I know, I know

Last year I could hardly wait to go to Fall Con. Catalina Island? Intervarsity? Literally couldn’t sleep out of excitement.
This year I didn’t even think about it until the lurching in my stomach from the boat rocking reminded me.
I didn’t really want to go. I had too much on my plate as it stood. Christian conferences – the same old tired, predictable routine of a mountain top high, good worship, and the baggage waiting for you at your door when you return.
It was that same old Christian conference. BUT.

BUT.

God met me. In my fears of letting people see the messy, filthy part of me, I shove everything down into a hole I’ve dug and climbed into, letting all this junk bury me. Trying fruitlessly to dig my way out with a spoon and a mountain of insecurities while yelling to others, “yeah, mmhmm, I’m strong and I don’t need you. I’ve got this.” Yeah, God, You love me. That’s real nice. I’ll just cross stitch that one and put it up on the wall while I try to work out my ish. [To quote Erna, He's "invisible" - so obviously I'm meant to put little imaginary buddy Jesus in my pocket and pull Him out when I need a little ego pump]

I never chose leukemia. I also never chose to deal with it. The last thing I wanted was a pity party or some sappy “way to go – you’re a survivor!” because it was never a battle I chose to fight. It happened, I’m grateful to be alive, but it’s in the past. I didn’t want to talk about it, to avoid attention or pity or even just curiousity and insensitivity.

Until Saturday night, I had no idea what kind of bitterness I had to deal with surrounding my cancer. Ever. But here’s the flowchart.

leukemia [medications almost failed. near death. semi-advanced case that took some wrong turns along the way. family almost unhinged. experimental treatments. hospitals. no hair. weakness. daily vomiting. drugs that are now illegal for use on patients. small hope - treatment - declaration of remission]
–> “you survived – that must mean God has big plans for you”
–> satan, the bastard, turns words of encouragement to a pounding reminder to never give myself grace or let God or anyone really love me for who I am rather than what I can do
–> “you cannot fail. God let you live for a reason and that means you have to do hard and challenging things. kill yourself over them. beat yourself up over the littlest mistakes. you aren’t good enough and you will never be good enough, so try try try, and maybe you might get somewhere. maybe God will be proud of you and happy he let you live. it’s unlikely, but maybe. and no one can see what’s really going on, because you must not mess this chance up. no one loves you for who you really are, but only for who you can prove yourself to be”
–> 20 years of perfectionism, self-criticism, trying to prove I’m responsible, trying to prove I’m independent and fully capable of taking care of myself – and no acceptance that God has loved me and will always love me REGARDLESS of what accomplishments I rack up or what I can do.

I still don’t get it. God loves me. Ok. God loves me.
but it’s not a fight anymore. it’s an acceptance of being a work in progress, and realizing that my work in progress is a powerful story in itself. realizing that God will always lead me to become the child of His He created me to be. Knowing I don’t have to have anything together, but that He’s gonna be faithful and work stuff out in me until the end of my days – and then I will see the big plans He carried out through my life.

glory to God.

~ by Liz on October 29, 2006.