You raise me up

If you read my previous blog post you know that on October 2nd I ran a 10k. It's been on my mind to give an update on my experience. The schedule of my current life happenings keeps thwarting my plans to sit down and let the words flow from my mind to my heart to the keyboard. So, although this has to be short, I must express myself! The morning of the race filled me with a nausea inducing fear and elation that churned with a ferocious speed in my bowels. After the third trip to the bathroom, it was time to line up. So many thoughts raced through my head that my heart rate was elevated long before the start gun exploded. What if I fail? What if I collapse? What if? What if? What if? And then "bam", there it was! It never ceases to amaze me how the start gun always sends a jolt through my already quivering body. I was off. Running, running, running. Just keep running, just keep running. The first mile was the worst. Yep, I had only just begun and the fear of failing was stealing every precious breath I needed to endure this long race. My doubts were getting the best of me and I knew I had to change my thinking, quick! There is so much about running that is "in the head" and my head was in an extremely negative place. On top of this the enemy of my soul chose to barrage me with his sinister lies in my moment of weakness and vulnerability. The ugly and sinister voice of evil mocked me with reminders of my heart's cry for the broken women I was running for. "You will never be able to complete this race," he said. "You told people you were running as an expression of God's amazing love for them and you are going to fail." And then the mantra begain, "fail, fail, fail, failure, failing, you will fail, never make it, you can't even fake it, you are a failure;" Round and round the circle of lies wound its way through my psyche and into my heart and that's when the dam broke. Running along that trail I began to weep bitter tears and, although the race wasn't even finished, tasting the agony of defeat. I believed the lies. I saw myself falling to the side, curling up in a ball, and lying there with a big F on my chest. I could not stop the tears from flowing even as I continued to put one foot in front of the other. That's when I heard a new voice in my desert. This moment of weakness proved to be the moment of breakthrough. God, in His great mercy, whispered words dripping with love into my broken places. How is it that God's whisper's are so much louder than the hater's shouts? "Jillian, I have loved you with an everlasting love and you are a winner!" He said I was a winner! He gently reminded me that the passion instilled in me for others, those I was running for, is the same passion He has for me. And then I began to laugh through my tears! At this point I was thankful to be alone on the trail because I am sure I looked like a mad woman. If you can picture with me that moment you would see an average woman, tears spilling down her cheeks, laughter bursting out of her mouth as the Hand Of God reach down from heaven and lifted my feet from the mire. It was truly a spiritual experience that is emblazoned on my heart for eternity. God in His amazing mercy allowed me to feel His presence in a truly unique way as I literally felt Him raise me up. My feet felt lighter, my chin pointed higher and my lungs were filled with the sweet breath of God's love for me. And so I ran on and on I ran until I finished, knocking off close to three minutes of my previous time. What a moment! I am humbled by the love of my Jesus for me, a broken vessel, who fumbles and fails on an hourly basis, it seems. For it is only Him who can raise me up to be more than I can be! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faKFcfytlxU

The Only Way Out Is Through

I am preparing to run a 10k this Sunday. It is going to be hard and I am going to hurt. And yet I am compelled to run. My training the last couple of months for the “Race for the End of Domestic Violence” has stirred up intense emotions. While I am not currently experiencing the pain of being abused, it is something I have endured in my past. And this is why I must run. It is a pathway to healing for me. It is a continuation of my journey to wholeness. In pondering how far I've come on my healing journey I have been reminded of the following quote: "The only way out of the pain is to go through it." The process of going "through" is the acknowledgement that there is something to process, to endure, to get to the end of.

I took my first steps through the journey of processing the pain of abuse on extremely shaky legs and they were the bravest steps I ever made. It was on a fall evening that my day of reckoning came. The pain of regret for once again lashing out in abusive ways towards my husband hit me like a brick and landed with a thud in the pit of my stomach. I was no longer able to deny my gross inadequacy to stop harmful behaviors that were creating a chasm between my groom and I. The protective fortress I had built around my heart to ensure my safety from pain, had resulted in only one accomplishment; It's claim to fame was its fortress like ability to shut love out and for this it should have won an Oscar. The regret of my fit of rage gnawed at my soul. I claimed to be a follower of the man who laid down his life for all mankind. My mind ached as I sought to bring into perspective the blatant contrast of what I longed to be and what I truly was. The bathroom floor of our one bedroom apartment pressed cold against my cheek as this mantra began marching through my head like a gavel pounding relentlessly ; i. am. stuck. I. Am. Stuck. i. am. stuck. I Am. Stuck. And with each pound the waves of shame were crashing down with the remembrance of my ugly barrage of words spoken so harshly to the love of my life. It brought trickles of sweat down my back and a heart stopping panic to my chest. I was broken and my pride was wounded. I had nowhere to turn and so I swallowed the bitter pill of knowing I must ask for help, despite the shame filled fear of exposure breathing down my neck.

The purpose of my written heart expressions today is not to catalog the grisly details of my journey to healing. Instead I strive to lay out in written word the joy found in making my way to the other side where I found comfort in the arms of a loving God and the skills to live better. I battled hard to get on this side. On this side there is freedom not adequately expressed with words, and therefore any attempt to describe it would be pitiful at best. But, even more than this freedom, a passion to share with others the healing they can find was birthed inside of me. It is an urgent calling. And I am broken again, but in a new way. I am broken by the great hand of God that brings me to my knees because of HIS GREAT LOVE.

In training for any run I experience achy muscles, shin splints, sore knees. But, I am spurred on by knowing there are battered women enduring much deeper pain for a very different reason. They are beaten and bruised, not by their choice, but by the sinful action of another. And their tears are countless. They have been left broken with no one to hold them, tenderly speak their names, and honor their shattered hearts. I agonize for these precious souls who need to know they are valued and cherished. There is an ache in my heart that they might know their immense value.

And if you are one of them, dear sister, hear me today! I know that you were stolen from. And my prayer is that through the screaming and lying voices of your pain, the Holy Spirit will come and calm your fears long enough for you to hear this: There is a future for you. You must reach for it and with every last breath and ounce of strength inside of you, you must take your first shaky steps and begin the journey through. Do not let the evil that attempts to snuff out your life take any more of your sacred breath and precious soul. Make no mistake! God sees every tear you cry. And because of this I will run as His passionate love for you spurs me on; His tender mercies carrying me to the finish, with the knowledge that the only way out of this race is through it.

I wish my head were a well and my eyes fountains of tears so I could weep day and night for you my dear ones (Jer. 9:1 paraphrase).

The tears stream from my eyes, an artesian well of tears, Until You, God, look down from on high, look and see my tears. When I look and see what's happened to the young women in the city the pain breaks my heart. (Lamentations 3:49)

I turned my attention to all the outrageous violence that takes place on this planet - the tears of the victims, no one to comfort them; the iron grip of oppressors, no one to rescue the victims from them. (Ecclesiastes 4:1).

“God's kingdom is there for the finding. You're blessed when the tears flow freely. Joy comes in the morning." (Luke 6)