So, asking me to not bring God into any conversation is like asking me to not wear a bra. Um. No. Some women can get away with it and do. I’m just not that girl.
I’m all woman. I’m all failure and all success. I’m all hopelessness and all hope. I am all doubt and all faith. I’m all on fire and all cold. I’m all Monica. And no matter how far I run, I’m all His. Stumbling uphill in this thing called crawling out my salvation, it just is what is and if I ever say I’ve arrived, you should definitely NOT book me to appear on your show unless I’m allowed to bring Kool Aid packets. But seriously.
There’s nothing about my life that shouts I can’t look directly into God’s eyes and say, good grief, you saved me again?! Think of someone pulling you, within seconds of your death, from a fiery car wreck. Imagine how many times you would reflect on that act of selflessness and sacrifice. Imagine how many conversations you would begin and end with that story.
Yeh. Asking me to not make things so spiritual just won’t cut it. I see Him in every single thing my eyes come across and I’m grateful. I can see Him clearly in the dark recesses of life and in the beauty. Why would I not share that when asked to share myself?
It’s like being asked to share your testimony of marriage at a marriage conference, but just don’t mention your husband. Or showing up for parents weekend without your parents. Hello?
The name GOD does not scare me. Yes, I have considered my audience and depending upon the subject matter, He equips me to speak to the heart of a matter without having to cite His name or Word, but rather dialogue on terms someone can relate to. But when you ask me to show up and be me, to share me, my story, my life, my very breath, I’m not coming alone. I can’t. So, don’t ask. If my husband offends you, don’t invite us to the party. If my father’s native tongue of Truth scares you, you should stick with lies.
I’m not offended. I’m perplexed. Because I was birthed in God’s Spirit and His heart, it is impossible to separate us. Since His love, through Jesus, was realized in my soul and mind, I can’t pretend His grace isn’t alive. I can’t see a dying and broken world, be asked to show up with my light, but extinguish it, just a little, in case someone is blinded. No.
Sure do love you, but if you invite me to speak or otherwise appear and talk about me, you’re getting the full meal deal. My existence and God’s role in that are not mutually exclusive. My Bible doesn’t come with spikes and I don’t launch it ( unless I’m super mad with God and acting like a spiritual brat).This isn’t religion. This is relationship. An intense one.
The Universe didn’t save me, GOD did and all the roads I took to try to get to him led to hell on earth. So you’ll forgive me if I’m just a wee excited about this person the world hates and His love for me and how it has affected my life and my ability to love others. I’m Greek that way, you ask me out, my family comes. Father, Son, Holy Spirit. It’s not that scary, really. It’s amazing and full of hope. And who in this hell can’t use some of that?
Peace,
Monica