Reality Dancing

Tuesday in my lady's group, we were reading from that Ecclesiastics passage that holds all those opposites.  The Beatles liked it so much they made a song out of it, but let us not forget that God wrote it first.  I know.  The Beatles are phenomenal, but God?  His fame goes beyond all. 

Ecclesiastes 3

A Time for Everything

 ¹ There is a time for everything,
   and a season for every activity under the heavens:
 ² a time to be born and a time to die,
   a time to plant and a time to uproot,
 ³ a time to kill and a time to heal,
   a time to tear down and a time to build,
 ⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh,
   a time to mourn and a time to dance,
 ⁵ a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
   a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
 ⁶ a time to search and a time to give up,
   a time to keep and a time to throw away,
 ⁷ a time to tear and a time to mend,
   a time to be silent and a time to speak,
 ⁸ a time to love and a time to hate,
   a time for war and a time for peace.

As I contemplate this passage, I feel comforted in the idea that God has created us to be real in our emotions.  As a child of abuse, I learned a lifestyle of suppressing emotion.  I learned to block out pain.  Pain equals sexual violation.  Pain equals beatings.  Pain equals harsh words and heartache.  While this is a viable mechanism of survival during times of extreme stress, it is not the way God has created us to live our daily lives.  This was one of the hardest things that I had to learn during therapy:  to come out of my numbness, to be real, to feel everything again.  Our heart is like a dimmer switch.  We think we can just turn off certain rooms, but the whole of the heart is on a dimmer switch.  To the extent we are dimming our feelings, the whole heart experiences the darkness.  When I first began this journey of healing, it hurt so badly.  The light is blinding, but oh, so beautiful. 

The Walls of the Castle

By Julie Meyer-Weber, 2010

The walls of the castle are strong

Brick by brick, erected to keep out the enemy’s blows. 

Bricks of fantasy.

Bricks of my own making.

Bricks strong enough to ignore the pain.

Strong enough to block the abuse.

Good bricks.

Bricks that allowed a semblance of sanity.

This was the fortress of my own making.

There is a new King in residence.

The King of Self has been denied

There is a new King in habitation

He says the castle walls must be destroyed.

His love will be my fortress

His praise will be my shield.

No walls?

No bricks?

How can this be?

But tear by tear the walls are crumbling.

With each crumbling debris, a ray of sun shines through.

There are songs from the breeze in the rustling leaves.

There is music from the birds gracing the skies.

But good King,

I am afraid still

The open air leaves me vulnerable.

Yes, child that is how it must be.

You were created to feel

To cry

To love

To laugh

And even to fear.

But most of all….

You were created to run to me.