A blatant attack

I never thought it could be possible to feel utterly angry and overly joyous at the same time; however, I feel that way right now!

It’s 3:00 in the morning, and I have to up for church around 6:30. I would not normally be blogging right now, but since satan wanted me awake to ruin my night, I am going to use this to build up God’s kingdom instead. Let me explain….

I spent the majority of my Saturday at a prophetic boot camp. Having my misgivings and doubts about the prophetic gift, I felt lead to be there to learn about the possibility of God bestowing me with this spiritual ability. Long story short, a lot of confirmed today, and a lot of positive attributes were activated in my life. I left the conference knowing in my bones that God had planted powerful abilities inside of me.

It’s only natural to expect an attack from the enemy when you are on track with the Creator. Satan ain’t happy when you’re doing what God intends for you to do. So, it should have come as no surprise to me this morning, when my cats woke me up with their playing around. They were intrigued by something behind my bookshelf, and as I lazily tried to calm them down, it didn’t register what could possibly be behind that shelf to cause them to run around to either side, and try to get whatever it was out. I moved the shelf out from the wall and turned my bedroom light now, and low and behold (I have chills as I write this), a huge roach came running out. Mind you, when I lived in Florida these pests were a regular visitor in the home (especially when I lived at the beach), but here in Atlanta, I’ve seen 2 in one year, zero in my current apartment. I screamed, began to shake, and watched as this disgusting being intruded into my home, my space! My cats chased it under my bed as I realized that this was more than just a dirty inconvenience; this was a blatant attack. I grabbed a shoe, asked God to help me, and waited for what I knew was coming: I would have to confront this beast and kill it on my own. I can’t express how elated I am that this stare down didn’t last but 1 minute. I thought it was going to find a hiding spot, I would lose the entire night of sleep trying to find it, but my trusty cats (thanks Toby and Simba) managed to chase it into the bathroom and under the washer and dryer. I thought I had lost my chance, until I slammed the washer door shut, and the scared insect came running out, right toward me. I screamed, I prayed, and I smacked that sucker probably 5 times all the while saying “Thank you Lord” in the process. Again, I have chills thinking about the sheer power of it all.

This is more than just an ugly (nasty, dirty, yucky, annoying) bug being in my home; this was satan’s way of saying he’s not happy with what I did today, with what was unleashed in the spirit realm and into my natural existence. After it all, I know he wants me to feel scared, defeated, and maybe even a little dirty. Instead, I feel like I must be doing something right if this is what happens. He knows I hate roaches; I hate even typing the word! This was clearly at attack, and I thank God that through it all, my angels brought that sucker right in front of my feet and I was able to achieve victory in the midst of this blatant attack.

THANK YOU LORD FOR VICTORY! THANK YOU LORD FOR PROVISION! THANK YOU LORD FOR STRENGTH! WOOHOOOO!!!!!!

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Afraid to be alone

It hit me today that I have been torturing myself for years now, simply because of my fear. I have allowed people into my life who should have never had a place, and I have entertained situations that should have never happened. I have wasted time worrying about, and putting energy into people who weren’t ever supposed to know my name. I have avoided tough questions, and dodged struggles, all because I am afraid of being ALONE.

Solitude. Silence. Emptiness.

Alone.

And now that I have chosen to face my fears, and allow God to build up the muscles within my spiritual being, I am staring loneliness in the face, and I can honestly say that though I am very much afraid, I feel joy. This joy doesn’t come from my flesh, which is saddened and weak. This joy comes from my spirit, which knows that in allowing healing to happen in this area of my life, I am also allowing God into deeper places within me; places I have yet to examine myself.

And so, I don’t want to fear this silence; I don’t want to run from this solitude. If I want to survive (if I want to be emotionally healthy and ready for my marriage), I have got to face this head on. I have to got to stand firm on my Savior, and allow the tears to fall, my heart to ache, and the mind to grieve. I have got to accept whatever comes during this time, knowing that God is my portion, that no person on this earth can fill the gap within me, and that in the quiet moments I will face, I have God right next to me, firmly holding my hand. In truth, we never really need anything else. God is enough, and for the first time in my life, I am ready to understand what this truly means.

Broken merchandise on display

When I worked in retail, it was customary to have the sales associates comb over the products to make sure every inch of each item looked appealing to the eye. If a thread was out of place on a shirt, or a button was popped off a pair of pants, it was taken to the back to either be repaired or discarded. The idea is that the shopper doesn’t want to see, let alone purchase, any item that isn’t in tip top shape. People are hired at certain jobs to perform what is called quality control, and their sole task is to make sure the product on sale looks, tastes, smells, appears perfect.

I realize that I have carried a lot of these retail practices unconsciously into my own life. I don’t often allow people to see my damaged sides, my worn out threads, my popped buttons. I very rarely show the unappealing side of “product”, knowing that people aren’t often attracted to broken messes. I reveal to the world the finished product, after the changes, after the cleaning up. But lately, I haven’t been honest with the world, or with myself, and in doing so, I’ve hidden from the painful truth.

I am broken merchandise.

I’ve suspected this to be true for a few months now, but honestly thought some areas were healed and dealt with. I didn’t realize that I was simply burying my pain in the hopes that it would disappear, and I would still appear desirable, and whole. Tonight, I admit, I am not whole. My heart aches over some losses I have faced in the past year. I have beaten myself up over events and issues I have no control over. I have avoided tough questions, and ran from difficult answers, because I honestly thought I was “okay.” Tonight, I realize, I was simply lying to myself.

So, instead of hiding the broken apparel in the back room, instead of taking my feelings and truth off the shelf, I am going to leave it there for everyone to see. I am hurting. I am wrestling with some pain that won’t seem to go away, no matter how hard I shove it down. I am broken. And until I can allow the Creator to fix the broken places, mend the torn up pieces, everyone is just going to have to see me, shattered parts and all.