bare.

I created this unsafe place for him?  My words, my nagging, my putting my preferences first, my business and forgetfulness, my fear and taking the wrong side…  Have you created a similar place?

Did I really crush him so much that he can’t trust me with his heart?  I see the distance and know it is true. Can you see your husband’s lack of trust in you?  His uncertainty of how you will react to his flaws?

I just want to add a note here that the way he is responding is not all on us.  You must not take responsibility for his every mood swing. Often there is more going on in his world.  Hurts from his past create some of his behavior; wrestling with God can create some of it as well. He may struggle with insecurity or any number of other things.  I want to be sure you understand here that we are only to deal with what our attitude and actions are affecting.

Over the course of the past decade God has shown me how my words affect my husband –deeper than he lets on.  I have to look to how he responds to see the real results of years of nagging and disrespect. It took so much to heal this hurt and get my husband to let down the wall to the dam over his heart.

How did I create a Safe Place to remove the Distance in our Christian Marriage?

These I the things that I did, which I humbly suggest could help you too:

  1. Accept him – flaws and all.
    • This required a lot of forgiveness. Forgiving the past hurts.
    • It also required a lot of prayer – because some of those flaws are hard to live with.  I am now trusting God to change my husband in His time – instead of trying to change him in my time.
  2. Showing respect with my words and taking complaints and concerns to God instead of my husband.
    • Did I mention prayer?  Taking my words to God first –- letting Him be my filter – has changed the entire dynamic in our home!
    • God deals with the emotional side of what I want to say, then hubby and I can clearly communicate when there are problems.  And we can have more fun when there are not problems – because I am trusting God to handle the bigger things for me!

My Husband put distance between us because I was not a safe place for him to be real – flaws and all.  

Bit by slow bit I am trying to be a safe place for him.  To love him the way I want to be loved.

Does that fix all of our problems?   Nope.  He still hurts me sometimes and I still hurt him sometimes.  But we are accepting the humanness of ourselves and we can work through things now because neither of us expects the other to be perfect!

Are you longing for Hope and Joy in your Marriage?

God took me through a journey of re-learning how to live as a wife with a biblical worldview.  It is a joy for me to teach and mentor locally and I am thrilled to launch this new Online Course.

In this 9 week course we will dig into the Bible and find out how to restore our marriages – rebuilding them to last a lifetime!

This Marriage Course will include:

  • 10 self paced video lessons on:
    • Love
    • Forgiveness
    • Desires Vs. Preferences
    • My Mouth
    • Appreciation & Admiration
    • The Leader
    • Understanding Men
    • Respect
    • My Priorities
  • 9 weeks of personal study
    • 5 days each week that should take 10-15 minutes
  • 45 days of prayer prompts

I am excited to give away one spot on the course!

To Enter Click this Link.

 

 

Tiffany is a Kentucky Jesus Gal with a passion to encourage and equip wives and moms through practical biblical discipleship on her site HopeJoyInChrist.com. She loves to connect with other women to help grow their Christian marriages inside her growing Facebook Community. She shares: “My heart’s desire is to encourage the women – if we walk this life together we can do it better”!

You are not what you do

My plan is to continue with the Friday Unmasked series, whenever there is a story to share. In the meantime, here is an authentic lesson from my own life, which I’ve been learning – yet again!

I am looking forward to sharing at a women’s breakfast tomorrow morning. The title of this blog is lifted from my talk, although what I share below is not a sneak preview of the content 😉 So often I think we can cling to roles, and yet here is a reminder to look to God alone for our identity:

It’s often the very first question after we’ve been introduced to someone: ‘So, what do you do?’ That perpetuates the tendency we all have to link who we are with what we do. And yet we are so much more than our jobs.

A series of events and experiences in recent months has reminded me that I am not what I do – that my identity needs to be 100 per cent fixed on who I am in Christ, otherwise I will be shaken.

You see, God opened some doors of opportunity for me. I didn’t look for them – they were very definitely a gift from Him. I was really taken aback, and grateful, as they were all writing jobs.

Then circumstances beyond my control changed, and one of the jobs shifted significantly. My immediate response was to feel anxious and unsure of myself (even though I had just realised that ‘adventure’ really WAS the word God was giving me for the year). Oh Lord did you really need to pick that one?! I questioned Him, asking why He had given me something only to take it away again. I also felt defensive – worried that my reputation could be affected even though the changes had nothing to do with me.

God then spoke clearly to me about how, yet again, I was clinging onto roles – albeit legitimate ones – rather than Him to define who I am. I felt the challenge to let go and trust Him for what I would be doing workwise day by day.

God was incredibly gracious and confirmed that to me through words spoken by people I had only just met and therefore didn’t know my situation at all. And now, a few months later, I have now seen how God has been orchestrating everything behind the scenes. There are new opportunities on the horizon that I can see utilise my giftings and embrace what I feel called to. They reflect who I am, rather than me reflecting a role I have. It’s all been a matter of trusting God – and I still need to (believe me it hasn’t been easy at times) – but I’m beginning to discover what His amazing love and care has been achieving.

It can be really hard not to equate who we are with what we do for the majority of hours we are awake each day. And yet God has been reminding me to keep my eyes firmly fixed on Him alone as my source of security and identity. Yes it’s a lesson He has taught me many times before, but I know I need to keep being reminded of it – and I suspect that is true for many of you too.

Poignant poem for Mothers’ Day

Georgina (left) and her sister Bec

I read this post on Georgina’s own website and asked her whether it would be okay to include it as this week’s Unmasked: stories of authenticity blog. She is so honest, so raw and vulnerable, and I know this will speak to many for whom Mothers’ Day is bitter-sweet.

I have found Mothers’ Day hard before, trying to hold in tension my gratitude for the beautiful children I have and my sadness for the one I didn’t get to keep.  It is a day countless others find hard too.

This year feels like a whole new level of struggle is looming as I must face yet another difficult day, where my raw emotions will be dragged to the surface and shaken and beaten just a little more. It is six months since my sister passed away; Mothers’ Day without her is another hard ‘first’.  This time last year we had no idea our worlds were about to implode.  She was diagnosed a week later.  Writing this poem has helped me to face it better.  It is not a cry for pity or a judgment on those celebrating – just a pure reflection of my thoughts and emotions as I continue to walk this road of grief.  I hope it will make fellow strugglers feel less alone.

Mothers’ Day  

Last year, 
My sister took the early slot, 
Taking flowers and chocolates to Mum,
Mid afternoon,
Chatting casually 
Over coffee,
A Mothers’ Day like any other.
Her words scrawled in the card,
One of many down the years,
A relic now.
I went later,
With a now-forgotten gift,
For a glass of wine
and child-free conversation,
A luxury.

This year it’s just me.
I can never be enough,
Feel enough, write enough,
Say enough, do enough,
To plug the gaping hole now left,
One we hadn’t even seen coming then,
That ordinary Mothers’ Day last year.

Mothers’ Day looms.
I’ve survived it before,
The times it has threatened to suffocate me,
As a Mother, minus a child,
Taken too soon.
I’ve learned to live with that.

This time round I have a Mother and a child – two, in fact.
But Mothers’ Day threatens to swallow me whole in a different way,
As I face my own Mother,
With one child less and a pain 
No gift from me can dull.

And it threatens to swallow me whole 
When my niece crawls onto my lap 
Motherless,
Adapting, adjusting,
But with parts missing that will never be whole.
I cry as I imagine her,
Surrounded by classmates,
Gluing tissue paper to make-shift bouquets,
Wondering in her six-year old way 
If Mummy still sees,
Somewhere out beyond the stars.

Mothers’ Day.
I’ve learned to live with the pain
And the kick-in-the-teeth, 
It doles out, once a year,
Learned to count up the blessings as well as the cost.
Countless armies of others join me,
Teeth gritted through Facebook outpourings.
I’m not on my own.

But this year, 
Is harder than ever.
I lock my hands for the ride,
in the tightest of grips
As the Mothers’ Day rollercoaster plummets again,
Wondering if anyone will hear my screams.