What Can I Do?

It was an ordinary Wednesday evening at my house.  I was cleaning up some of my kitchen, trying to get cookies made for a potluck we're doing at work tomorrow, and starting to feel discouraged.  You see, when God handed out gifts, one he did not give me was the ability to keep my kitchen clean.  Then, there was a little whisper.
"How are you supposed to pack everything and move three hours away when you can't even keep your kitchen clean?" (I'll be making a post about it later on, but I've accepted a ministry job offer, and I am so excited to start it, it's just that I'll be moving three hours away)
I started to feel discouraged.  It was right after all.  I can't keep my kitchen clean.  I try, and then I get overwhelmed, or distracted, or I'm at work, and it's difficult to clean a kitchen that is 30 minutes away from you.  In fact, I struggle with keeping my entire house clean.  Especially with a pandemic that makes it so that I don't have to clean for company to come over (company is a huge incentive to clean house for me).
Then...I remembered something.

"For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength." — Philippians 4:13 NLT

If you've seen War Room, you probably remember the scene where the woman went through her entire house, denouncing the devil, telling him that he had no place in her home, or in her life.  You can watch that scene here.
I went on a rampage.  I yelled at Satan and told him that if God has placed it on my heart to move three hours away, where I only have two friends, and to do a difficult job, then God will also give me the strength to do what he's asked me to do.
I told him that he is a liar and the father of lies.

"When he lies, it is consistent with his character; for he is a liar and the father of lies." — John 8:44b NLT

I told him that the abyss, hell, the lake of fire, was made for him and his angels.  Not for me, not for anyone in the town I'm living in, and not for anyone in the town I'm moving to.  That God has asked me to be his hands and feet and spread the good news, and that he can't stop me, and that there are people he will not be allowed to have, because I am determined to share God with them.

"Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels:" — Matthew 25:41 KJV

 I informed him that I can do everything through Christ.  And everything means everything.  I can do something little, like getting my kitchen cleaned, something bigger like packing up and moving three hours away where I only have two friends, and, if it ever comes down to it, something huge, like allowing someone to kill me rather than renouncing the name of Jesus.
Everything means everything.
I also told Satan that he doesn't belong in my house, and he definitely doesn't belong whispering things in my mind.  I told him that I know he hates having scripture quoted at him, but that maybe he should have just not tried whispering lies into my mind.  I told him that I know how weak I am, and how scared and nervous I am of moving away from my friends, my family, and my church family.  And that it's okay, because God's strength is perfect in my weakness.

"But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." — II Corinthians 12:9 ESV

I screamed at him.  I yelled at him.  I told him that he didn't belong here.  Because he doesn't.  He doesn't belong in my house, whispering things into my mind trying to make me doubt not only myself, but God.  God told me to fill out the job application, God gave me the job, and God is moving me and will provide a place to live when I get there.  God promises to take care of me.  He knows my needs before I ask!

"Don’t be like them, for your Father knows exactly what you need even before you ask him!" — Matthew 6:8 NLT

"And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus." — Philippians 4:19 NLT

 Guys!  If God calls you to do something, if he brings you to a ministry, to a crossroads, and it's something that he wants you to do, you can do it.  Christ is giving you strength!  Do you remember what his strength accomplished?  He raised the dead to life.  He healed the blind and the lame, he cleansed people of leprosy, multiplied five loaves and two fish to the point that not only was everyone fed, but there were several baskets left over!!!  AND HE IS GIVING YOU STRENGTH!!!  Is that not incredible?!
You can do everything through Christ who gives you strength!  Everything!  From the small, to the large, and everything in between!  There are verses about how our faith can move mountains!  I've been to Colorado only twice, but I would like to tell you that the mountains are a wee bit big.
I do have to throw a wrench in this and say that if it's not God's will, no amount of wishing will make it so.  The II Corinthians verse earlier in this post was after Paul had repeatedly asked God to please remove this thorn in the flesh.  He had faith.  But God told him that he worked best through Paul's weakness, and that no, he would not remove his thorn.
But that's a whole different topic, for a whole different post.
Guys, I'm over here scared to move a measly three hours away, doubting my capabilities because of a messy kitchen.  But I can do it.  It's what God's asked me to do, and he isn't going to bring me to this crossroads, then leave me high and dry.  I can do everything, through Christ who gives me strength, because his spirit lives in me.

"The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. " — Romans 8:11a NLT

He's Gone

I am writing this from a place of grief.  There are many directions this post can go, because there are so many emotions that come from this.
I wrote awhile back about my missing kitty.  You can read that post here.  He isn't missing anymore.  But he's gone.  Thursday, I found his body.  He had hidden himself deep in a closet under a bunch of things so we couldn't find him.  I think he knew how much it would destroy me to find his body, so tried to hide from me.
I am aware that we're in the middle of a pandemic...but, I admit that it was the furthest thing from my mind when I saw his tail.  I couldn't even move anything else to get him out.  I called my mom, who came and got him out for me.  She gave me his collar and said that she and my stepdad would take care of the wood for a coffin.  He was a special cat.  He deserves more than a hole in the ground and a blanket.  I said I wished that I had the money to cremate him.
She took him home with her so that they could measure him for the coffin, then texted me a bit later to let me know that they would foot the bill to have him cremated.  We took him into the vet today to be cremated.  I don't have him home yet.
Thursday I cried for about 6 hours straight before I ran out of tears and gave myself a massive headache.  I've been crying on and off for about 4 or 5 hours now, and it's almost bedtime.
Poro was a good cat.  He was a special cat.  I know I'm biased because he was mine, but I've never met (heard of, yes, but never met) another cat who would sit on command.  I've never met another cat who could climb up a tree and come down with a bird.  He purred so loudly.  He loved to walk on my spleen.  He loved me and my mom, but if a stranger came over, he would stare at them wide-eyed before running upstairs and hiding.  If you met him, and if he let you pet him, you are a special human.
You might think that I'm stupid, or at the very least acting stupid for being so distraught about this.  "He's just a cat."  But he wasn't.  He was my baby.  I would have braved a snake for him.  I tried to leave him at my parents when I moved, so that he could still go outside, because he loved outside.  But this house wasn't a home until I had my Poro.  I'm brokenhearted.  I'll probably be crying for several more days.
And this is about the time, where if you remember that this isn't a personal blog, you start asking what this has to do with God and his love.
Because God cares!  He cares that I can barely see the words I'm typing because I am crying again.  He cares that I lost my baby.  He cares, even though my baby was a cat.  He is here with me, for me, near me.  He loves me, and he loves Poro.

"He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds." — Psalm 147:3 NLT

There are no limits to the reasons for having the broken heart.  If you're broken hearted, he's there.

“Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.” — I Peter 5:7 NLT

He cares because I care.  He wants to hear that I am sad.  He wants to hear that I am brokenhearted.  He wants to hear that I miss my baby.  Because he cares about me.

"What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it." — Matthew 10:29 NLT

God knows when the sparrows fall to the ground.  He knows when they die.  He cares about them.  And Poro is bigger than a sparrow.  Poro would eat the sparrow that fell to the ground...in fact, he would be the reason the sparrow fell to the ground.  And God cares about him, too.

"Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28 NLT

I can go to him for rest, because this is a burden.  Grieving is exhausting, and it takes time.  A lot more time than I wish.

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”" — Revelation 21:4 NLT

 I've been crying a lot lately.  I messaged my friend and said, "Hello, my name is Katie and I am a water fountain."  God is going to wipe those tears away from my eyes.  There's no more crying because of things like this.  There's no more death.  There's no more sorrow, or pain of loss.
I don't know if Poro will be in heaven.  Some people say no, some people say yes, some people say that the pets of the saints will be there, and I so very hope that they are, because the thought of never being able to hold my Poro again makes me start crying all over again.  Besides, none of the animals ever did anything wrong to be subjected to the curse.  It was mankind's fault.
I am hurting right now.  Not everyone understands.  They don't have to.  But, I also know that it's okay for me to mourn.

"A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance." — Ecclesiastes 3:4 NLT

"Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted." — Matthew 5:4 KJV

Through this suffering, I am not alone.  I have friends who have done everything from give me space, to send me pictures of bunnies without expectation of reply, to listen to me talk about what a good boy Poro was.  And when I'm all alone in my house crying, there is a God, my father...my daddy, who hears me cry, and wraps me in his arms and gives me peaceful sleep and comfort.

"All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort." — II Corinthians 1:3

(Poro, laying on my blanket, being cute and sweet)

I Love Him, Because He Loves Me

I recently saw a couple of my Facebook friends share this post:



And I'm gonna tell you...part of me was like, "Yes, I want to post this."  But after that initial thought, the friends who flashed across my mind were people who would snort or roll their eyes at a post like this.  Shrug, say that they're good people (and honestly, for the most part I'd agree), that if Jesus loves them, he's not going to send them to hell, because they are good people.
Basically...if this were my last post, and that's what I said...I'd still have done no good.
My hope is that my last post on Facebook, on this blog, on any of my social media, does not tell someone that I want them to follow Jesus, but to show them why I do follow him.
People don't respond well to being told what to do.  At least I don't, and I'm pretty sure I'm a people.  People respond better when they are shown by example.  At least that's true of me, and again, I am pretty sure I'm a people.  However, I could be a cleverly disguised beaver in a trench coat.  Who knows at this point?
So, instead of telling you that I hope you'll follow Jesus and that he loves you...I'm going to tell you why I follow Jesus/God, and how I know that he loves me.

1. I follow Jesus and love him, because he loves me.

"We love because he first loved us." — I John 4:19 ESV

I know that God loves me.  Because no matter what I've done, he's never let go of me.  I'm not perfect, I'm not an angel, and unlike what one of my friends has called me since they've met me...I am not innocent.
I know that God loves me, because in my darkest hours, when I've cried out for a friend, he has provided.  He provided Alex when I was on the verge of giving up my faith, he provided Xander when I was drowning in shame for things I'd long since been forgiven of, and even tonight, he provided Marina when I felt afraid, and as though all my friends and family were going to abandon me.  All three of the people I listed by name were answers to prayers.
When I met Alex, I was the lowest in my faith that I had ever been.  I was barely reading my Bible, I had given up tithing.  My prayers were cries to God, telling him that I wanted to be a good Christian, but I felt helpless, was worn out, and giving up.  Meeting Alex is the best thing that has ever happened for my faith, because I began attending my church, and found the first church family I have ever had in my entire life at 18 years old.
When Xander came, I was at an extremely low point.  I had been making extremely poor decisions, both personally and especially for my faith.  I had confessed this to God, to my pastor and his wife, and these were not decisions I was making any longer, but I was still so ashamed of where I'd been, and had other external factors pressing on me, and hurting me, that I didn't see how I could move forward.  Xander came to visit, and gave me the name for this blog—without knowing or realizing it—when he reminded me that God is a God of love, not a God of shame.  He was an encouragement I desperately needed.
And tonight...Marina, she was an answer to pray for God to give me a friend so that I would know I wasn't alone and abandoned.  My depression and anxiety have had me crying almost every day for the past 7 days.  Maybe longer.  They've had me struggling and panicking for the past 2-3 weeks.  February/March tend to be rough months for my mental health.  I've been feeling alone.
Marina is a good friend from church.  We don't spend much time together outside of church, because between work and illness, and just general exhaustion, if one of us is good to go, the other just wants to lay on the couch and stop existing for 3 hours (nap, I mean nap, we want to nap).  She saw me crying at church yesterday (I started writing this on a Monday and it's been saved in my drafts ever since), because yes, I go to church even if I'm a royal mess, because I need to be with my family and no one ever makes me feel ashamed for crying at church.  She messaged me this morning telling me that she was thinking about me, praying for me, and offered up Minecraft as an activity we could do together, just so I could get my mind off of stuff.
So...I went.  Played Minecraft.  And...between Minecraft, pizza, lighthearted conversations, and deep conversations...that was what I needed.  A friend.
There are many reasons why I love Jesus, and I hope to make this into a series showcasing some of the reasons why I love and follow Jesus.
But honestly, the biggest reason that I love and follow Jesus is because when I finally learned that he was a God of love, not a God who I had to twist myself into a knot just to please so that he wouldn't get mad at me and leave...I finally knew what love was.  Or, I thought I did.  I am still learning what love is.  Because I'm still learning more and more about God, and God is love.

"God is love." — I John 4:8 ESV

I love and follow Jesus...because I know he loves me.

The Greatest Valentine

I can already see some of you rolling your eyes, thinking that I'm just going to do the cheesy, "Jesus is my Valentine, hehehe!"  Well.  I don't know if you're right or not, I just know that my God is love, and that I am excited about him.
Some of you may know, but I'm sure that most of you don't, I was baptized for the first time on Valentine's Day 4 years ago.  Despite being in church for 18 years (my whole life), I had never been baptized, nor had I ever really heard or understood that you are supposed to be baptized after you're saved.
Being that I was in church for my entire life, I honestly can't tell you exactly when I actually became a Christian myself.  I decided to say the prayer, by myself, on my toy chest, when I was 3 or 4, because I knew that that was what you were supposed to do.  I didn't really hit what most would call the age of accountability until I was around 9.
It doesn't make sense that I would grow up attending church, yet never be baptized or even see a reason, especially considering verses such as this one:

"Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit." — Matthew 28:19 NLT

That is...well, that appears to be an order from Jesus himself.  And I feel that it is pretty important that we obey the instructions given to us from the guy who gave up his life for us.
However, the church I grew up in...baptism is not a thing.  You will never see a baptismal in a Bible Holiness church.  Nor will you ever take communion in a Bible Holiness church (that's another can of worms for another post).  Those are things that have been disregarded as good, but optional...or even things that Jesus didn't intend for us, the people living today, to follow.  I disagree.
I don't think that baptism is what gives us our salvation.  This verse seems to indicate that baptism is not what condemns us or saves us:

"Anyone who believes and is baptized will be saved. But anyone who refuses to believe will be condemned." — Mark 16:16 NLT

From what I understand, it's the lack of belief that leads to condemnation...but yet, if baptism wasn't important, why would it be listed in there with the instruction to believe and be saved?  So...not what saves us, but still important.  It is obedience, which God prefers to anything else we could offer.

"Listen! Obedience is better than sacrifice, and submission is better than offering the fat of rams." — I Samuel 15:22b NLT

We are baptized for the forgiveness of our sins, and so that we will receive the Holy Spirit!  These are good reasons to be baptized!

"Peter replied, “Each of you must repent of your sins and turn to God, and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. Then you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." — Acts 2:38 NLT

When we are baptized, it's us dying and being raised up to have a new life!

"For we died and were buried with Christ by baptism. And just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glorious power of the Father, now we also may live new lives." — Romans 6:4 NLT

Why would we not want to be baptized?

"What are you waiting for? Get up and be baptized. Have your sins washed away by calling on the name of the Lord.’" — Acts 22:16 NLT

 February 14, 2016 was one of the best Valentine's Days I've ever had...and I have actually done cheesy romantic stuff for Valentine's Day, too.  But lemme just tell you...the person that I gave myself to on February 14, 2016 is never going to leave me or stop loving me.

"And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.  No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord." — Romans 8:38-39 NLT

Wanna know what my ex did?  Well.  Considering I said my ex, and not my boyfriend, fiancé, or husband, I think it's pretty clear.  He stopped loving me.  He hurt me.  He mistreated me, and made me feel worthless.
God's love has comforted me more times than I can even count.  Knowing that he loves me, even when I'm going through a rough patch has kept me going more than once.  He is truly the best valentine I have ever had, or could ever have.  My God is love.

"God is love." — I John 4:8b NLT 

So, if you're looking for a valentine this year, or any year, I don't know when you're reading this post, God is a pretty great one.  He's never let me down, even though, honestly, most if not all of the humans in my life have let me down at least once or twice...some more often than that.
Happy Valentine's Day guys ♥

The Lord Will Take Me Up

Some of you who know me personally know that I had an interesting summer.  A lot happened, but among the things that happened, I lost one of my friends.  They didn't die, but they stopped being my friend.
Unfortunately, the friend I lost was my stepdad.  I've never had a good relationship with my biological father, and he's been gone for 18 years, so chances of ever gaining a good relationship with him are...well...impossible on this earth.  And sadly, due to his lifestyle, probably in heaven as well.
When I lost him as my friend, it broke my heart.  In this situation, I had done nothing wrong, and I say that with full confidence.  I am the one who was wronged.  And I spent the better part of the summer trying to mend the relationship before I had to back out and protect myself.
There were a lot of questions...mostly pinning his hurtful behavior onto myself, blaming myself.  I wanted to know why I still didn't deserve to have a loving father.  I wanted to know what I did wrong.  I wanted to know why things like this always seem happen with the men in my life, even (sometimes especially) the men in the church.
One day I sat at work, having a particularly rough day, fighting tears.  I just wanted to be loved.  I wanted my parents, my mom and my stepdad.  And I felt so alone.  Abandoned.  Again.  Abandonment is something I'll touch on a lot on this blog...because it's something I feel so raw and deeply.
Then out of the blue, a verse that I didn't remember ever reading popped into my mind.

“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.” — Psalm 27:10 KJV

"For my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me in." — Psalm 27:10 ESV

"Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close." — Psalm 27:10 NLT

I've included three different versions of this verse, because each one is so deeply intimate even in different wording.
When it was my lunch break, I looked up the verse, to make sure that it wasn't a product of my deranged mind...and it wasn't.  It was this verse (in the KJV, because that's what I've grown up with).  And it brought me so much comfort that I wept, and wrote in my Bible Notebook.
This is what I wrote:

"He will take me up.  Up in his arms like a little child.  His arms around me in a big embrace, face nuzzling and tickling my neck.  He will take me up in his arms and wipe my tears away.  I am a little child, my heart broken.  And he takes me up.  Safe.  Close to his heart.
 "He is my father.  He takes me up.  He holds me with arms big enough to hold all things together, yet small enough I'm in no danger of falling.
"The Lord will take me up.  My God, my king, my savior.  He will take me up.  He will be my father.
"He will take me up.  His treasured princess.  I am forsaken...  But I am not left alone and destitute...because The Lord takes me up."

I felt myself wrapped in his arms when I read that verse.
And I still do.
I feel it in the solace I've found with my aunt.  Something I may not have found again had this not happened.  I feel it in the hugs and kisses of my sweet Sharon at church.  I feel it when my dear friend Linda listens to me ramble, and hugs me, and cares, even when/if she disagrees.
I feel the Lord's arms around me in the love I find from those at my church.  The most loving church I've ever known.
Not everyone at church knows what I've gone through during my life.  Not everyone knows what I've done and gone through this summer.  They don't need to know.  They love me regardless.
I want to call out everyone from church who has encouraged me.  I want to write their names in big, bold letters...but to do that, to call out everyone who has encouraged me and made me to know that the Lord has taken me up, taken me in, and held me close, I would need the church directory (for correct spellings), and at least 1,000 more words.
Dear church family, you have been a balm to my aching, wearing, broken and scared soul.  If you are reading this, I adore you.  If you aren't, I still adore you, you'll just have to rely on my hugs and anything I say to you in person to get that across, instead of reading it here.
I'm not fatherless.  I'm not an orphan.
I am God's daughter.
And he has taken me up, taken me in, and holds me close.  I know I am loved, wanted and cherished.

Singing on the Mound

This is a post directly related to my previous post, Psalm 13.  I promised to share a testimony of a time I praised God despite struggling with my mental illnesses, and this is that testimony.  I've previously shared it in a few different group chats and Facebook groups I'm a part of, so you may have heard the skeleton of this story already.
This was very early in December, and I was fighting anxiety something fierce.  One of my friends was going through a rough time and not talking much, so I was worried about them, but in addition to that, I was also having panic attacks almost all day, every day.
I would get up and have crippling anxiety.  Go to work.  Have more anxiety.  Have lunch.  Have a side of anxiety.  No matter what I did, it was anxiety.
I kept up with my Bible reading plans, but they didn't help anything.  One night, I opened my Bible and turned to Psalms, hoping to find some comfort, but found that I couldn't even read it, so I just curled up on my bed, holding my Bible in my arms, crying and trying to pray.  I definitely clung to Romans 8:26 that night.

"Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered." — Romans 8:26 KJV

Finally, it got so bad on Wednesday, that I decided if I didn't feel better after lunch, I was going to go home, because I wasn't able to give myself to the kiddos the way they needed and deserved (I work at a school in a support position).  For me to willingly take off work is saying a lot.  I don't take off work.  I can't afford to, and I feel like a bum most of the time when I do, even when I'm sick.
I explained roughly to my supervising teacher that I wasn't physically sick, but the anxiety was so bad I couldn't breathe.  She was so understanding, and sent me home, telling me that I have sick days for a reason, and it's okay to take them.
On the way home, I came to the corner that would take me to the mound.
The mound is a park sort of place in my town.  It's literally a big hill with a park on top.  There are hiking trails, and a path to drive up.  At the very top is something we call the lookout.  It's just a cement platform raised up high enough that you can see the entire city.  It's a beautiful place to go, and probably my favorite place in my town (aside from my own house).
So, I drove up there.  I hadn't eaten lunch yet.
I just sat in front of the lookout for a bit, then decided on Sonic for lunch.  So I went to get my lunch and came back.  I tried to feed a cat that I saw.  It...did not like hot dogs.  But it was a sweet cat and I loved it.
I tried to pray a bit.  It was still hard.  I was still anxious.  I was still worried about my friend.
Finally, I got out of my car, and climbed up to the lookout.
I love to sing, and always have.  I have a hymn book app on my phone, so I opened it up, and began singing every hymn from it that I knew, whether it was one I preferred or not.  I don't remember if I prayed while I sang or not.  But I offered myself up to God, despite that I could barely breathe.
I didn't realize how loud I was singing, or that anyone could hear me.  I love to sing, but I get nervous when people catch me singing.  I'm okay with performing (though I'm nervous then, too).  I'm fine with breaking out into song with friends and family.  But for someone to just catch me singing...it makes me nervous.
After about an hour, I felt so much better.  There was so much peace.  This doesn't always, or frequently happen, but this time, praising God when I couldn't breathe turned out that he took my anxiety away that time.
But the story isn't over.
I got back in my car, and was just sitting there reading my Bible...I think I was in Psalms again.
This big, white, SUV van thing drives up the mound.  Not uncommon.  Others had driven up and down the mound that day.  But then they drove right up next to my car, where I was sitting with the window rolled down.
A Mennonite lady gets out, and walks over to my car.  "Are you the one who was singing?"
Seeing as I could not see myself, I can only imagine that my eyes got big when she asked that.  And I go, "Yes, I didn't know anyone could hear me!" (Thank you Mr. Miller for teaching me how to project...)
She told me she'd been working in her yard when she heard me.  Her little boy had been singing back to me, but of course I couldn't hear him.  She also told me that she'd been blessed by my singing.
Guys!  This is big!  And beautiful!  And...I am still blown away by it.
I was suffering that day.  I was struggling and suffering, and couldn't breathe.  I was hurting.  Yet I poured out myself to God.  I told him how I felt, and then I praised him anyway.
My pain led to another woman being blessed.  My choice to praise God even when I was in pain led to another woman being blessed.  And learning that I had blessed her, in turn blessed me.
And if she heard me...others probably did, too.  Including that truck that just sat there up on the mound for 2-3 hours....  I don't know how many people I accidentally blessed.
When you are hurting, and in pain, your reaction to your suffering can be an amazing blessing and example to others.  When you praise God despite suffering, you're also being like Job (see the book of Job), who lost everything, yet still chose to follow God, and praise him, and didn't reject him because of the suffering he was allowed to go through.
When you praise God despite your suffering, sometimes he will absolutely take your suffering away.  And sometimes he doesn't.  And that's okay.  You are an example to others by the way you live your life.  When you praise God, despite your suffering, you are telling Satan that he's still not winning.  That even when he throws things at you (whether directly, as in the case of Job, or because of the fall) he cannot take away your love and praise to a good God who loves you more than you can imagine.
AND
You're telling others that you serve a God bigger than your suffering, and that you refuse to allow your suffering to pull you away from him.

Abandonment

I am the queen of abandonment issues.  Okay, not really.  I'm not the queen of anything.  But I do have a fear of abandonment.  If you asked me my top five fears, it would probably come in first place.
It started with my dad.
My biological father (I also have a stepdad) was charming, talented, and entertaining.  He could draw anything just from his mind!  He could sing, just make up a song, right off the top of his head.  He could write.  I have many of his same talents.  One of my aunts recently told me that she understood why my mom fell for him.
Unfortunately, he was also abusive.  This is something I didn't learn until I was 18, and I learned it by accident.  The things I learned that he said and did to my mother were despicable.  And that's only what had been written down.  He was deep into drugs.  In fact, when I was four, he died in an argument about drugs.
Thankfully, my mom left him before I was born, and I never had to live in his household.  This was, of course, much to the chagrin of church members.  She was told that she should stay with him, and not get a divorce.  Essentially?  She was told that it would be better for her to come home in a body bag.  But that's a story for another time.
My dad had visitation with me.  When he came, I would scream and refuse to let him buckle me in.  I wouldn't give in until I was worn out.  I was so young that I don't actually remember this, but my aunt told me about it.  I would come home smelling like weed.
But, often, he just wouldn't come.  After he died, there were no more chances for him to come.
I didn't realize until much later exactly how messed up my early years were.  It took even longer to realize all the ways that these events affected me.
Severe anxiety attacks when people would come to visit or take me somewhere.  The excitement was covered over by the fear they would forget me.  Calling, texting, just to make sure they were still coming.  Checking and double checking that the plans hadn't changed.  If someone was running late?  The worse case scenarios played through my mind like movies.
It also manifested itself in fears of being annoying, or disinteresting.  Severe anxiety when left on read.  Assuming that if someone isn't replying, it's because they're grown tired of me, instead of that they are a busy college student who doesn't have time to engage in conversation at the moment, but will reply when they get a chance.
But honestly?  The worst effect has probably been the way it's colored my relationship with God.
God is our heavenly father.  The best father anyone could have.  However, sometimes we color him in the lens of our earthly father.
My childhood and teenage years were filled with the fear that I wasn't good enough.  That I had to walk a thin line, or God would abandon me.  If I did something wrong, he that would be it.  No more forgiveness, only anger.  I would be left alone, abandoned and unloved.
Sometimes this fear manifests itself in nightmares of the end of the world.  There's fire, and demons...and me.  And I'm left.  Sometimes it's severe anxiety attacks in church, particularly during a sermon on hell.  Shaky legs and racing heart as my grandpa talked about the end of time.  Panic attacks at the prospect of reading Revelation.  The feeling that no matter how much I repent and pray, none of my sins are really forgiven.
It's a miserable experience to live in.  One that I'm much more able to shake now than I've ever been in my entire life.  If you feel that way, or have ever felt that way...you're not alone.  You, like me, understand that it's like tight, restricting chains.  Bondage.  And we were not made to live in bondage.
But how do we get free?

"And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." — John 8:32 (KJV)

This fear of abandonment is rooted in lies.  Lies that we have to earn God's love or forgiveness.  Lies that we have to perfect ourselves before we're lovable enough.  Lies that we've done too much, gone too far, been too...well, too bad.  Lies that God is like our earthly father.  So many lies.
Because, guess what?

"In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins." — I John 4:10 (ESV)

 And he loved us before we ever even dreamed of loving or caring about him.

"We love him, because he first loved us." — I John 4:19 (KJV)

He loves us.  There are so many verses about his love toward us.  If you want to look up more, go to BibleGateway (this should be a clickable link) and just search the word "love" in the search bar.  You can also read in pretty much any translation you prefer.  I tend to prefer ESV and KJV...if you didn't notice.
And that's not all!

"...be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”" — Hebrews 13:5b

He's not going anywhere!  The be content was directed toward want of physical riches, but you can even apply it to things like...friends...and people.  We can be content, because GOD isn't going anywhere.

"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.  My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand." — John 10:27-29 (ESV)

We cannot be snatched from his hand.  He's not going anywhere, and no one can steal us away either.
Okay, but what if he doesn't leave, and no one can take us from him...what's to stop him from being abusive, like other people in our lives?

 "For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." — Romans 8:38-39 (ESV)

Nothing can tear us away from him.  And nothing can separate us from his love.  He is not going to just hold onto us and abuse us.  He is a God of love.  There's a definition of love in I Corinthians 13.  It's really long, so I just linked it instead.
Guys!  We are so deeply and wonderfully loved by God.  Memorize these verses.  These are promises.  These are truths.  Repeat them to yourself when you feel the panic and fears rising up.  Rest assured knowing that even when humans abandon you, God will not.  He's not leaving.
He's not sitting on his thrones, arms crossed, holding sins you've repented of against you.  You don't have to keep telling him you're sorry.  He doesn't even remember your sins.

 "I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." — Isaiah 43:25 (KJV)

He's not listening to humans who try to tell him what your worth is.  He isn't going to leave you because your mother, or father, or pastor, or friend, or anyone else left you.  He is not like that.  He will not leave.
Sometimes, when I get scared of being abandoned by a friend, I get clingy.  I message a lot, text a lot, freak out when they don't reply ASAP.  Sometimes I push them away instead, and try to isolate myself.  Short replies, hesitance to make plans, canceling plans....
Unfortunately, both of these reactions tend to be unhealthy for friendships.  Sometimes I scare people off because I'm too intense.  Other times, they eventually just give up trying and let me stay in isolation.
BUT...it is okay and good to be clingy toward God.  Tell him how you feel.  Tell him when the panic and anxiety make it feel like there is someone squeezing your chest and you can barely breathe, because you're scared of losing a friend.  Pray back his promises to him.  Not because he has forgotten, but to help yourself remember that he's made these promises, and he will keep them.  You will not annoy him.  He wants to hear.

"casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you." — I Peter 5:7 (ESV) 

Purity Culture and the Modesty Movement

The culture of purity and modesty is something I went for hard when I was a young teen.  You know, the idea that girls should dress modestly so as to avoid making a man lust after them.  That men have a hard enough time with lust, so it is my responsibility as a woman to make sure they can't possibly lust after me.
Verses like:

"Let us not therefore judge one another any more: but judge this rather, that no man put a stumblingblock or an occasion to fall in his brother's way." — Romans 14:13 KJV

are quoted frequently in this movement.
I didn't realize just how much that had impacted me, until today when listening to Lies Young Women Believe, and there was a chapter on purity.  And it rubbed me wrong.
I absolutely believe that purity is important, and that waiting for marriage is important, and that being modest is important...but...I'm not necessarily certain that I believe those things (minus waiting for marriage) mean the same thing I hear touted so often in books and blogs.
These thoughts destroyed me as a teen.  It was my responsibility to stay pure.  But some of my most influential moments from a young age were sexual.  And I felt ashamed and dirty, despite that those moments weren't my choices.  It made me feel like my purity had been stolen from me, and there was no way I could be pure now.
Being told that it is my responsibility to dress modestly so that I ensure that my brothers in Christ don't stumble, rubs wrong, when it's been evidenced from my youth that it doesn't matter how I dress, I am a sexual object to many, many young men and adult men that I meet.  Often within the church, no less.
And what does modesty even mean?  Does it mean that I need to be covered head to toe, like a nun?  You know, so guys can only see my face?  Well, you know what?  There's still sexual abuse toward nuns.  Covering their body didn't prevent anyone from lusting after them.
What about dressing the way the denomination I grew up in does?  Long skirts (usually jean skirts), preferably sleeves below the elbows, definitely no cleavage, best keep your hair long, also keep it up, no jewelry, no makeup, if you break these rules you're probably a harlot.  Not going to lie, I heard a woman tell her daughter that if she wore her hair down, she was a harlot.  I don't like that woman.
Well, I assure you that dressing this way doesn't keep men from lusting either.  I was a child in that denomination, dressing in long skirts, wearing my hair long (I wore it down as often as possible, because wearing it up gives me a headache), definitely not showing any cleavage...and I can think of three males (two older teens, one grown man), from this denomination and modesty standards, right off the top of my head, no effort put into my thinking, who sexualized me.  These three men all sexualized me while I was between the ages of 6-17.  My clothing made no difference to them.  If I stop and think, more will come to mind.
Of the males (not all were men, some were teens) who sexualized me or pressured me, most of them were church goers, whether from this denomination or not.  Some were pastor's sons, some even gave a sermon once or twice in their church.  One in particular was a Bible college student who had just given us our Sunday school lesson.
Please, don't ask me what I was wearing.
Because I'll tell you.  I was dressed modestly, especially when growing up in the denomination I grew up in.  Long skirts.  High collar shirts.  I went through a period of time where all I wore was turtlenecks.  No clue why.  I also had a period where all I wore was baggy t-shirts.  As a six year old, I wore homemade dresses, long, with high collars, some with long sleeves, some with t-shirt sleeves.  I did not ask for the sexual attentions of the people who gave them to me.
This is not me blaming people, or trying to make people feel sorry for me.  I'm trying to show you that what I wore did not matter, and it doesn't matter.  When it comes to sexual assault, or harassment, molestation or rape, the clothing worn by the victim does not matter.
And what about the many guys I know who have been victims of this kind of unwanted sexual attention?  Of the ones I know, either I don't know who abused them, or most of them were assaulted/abused/given sexual attention by other men, sometimes cousins or fathers.  Why don't you hear about them?  Was it their clothes?  Were their clothes the problem, too?  Were they not dressing in a way to help keep men from lusting after them?
The problem is, when you tell a girl that she needs to dress modestly because she needs to help keep a man from lusting after her, is that you are telling her that men are sex crazed monsters, who see a woman and immediately start drooling.  You are telling her that they have no self-control, so she has to try to compensate for their lack of self control.
You render verses like II Timothy 1:7, and Matthew 5:29 meaningless.

"for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control." — II Timothy 1:7 (ESV)

"And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell." — Matthew 5:29 (KJV)

God literally gives his people (men and women) a spirit of self-control.  He specifically tells people that if their eyes cause them to sin, to pluck them out.  Was that an exaggeration?  Yes, probably.  But think about it...would you rather be blind, or would you rather go to hell?  If what you see causes you to sin so much that you can't control it, you probably should take the verse literally.
Oh, and the afore mentioned verse?  The one from Romans?  About being a stumbling block?  That was referring to Christians who had differing views on things like what should be consumed, and what holidays should be celebrated.  It was saying that it's okay if you have differing views, but don't try to make someone do something that they believe in their conscience they should not do.
I completely believe that people should be modest (not just women).  But I'm skeptical as to what modest means.
I've met a woman in jeans and t-shirts, whose hair is cut short, who took me into their home, loved on me, held me as I cried through a break up.  But there's also the woman wearing an almost 1800s style dress, her hair in a tight bun, who told her daughter she was a harlot if she wore her hair down.
Who was more modest?
Well, are we talking physical modesty?  The one most covered up?
I suppose the woman covered almost head to toe with her hair in a tight bun was more physically modest.
But who was more godly?  Who had more spiritual modesty?
Definitely the women wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Look up the definition of modest in the dictionary.  It doesn't go on about clothing.  It talks about attitude.  Modesty is an attitude, not clothing.  It's just not.
Should we go out of our way to dress all sexy to make guys look at our bodies?  Uh, no, that doesn't sound like a good idea at all.  But if we have a modest attitude, and if we are following God and doing what we know to do to please him, that is what is required of us.
If you feel strongly about your clothing, or you question if you should wear (insert article of clothing here) pray about it.  God will let you know if it's an acceptable item of clothing for you to wear or not.

James 1:5 (ESV)
"If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him."

If you feel strongly about someone else's clothing, pray about that too.  Probably one of three things will happen.  You'll either 1) Realize that what they are wearing is acceptable for them to wear, 2) Feel led by God to calmly, with gentleness, patience and love, talk with them about their clothes and what about their clothing bothers you, or 3) They will feel led by the Spirit, all on their own, and make the necessary changes to their wardrobe.
I hate the purity culture, and the modesty movement.  I really do.  I think purity and modesty are beautiful things and necessary and important, but I think that the way they're portrayed in these movements is awful.
Instead of saying how shameful it is to even think about sex, maybe we should start talking about the beauty of sex within marriage, how that is something to look forward to, how there is beauty and forgiveness and renewal if you do mess up.
What about we talk about the unnecessary shame that many victims of sexual abuse/assault/etc. feel?  What about we talk about how the God we serve isn't one of shame, but one of love?  Why do we not talk about these things?
Please please please, can we get rid of the story where a man passes a rose around the room and when it comes back to him, he say that's a woman who has slept around, and who would ever want her?  Sure, he follows it up with saying that Jesus wants that rose...but what about the girl who leaves the room in tears before he ever gets to that part?  Why don't we start with the story of love?
And it's not that I want men and boys to be assaulted with the same kinds of things that make us women feel worthless, but why don't we hold men accountable?  Why don't we expel both the mother and the father of a child conceived by two people at a Christian school?  Why is it only the mother who is kicked out?  True story, unfortunately.  And I'm sure it's not an isolated one.
God is love!  He is forgiveness, and grace, and mercy!  He is peace, and all manner of beautiful things.  Why do we paint him as an angry God who wants to control people, like puppets?  He made us all different!  He made us different for a reason!  He gave us different gifts and responsibilities within his church (read Romans 12 if you don't believe me).
Guys!  God is fantastic!  He gives me a peace I never thought I could experience.  He takes away my shame!  Shame from sins I've committed, and shame from things committed against me.  The modesty and purity movement that I've experienced seems rooted in shame.
One of my friends told me something this summer, something I named this blog for.  Something I believe wholeheartedly.
"My God is a God of love, not shame."

“They looked unto him, and were lightened: and their faces were not ashamed.” — Psalm 34:5 (KJV)

Introduction

Hello!
This blog, Love, Not Shame, is designed to show others, Christian and non-Christian, that God is a God of love, not of shame.  Beyond that, it is also intended to encourage others to turn to God and lean on him wholeheartedly, relying on him and his word to determine how they should behave as Christians—not using other Christians as their example.
I, Katie, will be talking about all sorts of things in these posts.  I'm young (22), and frankly, the older I get, the less I know, but God has given me a story, and the ability to type and write, and format my thoughts into a text form...it would be a waste not to at least try.
I'm not perfect.  And my initial thought when I thought about writing "Love, Not Shame," was going to be an autobiography.  I'm not sure why I've been compelled to start this blog.  Whatever I say here, please read the Bible for yourself to come to your own conclusion.  But do read the Bible to come to your conclusion, don't just go with what others tell you.
A lot of my posts will probably touch on mental health, or sexual abuse, two of my biggest passions.  I may also share some of my notes from Bible Studies and sermons that I listen to or attend.  I'm going to do my best to make my posts follow God's will.
It's scary to do God's will sometimes.  I've messed up.  A lot.  And sometimes I feel imposter syndrome creeping up.  Like I have no right to try to reach out to others for Christ, because I've messed up so much, myself.  I get angry, and sometimes in my anger I do sin, which is the opposite of what a Christian is supposed to do.  As I go on in this blog, I'm sure that I'll share more about my life, and my mistakes and all that...but right now, I'm not sure I'm ready.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that one of the most influential people for God's kingdom (Paul) used to murder the very people he began ministering to.  The story of Saul to Paul is an amazing story of how God can redeem even the worst of people.  He loves everyone and his grace extends to, again everyone!  (Saul to Paul can be found in Acts 9, and if you don't have a Bible, one of my favorite websites and apps is Bible Gateway)
I tried to pour some symbolism into this blog, as well.  For some of you who may know me outside of this blog, and haven't just stumbled across it, you know that I'm also an author.  I love symbolism.  I love when names mean things (sometimes I don't even realize the meaning until I've written the book).  I love slipping little jokes in, or naming things literally, by using other names for them.  So it makes sense that I would want some symbolism in this blog, too.
The white background is because in the Bible, white symbolizes purity and victory.  We are called to be pure, like Christ.  And if we seek to be like him, and we succeed, through his help, we will be victorious and reign with Jesus.  The green font for certain things symbolizes newness.  God is making all things new.  He makes us new.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.[a] The old has passed away; behold, the new has come." — II Corinthians 5:17

And the font is just because I like the Lora font.  I'm not sure why I like it so much.  That is one area where there is no symbolism.  I just like it.
The name of the blog comes from something a friend told me near the end of this summer, when I was struggling immensely.  We had just finished watching something on Netflix, and it had touched on shame.  Something that I've struggled with my whole life.  Some of the shame came from my own actions.  Some of it was placed on me by people who should have protected me.  I spent a good hour crying, as I told him about how rough this summer had been.  And he hugged me, and talked with me, and finally, one of the big things he told me was this:
"My God is a God of love, not shame."
And it's true.  God isn't a God who wants you to live in shame.  Shame is bondage!  He came to free us from our chains!  Why would he put us in more bondage?  Uh, he wouldn't, that's why.  He wants you to live free, in truth, in love.  If you've asked God for forgiveness, and are seeking to live a life for him, you have no reason to even feel guilt.  Sometimes you have to forgive yourself.  And that's what I had to learn at the end of this summer.
My goals are to help show you God's love and truth, and to make you think.  If God is able to use me to do that, then my job on this blog has been done well.

Love,
Katie