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The best life, not the easiest

Updated on March 24, 2014

The wasteful years

They said I was sick.

I was, but it wasn't a mental sickness, it was a spiritual sickness, which totally wrecked my emotions.

First let me say that I am extremely blessed, so many that walk down this troubled path do not return. It is only by the grace of God, by His tender mercies, that I am even alive, much less serving the master, reclining at his table, laying against his breast.

I, like many others, was very abused as a child. I'm not going to go into that abuse, just suffice to say it took many forms, some more destructive than others, and that it was extensive in some of it's forms. That's not an excuse, just giving some background.

On top of that I lacked the stability of the home, namely and especially the emotional and often physical absence of my father and when he was there, it wasn't peaceful, it was hell.

As a teenager I developed the attitude, that I would never again be hurt by a man, and so I did the best thing I could do in my young mind, I became one. No I didn't undergo any operation, but I did everything I could do to act like a man, and it worked. I avoided befriending women, I fit in better with the guys. I put on the act that I was strong. I felt within the deepest recesses of my mind, that If I became a man, instead of a girl, they would no longer want to abuse me. The way we sort things out in our minds is extremely interesting, and geared totally towards survival in these desperate situations.

On the other hand, I desperately longed for fatherly affection. I tried my best to make a father out of every male authority figure in my life. Needless to say, I was hurt, and hurt often. No man could ever really be my father, but I would not accept that. Grieving the fact that I didn't have a father that loved me like he should, was too hard for me. I absolutely refused to do it. So I sought that love in people that could never fill it.

In seeking love, I also found myself drowning more and more in the depths of addiction. I searched for love in a bottle, in a joint, in an internet chat room, in a lottery ticket, in pornography, in food, in fact anything I could get my hands on, I sought something that could fill the hole in my heart. Nothing would.

I tried to commit suicide at 19, in the throws of my first real battle with depression. I started developing severe panic attacks at age 23, and by the age of 24 I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder.

I spent the next 10 years fighting for my life, for my soul, and for my sanity. I'm happy to say, that through Jesus, ONLY through Jesus, I have won all of the above.

I struggled through years of trying to be a Christian, and in June of 2012, I repented. I started completely over. Left everything. Slowly I began to grow out of the sin I had been entangled with for so long. I began to open my heart to the Lord more and more. I praised Him more, I read His word more, I prayed more. It was all getting better and better. I still struggled at times and still turned to men instead of God for my father way too much. It all came to a head when my church went on the Daniel fast in January of this year. In leaving food, which is one of my addictions that I still struggle with, and in crucifying my flesh, I found myself desperately crying out to God, because I just couldn't do it anymore. I said Please, fill me, I begged, and He did.

AFTER I learned obedience. He made me dance for Him on my front porch and scream hallelujah out there too. He made me kneel down in my living room, and get up and lift my hands, and kneel down again. He made me trust him enough to let myself fall when I started coming under his power instead of quenching the spirit. He led me through all of this until I was on the floor sobbing, begging Him to please please fill me.

That's when I got the Holy ghost.

January 29th 2014. Because I was finally obedient to the Lord. He finally filled me.

I have never in my life been in such ecstasy, such elation, such pure joy. I didn't feel empty anymore. I didn't feel alone. I felt loved, and Finally, I had a daddy. One that would never leave me, one that could really be there to talk to in the hard times, one that would hold my hand, that would hold me and let me cry and not make me stop. Finally, Everything I had searched for my entire life was given to me, in a second. And all I ever had to do, was LISTEN to Him, and in order to Listen to Him, I had to TRUST Him.

I still struggle, and mostly it's when I run from my creator. When I take my eyes of Him, I start to sink into the raging waves. I can't allow myself to do that. I simply will not make it if I do. But by His great mercy, I am still here, still fighting, but no longer with my own bull headed attempts. But by holding His loving hand.

My advice is to let go. Talk to Jesus. Talk to Him often. You really can Trust Him. He promised to never leave us or forsake us. If I could write our conversations, I guarantee most people wouldn't believe me, but I will leave you with this one remark He made, that impacted me so much, because there were so many people who did. He said....

I will never let you down.

God bless and much love



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