A Letter to a Student

     I had a student who admitted that his father drinks.  I could see the pain in his eyes, and when I mentioned that my own father used to be an alcoholic, the idea of such change seemed impossible for him.  So, I decided to talk with my uncle, to see from a family member's perspective on waiting for someone to change.  The hope.  The questions.  Perhaps the doubt.  What follows is a letter I wrote to the student.  I hope this is an encouragement to him, as well as others. After all, the testimony of Jesus Christ is the spirit of prophecy (see Revelation 19:10).

Dear ----,

    I have been thinking about when you admitted your dad drinking.  That is something that can be hard to mention in class.  It took a lot of courage to share something as that.  Thank you for trusting our class to carry such knowledge.  That being said, it broke my heart to see that you struggle to believe that anything can be different.  ----, I am not going to speak to you as a teacher, but as a youth leader. 

    I know that things can be hard in our community, but I want to encourage you that things can be different.  It may be a while, but I do believe things can change.  I believe things can get better, and I believe that God can impact our families and community.  I believe this, ----, because I have seen it in my own family.

    You see, my dad was once an alcoholic too.  He started drinking at the age of 12.  Things were alright, at home.  My dad grew up in a Christian family that was supportive, but he grew up in a small town, and I guess it was the thing to do.  However, it made an impact on his life.  My dad has told me that when he used to drink, he became someone else.  Mean, angry...and in his words, a jerk.  This carried on into adulthood.  He even began to experiment with other drugs.  He did cocaine so he could stay up and drink some more.  My dad would have hangovers, and the way he dealt with the pain was to drink more beer.  Alcohol is a depressant, and so by drinking more, he could numb the pain.  Nevertheless, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be (no pun intended...okay, maybe a little).

    My uncle has told me that in 1979, my dad, at the age of 24, asked Jesus to come into his heart, during Christmas Day.  However, for nearly the next 20 years, alcohol had continued to have a hold on my dad.  Throughout the 80s, my dad would periodically call my uncle between 12-4am and argue who Jesus was.  My uncle would listen to my dad’s rants, but he knew my father was drunk.  It wasn’t the real Merle Hall talking.  My uncle would finally hang up, knowing it wasn’t any use to argue.  However, he was praying for my dad through it all.

    There was a moment where my uncle visited my dad after my parents gotten together and had me.  I was about two years old.  My father was holding a family and job, but in the midst of the celebration of family, my uncle wondered.  He didn’t necessarily doubt, but he had his own questions.  Looking at my father who had an addiction, with my mother and myself not knowing Christ, as well, he wondered where faith would take our little family.  It was tiring on my uncle to hear my father barade and argue with him.  My uncle stated that my father was living as if he had no anchor.  But...my uncle still hoped.

    In 1996, my dad called my uncle asking if he heard of a ministry called Promise Keepers.  It is a men’s ministry, encouraging men to become the fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons meant to be in Christ.  My uncle had heard of them.  “Would you like to come with me, to Denver?”  My uncle was excited for the invitation, and he made the trip down to see my dad.  The conference lasted three days.  On the third night, they asked for anyone to accept Christ.  My dad inquired whether he should go up for prayer or not.  My uncle, remembering my dad’s prayer in 1979, asked, “Has Jesus ever been more Lord to you than now?”  My dad replied that He had not.  So, with that, my uncle and dad went forward.  My dad asked Jesus to not only be his Savior, but to be his Lord.  My uncle has stated, “When you make Jesus Christ your Lord, that is when your life changes.” 

    My dad made a complete shift.  He focused on becoming the husband and father that he needed to be.  He threw away bad music and started going to church.  But furthermore, he immediately quit drinking and smoking cold turkey.  My uncle waited a year to see what happened.  If my father was going to relapse back into his old habits (for lack of a better term), it would happen within the first year.  However, it didn’t.  In 1997, my uncle invited my dad to move to Missoula and work for him.  My family has been in Missoula ever since (that is, until I moved on the Rez).  

    I know that this is a short story, but this is the long-term impact of my dad’s decision.  He has continued to be sober for almost 23 years.  He became the father I needed him to be, and he has been my biggest supporter in the things I have wanted to do.  He has become a man of wisdom and encouragement.  I would not be the woman I am today, if it was not for my dad.  This may sound too good of a story, but I am not telling you this story so that you can congratulate me.  I want to reiterate this story - my story - because I believe that what God has done for me, can be done for you.  ----, I pray that your father may have a life-changing encounter with Jesus, and may your relationship with him be healed.  I believe that this can happen. 

God is timeless, and doesn’t look at time as we do.  I could assume that you have waited for your father to become the man that you need him to be.  But, -----, I want to encourage you to keep hoping and praying.  God loves your dad, and His eye is on him.  I know that God has already been moving in your family’s lives; I see the evidence of this, because your uncle knows and follows Jesus.  If God can move in your uncle’s life, surely he can move in your father’s (as well as others who need Him).  Don’t give up ----.  If he speaks hurtful words to you, forgive him, and know that there is a different spirit that is speaking.  Pray for him continuously; your father will be worn down by prayer and will be transformed some day.  It can be a long while or sooner.  But be ready for it!!  It could happen at ANYTIME! 

In James 5:16, it states, “...The prayers of a righteous man is powerful and effective.”  In the Message paraphrase, it says, “The prayers are...something to be reckoned with.”  Wow!!! If you know Jesus, and are praying for your family, God is going to move in it.  It may be a while, but it could be as eminent as any day.  My uncle waited for the change in my father for nearly 20 years!  But God is faithful!!!   

Grateful to have you as a student, as well as know you through IYC.  You are a gift, and I am excited to see what God has planned for your life, as well as for your family.  I will keep praying and hoping for you, your classmates, as well as our community.

Have a blessed day,

        Laura

Worth it Even at My Worst

Please don’t lecture;

I know what I’d done wrong.

Don’t throw the Word at me;

Please don’t shame me;

I already know how to damn myself.

I don’t know how to speak

Without letting you in to see

My brokenness.

You say that you will

Love me anyway.

You say that you can

Carry me in my hopeless state.

Are you sure?  Are you prepared

To witness the perpetual position

I bear to prove myself

Perfect?

That is, frankly, not the case.

A fearful frustration unleashed

Masking the Hulk as a joyful pup.

A tumultuous temper rises

Marking volcanoes as mere playthings.

Demons in which I already cut down

Have once again rose from the graves

I buried them, ‘once and for all’.

Or so I thought.

And yet, here I am.

You say you are here for me

No matter the circumstance.

Yet, there are things in me

That put Hyde to shame.

My own stupidity stares,

Mocking at the woman

I hope to be.

I want to be held.

I am not excusing my sin;

I know it’s wrong.

But what will you do to

Pull me from this emotional hell

I am suddenly swimming in?

I want to dare to reach out

My hand; will it burden you?

I don’t need glares; I manage.

Will I scare you off

When you see the fright of my bite?

I cannot promise that this will not

Happen again.

I cannot promise I am completely

Whole.

Just now, I wonder how I went so

Long

And yet, I have

Fallen.

Are you ready to have me

When I am not perfectly sanctified

Yet?

Am I worth it

Even at my worst?

I don’t mean to

Break God’s heart.

The pain I inflict to my own

Has nothing to do with

Underlying aborhance for my Creator.

It has everything to do with

An inability to communicate

The thoughts, intents and fears

Hidden in my heart.

In the morn, I will be okay.

The tears will have dried,

The knives of depression will have been removed.

My wounds will have scabbed over,

And I can pull the sleeves of smiles to cover.

But will you know me well enough

To minister healing to my hurt?

To love me

When I am unlovable…

To carry me when I bear

Burdens too heavy for my shoulders…

To continue coming after me

When I so easily run out of the fear of my shame…

Loyal in the face

Of my own wretched unfaithfulness…

Forgiving with a kiss

To remind me of the beauty I forget…

Can you do this?

Oh, Jesus I need You.

Please come where no one can.

Breach the walls I planted.

Rescue me from the pit

I have camped within.

Surround me with Your love,

In which a tree and stone

Could not measure its depth.

For You are the Only

Who saw my value when I was as nothing.

Your blood and body laid out

To redeem all I have done wrong,

Marking my eternal worth

Even at my present worst.

Here I am;

I am Yours.

Who Do I Say I Am?

    “Who am I?”

    People ask that question concerning themselves, and sometimes they can be completely sure, and others have no clue.  I guess I am in a position where I feel like I know who I should be.  Yet, I still hear the lingering voices from my past that blare out a noise that I have spent my life warring.  Some of these voices were forgotten; how easy it is to not mind when once what was in front of you no longer is.  Since my big brother’s moving away to YWAM, I have been forced to shift to a new normal, and discover the logic I have held for certain habits and thought-patterns; godly or not.  

    I don’t like to be alone.  Yes, I know that God is with me, but it is different when there is a physical presence.  Sure, I grew up strong in the Lord and I love being able to mentor others to grow in Him, but it was quite a burden when I felt that I had to take care of my parents spiritually.  I carry everything, because I don’t like to be a burden.  I was told not to bother other people.   I’ve learned to not depend on others.  And yet, I wish I could be carried.   Moreover, I play it tough, so I can carry my own junk.  I have a hard time trusting people with myself.   I don’t have many girl friends, simply because my interests tend to align with that of boys.  Frankly, I didn’t have a close relationship with my mom, but I had a close relationship with my dad, so I learned to depend on men more than women.  I guess I could say that I have had a lot of friends, but honestly, I only had one to three friends ever at a time know what was REALLY going through my brain.

    Growing up, I felt I was never enough...and these are not just wounds from my mother.  The irony is I have already forgiven and healed from those wounds.  I saw where she was coming from, and only working out of what she knew.   I realized my father carried some wounds, as well.   When I saw the depravity of their understanding, I no longer held them accountable for the hurts they caused.  

    The wounds that I am still carrying, however; the ones that still shape how I see myself in the mirror include that which were words spoken or done by individuals whom I believe in my heart, should have known better.  They are mature Christians, and yet, they acted in certain ways that made me become quiet and reserved; pushed in a model which was not formed for me.  Note: not all the wounds were carried by the same person, and different wounds brought forth different habits. 

    To prove that I didn’t have to be a specific type of girl, I made myself more masculine.  To exemplify that I had a legitimate thought, I write it down in secrecy instead of sharing it verbally.  (How many of my blog posts have actually been shared with other people?  How often have they just been published but left to be a public journal, never read, except by the author?)  In my wounds I have believed many lies.

    I have believed that to be without a kind word must mean I am not loved or cherished.  I have believed that to not be invited means I have been forgotten.  I have believed that people come to me more what they want and need, rather than seeking my needs.  I have believed that I don’t have value.  I have believed that my performance and outcome determines my identity.  I have believed that to need someone during my hurt means to burden them, and makes me less of a Christian.  I have believed that I must not be woman enough, because I don’t inhabit certain skills (such as cooking, cleaning, sewing, etc...homemaker skills!).  I have believed that I must not be beautiful, if I have to dress up and wear make-up to gain a man’s attention. I have believed that I could not share my thoughts, because I am too deep for people to understand or comprehend.  I have believed that when I disagree, then I must be argumentative.  I have believed that I keep my trap shut, because to bring a genuine hurt to someone means that I am holding something against them.   I have believed that I am not doing enough, if I am not busy ministering at every moment I can. I have believed hate and forgiveness in the face of injustice can be justified.

    And yet, I have wondered, simultaneously…

    I have wondered if I am so strong, why can’t anyone else carry me?  Is it wrong to ask for a hug or to wish people invited me more?  Am I truly forgotten?  I have wondered, is it really my thought when there are differences of opinion.  Am I always wrong?  Should I always stay quiet?  Can I say something bold, and yet not fear that family and friends won’t take offense?  Is the devil really using me as a tool when I disagree?  Am I ministering with compassion or enabling bad habits when I make myself available? Does a dress define a woman?  Do certain skills or interests define the measure of a wife?  How can one go to one group of people and love them with Christ’s love, but yet, speak so ill of another group?  Am I good enough as me?

    I realize this seems like the most random of questions, and yet, at one point or time, I have had to question them with someone.  Most often, concerning someone who is close to me.  Dang.  The deepest hurts come from those who are closest.  The greatest of all these questions, whether they be the lies or the rebuttals, is why do I care what someone else says?  Why am I giving their voice the foundational determinant of who I am and how well I am walking in my calling?  They are not the ones who made my mouth, nor my given me my staff of skills by which I walk.  Truth is, there is still an effort to prove who I am is still good enough.  There is still a longing in my heart that I am found by the ones who I actually care about their opinion; my family.

    I want them to be proud of me.  And it has been said before, but there are those remembrances of the past that make me question, according to their standard, if I am matching up to par? And I have always hated feeling like I had fallen short.  And yet...I know that God loves me.  To let that sink in actually can break me.  To admit the hurts I have kept within myself turns my temper and releases my tears.  There is an inward push to change their minds, and yet, I wonder if I am capable.  To leave things undone, relationally, spurs on my anxiousness more than anything. 

     There have been quite a few battles recently; many which question my effectiveness in my calling, but also as a woman, and as Laura Emily.  This is a lot of random questions; many which seem unanswered, except for the daily walking out what I only know by faith.  Continuing day by day, and not overnight will the healing and rerouting of old thoughts be transformed to new.  Yet, if I continue to allow God to unearth the lies, then perhaps I can face the reasons why I believed them in the first place. If I realize the initial logic, perhaps I can apply God’s logic to my life, and a new trajectory can be formed.   It starts with declaring what He has said about me.

Declaration:

Who am I?  I am the daughter of the Most High King.  I bear His mark, and His wrists bear the mark of my salvation.  I am gracious and covered in His mercy.  The outcome of my day does not determine my worth or identity.  I fight in the power of His strength, rather than in the power of my own might.  I am loved and cherished.  I am fierce.  His boldness seeps into my character - I am thoughtful and considerate.  I am remembered by the One who made me, and His arms never tire from carrying me.  I am fully known.  I was made perfectly; just perfect without any blemish.  I have been fashioned specifically for the woman I am meant to be, and not how other women have been called.  The role I play is intuitive for the needs that face me immediately, whether it is desired or not, by my audience.  I am a giver of Peace in the anxious storms.  I am the singer of Goodness when despair is crouching.  I am the introducer of Hope to a world filled with darkness.  I am a bringer of Joy to a land of sorrows.  I am an ambassador of heaven to earth.  I am clothed in His riches, rather than confined by the words of my peers.   I am not a mistake, but here for a purpose.  My mind dives deep, because my Father has no end.  There is a desire for Him to fill me more and more.  Sometimes I feel lost and confused.  I wonder if I am on track or failing in all fronts.  But I am led by my God with His hand holding mine.  Whoever I am, it can be summed up in this: I am His!