Chapter Six: A Crisis of Faith

***Excerpt 2 from my journal***


There's so much chaos in my heart. I just want to hear from you, Lord, to hide in You. I'm sitting on the floor at the foot of the cross where I want to be, where I need to be. So, Lord, will you be here? Will you hear my heart's cry? Lord, you know that more than anything my heart is to serve you....
I've tried my whole life to be righteous; to live a life that is pleasing to you, and I've failed so many times, every time. And while I've preached so many times and believed that it's not about what I do or if I fall, but rather about who I am, I still fall into the same traps...the lies that I've disappointed you, and that's why I'm less than others and I'm struggling through life. Why do I get so defensive? All because I've been trying to be perfect, and I can't. My faith is so weak; my tongue is unbridled, and I'm having the hardest time trusting you. Even though I want to...trust that you really do have everything under control, I can't.
I'm scared, Lord. I'm scared that I've already screwed everything up. I'm scared that I can't really hear you. I'm scared that you can't use me. I'm scared to believe that you really do love me, that you really do want me, that you really do know everything that's in my heart...
Why does my heart waiver? Why is it that I can't believe you [about Zeke]? I'm still so scared that I'm missing your will. I'm scared to ask for confirmations because I know that doubt displeases you, yet I need one. I don't want to doubt. I wish my faith were stronger, but all the wishing in the world isn't helping me to stand. I know that my hope is in you and not in Zeke, but I'm discouraged. I know that your thoughts and plans are not mine...but it's hard to wait. It's hard to be strong. It's hard to see others' promises being fulfilled while mine seem sooooooooooooo distant. Trying to be happy for them while my broken heart screams is nearly impossible. It's so hard to believe, because I automatically believe there's something wrong with me. I must be doing something wrong. I'm not good enough. And God, I'm so tired; tired of working so hard just to fall flat on my face. These are your promises. This is your ministry. This is your life. SO why is it so hard? You said that you would do it; that you would hasten to perform your word....so will you? I'm 27 years old, and so far from where I thought I should be...I feel like I've done nothing. Lord, when??? When can I be married? When I can walk into the destiny you have for me? When will I see your promises fulfilled?
You know I'm not trying to complain....I'm ready for you to do it. I'm ready to lay it all down again. I'm tired of fighting so hard...can I rest? I'm tired of trying to figure it out...can you make it better?

Stay tuned for "On Point"

Chapter Five: Jenga!

***Excerpt 1 from my journal***

"God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before him..."
Psalm 18:20a (The Message)

Jenga! One of the most popular games in the nineties consisted of nothing more than a set of blocks, yet it provided hours of breath-taking and thrilling entertainment. You see, the goal of the game was to strategically remove a block from the tower and place it on the top without toppling the entire thing. Everyone had a different strategy; some chanted, some "hmmmed", some hands shook under the pressure. Only a "master artist" could grow the tower to twice it's original height, and woe to the one who caused the tower to crash. They would be surrounded by screams, laughs and friendly taunts.

It struck me, as I read this verse, that our lives often feel like a Jenga tower. Everyone is pulling pieces from our foundation in an effort to form us into their expectations, all the while creating an increasing instability. Before long, we come crashing down, lying broken in pieces scattered by the force of the fall. The reactions of those around us are diverse. Some will shout, some will laugh, some will shake their heads in disgust while others will try to put us back together again, just to pull out the pieces to make us fall again.

But there is One who has a different plan! You see, while Jenga may be a fun game for adults, in the hands of a child the blocks represent endless possibilities. There are fortresses to be built, houses to be formed, barns to be raised....same blocks - new shape.

At a time when my heart was shattered in pieces, I had a dream. In the dream my pastor was asking me, "Why are you crying?" And as I was beginning to respond with "My heart is broken", I woke up and I heard the Lord say, "Not breaking, reshaping". It took a couple days for it to sink in. God had a plan for my pieces. And though I feel that I can't make it through another day, I hear His voice faintly calling, "I have a plan for you, for a future and a hope."

Father, I come to you in pieces, my heart shattered. I lay myself before you and that you will restore and reshape me into the woman you have called me to be. Let me rest in You, knowing that You alone are my security. I choose to trust that you are the "Master Artist" and Architect of my life, and that your plans are sure.

Chapter Four: Not Bent, Broken

Why is that you can never just "break up" once? First there was the break-up with Zeke, then again with Zeke. But then it was his family.

I'll never forget that night at the Flying Star. Sitting alone opposite of Ben, Jill and Kelly (of course Zeke was not there), as if I were on trial. While exact words escape me, the gist of the conversation was something akin to "Zeke doesn't love you, so we don't either." I may be exaggerating, maybe, but that's the message my heart heard loud and clear.

Then there was the weekend that the band was scheduled to lead worship at a youth camp. Considering that the "band" was Zeke and his family, I felt that there was no way I could go with them. How can you lead worship with disunity on the team? Makes sense, right? Wrong! I was crucified for my decision to withdraw. After all, I had "given my word". How were they going to use that against me when the decision was made when we were still planning our wedding? I decided, instead, to go to Chicago to support our sister church. While I enjoyed my first visit to the Windy City, my heart still ached. It was a deep ache, like I was missing out on my destiny, and so I cried....again.

The next week was my birthday. What a weekend that was. My parents were scheduled to come down to meet Zeke, and the plan was that he would ask for my hand in marriage. Instead, they came down to find their very broken daughter, struggling to enjoy her favorite day of the year. We took the tram to Sandia Peak (my first time to the top of the mountain) and ate an early dinner. It was freezing, but I made myself walk to the edge of the mountain to see the city. As I stood there, my eyes became glued to his neighborhood, a place I knew well. Why couldn't I just let this go? Why was my heart still bleeding from this? What was wrong with me. I picked up a few rocks, and as a symbol of surrender, I threw them all over the edge. I watched each one tumble, one by one down the desert peak. Was this enough? Was that all it would take to get my life back? Looking back, I wish that I would have listened to my mother that weekend who, in the wisdom only a mother has, said that God's plans are often hidden by our agendas, and that I needed to let Zeke go. But I couldn't....I wouldn't.

When I was in college, I took a pyschology class. It was my favorite class as it explored so much of the science of human nature. I was particulary fascinated with a lecture regarding the tendencies of abused women and why they stay with their abusive mates. I distinctly remember asking myself, "How can they be so broken to believe that these men are their best option?". My professor taught that there is a bell type model which shows that the women actually believe that the "good" qualities in these men outweighed the "bad" qualities, therefore they were willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater "good".

Was this why I couldn't let go? I believed with all my heart that Zeke was a good man, anointed and called by the Lord to great things. I believed that he loved me deeply, and was just a little confused. I made so many excuses for him, even when the "other woman" showed up.

It was the first weekend of April. I had taken one of my many trips to Phoenix, and came back for a Monday night service. We had a special speaker, and I was on the worship team that night. So was Zeke. He walked in and we made eye contact, as we often did. There was a sadness in his eyes, possibly regret, but I just couldn't read him anymore. We made it through rehearsal, when I saw his parents walk in, accompanied by a pretty hispanic girl. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and believed that she was just a family friend. After all, Ben and Jill and Kelly were all laughing and joking with her as well. But when worship ended, he sat down right next to her and put his arm around her, whispering in her ear, making her giggle, just like he used to do with me. My already broken heart screamed "Enough! Isn't it enough? I can't possibly break anymore!" And my shaky smile quickly melted into more tears.

But I still wouldn't let go....

Chapter Three: Darkness is Dark

Oh, that my grief were fully weighed,
And my calamity laid with it on the scales!
For then it would be heavier than the sand of the sea-
Job 6:2-3

I tried to sing with the worship team on Sunday morning. I cried instead. I tried to listen to the sermon. I cried instead. I tried to laugh at the Superbowl commercials. I cried instead.

And I wished Ben, Jill, and Kelly would just leave the party. Why were they there anyway? Their pitying glances and silence were like salt in a raw wound, screaming "he doesn't want you anymore".

The whole thing was surreal, like I was watching the scene play out from another room. The darkness and grief enveloped my heart very much like a fog rolling in the San Francisco bay, hiding the beauty and leaving only nothingness. Nothingness. That's how it is. Grief so overwhelming, loss so deep, and darkness, only darkness. And all I could do was cry.

So I did. I cried on the way home. I cried in the shower. I cried when I crawled into bed. I cried in my dreams, and when I woke up I was still crying. I cried at my desk, open, vulnerable, exposed. I cried in my studio as I taught piano lessons. I cried at the grocery store. I cried at the bank. I cried at the gas station. Three days later, I found myself dehydrating, but still I cried. I couldn't stop.

Much of that first week is a blur. I remember bits and pieces, but only bits and pieces. Then came the next weekend. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, a conference at our sister church. Our worship team was leading worship for a couple of the services, so I was there. So was Zeke. And Ben, and Jill, and Kelly. After all, they were the best musicians we had, and the core of our team. It was everything I could do to stand on stage with them. My mouth moved as if I were singing, but my voice was gone, and I was left with just tears. More tears. Then on Saturday night, Zeke asked to talk to me. My heart felt a glimmer of hope as we sat in his car. Maybe he was done "processing". Maybe he realized that he had made a mistake. Maybe.....

I don't even remember what he said. He held my hand, and he cried, but then he left. Again.
I stumbled back into the sanctuary like a wounded soldier trying to make it back to base, and I collapsed in a chair next to Donna. And I cried some more.

The second week was not much better than the first. I cried less at work, "less" being the key word. But it was Valentine's Week. And this was supposed to be my first Valentine's day with my very own Valentine. I had waited my whole life for this. Zeke even promised that he would change my disgust for the holiday into a perfect celebration of love. Another broken promise. How many of those had he made? Why didn't I know that he was lying to me? Did he know he was lying to me? Surely he meant every word he said, didn't he? What was going on? Why was this happening? Who got to him? What got to him? Was he afraid? Did I do something? Did I say something? What changed? WHY?!?!?!?!? Oh, why?

More questions, less answers and more tears. God, I hate crying. God, I hate. God. Did He even care? Was He even there? Why didn't He warn me? Why didn't He say something, anything? Why didn't He just kill me instead? WHY?!?!?!?!

And the darkness deepened as I felt myself go lower, and lower, and lower. Was there an end? When would I hit the bottom? Would I ever hit the bottom? My faith was weakened, shattered even. The only place I could find comfort was in bed, hiding from the world of broken dreams that had surrounded me. I clung to my teddy bear as though he would leave me too if I didn't hang on. I was alone. Alone.

Next...Chapter Four: Not Bent, Broken

Chapter Two: Emoticons and Devastation

I arrived home on a Sunday night. Zeke picked me up from the airport, and by all appearances, we were right back to where we were. Happy, in love, ready to spend forever together. After a couple hours, he took me home.

The next night, our "band" met at Flying Star, one of the coolest little restaurants in Albuquerque, and our traditional meeting place. On the agenda was our upcoming ministry trip to Phoenix as well as our other gigs, a youth conference in March, recording studio dates, etc. I swung by Zeke's house to pick him up, so that we could snag a few "alone" minutes together before the meeting. On the way to the meeting, we talked about our future, and even the possibility of branching out from the group to start our own ministry. We were laughing, especially when I suggested that we should call our group "M&M", reflective of my pet name for him, my "Moshe Mexicano", my Mexican Moses. I had all sorts of ideas with what we could do with that, from having M&Ms in the lobby to designs for our decal, etc. It was a fun ride to the Star, but as we were pulling up, there was a dampening of the mood. Zeke indicated that Ben was going to say some things that I might not like, but wouldn't really tell me what was going on.

The atmosphere was ominous when I walked in. After going through line and getting my favorite Chicken Salad and Iced Tea, I sat down in the booth. Ben and Jill were across from me, Kelly to my right, and Zeke had pulled up a chair to the end of the table and was on my left.
Ben proceeded to tell me that he didn't want to go to Phoenix, and felt that we weren't "ready". He launched into a spiel about more practice, not knowing the people, yada, yada, yada, but I couldn't really hear any of what he was saying. I had planned that trip, by myself, at his request. Some of my best friends lived in Phoenix, my home. My Pastors out there, trusting me, had opened their doors and scheduled a couple of special services for us, after much discussion, and now Ben just decided he didn't want to go?

Because the rest of the group was all family, and he was the oldest, most of the decisions that were made were made by Ben, and the rest of the group followed along. I asked if Zeke and I could go by ourselves, as representatives. It made sense to me, seeing as I wanted my Phoenix family to meet the man I was planning to marry. Also, it fed right into our earlier discussions about branching out into our own ministry. Ben, however, would have no part of it. He became irate at the idea of Zeke and I traveling 6 hours alone together, and then started into a completely unrelated conversation about how he did not want Zeke and I spending any alone time together, because it didn't "look good" for the group. While I understand that when in ministry it is important to watch perceptions, I was floored by the idea that they didn't trust us, and that they were trying to dictate what we could and couldn't do. Looking back, I should have taken this as a complete sign of many family issues, but at the time I was so in love, that I was blinded to much of the obvious.

It was a very quiet ride as Zeke and I made our way back to his home. Very little was mentioned, and our goodnight was brief. I left knowing in my heart of hearts that something was brewing. If I remember correctly, I even called my friend, Donna, and said "something's not right". Little did I know just how big the storm was that was heading my way.

Two nights later, Wednesday, I finished work and headed straight to church. Our Pastor was teaching a Bible Study class called "Emmaus Road", which is the story of Jesus from Genesis to Revelation. I had taken the class the previous semester, but it was Zeke's first time through it, and Ben and Jill were also taking the class, and it was so good and soooooooooooo full of good stuff, that I wanted to take it again. So there I was. I found Zeke, Ben, Jill and Kelly all seated in the front row, and I plopped down right next to Zeke. His reception was cold, and he was aloof. Throughout the class I would try to write him little notes, or smile at him and he wouldn't even look at me. My heart started sinking, and my mind raced trying to figure out what was wrong. After class, Zeke walked me to my vehicle, and I tried to talk to him. He just started crying and asked me, "What if we can't be together?" Startled, I asked him what he meant. He just shrugged and said that he really wanted to be with me forever. I held him as he sobbed on my shoulder, and I assured him that we would always be together, and after a long embrace we parted ways. That would the be last night I would see him as my boyfriend.

Due to conflicting schedules, we weren't able to see each other until Sunday, at a Superbowl party hosted by Donna and Russ. The whole group was supposed to be there, mostly for the original Kansas City Barbeque and Commercials because no one really cared about the game.
But late Saturday night, as I was cuddled up to my computer, I received an instant message from Zeke. I don't remember how the whole conversation went, but sometime in the middle of it, he said, "I can't be your boyfriend anymore, just your best friend."

"What the H&*#$&(*# does that mean?", my heart screamed. Zeke said something along the lines of "I need to work some things out with God", and that "I really want to be with you, but..", and "This doesn't have to be permanent," but "you can see other people". And that was it. He was gone, and I was left with more questions than answers and more tears than I knew I could cry. My heart shattered in pieces and darkness settled in, and the hurricane of broken dreams swept me away.

Stayed tuned for Chapter Three: Darkness is Dark

Chapter One: Love at First Sight

The day I had waited for my whole life was finally here. You know, the one you dream about when you're a little girl when your prince charming comes riding in to save you from a life of loneliness? After 26 long years of wondering what was wrong with or why I couldn't be married and all the stigmas that go with a young single woman, I had finally met the man of my dreams. We'll call him Zeke (an alias to shield his identity).

It was long in coming. I survived "Bridal College" (you know Bible schools where girls are more concerned with snagging a Christian man rather than getting a quality education) without as much as a single date. I survived a ministry position during which my title was Rev. Christi, our "single worship director". I had many crushes, and wanted to date several people, but never did. I tried, believe me, I tried. I would start down the dating road, only to be detoured by a gracious and wonderful Father. But finally, after many tears and questions, and conversations with Abba, I had a boyfriend.

I first met Zeke's brother and sister-in-law (We'll call them Ben and Jill). Ben, Jill and I were all on the worship team at our church, and they were very, very talented musicians and worshipers. Then one day, they approached me to be join their efforts to start a worship band. Ben played a mean bass and guitar, Jill was an amazing vocalist, I would play keys, Zeke would be our drummer, and their sister Kelly would join as another vocalist. We began with many dreams and visions and were off to a great start, with a few original songs in the studio, a couple events scheduled, and relationships developing. Relationships including mine with Zeke.

We hit it off immediately. Not only is he an outstanding drummer, like none I've seen or heard before or since, but he is an amazing graphic artist. Handsome, funny, and open, we fell very much in love very quickly. We had so much in common, from music, to the Lord, to our dreams for the future. Every waking moment was spent together or with his family, and it was not long before we started talking marriage. In fact, we had set a tentative date, pending his discussion with my father, and he was looking for rings. His parents were talking about the wedding and plans were underway for us to start looking for houses. I was living my dream. Not only was I in love with an amazing man who loved me, but I was finally getting a chance to move into worship ministry, my passion and gifting. Life was great.

Then I took a brief vacation. A friend was getting married, and I was performing the ceremony, so I jetted back to Tulsa for the festivities. Even when I was gone, we spent every extra minute on the phone, and all my friends were laughing at how giddy I was. I was absolutely glowing as I told of my own wedding to come. My heart was finally at rest in the love of my boyfriend, my love, Zeke. But all of that would change when I returned home, and within a week all of it came to a sudden halt.

Stay tuned for Chapter Two: Emoticons and Devastation

Breaking Up isn't as Glamorous on Main St

I had a dream. It wasn't just any dream, but the kind that woke me up from a dead sleep with my mind racing and my heart pounding and a revelation that there was another layer of pain that God was peeling from a very broken heart.

It was just about 3 years ago when my whole world crashed at my feet, and my heart shattered and everything that I thought I knew about life, love, God and my destiny became a bottomless pit of emptiness and questions without answers.

So here's my story. Because it's so long, and because I really want people to read my blog more than just once (hahaha), I'll be breaking it up into "chapters". I tell it, not for revenge or sympathy, but because I know that writing it is part of the healing that God is working on, and that by talking about it, I can process it. I've decided not to spare any details, but to be completely honest about everything, my part, his part, God's part. I will use an alias for the ex, because this is not about him, but about God's faithfulness and amazing love and grace and His healing power that sets a heart free and mends the broken places.

It is my sincere hope that God will wrap His love around your hearts and minister to you as only He can, and that you will find "Beauty from Pain".

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed."
~Psalm 34:18

***as a note to those who know me and thought that my last post was about my marriage, there is nothing to worry about...I am still very happily married and blessed with the most amazing husband ever (a later chapter in the story) and he is completely supportive of me writing this story****