A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish. And I now know I don’t have to, but it wants to be written. Why? I’m not sure yet.

Also, this not the next chronological chapter in the book. But it’s the chapter that wants to be written today.

---

Everything fell apart and we stopped hanging out in May.

It was the very next semester that a last-minute degree requirement was sprung on me. But almost all the classes had already been filled up. I had to scramble to find one that would allow me to graduate on time. Although it otherwise would have been one of my last choices, the World Religions class was the best remaining option.

I took it with a professor who clearly did not care much for Christianity or Christians. His bias was annoying, but not unexpected. However what really surprised me was that through the class I started to see the same theme across all religions regardless of their differences. Over and over humans came to the conclusion that there was someone bigger than themselves. That created them. And then the humans determined that the bad things in life happened because they had made their creator mad. And so each religion set about a system to, as they saw it, try to get back into the good graces of their creator.

Why did this surprise me? All this time I thought my religion was so different. But really it was mostly more of the same.

Except Jesus. Right?

But what was so different about Jesus? About our story that we were telling?

Because I had experienced God over and over. Right? I mean God was real for me. Not just some words on a page.

---

The person I refer to as Sojourner had given me a copy of The Shack to read so many years back. Maybe even in my late teens or early twenties. And at some point over the years she had referred to the author, Paul Young, as a friend. This intrigued me so much, but I didn’t ask more questions at the time. I just always wondered how she came to know a guy whose book was famous around the world.

Fast-forward to a few weeks after you and I stopped hanging out. And I saw Paul Young talking to Oprah on the television. I had just randomly watched clips of Oprah’s show sporadically over the years. But she was one of the most well-known people in America. And now I was only two people removed from her. The idea of that blew my mind. And caught my attention.

Long story short, Paul mentioned cheating on his wife. With her best friend.

Not what I wanted or expected to hear at the time. Especially after the reason we stopped hanging out just a few weeks earlier seemed on the surface to be because of a younger single woman that was allowed to come between us.

So I was mad. At you, at the whole male gender, and now at Paul. How could Sojourner be friends with someone like that? A lot was at stake. So I did what I do best: I started researching. I had to find out more about Paul’s cheating.

That little seed. Wow! What has come from it!

I learned that Paul’s cheating happened about a decade before he wrote The Shack. In the interim, he owned up to his mess, went through counseling for things like abuse in his childhood, and then reconciled with his wife. And she is the one who encouraged him to write down how he sees God. For their kids. That’s how The Shack came to be.

So if there was hope for Paul, then did that mean there was hope for you and I? That we’d talk and be friends again?

Another seed. That sent me researching again. For more of Paul’s story. Which quickly led me to Baxter Kruger. Who was another person Sojourner had tried to introduce me to even three years before!

And I was always receptive to whatever she suggested. I cared about what she knew because I knew that she cared. But even then, for whatever reason, the information didn’t land when she originally showed me like it was landing now. Something had shifted. Now I could see and hear. Now I was completely getting it.

I had to tell Sojourner! Unbeknownst to me, she was leading a group that was studying one of Baxter’s books. And they were planning to go to a conference with Baxter in Mississippi in a matter of weeks.

The attendance list for the conference had filled up so quickly that there was a waiting list. But someone in her group had a ticket and couldn’t make it. I had come to Sojourner’s mind but I don’t think that made sense to her at the time so she offered the ticket to several others first.

And why would offering it to me make any sense? I hadn’t really embraced what she had shown me previously relative to Baxter. And she didn’t yet know that the information had come back around to me.

Until I let her know. And then things moved very quickly. Next thing I knew a few weeks later I was driving to Mississippi for the conference with Baxter. Listening to more of Baxter and then Bruce Wauchope on the way. My mind and heart just exploding from wonder at all that I was learning.

---

Maybe this was the answer? Maybe God split us up for a brief time because I needed to learn this? Without you at first?

Because we used to talk so much, so many times about the issue of whether or not a person could “lose their salvation”. Hours and hours, and many drives with you were focused on that subject. As we’d wrestle back and forth with it. Without me ever being able to settle on a resolution because there was something missing, something wasn’t adding up.

And at some point I had mentioned my thoughts about that issue to Sojourner. That’s why she sent the Brad Jersak video. And it sounded good to me when she initially sent it. But not something I had heard before so I sent it over to you for your opinion. A few months before everything fell apart between us.

And you sent me a very long, Scripture-filled response. As you would do. As I loved. In that you took me and all my five hundred billion questions seriously. You didn’t dismiss me. You didn’t brush me off. You took a lot of time with me. I was so spoiled by you in that. And so thankful. I so miss you and those conversations.

But maybe God allowed us to be torn apart because of this: you were so close – you liked almost everything Jersak had to say until the end. Where you took issue with some things he said and then rejected the whole message. And because you knew all the verses and all the arguments, I decided to not fully embrace the message also.

Maybe that’s why God allowed you to be taken away from me. Because even though you were my best friend, even though we created a Bible study together, even though you brought so much healing into my life – God wouldn’t let the rest of my healing be stolen. Even by you.

And so there I was. Now able to see and hear. Without you. Although painfully you were the one I most wanted to share all this with. And no matter how hard I tried, you were not receptive.

So I went to the Baxter Kruger conference in Mississippi with the pain of having the best news in my life and seemingly no one to share it with. Because I had also tried to present the information to the preacher at CCSA and my best female friend – Julie. Among others primarily from CCSA. And each time the conversations devolved completely.

I couldn’t understand. Why was I given the best information in the world, in my entire lifetime, and yet those that I loved most were clearly not being allowed to come along on this journey with me? I was so sad and confused about that.

But I hoped that maybe the time would come eventually. So I put on my Never Give Up shirts, headed to Mississippi, and hoped for the best. With a very heavy heart.

Was Jesus worth it if I lost everybody I loved in the process?

Thankfully Sojourner was still there. Excited. Not giving up. My lifeline. Helping me find new oxygen to make it through over and over.

But was this all just made up feel good stuff? Or was God really in it?

---

The name of the conference was, “Living Loved”. Which felt like a cruel joke at the time.

And I was going to be meeting many of Sojourner’s friends and a lot of other people for the first time. There wasn’t a dress code but I didn’t want to embarrass Sojourner by dressing inappropriately for the occasion.

She emailed me and told me that she had a feeling I was being reserved. She assured me she wasn’t going to judge me. She told me she was proud of me.

So I took a risk. And instead of packing my “fake-a-good-impression” fancy lady clothes, I decided to just be myself and plan on wearing my jeans and Never Give Up shirts.

Well, on the long drive to the conference I had too much time to think. My insecurities and fears were holding front and center in my brain. And I felt like being myself was not enough. Plenty of people remind me of that on a daily basis. So I thought about turning around and not even going to the conference.

But it was a sold-out conference with a waiting list and I had generously been given a ticket because someone else could not attend. Also, I was scheduled to volunteer during a part of the conference. I felt like it would be really selfish and wrong for me to cancel at the last minute.

So I kept on driving towards Mississippi. And comforted myself by deciding that I would go shopping for better, more acceptable clothes in the few hours of free time I had before the conference began. To fit in with everyone else and not stand out.

Well, due to a series of uncontrollable events, I was delayed and hardly had any time to shop. I tried, I went to the shopping center. But I kept feeling this nudge in my spirit: “Just trust Me.”

So, scared out of my mind, I decided to stop looking for “better” clothes and just wear what I brought. And when I met up with Sojourner and all of her friends, I wore my new Never Give Up shirt with the obnoxiously large font.

They couldn’t have been nicer! Everyone was so welcoming and friendly. I was overwhelmed with their kindness. I felt a nudge in my spirit: “Seeeee! I told you. Chill out. Just trust Me.”

As the conference began, I met so many women and several told me, “I like your shirt.” I lost count of how many people told me that. In my spirit I felt the nudge again: “Seeeee. I told you. Just trust Me.”

During the conference there was a practical joke that Sojourner invited me to be a part of. It was not mean-spirited. It was a funny practical joke. But it involved standing up with her and several of her friends in front of over a hundred other people. And when it came time to play the practical joke, I just couldn’t bring myself to stand up in front of everyone.

Afterward Sojourner said, “You didn’t stand up?”

I responded, “I am so shy.”

She said, “Oh you’ll get over that by the time you leave here.”

Something Baxter said during the conference really stood out to me. He said, “If we are unashamed then no one will be able to define us or have power over us.”

But as I dressed for the second day of the conference with another “Never Give Up” shirt, I had to fight the fears all over again. I told myself: “Well at least the font size on this shirt is smaller.”

I was afraid people would be thinking, “Ok lady, one day of your cutesy little t-shirt was fine, but c’mon, grow up!”

I was avoiding interacting with people because I didn’t want to call attention to myself. But nearly every moment of the day there was someone initiating conversation with me. Ladies I met only the day before were inviting me to dinner and pursuing conversations with me.

After going through so much significant rejection in the months and weeks prior to the conference, the kindness of these new friends was a giant hug from God that was frying the circuits of my brain. I was truly overwhelmed in the best way.

So the last day of the conference arrived. I was looking at my clothes to wear. The choices were yet another “Never Give Up” shirt with the obnoxiously large font or a plain t-shirt. The thoughts in my head were: “Ok, people were understanding with your little Never Give Up shirt two days in a row, but three days is overkill. C’mon, grow up. Quit being weird.”

My heart really just wants to encourage. My heart doesn’t care so much about looking like a fool as long as even one person is given hope. But my mind was worried about embarrassing Sojourner, so I decided to play it “safe” and put on the plain t-shirt.

I went on to finish packing. But as I was about to zip up my last bag, I felt the nudge in my spirit: “Sarah, you are only going to see these people for two more hours. You may never see them again. Then you will be driving for twelve hours and stopping at several stores along the way. And maybe your Never Give Up shirt will help give someone hope. Just trust Me.”

Uggggggh. Ok. Fine. I’ll be “weird”.

So I changed shirts and put on the Never Give Up shirt with the big obnoxious font. But I brought a jacket with me just in case I became overwhelmed with self-consciousness.

I was trying to hide. I was worried people would think I only had one change of clothes. And I was counting down the minutes until I could be free of my anxiety.

Well the last session of the conference began and an unplanned moment happened where a woman shared about how she was forced to sign divorce papers a few days prior. For a separation that she did not want. She talked about how it was the biggest “you are not enough” moment of her life. She barely was able to speak because she was crying and in so much pain. And so many people in the audience started crying along with her.

That hit too close for me. The separation between you and I was something I definitely did not want. And it also felt like a big huge reminder that I wasn’t enough.

Then another unplanned moment happened as another lady was invited to share her experience that involved the pain of being sexually abused. Again, so many people in the audience were crying along with her.

And again, that one also hit too close to home for me.

Finally the second-to-last planned speaker of the conference started sharing her story. Again, more pain and suffering at the hands of others. Again, her words were resonating and so many people in the audience were crying as she shared her experiences.

I was completely overwhelmed at this point! I already had so much of my own rejection prior to the conference. And it was a fight to even get to the conference. I had also ridden the rollercoaster of anxiety and being saturated with kindness over the past three days. So the added intensity of the past hour or so with the speakers just made me want to jump up out of there and get on the road by myself with some music so I could zone out. I kept checking the time on my phone and counting down the minutes until I could breathe again.

At one point the speaker said something like, “I already ran over my time.” And then Baxter responded by saying something like, “It’s ok, keep going.” And although everything being shared was good, it was so intense that my whole being was just screaming, “Noooo, get me out of here!”

I was wrestling with whether to get up and leave the room just to get a break. If I had been in the back then I probably would have excused myself. But I was on the second row up front. And didn’t want to call attention to myself.

Well there I was trying to keep from jumping out of my skin, when all of a sudden I hear the speaker shift gears and loudly announce, “Where is that lady with the “give up” shirt?”

Oh no.

I raise my hand.

She says, “Stand up!”

Oh no.

Yep, this is happening.

So I stand up and she says, “Turn around!”

I’m facing the entire audience. They are all a blur.

And through my anxiety, all I hear is her say something like, “NEVER GIVE UP, ladies!!!”

And then everyone starts clapping and I sit down.

So much for being shy.

Then the nudge from The Holy Spirit with a big smile, “Seeeee!!!!! I told you. Just trust Me.”

The speaker talked for a few more minutes and then ended her speech by saying something like, “And remember ladies, DO NOT GIVE UP!”

I attended the conference expecting to learn a bunch of head knowledge, but God had other plans as to how He wanted to teach me about Living Loved.

---

So that’s it? Just a cute little moment at a conference?

I learned some knowledge that impacts every aspect of my life. But that’s it? Just carry on like nothing? Just leave everyone I love behind?

The story of you and me, and all I thought God was doing through what I thought was one of the best friendships of my life, just ends like that?

After I’ve received the best news of my life?

A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish. And I now know I don’t have to, but it wants to be written. Why? I’m not sure yet.

Also, this is not the next chronological chapter in the book. But it’s the chapter that wants to be written today.

—–

We had stopped hanging out and talking after the younger single woman was allowed to come between us and our friendship. And predictably she told me I needed to move out. With only three weeks’ notice.

But I had always found cute little apartments in the past. And now I was officially in real estate. So I wasn’t worried. There was no excuse. I would do what I had always done. Just hunt for a little bit and then move… on.

I checked the online ads day in and day out. I drove through neighborhoods. But nobody was returning my calls and emails. Nothing was working out. The ads were bait and switch; hundreds of dollars more than advertised. Or the places were too dirty or dangerous. One landlord showed a space with an active gas smell. Another even had the gall to show a space with freshly deceased roaches laying around!

But I still wasn’t worried. I was thinking two weeks out is still a great amount of time to find a place and plan to move.

It passes.

Ok, one week, Lord; I can do one week.

No?

Um, ok. I guess one weekend. Surely I’ll find a place the weekend before I need to move?!

Nope. Nothing was working out.

But by this point, I was used to stuff like this happening so many times before that I just had a feeling it was God closing the doors. I mean I’m in real estate; surely if anyone is capable at finding a place, it’s me.

So it was Monday and I was supposed to move on Wednesday. I still didn’t have a place. But I scheduled the movers anyway. I was thinking, “This is insane.”

But I kept remembering about the Israelites during the Exodus. I had prayed for years that I would be like Joshua and Caleb. And it felt like God was saying, “Now is your time.” So I kept repeating to myself over and over, “I know He didn’t bring me this far just to let me die in the desert.”

Now, please don’t picture me being calm! Internally it felt like I was a palm tree in a category five hurricane! I would have anxiety hit me so hard that I literally felt like I might pass out!

But God is so good…

Whenever I taught the kids at CCSA, I always only taught them one story every time I had nursery duty. I had taught it probably over two dozen times. It was the story about Peter when he started to sink on the ocean after walking on water.

When I was a kid, I didn’t feel like there were any adults to trust so it was always on my heart to teach kids how to cry out to God when they felt scared. So I would tell them the story about Peter walking on the water. And then I’d have the kids line up and I’d go down the line and walk every kid through the following:

I’d say, “What do you do when you are scared?”

And then I taught them to each repeat, “Jesus, help me!”

Well, I intended the lesson to be for those two and three year olds. But maybe it was really for me. Because here I was facing homelessness again in less than 72 hours. And God brought my own words back to me. So many times.

I would literally fall on my knees in front of my chair at the house and just sit there praying to God over and over: “I can’t do this, Lord. I can’t do this. I want to be strong but I’m not strong. Please help me!”

And I would just hear the Lord over and over reminding me of Exodus 14. And my favorite chapter in the Bible, 2 Chronicles 20: “Be still, Sarah. Be still and see the salvation of the Lord.”

So I would literally just sit there on my knees, or bowing my head in the car, and I would just try to quiet my soul as Spirit would pour out reminders of all the other times God had provided for me in the past.

And then I would turn on worship music and picture myself as the people in 2 Chronicles 20. Praising God as they marched toward what at the time seemed like certain impending doom. Not having a clue as to what was going to happen.

But I’m still thinking, “Ok, haha Lord. I passed the test, right? It’s the day before I need to move. Surely today is the day You will show me where I am going to move. I mean, logically, right?”

People who knew me were calling for updates. Asking me what I was going to do. This is less than twenty-four hours before I am supposed to move. And I felt completely insane not having an answer. Not having a plan. This was not how I was raised. I knew better.

So I feverishly worked all day. Looking around. Calling. Emailing.

Finally one person returns my call. But I went to see the place and it was awful! It smelled old and musty. Felt dirty. And the building had so much neglected maintenance. It was a high-rise and I was scared that I wouldn’t have time to get out if it caught on fire.

“Lord?”

I felt like Spirit was telling me that if I went ahead with that place then I would be settling out of fear. Just taking it to have at best a brief and tenuous false sense of “security”.

So I decided to trust God for better. And I turned down the place with less than 24 hours before I needed to move.

I felt completely crazy! How do you communicate to others the things you feel God is speaking to your heart? Especially the things that don’t make any sense?

So, what do I do now? Well, out of routine habit, I jumped right back to working out the problem. And decided to drive over to another apartment complex off Huebner. I didn’t really want to live there, but it was all I could think of at the last minute. I mean we’re talking almost four in the afternoon. The leasing offices would be closing in an hour and I had to move in the morning.

But I was in my work vehicle, so on my way to the apartment building, I stopped by an office building where I needed to go in and research at least one of the tenants for my employer.

I kid you not, when I pulled into the office building parking lot, it was a beautiful sunny day. Blue skies. Full sun.

And all I did was park, go inside, take the elevator upstairs, quickly research the location of the tenant’s office, use the bathroom, and then come downstairs.

And by the time I made it back down to the first floor, which was literally probably only five to ten minutes at the most, somehow a torrential thunderstorm had started and was raging outside.

And when I say torrential, I mean the rain was blowing sideways. I had never seen that in real life before. And there was so much water coming in that the front desk security was trying to block water from coming in the front doors.

It was so odd. The skies were dark and menacing. And out of nowhere.

But this is Texas. We’re used to this. And I didn’t have an umbrella. So I decided to just sit in the office building lobby for a few minutes. Wait out the worst and then make a run for my car once the storm started to move on.

Except it didn’t. Five minutes turned to ten minutes. Turned to fifteen minutes. All the while I am watching the clock. Trying to get to this leasing office in time to sign the paperwork and get keys for the next day. But also not wanting to get soaked and showing up like some dog off the streets. Not a great first impression when you’re trying to ask someone to trust you with their property.

Instead of moving on, the storm actually started to get worse. And by this point it is nearing the end of the day, so many of the workers in the office building are congregating in the lobby. Probably thinking similarly to me. Not wanting to get drenched. Intending to wait out the worst for a few minutes and then jet.

But so many people are in the lobby now that they are standing closer to me. And comically, the ones standing almost over my shoulder start saying “random” things like, “It wasn’t even supposed to rain”. And, “So-and-so called me and said they had to pull over because they couldn’t see to drive”. Etc.

It felt like I was Jonah on the ship. Running away from where God wanted me. And the storm that caused the people on Jonah’s ship to throw things overboard seemed to have arrived in San Antonio. Out of nowhere. And it felt like my fault.

Finally I just surrendered. I sat there in the office lobby and I gave up.

Because by that time it was 4:45 PM and all the apartment complexes would probably close at five. And I was at the 410/I-10 interchange. So there was no way I was going to get anywhere anytime soon with rush-hour traffic jammed up by the rain.

I resigned myself and said, “Ok, Lord. I think You are telling me, ‘No’. I think You are closing another door. I think you sent this storm to keep me from going to that apartment complex and signing a lease.”

I surrendered. Sat in the office lobby and waited just a few more minutes until the rain predictably now let up.

And now it’s the end of the day before I need to move, I had movers scheduled for the morning and nowhere to go.

But I kept holding onto this sentence: “God didn’t bring me out into the desert to die.”

I laughed at the “craziness” of God’s timing. And felt like Spirit was encouraging me to not be scared about it. To instead go and enjoy my dinner meal.
So I drove over to Las Palapas on Callaghan. And proceeded to schedule the moving van rental for the morning. While I waited for my order. Feeling completely insane.

But I kept feeling like God was saying, “Keep moving. Keep marching forward. As if everything is going to work out fine.”

It didn’t make any sense.

But I went back to the house and started packing the remaining items and cleaning the remaining things to clean. All my boxes and furniture was stacked up and ready to be loaded. With nowhere to go.

But I felt so heavy like God was speaking to my heart to just be faithful in doing what I needed to do while I was waiting for the answer. Versus sitting down and melting into a paralyzed panic.

So I listened to worship music and prayed. Read some Scriptures and tried to get some sleep.

All of a sudden at 11pm an idea came to my mind of where to go the next morning: my old apartment complex. Where I lived before I moved in with this younger single woman that was allowed to come between us.

So the next morning, three hours before the movers are supposed to arrive, one and a half hours before I’m supposed to pick up the moving van, I wake up and immediately shoot straight up in bed. Very dramatic. Just like in the movies. As everything in me was SCREAMING: “Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!”

FULL BLOWN PANIC!

I felt SO much anxiety that I felt like I was going to throw up!

But I immediately started to pray. And God calmed me. But I probably had to stop and pray literally almost every five minutes that morning!

And when I wasn’t praying, I was trying to sing along to worship music. Trying to keep the panic and tears away.

I kept repeating to myself, “God didn’t bring me this far to let me die in the desert.”

I was almost shaking as I went to pick up the van at 8:00 AM. It was raining so I used the weather to buy an hour of extra time when I called and asked the movers if they could come at 10:00 AM instead.

That gave me an hour to find a place. Hahaha!

Did I go to the place that came to mind the previous night? No, because that didn’t make sense. It was clear across town for one.

Instead I did the “logical” thing and started with the closest apartment complexes. Called several but I couldn’t afford their rates or they didn’t have availability until later dates.

And just when I had worked myself almost into despondency again, Spirit whispered the calm reminder about my previous apartment complex across town.

“But God, that doesn’t make any sense? The leasing office doesn’t even open until 10:00 AM. And that’s when my movers will be arriving. I have to be here to let them in.”

“Just trust Me.”

I did it mad. I drove over there expecting nothing. Trying to think up a backup plan the whole way. Telling myself that it wouldn’t work out and I’d just find a storage space after to put my things into. And then stay the night in a motel so I could figure out what to do with myself. That was the best plan I could come up with at that point.

But still drove over to the apartment complex. Here goes “crazy” Sarah once again, right? Following God out into the middle of the ocean. Looking like a fool. Right?

I arrived at my old apartment complex at 9:00 AM. Like I had just told God, the office was closed.

“See! What now, God?! After I wasted all this time!”

“Just trust Me.”

“Trust You?!?! I’ve been trying to trust You and LOOK where it’s gotten me!”

Before I could even finish the thought, the office manager starts walking up to the front doors. He’s not even supposed to be here or be open for another hour.

I jumped out of my car and ran to catch up to him before he went inside the office and locked the door behind him. He recognized me from when I lived there before so we skipped the pleasantries and I quickly asked him if he had any apartments for rent.

“Only one place for $800+”.

That was WAY outside my budget at the time.

“Lord?!?! Why did you send me all the way over here if there is nothing available for me?!”

“Just trust Me.”

So I thanked the manager but told him that $800+ was out of my price range. And I dejectedly turned to go back to my car and drive away.

Then he said, “Well, come inside and let me look at my computer.”

I’m thinking, “Why? I can’t even afford anything here.” But I follow him anyway since I have no other plan at this point.

And he sits down and starts navigating his system. Then after a minute or two of looking around, he says, “Wait! We do have one unit that is not remodeled that we could rent for $695.”

That’s in my price range! So I run to go look at the apartment to make sure it isn’t a disaster. And it wasn’t everything I wished for, but definitely good enough. So I run back to the leasing office and tell him I’ll take it!

But we still have to do all the paperwork and I have movers showing up across town in less than an hour. So he sends me to go get the money orders while he runs my application.

I lived there before. No issues. But when I came back from racing down the street to get the money orders, he told me that my rental application was denied due to a class C reckless driving misdemeanor on my record from SEVENTEEN years ago! It doesn’t make any sense! Why is this now an issue?!

“Lord?!?”

But the manager was able to call a supervisor and receive special approval for my application. So we were back on again. But then he told me that I needed to get a utility account number and rental insurance before he could give me the keys.

We had already come this far. And I had no other plan. So without knowing if I could get it done, I assured him that I’d call to get what the apartment complex needed before I came back with the movers and all my stuff. And off I went to meet the movers. As if I was going to be able to move in. With no keys in hand.

Long story short, I was able to call and get what I needed as I went to meet the movers. I even had extra time to spare as I waited for them. Calm and no stress from then out.

Plus the manager gave me $350 off the first month’s rent. In addition to not charging me the $50 application fee or the $100 admin fee.

After weeks of failing to work everything out “logically”, God’s plan was able to get everything figured out smooth as butter in less than thirty minutes! Thirty MINUTES before the movers showed up!

Talk about a Red Sea parting with Pharaoh’s army on my heels!

It was an incredible, wild, crazy adventure. Not only did God show up, but He really showed off!

My timing was NOT His timing. And I knew I would be ok either way. But whew, what a lesson in trust!

He didn’t bring us this far to leave us in the desert.

“I just can’t give up now;
I come too far from where I started from.
Nobody told me the road would be easy,
but I don’t believe He brought me this far to leave me.”

Jesus loves us.

A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish.

---

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, you first captured my attention that night.

We were sitting there talking and women kept coming up to you and asking you to adjust them. Each time you looked at them and without skipping a beat, acknowledged them and told them you’d adjust them after you were finished “talking to Sarah”.

I wasn’t used to that. I was used to men ditching me at the first opportunity if a fitter or more “powerful” woman came along. I was ready to play small and let you go, let them take you away. But each time you would address them and then turn around and keep talking to me.

It happened first. Then again. Then preachers’ wives were even coming over to you. We were clearly speaking in deep conversation and they would just interrupt us to ask you to adjust them. And each time you responded the same. That you’d adjust them after you finished talking to me.

I saw the look in even the preachers’ wives eyes. Like it’s all fine to give me a hug at church. And smile. And say, “God bless you.” But the look in their eyes, when you wouldn’t leave me for them, said, “I’m more important than you, Sarah. I look better. Why is he daring to keep talking to you instead of paying attention to me!?” It caught me off-guard, honestly. I didn’t expect that reaction from them.

Or your reaction for that matter. But man, you started depositing trust into my account and into my heart every time you did that. I didn’t think anything of myself. So you were free to leave and I would have accepted it as par for the course. But no, you kept talking with me.

We went out into the foyer after they started locking up the main area. At least one other woman tried to approach you there. Again, you said you’d adjust them after you talked to me.

But then everybody started leaving the church. So we moved outside. Then everyone left the parking lot. Again – like the previous time when we talked after my rib moved back into place.

And we talked for hours that night. I wouldn’t have admitted it in my mind, but in my heart and spirit I for sure didn’t want the conversation to end. I felt good for the first time in a long time.

So unexpected. It didn’t make any sense. We were so different. Never in a million years would I have predicted it.

Was I just so lonely? Were you just being polite? Or was God doing something?

A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish.

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But Sarah, why would you return? Why would you put up with all of that in the first place? Simply, it had been normalized for me going all the way back. Decisions were centered around what I “should” do. Specifically, Biblically. And there was always someone claiming to be the authority in interpreting what that meant. I was in church while I was still in the womb. This was second-nature for me. My default mode of operating. My focus, my everything. Out of fear. Either missing out here or eternal hellfire damnation. And I couldn’t understand why everyone else wasn’t taking it so seriously.

How did this play out? I was a sitting duck. People would even tell me to my face. Someone I called a friend at the time proudly announced to me one day, in these exact words, that my most redeemable quality was that I would take abuse. A former girlfriend told me that what she loved about me was that I would have sex even though she knew I didn’t want to. A future teacher told me that he could so easily manipulate me and then proceeded to do so.

The whole time I just thought I was being nice. I hoped my love would thaw them, all of them and more, out. I thought my love would inspire them to change. Looking back now, I can’t think of even one time that ever worked long-term. But it would take me many more painful years to realize that.

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Before I move on, I need to go back in the timeline a little bit. The Sunday after I was initially kicked out of Manna House, I of course didn’t want to go to service at Calvary Chapel San Antonio. At that time, nobody except Julie had reached out to me yet. Complete radio silence.

But I still wanted to worship that Sunday with believers. So I dragged myself to Community Bible Church. That campus was huge in comparison. I knew there was a good chance I could sneak in and out with anyone talking to me. Certainly no one would know me. I could focus on God in peace. Maybe like it should have been all along. Without any peripheral social drama getting in the way.

During the service I became aware of classes CBC was offering. I believe one was entitled “Untangling Relationships”. I thought, “Great, I’ll sign up and go learn how to fix all my relationships.”

Well, once I begged to go back to work at Manna House, I decided to still sneak off to Community Bible Church for that Untangling Relationships class. I didn’t tell anyone. There was great suspicion of any non-Calvary Chapel influence. And I didn’t believe in that or want the drama of attempting to justify it to anyone’s liking. This was a rare decision I made for me – confidently.

So I showed up to the first class session, prepared to learn the formula for relationship success. And within the first few minutes, the class leaders explained that the class was about healing from codependency. “Codependency? I don’t think I have that. That’s not what I came here for.” But I didn’t want to be rude, so I decided to just sit through that first class instead of calling attention to myself by walking out. But I didn’t think the subject matter applied to me so I wasn’t going to go back.

Until towards the very end of that first class. After one of the leaders gave us a quiz to identify whether we had codependent behaviors. Let’s just say I marked so many in the affirmative that it really shocked me. Things I thought were normal. That I soon learned were not helpful. So I left that first night and promised myself that I would keep coming back to learn more about this codependency concept.

What I did not anticipate at all was that I learned through that class that I had been trying to manipulate God. Religious people referred to it differently – as “pleasing” God. But under a more intentional drill-down it was clear to see I was attempting to get God to do my bidding. To control God’s behavior towards me and others. Whether by my actions or even specific words. Kinda like um, witchcraft, really. That’s what codependency was about: thinking if you follow the magic spell then you can guarantee the outcome you want from other people. I was embarrassed to learn that I had actually been looking at God like Trinity was Santa Claus or an old sugar-daddy.

By the end of that class I started the journey of beginning to learn that I could unfortunately only control me. I couldn’t fix anyone else except myself.

I’ve heard specifically William Paul Young say that pornography is the imagination of a relationship without the vulnerability of one. Codependency was similar. I had wanted to somehow circumvent risk. For good reason. Because I didn’t yet know how to keep myself safe. And I didn’t trust God to do the heavy lifting.

But there would be plenty more opportunities to master becoming comfortable with the mystery inherent in navigating respectful relationships.

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Ever since I was a little girl, I prayed almost daily not to be deceived. Because I realized on some level that I was very vulnerable due to the way I was raised. Obedience and submission were ingrained in me. And the right, or in this case wrong person could easily exploit my propensity to give people the benefit of the doubt. As I was taught to do: love believes all things, hopes for the best.

It wasn’t until my parents divorced that I ever doubted what I was told. They fought constantly behind closed doors. For years. We walked around on eggshells. Just waiting for what would set the next round off. I’d lay on the floor at night. Looking under my door. Making sure they didn’t hit each other. All this while they are attending and even sometimes leading Bible studies. Telling me I shouldn’t play with kids whose parents were divorced. And then they eventually announce their own split.

I was only mad that they didn’t each lay down their pride and selfishness and work harder for the family to make it. But overall that was my first exposure to religious people being exposed as hypocrites. Years in the church and then they went against something they had previously been so adamant about. Made me doubt everything ever since. I could no longer ever trust what I was being told. I had to find out and measure for myself.

Same with later being told that gross infidelity was involved. By someone who at the same time had the audacity to ground me for a week when I replied to something they said with, “That sucks.” How many times was my mouth washed out with soap when you were trading more than spit with someone outside the marital bed? On top of everything else inside the house. Ridiculous.

That’s what broke me. Learning that people in church were doing things they preached against. That was the real start of my spiritual transformation. That’s when I began to think for myself. Although it would be decades before I’d consider my mind even a little bit washed from all the b.s.

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The second significant thing that came out of the experience of getting kicked out of Manna House is that I started researching what I was experiencing and ran across the topic of spiritual abuse. I.e. people hurting people – all in the name of Jesus.

That’s what I really cared about more than my personal security, obviously: truth. I wouldn’t fight for myself, but I couldn’t operate in lies. I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. I didn’t have a problem so much with people fucking up as much as I did with them not owning it.

And so somehow I ran across the book, “The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse” by David Johnson and Jeff Van Vonderen. More so than the authors’ prescriptions, I relished the stories chronicled in the book. Although the authors gave me words to finally conceptualize my experience, I felt seen by the stories from the people who shared what they had been through. I wasn’t alone and I wasn’t crazy or lazy. I could now see that one of the main aims had been to keep me on my feet and so busy that I wouldn’t be able to see the fuckery being sent my way.

And I got really mad about this. Mad that people would use people’s love of God to manipulate and hurt them. Mad that the little lambs had no idea they were being led to the slaughter. Mad that nobody was doing anything to fix this. And finally mad for myself. That I was used instead of protected.

These people who spiritually abuse are just like the ones on the street. Just with a lot more religious speech. Until the book, that hadn’t occurred to me. Unfortunately being in church wasn’t a safe harbor; didn’t mean I could relax and not test those who identified themselves as Christians. Even in the religious stories, the devil came masquerading as an angel of light. But this wasn’t taught from the pulpit. The focus was on demonizing “the world” “out there”. Not keeping an eye out for the wolves sitting right next to you in the pews.

Thankfully, now my eyes were beginning to open. And that was also the beginning of the end for me religiously. I could no longer walk into church and not see what was happening. Although it would take a long time for me to know what to do. Where to go. How to navigate life with these new lenses. I can understand on some level why people would rather bury their heads in the sand. Because in my experience, you could lose everything you’ve ever known without any guarantee that what you are hoping you are trading it for will ever come. It’s a lot lonely at least for a long while on this island of enlightenment. There is a certain bliss in ignorance.