“Christian, I Guess.”

Recently, I was asked what my religious views/beliefs were, and my response was,

“Christian, I guess.”

<sarcasm>I know you’re shocked and completely won over by how utterly believable that sounds. Me too. 😑 </sarcasm>

The truth is, when it comes to faith, I’ve been a little…checked out. Maybe that’s not the right word. Maybe I’ve been a little distant. Maybe even a little out-of-touch.

Here’s the deal: we all go through seasons of faith. We will have hot, dry, desolate seasons when we’re desperate for rain, followed by beautiful wet seasons that water our souls.

But this…this feels like more than a dry season.

I remember when it started.

I was still working for She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Not for long, thank God.

I was starting to get up the courage to stand up for myself in little ways:

• Going to church, which she said was fruitless at best. After all, we don’t need a man to teach us about the Bible, all we need is to ask God to teach us about the Bible. Whatever we need to learn, we can learn straight from Him…and from her. 🙄
• Making friends outside the cult — I mean bubble — I mean company.
• Setting goals for a life that was bigger than the cult/company (those words are interchangeable…more on that later).

It all happened so fast. One minute I was having a full-on nervous breakdown in my friend Sommer’s post-surgery bed, and an hour later, I had made the decision to quit my job, leave the cult after 6 years of bondage, start a freelance business, and move halfway across the country.

God was telling me to do this. I had never been more sure of anything. I knew I sounded crazy. I knew my family thought I was absolutely insane. I had some serious explaining to do.

But I trusted God. I trusted that He would take care of everything. He would make a way for me. He kinda specializes in making a way where there is no way. I mean, remember the Red Sea? The Jordan River? Noah’s Ark? That’s kinda His specialty.

I trusted God. I believed He spoke to me, and I listened.

And then…SILENCE.

Remember what I said earlier about seasons? How we all go through wet seasons and dry seasons?

That was 2017.

Coming up on 5 years ago. That’s one hell of a dry season.

That’s a long time to not hear a word from God. A long time to wait and hope and pray.

If I’m being completely honest, the hoping and the praying have ceased. Now it’s mostly just waiting. Impatiently, at that.

I was listening to a song on my drive home from Allen this morning, and it caught in my throat.

It goes like this:

Come what may
Nothing’s gonna stop my praise
…
He has overcome
So come what may
Nothing’s gonna steal my praise

Come What May, Awaken Music

Man, what a punch in the gut. For 5 years, my own bitterness has stopped me from getting close to God. Why am I bitter? Because when I think of God, I think of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. When I think of God, I think of her teaching. I think of her lies and manipulation. I think of her special kind of evil, which controlled me for 6 long, hard, miserable years.

So for the last 5 years, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has stolen my praise.

And when I heard this song today, it was catchy. I started singing along. “Come what may, nothing’s gonna steal my praise.”

OH SHIT.

I’ve already allowed her to steal my praise.

I wonder if that has anything to do with this dry season?

I wonder if this is where it starts?

I wonder if stealing back my praise, taking back my hope, turning my prayers back toward the One who’s always been listening is where this dry season begins to end?

All this time, I’ve said I’m just trying to figure out where I stand when it comes to faith. I’ve been traumatized. I’ve been hurt. I’ve been wounded. It makes sense that I’m a little flighty when it comes to faith. I’ve said I needed time to figure out my faith for myself, outside of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

I’ve had plenty of time. I’m beginning to think time may not have been what I needed after all.

Maybe this…whatever this is…is what I needed. A wake-up call? A guilt-trip? A gentle reminder?

Whatever this is, it smells like rain.

And I’m grateful.