What I'll be saying in church this Sunday...

when the pastor asked me to get up and give some 'testimony' to the power of god in my life, of course i jumped at the chance. but now that sunday is around the corner, it's my nerves that are jumpin....so if i mess up royally this sunday, let this blog be evidence that i actually had something coherent to say...


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Any of you like gospel music? I’m talkin about real, raw, loud, audible soul cried out by people like Mahalia Jackson and Dorothy Norwood and Aretha Franklin. True GOSPEL music. I love it. I don’t consider my day ‘started’ until I hear Aretha sing ‘How I Got Over.’ Anybody know that song? Here, let me sing a little bit of it…(brace yourselves and forgive the bad notes!)

How I got over…
How I got over…
O my soul looks back and wonders
How I got over.
Just as soon as I see Jesus,
The man who made me breathe
He was the one who bled and suffered
You know he died for you and me.
I wanna thank you jesus because you brought me
I wanna thank you jesus because you taught me
I wanna thank you because you kept me
Imma thank you cuz you never left me and im gonna sing! hallelujah
O I just gotta shout this morning
Imma thank god for all he’s done for me.

…trust me, it sounds much better when Aretha does it! But really, it doesn’t matter how you sing it as long as you feel the pull the words have on your soul, the quickening of your pulse, the inevitable blossoming of a heart and a mind and a soul given up to think, to feel, to KNOW just how the lord got YOU over. And He’s gotten me over so so much and most of it before I was even aware of his presence in my life.

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My story is not an easy one to tell. It may make some of you uncomfortable—but im still gonna tell it because there is power in the mere act of speaking and there are lessons to be learned from discomfort. Even if I was to just say my history and sit back down without saying a word of reflection about praise, the fact that I am even here to talk to you is testament enough of God’s work in my life, and I thank him with every new breath taken into my lungs.

My past was more thorn than rose and God would have it no other way.We had next to nothing growing up. Our only food came free fromWIC--carefully rationed but running out too soon nonetheless. We worestained, ripped hand-me-downs from our cousins and tired, crackedshoes that always let the water in. And I was angry about it--then. Iwas ashamed. I was jealous of what others had--but I was also blessed.In the end, I was blessed. It just took me a few decades to realizejust how strengthened I was by it all, how it taught me to cope withgoing without, and I can't help but cherish now the things that I dohave--it's good to have them but it's better knowing that mypossessions do not possess me because I know I can live on much less.And I am no longer ashamed but proud of my meager upbringing--forthere is One infinately greater than I who tells us to live simply.One who was born--Himself--with next to nothing, who spent His firstnight on earth among farm animals in a lowly manger. But He rose aboveit--so high He rose for He had the Lord--and so too do I have theLord. And so too do I rise.Through the Lord I can indeed rise above anything. And with the Lord Ican live through that which catches me--the inescapable moments of thepresent, future and past--The abuse that fell down all over me in thehands of my father. Hell’s hot rage in those hands as they burned welts into my skin, but more terrifying, more hurtful still when those hands went soft and crept under my covers after the lights went out. All the while he shushed me. He said it was ok—ok as the blood froze in my veins, ok as my heart hammered against its ribby jail, wanting so much to escape, trying so so hard not to feel it. And for 20 years I did nothing but beg that heart to stop beating. I tried so hard to silence it. with pills. with blades. with stupiddesperate acts that never did succeed in their ultimate purpose--forthe Lord held the life fast in my body. And though that body wasmarked and scarred, my soul could still be made strong and clean. Forthe body may be of the earth but the soul is God's. The bodywithers and eventually falls away but the soul is eternal andintangible. something my earthly father could never hope to mark orclaim because I was in the care of my heavenly father. Even though I had no idea at the time!

When I awoke in the ICU, tubes down my throat and charcoal in my belly to neutralize the poison I put inside myself, I was wondering, always wondering why was I so hard to destroy? Were the doctors just that good—were there just too many tubes and wires available to tie me to this earth? Too many machines available to breathe for me when my throat collapsed. Too much electricity to send through my heart, stupid drunk and failing if not for that zap. But when my eyes opened to see nurses bent over me, adjusting this, checking that, there wasn’t a single hallelujiah in my mouth. Only curses. Only bitterness. Because life was utter chaos to me, then. The world came from a bang and accidents upon several million accidents later, I happened. There was no reason in anything. Then. No purpose. No hope. No nothing. Then.

But this is now. And indeed how blessed am I, after 27 years to finally hear God, now? to feel Him, now? toknow that He's there and I am forever held in His Holy, merciful arms.I always was! Even as I pushed myself further away, He drew me evercloser. Even when I claimed He didn't exist, even when I was soarrogant in my self-proclaimed 'godlessness' to sneer at Him and listHim along with santa claus and the tooth fairy as if He was justanother silly fiction that populated the world of fantasy. How greatwas my scorn for my creator! To exalt in hateful refusal of Hisdivinity, choosing instead to live in bitter abandonment, feelingutterly alone, without any hope in a world blackened by ruthlessdepression. How great was my anger! But how much greater still was Hismercy--that even though I denied Him with the very breath He put inme, He NEVER denied me. Still He kept his eye on me and still Hecalled to me over and over again until finally I accepted. Indeed Iwas one who dare demand proof just as Thomas examining the wounds. And I am now pulled down on my knees before Christ, begging forgiveness, cherishing his blessings,singing his praise til my voice gives out and offering up every last day I have on this earth to his service. What a miracle it is, that I still have days to speak of! What a miracle it is that I survived to bring my beautiful boys into the world and watch with my saint-like husband as they grow. What a miracle it is that I am up here this particular Sunday in this particular church to stand before this blessed, beautiful community that brings me closer to god with its extravagant welcome and its endless support. I am here. Thank God, I am here. To tell my story. I am here. To stand as a living testament to His power. I am here because god would have it no other way. for some reason He insisted on it. I am here and I no longer hate what happened to me. If given the chance, like the Joseph of Genesis, I wouldn’t think to curse anyone or anything that once brought hard things into my life. Because it is through those hard things that I’ve grown stronger. Because of those hard things, I have clear, concrete, unbreakable knowledge that yes indeed I can survive. I can even thrive—because I have the lord. And it is through the lord, that I am finally able to make peace with my own past and let it BE past, and move forward and beyond and above and take on that easy yoke, feeling so much lighter I wonder if my feet are even touching the ground. Indeed, anyone who has the lord will rise. Broken, beat down, persecuted and abused, still you will rise. Anyone who has the lord will ‘get over.’ Whatever it is, eventually he’ll get you over it. And your soul can’t help but look back and wonder. And you cant help but raise your voice and sing about what he’s done for you. Because you are his child. Even in the darkest hours, you are his child and it’s during those darkest hours that you glow brightest on his radar screen. I know for a fact He won’t let me fall. Even if I’m the only one tripping myself up, he’s there to catch me. He always was and always will be and now, at least I have the sense to tell someone about it. To shout out hallelujah! There is a God and he loves me—me! And I praise him in as much as my unworthy, fallible, mortal form is able. I have not the language to say just how much I love, my God. There is nothing left for me to do but live out the rest of my days in his name alone. I only pray he will receive me as Ikneel at his feet awaiting the task with which he will charge me. Let my breathbe drawn for his glory. Let my heart beat out my thanks. And let allmy labors strive to be worthy of his name. Amen