*-*-*-*-**- Written 9/1-9/3/2024
My parents baptized me into the Catholic church as a baby. They also dedicated me at their Christian
church. My mother says they did this to
cover their bases, since she was raised Catholic & my Dad had converted to
Christianity. This would appease both
sides of the family & super-cleanse my sinful baby soul - because when you
are born you come stained with Adam & Eve’s original sin of disobeying God
& eating from the Tree of Knowledge.
As a kid I never completed any of the Sacraments or attended catechism but
when my friends & cousins were doing their First Communions my mom asked if
I wanted to do it too. I just remember
asking “is that the thing where I have to wear a white dress?” to which she
replied “yes” & I promptly said “then no.”
My parents joined the Southern Baptist Church (Spanish
Edition) when we moved here & we attended regularly until I was 12. I really liked going to church, it was like
more school, & I loved school.
Sunday school was my jam. I loved
Jesus, & Jesus loved me. Every now
& then my parents would put me to bed together & my Dad would lead a
nightly prayer, which always put a lump in my throat. My Tia Lupe who was living with us on &
off in those years taught me Psalm 23. We
recited it every night before bed & it became a special routine for
me. It is my favorite Psalm to this
day.
The Southern Baptist Pastor’s oldest granddaughter was a couple
years older than me & we played together on the Sundays that we ended up at
the others’ houses. She was mean
though. When I was really little, she
told me there was a tiger roaming the streets at night that would come through
little kids’ windows & snatch them outta their beds & eat ‘em! I was scared of nighttime tigers &
windows for a while. Another time she
convinced me to sneak out the back door in the middle of Sunday school. I didn’t know where this other door lead but
I knew we weren’t supposed to be out there.
I followed her out anyway & we ended up getting stuck on the side of
the building, between the door that locked behind us & a locked gate that
trapped us in. We started yelling for
help but nobody could hear us over all the singing & worship so I started
to cry & she laughed at me. Her Tia
Ruth (our Sunday school teacher) finally heard us yelling & freed us. The Pastor’s granddaughter was rough on my
toys & even rougher on me, but she was someone to play with on the weekends
so I stuck it out. When she was 12 she decided
she wanted to play a new game: “Monster.”
She would turn off the lights of whatever room we were alone in &
chase me around making demon sounds & I had to get away. I would run around the room blind, trying not
to yell because the adults would get upset, sometimes hiding under furniture to
get away. If I didn’t want to play, she
would turn the lights off anyway & I had to run. Once, in my bedroom, she turned off the
lights without warning but since I was familiar with my surroundings I went
straight into the closet. Unfortunately
for me she heard the door slam & the room was tiny so she immediately
dragged me out. I stood up to push her away but she pinned my arms down to my
sides, slammed me up against the wall…. & kissed me! On the mouth!
I pursed my lips tight & fought to push her away but her
slobber was already on my face & that’s when I kneed her. The thud of her hitting the ground caused the
adults to come check. I don’t remember
which adult it was, only that it wasn’t one of my parents, & when they
flicked the lights on, I looked right @ the pastor’s granddaughter & now SHE
was the one with fear in her eyes, her stare begging me not to say
ANYTHING. She talked her way out of the
noise & I just sat in the corner for a while totally confused but mostly
grossed out. She tried to play the
monster game more often after that & even though I never told on her I
always fought back. I wouldn’t try to
run anymore I would just get ready to throw ‘bows. Not today bitch – no ma’am. My parents were eventually over church &
we stopped going. I did not fight this decision;
I was tired of scrapping with homegirl & covering for her. I was at the age where I no longer wanted to
get up early or play with Barbies. I was
going to middle school & I was ripe for fucking up but I still had the fear
of God in me. I never told on Alma. She crossed my mind a few years back & I
googled her. The Pastor had passed away
& his obituary featured pictures of her, her wife & kids. GLAAD she figured out her shit, just sucks I
had to be the target.
The Sunday school teacher gifted me a kids NIV Bible. It’s cool because it doesn’t change the
actual words of the Bible but features snippets explaining and/or clarifying
the complex passages. It was my go-to
Bible until I was given a Precious Moments one @ my Quince. I tried the Precious Moments one but always
ended up reverting back to the kid one.
I was also gifted a journal @ my Quince, which I diligently kept for
years. It was more like a book of
prayers. Every entry was a letter to
God, angsty, stained with tears. I
think, in theory, it was a good idea; A good outlet for all the feelings a
teenage girl has – directed at God, asking for help & still revering the
teaching of Him being the Big Guy in the Sky to which we will all have to
answer to someday. I kept this journal
all through high school.
My only option for college was PLNU. Since my parents had no college savings &
my mom worked there, I qualified for tuition remission. I just had to make the grades & I could
attend tuition free – only paying for books and supplies. College is a long ass story. The only way for me to continue my education
and not go into debt was to attend PLNU. Disclaimer: I KNOW IT’S A BLESSING
OK? I know that getting a BA debt-free
is reserved for either privileged people, or really hard-working, disciplined,
smart people. I was neither. Well, I am just regular smart, not
exceptional. And I only work hard at
things I really want to achieve. I have
been disciplined in the past but it always wanes. Anyway – I will get into how & why my
parents worked at PLNU another time. For
now, you should know its Point Loma Nazarene University, a private, Christian,
liberal arts school. In the 90’s & very
early aughts it was known for 2 things:
its nursing program & it being THE school to bag a wife. The female to male ratio was something like 5
to 1 – which seems backwards but the school’s unofficial motto was “Ring by
Spring” - pretty standard for a conservative environment. Sex out of wedlock was a no-no, and the only
way to cohabitate on campus was if ya got married. Chapel was mandatory 3 times a week &
everyone had to take – AND PASS – Old & New Testament courses as gen
ed. I was excited to go to college, I
really loved to learn BUT what I really wanted to do was attend SDSU. I wanted to be an Aztec, wear black &
red, go to football games, & minor in Chicano Studies. I always knew my major would be Communications
– I wanted to be a reporter & eventually become a news anchor: be the “Voice of The People.” I told myself that Naz was an opportunity
that my parents busted their asses to give me & so I had to go there &
forego all the normal college stuff to ultimately get this degree.
At orientation I was hella unsettled. I found no Mexicans. I found no Black people. I found no Vietnamese. Only HWHITE.
That’s not a typo, pronounce the first H. Forget the fact that no one looks like me,
I’d been in that boat before – except this boat was culty & cliquey. I still considered myself a Christian so I
wasn’t really THAT thrown by all the prayers & rituals – it was just a lot
of Valley girls in designer clothes from OC & up the CA coast. There was the random midwestern girl on a
grant or scholarship to become a nurse or pastor’s wife but mostly it was a LOT
of “omg like I can’t believe they won’t let us have our cars on campus, like,
WHAT am I gonna do without my BMW?!”
*eye-roll* & then there was me:
the Housekeeping Manager’s only daughter: brown, in an Old Navy baseball cap, rocking
overalls & sneakers, commuting to & from campus in my mom’s hand me
down 1991 Corolla. Not going into
nursing, not attending a church, not thinking about a Ring by Spring. Not making any friends, & not even
considering attending any school events.
I told myself to just go there, do what I had to do to get my schoolwork
done & gtfo asap. Graduate in 4Y
max. I went to chapel to avoid the
fines, attended all my classes & got pretty good grades my freshman year
but life was happening & I got pulled into a few different directions.
The summer after freshman year I went back to work at Vons
as a bagger. I got hired at the Vons
closest to school so I could work part-time in the evenings after class. My parents were separated & my car was
breaking down all the time. My love life
was confusing. Back in the day, baggers
had to ask customers that had 2 or more bags if they’d like help out to their
car. It was usually pretty humiliating,
especially when it was some creepy, able-bodied guy with 2 bags but one day
this blonde chick asked me to help her out to the car before I could even
offer. She only had a few bags, it was
more than manageable for one person to push the cart & load into the trunk
of her car but she started chatting me up about how she was “called” to talk to
me, and asking if I’d ever been to church, and MAN, was she ON FIRE for
Jesus! She asked for my phone number
& I was too polite to refuse or give her a fake one because she obviously
knows where I work & could find me, so I gave her my number & let her
call me a few times before I actually answered.
She invited me to church on Sunday & although I was reluctant to go,
I was not one to flake & was a mega people-pleaser so off I went to meet
her in Mission Bay somewhere.
There were SO MANY PEOPLE.
All of them behaving as though they’d all drank the Jesus Kool-Aid. SO much enthusiasm! It was hard for my 19 YO brain to not get
sucked in. Plus, there was a boy. Isn’t there always a boy? Mexican, dark & def not my type in
hindsight but I was a boy-crazy teen still & wanted to know what was
up. So, I went along when they asked if
I wanted to join a women’s Bible study group; And I let them re-teach me about
Jesus, the Holy Trinity & what it meant to be a Christ-follower, a Disciple
of Christ. They said that I needed to
experience what it was like to date a Godly man, one who was like Jesus! “Well damn,” I thought, “THAT’S new. Maybe that’s the kinda dude I need to be
kicking it with & not these non-committals I’ve been messing with.” They said they were gonna let the dude that
initially caught my eye take me out.
“LET HIM” take me out. On a
DOUBLE DATE. Supervised by another
single man & woman who were NOT seeing each other. The 3 of them showed up at my mom’s house
& would not tell me where we were going, only that we would be back by
9PM. They then proceeded to BLINDFOLD me
& drive me to what I can only describe now as a CLIFF. They walked me to where a picnic had been set
up overlooking the water & it was awkward.
Idk how tf I allowed myself to be BLINDFOLDED but by the grace of God, I
am still here to tell the story of how I was not pushed off a cliff by members
of the International Church of Christ.
Now, this should have been enough to make anyone run the other way, but NOT
ME! My dumbass went back to church the
next day, and Bible study after that.
I started tithing right away, and soon Bible study started
getting kinda cray. It seemed innocent
enough at first, we began with what it meant to seek God, then it moved on to
manipulating scripture to make it fit their message. The studies were weekly & there were
8. The original girl who asked me to help
her to her car, Kristy, was super pushy about scheduling them so that I was
attending directly after work & then occupied with going to church damn
near all day on Sunday, which was my only day off work. I had a full load at school & a core
group of 3 or 4 Catholic friends who were all kinda put off by my absence at their
gatherings. My not-boyfriend at the time
was against all of this as soon as I told him I was doing my best to not cuss
anymore. The studies started getting
more intense, with the 2 girls, Kristy & another chick whose name fell out
of my head, insisting that their church was THE “One True Church.” All other churches were sinful, and they
began outlining a clear standard for living.
They began preaching repentance, which I was already familiar with, as
I’d grown up hearing the Sinners prayer & constantly heard about having
Jesus “in your heart.” They told me to
confess my sins to them & I did. And
even though in hindsight, the sins were not juicy, I felt awful. Guilty.
Dirty & unworthy. Truly, no singular
sin is greater than another. None is too
little not count or so big it outweighs the small ones. Sin is sin.
But, looking over my life now, I had not done any real damage yet.
They required total commitment. They required that I become a Disciple &
in turn go out & make Disciples of anyone I encounter in the world. This meant going up to strangers to
proselytize. I had to give up all of the
things they did not approve of. I had to
suffer in order to EARN my salvation. There
was NO room for grace. Their entire
doctrine was faith by works. They
preached that in order to be saved, one MUST be baptized. If I, a believer my entire life, baptized as
a baby in 2 churches, eager to hit up Sunday school for years, writing letters
to God every day as a teenager, still carrying my kids version NIV @ 19, doing
my best to attend chapel 3 xs a week, knowing in my heart that I accepted Jesus
as my Lord & Savior, was hit by a bus that day after leaving Bible study, I
would go straight to Hell they said, because I had not been baptized, nor had I
made any Disciples.
So, I got baptized.
In the cold Pacific Ocean, after the sun had set in early October of 2000. I invited my Catholic friends, parents, Tia
& cousins to watch; And when the waves rushed over me & the girls
pulled me out of the water, I cried tears of joy! My salvation felt tangible & I was also
now “on fire for Jesus.” I was
officially a member of this church. I
was not allowed to miss meetings, or not tithe.
I had to drive 40 mins north on Tuesday nights to show my face &
write a check for $20 even when I didn’t really have it to spare. In addition to Tuesdays, we would meet
midweek to try & recruit new members in public places. They were all young college kids that seemed lonely
or sad or just straight up vulnerable & clueless, like me. I spoke at church events. I could not date outside the church, so my
not-boyfriend had to go, as did all my Catholic friends who were not church
members. And as a matter of fact, “those
parents of yours that keep telling you that we are NOT the one true church can
go too.” I did not abandon my not-bf, or
my friends, or my family. I pushed back
– “but even Jesus hung out with sinners” I reasoned. Then they decided that I should come live in
the apartment complex that all the single women in the church lived at & I
pushed back again: “no, I can’t afford that & my parents would not allow
it.” I went on another “date” with a
fellow Disciple – a Brotha who was way more into me than I was him. When he was driving me to a church event, he
told me he’d smashed all of his CD’s that did not coincide with the teachings
of the church. “ALL OF THEM?!” I shrieked
- I felt like that was blasphemous in & of itself. You would not have been able to pry my Eminem
CD’s out of my cold, dead hands. I
started rethinking my beliefs. Nothing
felt right anymore. I could not live up
to the impossible example of Christ. I
could not tithe enough, or bring myself to approach total strangers, or even
stop saying “FUCK!” - I just couldn’t do it anymore. The perfectionist only child in me was
defeated & I did not know there was room for God’s grace.
I stopped going to church.
I stopped answering calls. I did
not participate in Bible studies. About
a week later 4 members of the church, including the girls who converted me
& the boy who blindfolded me & drove me to a cliff, showed up at my
mother’s door. It was Halloween weekend
& Terri (my Catholic BFF) was trying to get me to go to a party & ditch
the church for good. I heard the
doorbell & ran downstairs but my mom was already approaching the door &
told us to go back upstairs, that she would handle it. We hid in the stairwell to eavesdrop:
“Susie’s not home.” “Well why is her car
here?” “Because she went out in someone
else’s car. Goodnight.” Door closes, deadbolt locks. We run back down & I’m thanking her while
Terri’s cracking up – “We going to the party then?” I said I didn’t have a costume. My mom says “here” & pulls out a
Supergirl costume she’d bought @ Ross earlier in the week: for Sooper Susie. I got changed & went out, and even though
I felt like the biggest sinner for “falling away from the Kingdom” – as they
referred to it, the costume began to build my confidence & I decided to just
live my life. With Jesus in my
heart.
I did not attend another church again. I went through a lot of life-altering things
in college that made me question my faith more than once. Those stories are for other chapters but I
was very mad at God for quite some time.
I never blasphemed though. I knew
He was real, which is what pissed me off even more. If God is so good, why is all this SHIT
happening to me all at once?! Am I that
shitty of person to deserve this? I must
be. So, I strayed, because I did not care
to understand or bend my will to His or admit that none of the things I was
surviving were His fault. I was very mad
for a VERY long time. I don’t really
know how or when I set that anger down.
I probably started to when I was picking up all those beers instead…
My grandma Lupe had 8 kids, 3 daughters – all active in the
Methodist church. Lupe is the youngest
daughter & she lived with us from time to time to get away from Grandma’s
contempt when her humanity flared up.
My Tia Male, the middle daughter, committed the sin of having a child
out of wedlock with a married man & has still never forgiven herself 40+
years later. Her beliefs are very rigid,
her side-eye is brutal & it is my belief that she is ok with long-suffering
because she feels she deserves it (sound familiar?). I hope her crown is extra big & sparkly
when she gets to heaven. And finally, my
Tia Berta, the eldest daughter, passed away @ 41 from metastasized breast
cancer after less than a decade of being married to a Pastor who was cheating
on her while she was on her deathbed.
She never had children; the church was her baby; ministry was her
baby. She probably has more babies than
she ever imagined in heaven. The one
thing my grandma Lupe always told me that actually stuck was to “put God FIRST
& everything will turn out OK.” It
was good advice from someone who was also very judgmental & rigid in her
beliefs. Her stink eye was more of a
long, disapproving stare & I never gave her the satisfaction of knowing I,
too am a believer & I was baptized in His name 5 years prior to her
passing. I wanted to change everyone’s
perception of what a Christian “SHOULD” look like. I got tattooed. I got a nose ring. I said ALL the bad words. I did not marry and pop out babies ASAP - I
moved to Hawaii instead. Another story,
another time, but so many things happened there that I know that the only way I
survived it all & made it home in one piece is because of the grace of God
& my praying parents. I truly could
have ended up dead in a ditch.
When I finally came home, I was at damn near rock
bottom: drinking heavily every day,
unemployed, single, & without my best friend. I prayed & prayed to God to PLEASE PLEASE
PLEASE just don’t let me end up alone. “Please,
Lord, I need a partner in this life. I
don’t need a big family, or a buncha stuff, or a ton of friends but I do need a
man to hold me down in this life. A
rider. I know I am missing a piece, please
send him to me soon, I am losing it.” I
promised to abstain from sex until I found him so my judgment would not be
clouded by the (d)ick of the morning after.
No more. The next one has to earn
it. A friend mentioned the Plenty of
Fish dating website – his buddy had found his wife there. They were Christians & it was supposedly
a Christian site, and free to use. I’d
already attempted this site once & shut my profile down after a string of
bad dates but since I was trying to bargain with God, I told Him again, “I’m
going to put myself out there again, but please send me your guy.” 2 days later, C was in my inbox.
The story of C & I is also for another time but I cannot
ignore his role in the progression of my faith.
He asked me to go to church with him when we’d already been living
together for months. I was really
hesitant but agreed to try. The church
was big, I liked that we could slip in & outta there unnoticed. I don’t remember the message but hearing the
worship music instantly brought me to a place in my mind & heart that I had
not visited since college. I felt like I
had to gtfo there. In hindsight, I think
I was having a panic attack. I was
probably in “flight” mode. It seemed
harmless enough to keep looking for another church though, and I came across an
article in the UT about a tattooed Pastor with a bigass beard and plugs at a
church called NewBreak. We hit up the
closest location on a Saturday but the Pastor I saw in the paper was not the
Pastor who preached that day. We were
greeted by a man named Mike, who was friendly & easy-going & was
actually the Head Pastor. He asked us
how we heard about NewBreak & when I mentioned the article he pointed us to
the East County campus to hear Pastor Eric.
I loved NewBreak.
They preached grace, mercy, & the 2 main commandments: Love the Lord with all your heart, love your
neighbor as yourself. We got into
pre-marital counseling since we were already engaged by then & were
convicted so quickly about living in sin & doing everything ass backwards
that I moved out of our little cottage & back in with parents for 3 months
until the wedding. My Tia Male was
surprised. I think she thought I was
just going to abuse God’s grace forever & just kinda slip into Heaven like the
thief on the cross next to Jesus, at the last minute. Anyway, we tried to start over in sense, so
that we could set an example of us regretting our wrongdoings and trying to set
them right for our future children. We
had a non-denominational reverend officiate the wedding. The outdoor wedding that family snickered
about not being IN a church, as if God wasn’t literally EVERYWHERE. We brought friends to church with us, and
attended a marrieds lifegroup once a week.
It was awesome. I felt like I was
finally done being mad @ the students at Naz, and I was making new friends who
understood the ins & outs of being married, and were trying their best to
succeed in every aspect of their lives all while giving the glory to God. We prayed together, and they knew a lot of my
business & I knew theirs. Then
everyone started having kids & my infertility struggles were showing. Then C stopped coming with. I joined Kids Ministry. I think I was approaching my relationship
with God kinda like a genie in a bottle, like “hey, I’m gonna do THIS then
maybe you can gimme a baby ok?” Faith by
works, haunting me again. I quit Kids
Ministry. We tried to host lifegroup at
our house one week and only 1 couple showed.
Out of 8. I got in my
feelings. I started phasing out of lifegroup
& no one checked on us. I
miscarried. NO ONE checked on us. I felt like all my casseroles & prayers
were for nothing. These were not my real
friends. They didn’t actually care about
us. I felt like I was at Naz again: surrounded by fake HWHITES. I was TRIGGERED & I was alone & I was
mad again.
I tried a different church, hated it. It was culty & I was not about to go down
THAT road again. Visiting other campuses
was OK but you could tell everyone was beholden to the main campus’ agenda, the
pattern was evident:
·
January message:
new beginnings
·
February, tax season: tithe!
·
March:
Easter prep / lent
·
April:
gotta keep everyone who just got saved @ Easter
·
May: Moms
·
June:
Dads
·
July:
Baptisms!
·
August:
something meaningful because only the regulars attend during summer
·
September:
everyone is back to their routine so:
join a ministry!
·
October:
retreats, lifegroups & more ministry
·
November:
Christmas prep & homeless outreach for Thanksgiving
·
December:
Christmas
·
January:
just got saved @ Xmas? New
beginnings!
Aaaand loop. If you
weren’t in a lifegroup you were only scratching the newcomer’s surface @ every
Newbreak campus. It was nice to hear
different pastors takes on things but it was still all the same, year after
year. So, in 2017 I finally stopped
going. I slept in on Sundays. I didn’t even show up on holidays. I watched football allllll day long. I checked out. I still prayed, sure. Then as the years passed the prayers were a
bit more scattered, less frequent, less focused. I was grateful, sure. Blessed, definitely. But certainly not leading with my faith
foremost like I strived to before. 2019
my grandma Maxi died & our marriage was faltering. I was tired & over all of it. I wasn’t sad, I was mad! I was tired of never being enough. Then COVID happened & I started praying a
little more often, a little more focused, until I stopped again.
In 2021 something happened that triggered some shit I thought
I had buried, or drowned, actually. I will go into that another day BUT: I distinctly remember bringing up God &
knowing that He was still with me. No
matter what happens in this life He never lets me go. Idk why tbh, I’ve had sucha floppy hand for
so long, but He’s still got a firm grip on it.
I’ve had no intention of ever returning to church. I am in my 40s now, my bathroom can be my
church. My life & how I treat others
is my church. One too many podcasts
later I KNOW aliens are real. Did God
make them? He must have. Are they in His image too? They must be.
Bc if in my peabrain I allow the opposite to sink in then that puts them
in the demon category & I’m just gonna say NOPE. Don’t want it. I’ve been in therapy for 3 years. My therapist is just now learning about my
spiritual journey. She’s kind of a
hippie & I like it. I did one
mushroom about a year ago and felt nothing.
I was hoping that because I said “en el nombre sea de Dios” right before
I took it that I would travel to places that would reconcile all of the trauma
(religious & otherwise) that I’ve experienced. But nope.
Still on the curb, waiting for a ride.
I spent about 6 years looking for answers. Trying to expand my worldview. Trying to educate myself on other
worldviews. And somehow, I ended up in
the same place I found myself 14 years ago:
googling Pastor Eric. Life has
inevitably happened which prompted C to want to go back to church. I said NO.
I do not want to go back to a place where I have to spend all this time
& energy, give so much of myself trying to make new friends, loving on
people, trying to fit in – only for them to abandon us when we need them. I am not joining another ministry. I don’t want to. No.
But he insisted, saying he really wanted me to go with; and since this
is the man I asked God for, I figured I should at least make an effort to find
a church I would be willing to try.
Pastor Eric has a new church in El Cajon. It is not Newbreak. It is the only church by its name in the
city. He writes the messages, and delivers
them in a funny but incisive way. So,
you’re laughing while he’s pushing you to grow. We’ve only been a handful of times now &
I’m not talking to strangers yet but I did notice that there’s lots of black
folks in this church, which I am loving.
I always wanted to attend a black church because of how lively &
responsive it seems but I never had the guts to go. This kind of landed in my lap, which is not a
coincidence. I am not putting my arms in
the air during worship either. That
stuffy Southern Baptist upbringing is engrained so deep that it weighs them
down. But I am feeling a BIT less
apprehensive about going. Sill kinda mad
that I have to sometimes miss the first half of the Charger game to go. I don’t really know how I feel. I still have a box in my brain for
aliens. And I can’t get over the fact
that if Adam & Eve are really the first humans then that means their kids
were incestuous bc they had to populate the earth somehow. I do know though, that this time around, I am
not going to approach my relationship with God like a genie in a bottle. I am not going to base my faith in
works. I am not going to park in
penitence. Nope. I am growing, I am evolving, I am still learning
& I am ready to receive His grace.
Me & the thief next to Him on the cross will see you in the Kingdom
of Heaven someday. De panzaso. At the last possible minute.
*-*-*-*-*-* WRITTEN 9/22/2024
Cesar has been in Guadalajara for work all week. He was supposed to come home yesterday &
now he won’t be home til Wednesday night.
He will be spending his 40th bday tomorrow by himself, away
from us, away from home. When he left
last Sunday he asked me to go to church for him, to take notes & discuss
the sermon with him after. I did, even
though I didn’t feel like it and I couldn’t focus. I had a sleep-apnea induced / sleep paralysis
demon nightmare that woke me up kinda late, but I made it to church anyway. I took notes & sent him the sermon from
Youtube but he didn’t really ask about it.
I was OK with it, figured we’d attend together the following Sunday
& discuss after, at brunch, catching the 2nd half of my Bolts game. But since he ended up staying in GDL through
the weekend, I had ZERO intention of going to church & I let him know. I was ADAMANT about not going without him
again, not wanting to miss the first half of the game, not wanting to get up
early, not half-ass paying attention while I checked the Chargers score
mid-sermon. He was not happy about
it. Said I HAD to go, doled out a bigass
lecture. I’d made up my mind, not going, NOPE.
I woke up @ 5AM, then 7 & again @ 8. I went back to bed - “I can sleep another
hour & a half before my game starts.”
I had a dream that I was in church and that I was super annoyed @ a huge
fat lady that sat on my sunglasses & phone.
Then I was having a confrontation with someone who was accusing me of
forgetting to bring a speaker, that I had no clue about. I felt so gaslit & embarrassed that I
started yelling & cussing. When I stormed out of the church this girl
came out of nowhere and said to follow her & even though I did I was
talking shit & fussing about where she was taking me. She led me to a tent. She opened the tent & it was covering up
a bigass hole. I was like “I'm NOT
climbing into that hole you're out your fuggin mind! Fuck that.” She's like “just get in the hole!” - so I
crawl in on my hands & knees, head-first & fall in. Then I realize it's a portal, & everything
turns black & I hear a voice say "tell Cesar to focus on family!
And you- write this down!" I'm like “write what down, what are u
talking about, I don't even have anything to write with!!" Voice gets
louder, almost yelling back this time: "WRITE
THIS DOWN!" & pen & paper magically appear. "1 Kings 19."
I wake up & search for the verse in my Bible app & it's the story of
Elijah & I don't understand it at all. I google "meaning of 1
Kings 19" & started crying:
When I spoke with C last night, I was adamant that I was NOT going to church today. Work has me so pressed & worried that I had a panic attack in the meat aisle @ Walmart last week. I just want to have a mimosa & watch my Chargers in peace. Besides, since I've been back to church, I've been hesitant and jaded. Just doing my best to get there and listen. I feel like I’ve been stiff-arming God and everyone at the church. I do not have the faith I had before & I almost haven’t even cared. This dream shook me. I jumped in the shower & got my ass to church. The sermon was about the story of Mary’s surrender, our fear of losing control, & instead embracing uncertainty. About trying to surrender our plans & trusting God's provision. “I don't always have the power to control but I always have the power to surrender.” I spent a lot of time asking God to “get me there” – “there” meaning engaged & not distracted. He got my attention today. And when I focused, I realized He’s been holding my hand still, even after all these years. And He will NEVER let me go.
Psalm 139:10 "even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast."
