I teared up during the song, "Blessed be the Name of the Lord."
Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
God has blessed us immensely with great friends and family and with a community that deeply loves us. I kept thinking of how He brought Daja into our lives at the perfect time. Then the darkness of the fears I've been having. Still, I refused to be completely broken...
During this time, pastor's wife got up and shared about her relationship with her dad. She told a story of walking in on her step-father rocking her teenage sister and how it broke her heart because she never had that with her father. After, one of the girls invited people to come up for prayer who had hurt with their dads and then they started playing...
Hear our cry
You who dwells in heaven
Draw near to us
For You're our sole desire
No one else could ever do in this life
You've made us blameless by the blood of your son
I felt a tiny tug until it was time to sing these words:
As we rend our hearts,
May You rend the heavens
As we look to You
May you shine Your glory
All of a sudden a rush came. That moment of breaking that I've been waiting for arrived. All I could do was get down on my knees and cry. I kept thinking of my relationship with my dad and how I remember watching a family in our church, the dad was holding his daughter during worship, and thinking the same thing Janet thought, "I'm never going to have that!" After all the years of shrugging off the hurt and saying, "that's dad!", the pain became real, especially the recent wounds. God was dealing with the arrows of "Hey fatty!" (during my pregnancy), "You're an idiot for not going to a hospital to have your baby," and "Why would you go to Mexico and put your baby at risk? That's stupid!" All my life I've had to repeat, "that's just dad...he doesn't know how else to say he cares and that he loves me," and then ignoring any pain. Even though there's a lot of true to my excuses, it still hurts. I know for a fact my daddy loves me and his little jokes are meant to express that, but it still hurts.
It wasn't just those memories...there was a pain there that I couldn't necessarily put my finger on. I constantly push aside little things until a point where I break over nothing at all. Then I pick myself up and start all over again. Sometimes it's over the same things and I'm knocked back thinking, "I thought I dealt with this!" Obviously, not as well as I thought!
I keep hoping for that day of completion (Phil. 1:6), knowing this is part of the process. Some day I'll learn to deal with pain.
While I remained there on the floor, two women prayed over me. I couldn't understand them, but I knew they were interceding for me. After a while, one of them, my church mom, told me God saw my yielded heart and then prayed for Him to take my burdens.
I love my church family...I love that they are real and never ask me to be more than who God made me. They never look on anyone in judgment because they're lead to do something a little out of the ordinary. In fact, they encourage it! Especially when they know it will bring healing. Our services are lead and filled with the Holy Spirit. We expect people to come use the open mic and fill us in on what God's doing in their hearts, whether in song, dance, stories, scripture, or whatever. Our pastor challenges us to make things heart issues. If he calls a fast, no one is hung for not doing it...if we don't have a real reason to join in then we should just go through the motions.
I could never go back to a church where no one lifts their hands in worship or cries out, where only the pastor is expected to hear from God, or where the songs are timed - each verse once (even if there's only one) and then finish by singing the last line of the chorus 3 times. How boring to know what to exactly expect! I'm not saying those churches are evil, just that my church has ruined me on "doing church", and I love it!