My Big Bottom Blessing (7 page)

 

We all have blind spots, don't we? Things we just don't see? Sometimes it's a trail of toilet paper stuck to our shoe. Sometimes it's a limited perspective that keeps us a creature of self-defeating habits. Either way, thank God for people who will give it to us straight—the ones who, no matter how awkward it will feel, have the guts to say, “You've got something green on your tooth.” They are the ones who love us enough to save us from ourselves.

Bill has always been one of those people for me, and back when I was barely hanging on, his willingness to confront me saved my life. Having seen all he could of my pain/craziness, and knowing I desperately needed a mental adjustment, Bill made the decision to take me to get help. No, he didn't take me to get a partial lobotomy (though he might have considered it); he took me to…a seminar.

I'm sure you can imagine how excited I was for this opportunity (not!). Actually, it would be an understatement to say that my heart just wasn't into making this trip. Not only was I hesitant to leave the kids, but the title of the weekend's agenda did nothing to entice me: “Experiencing the Father's Embrace.” My personal translation of this title was, “Getting a hug from God.” Sweet as that sounded, I was desperate, and a hug wasn't going to save me. I needed a mountain-moving miracle. I needed an overdose of hope—some supernatural intervention to keep me living. But Bill was insistent, so we (Bill, me, and old reliable Sabby) loaded up the car bound for Chicago.

After a nearly nine-hour trip, we finally made it to our hotel, which was also the venue of the conference. We were just in time for the first session of the weekend.

Finding our seats, I tucked my Bible under my chair, crossed one leg over the other and my arms across my chest. (My body language expressed my feelings quite well.) My expectations for a good outcome were about as high as a kite still in its wrapper. Bill, on the other hand, was all smiles. So was just about everyone else around me.

The night began with a worship band playing a familiar song. And that's where the familiarity ended. All around me, unexpected displays of joy erupted, startling me out of my futile attempt to block out my surroundings. Sabby was startled too.

SABBY
:
What on earth? Do you see those kids over there?

FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN
:
Yes. I see them.

SABBY
:
Why are they waving flags around? That is so inappropriate. Where are the parents?

FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN
:
I don't know. I didn't know this was a kid event.

SABBY
:
And look at that woman in front of you. What kind of dancing is that? Where's her pole?

FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN
:
I don't know. Just stop looking at her.

I began to have that “We're not in Kansas anymore” feeling and really wanted to bolt. I was used to demonstrative worship at my home church—loud singing and arms raised to God—but I'd never seen this kind of stuff. Thankfully, I can more than appreciate the beauty of diversity in the Body of Christ now, but in that moment I was not in the mood to be tolerant. I didn't want to be stretched.

Just when I was contemplating making a quick getaway, the worship ended and someone took the podium to speak. Everyone sat down, making it impossible for me to slip away unnoticed. So, I looked over at Bill, rolled my eyes so that he'd be sure to see I wasn't amused, and crossed my arms even more tightly across my chest. Nothing was getting in.

Then the speaker was introduced. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Jack Frost.”

SABBY
:
What? Are you kidding me? Oh, this is rich.

FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN
:
Yeah, I agree. I thought we were in Chicago, not the North Pole.

SABBY
:
Hilarious! Maybe Frosty the Snowman will come out next.

FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN
:
All right. Stop. We're not being nice.

SABBY
:
Seriously, Teasi. This is so stupid. I can't believe Bill, of all people, would bring you here. After this session, you should leave.

FAT CHRISTIAN WOMAN
:
I was just thinking that myself.

Physically trapped, emotionally distraught, and mentally irritated, I sat and listened to Mr. Jack Frost begin his tale. He'd hardly spoken for five minutes when I made up my mind that the next two hours of my life would be a total waste. What could this man—a retired sea captain, of all things—say that could change the course of my life? What could we possibly have in common? It was hopeless.

Because I couldn't leave, I continued to listen. Eventually I had to admit that the man's transparency was keeping a bit of my attention. He was being so honest—revealing things about his own pain and suffering that most people don't usually admit to. He spoke of his abusive and dysfunctional upbringing and how it hurt him. He talked about the mistakes he'd made with his own children and his wife. He confessed his pride and arrogance. He put it all on the table.

And then he talked about the Father's embrace—that “sweet little hug from God” I thought this conference was all about. Only the embrace
he
described was far more than a simple hug. It was a life-altering power that had transformed every part of Jack Frost's existence. It was the mother of all paradigm shifts that reset the course of his life. It was the mountain-moving miracle for which I was so desperate. He had my full attention.

Two hours passed by much more quickly than I thought it would, and once Mr. Frost concluded the session, he opened up the night for prayer. First he prayed for everyone corporately—a prayer filled with so much love and understanding that almost immediately people all around the room began to cry. I could tell hearts were being touched in significant ways. It seemed that God was speaking to nearly everyone around me. These people were getting what they came for: healing, love, and a touch from God. But I was feeling nothing.

Oh, how I wanted to experience something—a sensation that would prove to me God was aware of
my
pain. I looked at Bill and asked—no,
implored
—“Why don't I feel anything? Where is God for me?”

Desperate to get me help, Bill approached Mr. Jack Frost himself and asked him to come pray for me personally. I was hurting too much to be embarrassed when the man finally made it to me. If this is what it would take to get God's full attention, then by all means bring Jack Frost on over!

Bill gave a quick explanation of my situation while Mr. Frost sat there calmly. I felt certain he would lay hands on me immediately once he heard of my excruciating emotional pain, but he just sat there listening. No look of concern. No bewildered exclamation of, “Oh, my, child…how have you made it this far in life?” Nope. Just a steady expression of peace and a simple prayer.

As he prayed I kept waiting for it—waiting for the sensation of power to flood through my body. Waiting for my pulse to quicken. Waiting to lose consciousness. Waiting for…well, anything different. But, nothing came. Nothing.

Far beyond worrying that I might hurt the man's feelings, I let him have it. “I am feeling nothing!” I said. “I don't get it. Why don't I feel anything? The prayer is not working.”

I thought for sure he was going to tell me that I wasn't feeling anything because I was desperately lost. That mine was a case like none other, and that there truly was no hope for me. But that's not what he said. Although what he did say wasn't much better, it got me thinking. He simply said, “It doesn't matter if you feel it or not. The truth is still the truth.” He added, “Some people run into the deep end of the water and dive in head first. Others wade in slowly. But everyone gets in.”

After delivering his disappointingly ambiguous message, he patted my shoulder and stood to walk away. Still no change—well, maybe just one. I decided I would come back for another session.

There is an Old Testament story about a mighty warrior named Naaman. He is the captain of the army of the King of Syria, and he is considered a very honorable man. In fact, Scripture says that the Lord used this man to deliver Syria from the hand of its enemies. But there is a big problem with him: he has leprosy.

One day, Naaman gets word via an Israelite servant girl that there is someone back in Israel who can heal him of his disease. When given permission to go on this journey, Naaman heads straight to the King of Israel himself for his healing. The king is disturbed by the request, to put it lightly. In fact, the Bible says the king tears his clothes and says some crazy stuff. But nearby the prophet Elisha is listening, and he tells the king to calm down. “Send the guy to me,” he says (in more elegant words, of course). “I'll show him that there's a prophet in Israel.”

What does this have to do with anything, you're wondering? Well, keep reading. It's good.

So, Naaman makes his way to Elisha the prophet, expecting him to wave his arms over his leprosy in some magical and extremely spiritual display of power and healing. What happens instead is Elisha tells him to go and wash himself in the Jordan River (a very dirty river, mind you) seven times. That, he tells Naaman, will do the trick.

Naaman is outraged. There were much cleaner rivers back in his hometown. This is a joke—a ridiculous joke meant to make him look like a fool. He isn't going for it. That is, until some of his servants talk some sense into him. They confront him with an ugly truth: Naaman would have done anything he was told as long as it was something
great
and
mighty.
Why is he so hesitant to simply get in the river seven times? Is it because the cure doesn't look the way he wanted it to? Because it didn't appear significant to him?

Thankfully for Naaman, he listens to his friends and realizes his folly. Once he obeys and gets into that muddy river seven times, he is healed immediately. His life is forever changed.

I tell you this story because it describes my experience in Chicago so perfectly. When I walked into that first session, I felt like Bill had taken me to a dirty river. I wanted to leave—to head back home to familiar waters. This trip seemed like such a long way to travel for something so…so lackluster and disappointing. But I can't even imagine where I would be now if I hadn't gone…and made the decision to stay.

By the time we left that weekend, God had begun a work in me that changed my life completely. God used Jack Frost—the hardened sea captain gone transparent—and his ministry of the Father's love, to save my life.

1. Make a list of as many feelings as you can think of (such as joy, fear, embarrassment, excitement, etc.):______________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   
2. Look at the list you made in question one. Which of those feelings is your favorite? _____________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   
3. Which feeling is your least favorite? ___________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   
4. When you feel the feeling you mentioned in question three, what do you usually do about it (such as chocolate therapy)? _______________
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   
5. How does doing what you do in number four make you feel? ________
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   
6. How does this become a never-ending cycle? ____________________
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   
7. Do you think it's good for us to base our decisions on our feelings? Why or why not? __________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   
8. How have your feelings ever misled you? _______________________
   _________________________________________________________
   
9. How do you think God can use our feelings for His purposes? _______
   _________________________________________________________
   _________________________________________________________
   

Sometimes feelings can be a real frustration. I can't even recall the number of times I've said, “I hate the way I feel today.” Mix in hormonal fluctuations, and it can get really ugly fast. But, God actually made us with feelings, and I believe He uses them for His purposes when we submit to Him.