Her Broken wing

(Job 34:6)  “Although I am right, I am considered a liar; although I am guiltless, his arrow inflicts an incurable wound.’’

I still remember the haunting pain caused by a friend’s parent that became one of the many chisels which broke my spirit. I didn’t understand why it hurt so badly then. Today, that same pain has come back to life, 41 years later.

I was with my friend and his parents, we were listening to Three Dog Night on the radio when the song, Liar, came on; their dad said, “There is so&so, they are singing about you, /—ME in other words– /she’s a liar.” My friend’s dad wasn’t kidding around either. He looked through my soul like he knew something I didn’t. I subconsciously thought then how I would never forget that look.

At the moment he called me a liar, my world stopped. The pain was so severe, tears welled up in my eyes and I had to turn away, but I did what I learned early in my childhood years—laughed it off and made a joke of it.  I prayed the day would soon be over,  hurried home, and I told no one. Telling someone in my home, would only put my shame and embarrassment under a microscope. My parents would ask, “What did you do to cause this?”  It was always my fault. So, I went to my room and silently cried myself to sleep.

Fast forward some decades later, “She took those pills from her patient.” My world started spinning, and I was 9 years-old again, the same pain and embarrassment as a little girl. I wanted to run home and hide. I couldn’t laugh it off this time as not a soul was laughing. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for an answer.

“Well, did you?” My supervisors asked one more time.

The truth is—I did not take anyone’s drugs but I abused mine. So regardless–I was a liar. I learned fast that as a drug-addict, you are automatically considered a liar. They go hand in hand. Your credibility goes down the toilet. Because–we are!

How did my friend’s dad know as a little girl? … Why would the memory come flooding back in my mind like a damn breaking loose?

I was a liar.  (Jn 8:44)

I ran home, buried my head in my pillow and cried buckets—and there wasn’t facing any  dragons or demons for my children, I couldn’t be their hero, I had my own villains and I couldn’t seem to manage them.

In reality, I have lied to a lot of people through the years, especially my family. My spouse would ask me over the past year, “Are you taking drugs?” and I would look aghast, “Of course, not.”

“Liar”—Three Dog Night– ran through my veins…cold, calculating, and numbing … I had come to a point that I could lie and no longer feel any remorse. That is a scary place to be.

You can plug in any disease here–drugs, alcohol, pornography, food, lying, anger, work, shopping and really anything that takes away your worship from God or causes you to lie or “fudge” the truth a “little”.

We are prisoners to our own cell. Locked away from the place where we think God will meet us.

So what happened?

One morning, I woke up and got out of bed. Just like every morning, I prayed but unlike every morning, I heard Gods whisper, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” (Jn 8:32)

It was nothing I did, but everything He did…

As always, To Be Con’t

This entry was posted on April 11, 2010 at 1:43 pm and is filed under Uncategorized with tags Faith, Hope, journey, Poverty, shame. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.