|Pastor Blob, Smiling. |
Lifted From A Northern CA Baptist Church Website
Well, true. It most definitely is not charitable to refer to the gentleman above as Mr. Blob. May I postulate that charity is one sanctification that, for now, remains just beyond my wretched reach?
Doesn't help that my husband joins me in using this jaunty label. Might even be the one who invented it.
I dedicated this blog when first launched to "finally putting Christ at The Bottom." That meant that I would try to come to terms with Truth that is really true, that is TRULY Jesus; and commit to an exploration of how any lesser priority leads to frustration, deception and self-rejection for the Believer; and damnation for the non-believer.
The outworking of that simple goal has been to realize that I've been stewing in lies. A dark and murky swirl of them. They're a blend of self-idolatry and the opinions of others that I allowed to matter more than they should. Thanks to Celebrate Recovery* raw honesty over where our identity should really come from is finally possible.
All recovery programs call that swampy pit by the same name: Denial.
Opening my spiritual eyes to this has been a hard won discovery, but this journey enabled me to see that the 'mere man' pictured above has actually been a guest in my pit. More than a fellow liar, though, he has been the "foundation" of who I considered myself to be. He's been my deafening accuser.
Blob was "at the bottom," and not Christ at all.
I've been sidetracked by this accuser since his misfired ego wagged at me in 1986 and since that woeful evening, I've allowed him to remain a near constant presence. Some misguided voice inside my little head demanded that I endure his accusations; and for some dysfunctional reason I all too obediently obliged, paying heed to his berating belittling most days, into every week and through each year and decade. When you're raised Catholic, you learn that authority is never questioned. Leaders are always right.
Someday I'll tell the story of how he became stuck in my craw, a force to be reckoned with for three insufferable decades, but first, the main point of my discovery:
At the bottom of every pathology, every crazy making habit,
every mysterious compulsion or misbehavior,
there is ultimately some lie or lies we've subtly believed,
either knowingly or unknowingly.
And my lie was this: Pastor Blob is a god, his opinion of me mattered, and forgiveness in Christ does not extend to those who are disgraced by a pastor whose authority loathed your sullied past.
LORD Christ, my Saviour, Redeemer, Deliverer, I repent of making a mere man into an idol whose tormenting judgement and Dallas Theological Seminary credentials condemned me to three decades of self imposed scorn.
Wherever he is, bless him with the knowledge that his misdeeds no longer curse at least one of his victims.
And may I someday learn that the witnesses who stood there when he let fly his thoughtless remarks did indeed come to my defense and put him in his place. Something tells me they did, as shortly after that evening, maybe a year or so after we moved away, he was fired and the church simply fizzled. Poof! into the abyss.
OH, how relieved I was to hear the man was no longer a threat to my beloved beachside town.
And how revived I am now to finally feel relief from the relieving.
*founded at Saddleback Church by John Baker Celebrate Recovery