The Lesson (pt.1)

Here, is to young naivety and foolish searching; for though they seem to waist time and serve no purpose, they are still used of God in mighty ways to humble the hearts of those who chose the stubborn road.

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hello,

Hopefully neither of two things has happened. This email address is still current and belongs to Rich Buhler, and you have actually opened it instead of deleting it as spam. So if you have gotten this far, allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Lyndzey Walker (MJ for short) and I have been trying to track you down since last week. A pastor friend of mine gave me two of your books to read when I asked him to provide me with some literature on anger. First let me say that I wish I'd been given your book years ago. Second, thank you for letting God use you for His glory. Third, to be very blunt...I need help.

Without boring you with the details, lets just say that my life must have been your subconscious muse; either that or I just happen to have experienced what thousands of others have. Since I'm pretty sure the latter is most accurate, I'll tell you that God has brought me to a place where I either pull myself up by my pants and stop being a victim, or I let the world point at the "tattoo" on my forehead for the rest of my life. There is probably nothing I could say about myself that you haven't heard already, and most likely nothing you could convey to me regarding my past that hasn't already been tossed my way.

The reason I'm emailing you at all is because that while most people I've spoken with about my pains seem to have the same truths you do, they lack one thing I was hopping God instilled in you. It seems that when it comes to living in victory, most people just plain don't know how - they don't even know what it looks like; and frankly, I don't either. I am standing on a threshold of life here, waiting for the deal on the other side of the door to sweeten, and the whole time I've been standing here I keep asking myself what the heck I'm waiting for? The door has been opened, and the promises have been made. God is and has been faithful, and the light at the end of the tunnel is so close I can taste it. So why am I standing here waiting...when what is on the other side of the threshold couldn't get any better then it already is? I am afraid of risk. I am afraid of taking a chance and making the choice that leads to the failure that leads to the lesson that takes me to the feet of Jesus, where I learn to stand in Him and walk in His victory... and I am afraid of all this because I've never been there, and while where I am now is a living hell, it's familiar and seems ok compared to what it might take if I chose His way.

*and so my spirit screamed to me that I his the paradigm just right and it's about to shift.*

No One to Help

"Could a mother forget a child who came from her own body? Even if she does forget, I will never forget you - never. See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands, your walls are ever before me; the demolition crews have been scattered. You are always in my thoughts!"

-ISAIAH 49:14-16

There is an inner knowing that most people who read that verse believe that a parent’s love is unconditional and never failing. I am here to testify that, that scripture is in the bible not just because Yahweh wanted to remind us of His love and faithfulness to us, but because He knows how deep the darkness of our hearts really is; that scripture was placed in Isaiah to remind us that while parents love their children they are still human and they will and do fail us. They may not want to, they may wish they could stop themselves, but if they are not grounded in God, if they are apart from truth and true life and love, they will fall flat on their faces with every effort of trying to love us in their own strength. My parents are a prime example of this.

My mother doesn't know what it means to love me. She may know what it means to provide for me, to spoil, give, or teach me; but she doesn't get the meaning or the action that is real love. She manipulates, lies, acts out, rebels, crafts her own design for solving her problems, and spews out venom like it were water for the thirsty. She forgot me. She left me. She might have been there when I was about to die physically, but when I died emotionally, mentally, and was dead spiritually, she gave up on me. I don't trust her.

My Dad, is a broken, weak, miserable man. He lacks leadership skills, he doesn't know how to follow through, he doesn't know how to step outside himself long enough to see the messes he makes in others lives. He walks daily a path of self-destruction that has not yet fully come to a head. He is an abuser and a punisher, most intensely on himself. He acts passive-aggressively toward everyone, and stuffs any emotion he doesn't think people want to see. He has become an egg shell walker.

I am just like them both. Their actions, their choices, their lives disappoint me like a disappoint myself. Right now, my mother makes me sick...she has turned into a desolate women with out hope and with out a horizon. My dad makes me enraged; he chooses whatever is best for him and gives a shit about those who have kept him a float. They both brake my heart, though I'm not sure how that is fully possible seeing as it's never really been whole. The truth is, both my parents didn't want me, they didn't plan me, they just wanted to feel good and to somehow heal the wounds they were both carrying; I was the consequence they didn't want to take responsibility for. I am my mother’s second child, and she has reminded me every day since I was little that my life was unplanned. There is a apart of me that is very much grateful that my older brother didn't live to see the hell our family has gone through. He among us is blessed.

Because I had been so sick in my infancy and childhood mom was never to far away for fear that dad could not handle the responsibility of taking me to the ER if the situation called for it. She didn't trust him with her secrets, she didn't trust him with her life, she didn't trust him with her emotions, but the one time she trusted him with her body she felt the sting. Life since then brought to the service her ability to shut everyone and everything out of her life, and little by little that is exactly what she has done.
She began small with her wall building; by the time it got to me and my younger brother she was getting confident of her ability to rely on herself. However, this proved to be debilitating in ways she didn't anticipate, purr her not being able to get away from us kids from time to time due to her lack of contact/trust. So her last ditch effort at trusting came on a Women's retreat weekend where she asked my dad to baby-sit while she was gone. I was four years old at the time. Her first night away both my brother and I were molested by my dad.

God said that He is our Father, and as such He always has our best interest at heart. I believe that; I know that in my deepest parts. "I will never forget you," speaks volumes to my soul, because I know no matter what when I need Him the most He has defended me to the death and won! This is what I expected of my parents, this is what I thought it meant to be a kid - that I could freely rely on my parents to protect me no matter what the cost, to love me even when it hurt, and to provide security for me even if it meant they stood alone in Faith.
This is not what I received from either of them, and it makes me want to vomit.

My mother had the chance to walk away with us two kids and find another path that God wanted her to walk. Even though she had messed up He still wanted her to strive to live for Him and He was more then willing to help and provide for her. But she let fear paralyze her. She let the need for approval dictate her every step! She had already come out of one failed miserable marriage, and one lost child to boot; there was no way in hell she was going to surrender to the Holy Spirit and admit defeat in the face of her family and herself. So at the expense of myself and my brother, she lived how she wanted...and now she is suffering for it and expects everyone around her to feel sorry and have pity. I have empathy; I love her, I have wept and still weep over her. But I refuse to have pity for someone who chooses not to pick themselves up and try.

My father had a chance to come clean. It would have meant certain unavoidable and very painfully real consequences, but it would have also meant freedom! All he knew was that for some reason the things that had been done to him he was now doing to others, and the loss of control was too much for him to cope with; and the fact that it felt good was an even harder pill to swallow. He had no way of being honest that wouldn't jeopardize his reputation, that wouldn't emotionally and mentally castrate him, so he hid. He ran. He hid himself in his workshop, in his job, in his cars, his trains. He ran from responsibility, from difficult choices, from truth! He could have hid in Jesus' arms, he could have chosen to come clean and be saved - even if it meant pushing through a "small" hell. Now, he is living in severe denial, in a world he can not escape from...he has lost all control and missed his chances to walk free. Without the help of another stronger hand, he'll never recover.

I refuse to end up like this. My life was made to glorify God Almighty! My life though unplanned by human minds, was formed by Yahweh's hands, and nit with his suture. I am not meant to chose my own path, I am not meant to ask the Potter why I'm made the way I am. He knows, He sees, He has planned in advance good works and a purpose for me alone to accomplish in His timing in His way, in His will, while by His side. My brokenness was not meant to stay that way...my brokenness was meant to be poured out as an offering. My life meant to be lived as a sacrifice of love for my Precious Yashuah. I may have an enemy, but he does NOT Have me! The Lord has me firmly and securely...and I am more convinced of that then ever! I refuse to live in the pit with those I was made to draw from it. Father show me grace that I can show it to them. Show me forgiveness that I can grant them the same. Give me favor that I can show them your words and your glory! Give me direction that I can follow without question, even in a time of testing. I love you, and you are mine regardless of what has happened. I am yours alone regardless of what has happened. You are my holy one, my Savior, my Adoni, my Abba Father, my Refuge, my Hope! Even in Your disappointment of me, you still love me the same. Even in my selfishness you chose me. I love you for who you are!

...more to come.

No One to Trust

There is no way for me at this point to fully express in words what is happening internally. How I wish speaking in tongues could be understood by the masses. The groaning in my most inner parts is the only language I understand right now; there is just no way to communicate the anguish that has just been unleashed before and with in me.
The last three days have been such a blur I’m not even sure where I should begin with this post. What details matter, which ones don't? How does one short so much information out into clear and concise sentences for others to comprehend? I'm at a lost as to how this might be done; so for warnings on this being very rough.

"Pain and Pretending," by Rich Buhler - published in 1982 by Nelson publishers - was given to me three days ago by a Pastor whom I have known the same amount of time. I was encouraged by a friend to visit a women’s bible study her church hosts, and while there found myself extremely hungry for answers to the questions I had been asking myself for weeks. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to ask, I went to the Pastor sometime later in the afternoon after the bible study had long since ended and asked him to barrow any book on anger he might have stashed away in his library. Having grown up around Pastors I knew that they carry their books with them everywhere, and so his office in my mind was a wealth of knowledge waiting to be broken into. He was more then delighted to poke around for anything I might find useful; however I was really stunned when we entered his office as he only has two book shelves which are two feet shorter then me, and held more nick knacks then books. I quickly learned that he had downsized his collection for the sake of space saving and had become an "information over the internet" man rather then a "hard cover is good cover" kind of a guy.
Lets say, for the sake of maintaining my mind as a solid instead of a gas, that the books given me were not only about anger but were pin pointing the reason why I have such an issue in the first place. For me, this turn of events that has become an eye opening chapter in my life, has been more painful and more beautiful; and nothing about it was expected or even imagined, even in the slightest.

Two months ago a former friend confided in me that she had felt a pull of the Holy Spirit to open up her apartment to me as a gesture of hospitality. This gesture was made primarily on the basis that she knew I was currently living with my Grandparents (who are six minutes away from my parents) and "the Lord" wanted for me to have a safe house to crash whenever I needed to escape for a while. What I regret most about what I have said thus far about this situation is I have repeatedly made excuses for all parties involved believing that I am truly the only one in the picture with a problem and no one else was to blame. The truth is that while I have so much to own up to, and have failed miserably in a lot of situations that have effected others the last two months, I seem to be the only one willing to admit I have an issue!
I felt a pull not to trust this person with their offer; I felt basically forced to take their spare key and to be in a friendship with them from the beginning. I really wanted nothing to do with them but they insisted and pushed me. It pissed me off and I said nothing! It made me want to scream at them and crash my fist into their gut, but I still kept quiet! Their constant contact with me, wanting me to join them for special things, and wanting my constant attention was all based on their need for the same; and instead of listening to my gut I chose to trust them!

Not even two weeks ago, we had an explosive parting. It got so heated that I began hitting on her so she would get the point; and in the middle of it all I realized that my abuse was being directed outwardly and I wasn't going to let myself get away with it. Without even considering what I needed to do I picked up the phone and called 911 on myself. The dispatcher was very kind and blunt, and with in 15 minutes two officers were standing at the apartment door looking at me curiously. I gave my statement to the lead officer who seemed shocked that I had made the call; this whole time my body was fighting off a sever flu and it made me feel so much more awful standing there coughing and shivering while he tried to take notes. By this point the other person had gone into the other room and refused to come out; they also refused to press charges against me although I had prayed that they would. It wasn't that I wanted to go to jail or that I desired more self destruction, I just simply wanted to be held accountable; I wanted justice.

So now a week and a half later, I found myself at church in service with new found friends and a new Pastor who's book had so far made an huge impact on me. As we all stood to sing, this person walks in and smiles at me, and instinctively I smile back. It's not like we haven't seen each other since I left the apartment, we have, but since then I had made it clear I wasn't willing to be around them; and if I had no choice due to mutual friendships, I concluded that there was nothing about being near them I had to like. This person lied to me, was manipulative, poured out anger whenever necessary, and shoved as much bull shit theology down my throat as would fit uncomfortably. Now that we were in a public place they expected me to suck it up and act like everything that happened was my fault and just up and like them again. They said to me that they wanted me to know that I was beautiful and even though I didn't know that, they did. Among the others things they had to say (that all would have sounded so wonderful if I was a self loathing idiot fool, who gullibly listened to everything anyone had to say about me) they wanted to tell me that there was still forgiveness for me if I chose to take it from them. After all their whispering in my ear and self-righteous ass talk, they looked at me with a smile tilted their head as if to show they really did care, and opened their arms to embrace me. There are two things I don't do...blow jobs and hugging people I hate; until per request or command from the Holy Spirit I change either of those that person was insane if they thought I was just going to smile and pretend it was all better. If there is one thing I have learned going through hell, it is that band aids look pretty but cancer kills.

...more to come.