My Uphill Battle with Facebook

Two things occurred this last week that forced me to realize that I have a pride issue.

1. I accidentally set my status updates at an "only me" setting, which means nobody saw what I posted on Facebook and it also means that I was crushed when nobody "liked" it. (sigh)
2. I read this quote in my "Glimpses of Grace" by Gloria Furman book, "When I sense that my heart has become numb to the effects of my sinfulness, all I need to do is listen to my mouth or think of the things that I should have said but didn't. If I go back over the last few days' blog posts, conversations, and status updates, then my mixed motives and self-glorification become appallingly apparent to me. It is clear to me that I have no other place to hide except in the righteousness of Christ alone." (p.115)
• Plus Furman quoted James 3:8-10, "... no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing." Bleh. Starting with my own tongue, which I can't seem to shut up.

God has this miraculous way of convicting my spirit.

Thanks to technology and the ability to publish writing immediately after writing it, my life has become an open book. I'm not complaining, I mean it's my own fault, it's just embarrassing to admit out loud that I have a "pride" issue. Thanks to an itty bitty error on my part, where I accidentally set all my posts as private posts, and was crushed when not one person "liked" it, I realized that it was God's way of telling me I was worrying too much about what others thought of my writing instead of glorifying Him in it. And then to add injury to insult I read that quote in Furman's book. Grrrr.... me and my stupid self.

I want to live my life to glorify God.

But lately it seems that all I can do is make a fool of myself.

I apologized to you, readers, because I don't want to care about my "stats" or "likes," (buuuuut I do). I want to care about what God thinks because my aim is (or should be) to glorify HIM daily in all that I say and do. After all, my entire purpose in this life and the next is to praise HIM forever and ever. However, after that setting error on Facebook I realized that inside I had mixed motives and that each post was self-glorifying. When I read Furman's struggle with the exact same thing I did a, "whew, I'm not alone!" gasp. Still, even when I write or say things outloud that are an attempt to glorify God, HE KNOWS MY HEART! So I'm with Furman on this one, "Clearly I need God's purifying power to rescue me from my sin and empower me to say things that are good, true, and honoring him." (p.115) And I need to add "from the depths of my heart" to that statement.

I need to set my heart on the things of God and make this blog and my Facebook status updates less about my self-glorification (that starts with not caring about "likes" or "stats") and more about the joy I have in life because of the hope I have in Jesus. Obviously, a few days break from Facebook has not solved this issue.

It's an uphill battle.

I'm back on Facebook because I realized that it was my only "in" on seeing pictures of a friends baby, or sharing the crazy and wonderful life of my daughter with grandparents and friends, and sharing what I write here (all the while trying really, really hard not to care about "likes" or "stats"). Although I'm back on Facebook and although I'm still going to share my stuff, my ultimate goal is still to glorify God (without mixed motives like, "hmmmm... I wonder how many people will like or read this?!").

I love Facebook because it gives me the ability read about my friends and family all over the world. My parents and grandparents love my blog because they love reading about what we do everyday, or what I'm reading, and I hope, no, I really, really pray that I'm planting a seed for all of my family and friends. I want to glorify God and share the gospel so that you can glorify God with me through this blog and Facebook. I truly believe in enjoying small things like Facebook and blogging ALL because I can rest in the hope I have in Jesus Christ and what He did on the cross. That's it! THAT is what life is all about in the first place - Jesus Christ and the message of hope we have in Him. Without hope, we have nothing.

And that message is worth sharing - daily!

My Testimony

I'm sure than my high school and college friends read my blog posts and wonder who this crazy lady is who keeps talking about Jesus! "She was never like this when I knew her!"

So for those of you who knew me "back then," I have changed so much in the last few years, thank goodness, and felt like I needed to share my testimony so you know why I keep talking about Him.

In high school and college I believed I was a "Christian" because I was a pastor's daughter (I grew up going to church), I believed in God (um, well, so does Satan), and I had that mindset that God will forgive me when I go to bed tonight so I can do whatever I want to right now. "Besides, I'll have a chance to ask for forgiveness before I die, right?"

As a child I remember accepting Christ as my savior and praying with my parents, but the older I got the more I rejected God. When I heard "Jesus" spoken out loud I would cringe and think, "Why can't they just shut up?" I would tell my friends, "I believe the same thing they do, but do you see me going around pushing it on people?"

I also had the mindset that I needed to learn from my own mistakes (I really bought in to that mentality, instead of learning from someone who had already been there, done that). For example, I was absolutely convinced that I was going to marry my high school boyfriend. I wanted to spend as much time with him as I possibly could, I wanted to have sex with him (After all, God wants me to be happy, right? and why, if I'm going to marry this guy, do I have to wait?), and when my focus was entirely on the boyfriend, I began to ignore my parent's teaching and hate the mention of Jesus. That stuff only applies to me when I'm older. I'll live that way after I'm married, after I've experienced life.

My junior year of high school was when I really began to reject God. My boyfriend was graduating, along with all the people I hung out with at that time. Their graduation was already hard enough because I honestly thought that my senior year was going to be tough. Sure, I had some friends in my own class and even in the classes below me, but the friends I chose to hang out with were in the grade above me. When graduation weekend came I dreaded it, so I dragged my feet as I walked into graduation practice (I was in the band). That day will be one I will never, ever forget. The graduating class was sitting around waiting for everyone to arrive, the band was ready to play, the teachers and administration were giving out last minute instructions, but we were waiting for one last person: Brian Pancau. Everyone loved this kid. He was friendly, outgoing, positive, and he held a special place in my heart as being my first kiss. (From that point on I had a crush on him, but he was not interested in pursuing a relationship with me so I dated one of his good friends, and Brian and I continued to have a wonderful friendship.) There were rumors going around the gym that Brian had been in a bad car accident (some kids drove past it on their way to practice and recognized what was left of his car). So naturally, we were all freaking out. Next thing I know our principle walked up to the stage and announced that Brian had not made it. The gym erupted. People screamed, cried, and held each other. It was an awful chaos.

We dedicated our next track season to him. On our shirts we put the quote he said, all the time, GO BIG OR GO HOME. One of my friends (Ashley) who had been on the 4x400 team with me the previous year decided not to go out. I remember being crushed because we had made it a goal to win state after we took home a 3rd place medal my junior year. Looking back I truly think that she didn't know how to handle the death of Brian. They were really good friends.

I was more excited than ever to start track after ending a horrible basketball season my senior year. The coach benched the seniors claiming he was, "building for the future." I loved the game of basketball, but it was Ashley who kept me sane. She'd sit in the back of the bus with me and we'd chat. She'd sympathize, offer advice, and we'd trade details about our life. So when track season rolled around and she didn't go out, I was ultra disappointed.

Right before I graduated she walked up to me and apologized, "Honestly, Becky, Honestly," (she began every important discussion with honestly) "I regret not doing track. I knew how bad you wanted state; I should've done it for you." At the time I thought it was incredibly sweet (I still do), I thanked her, told her not to beat herself up too bad over it, and we went our separate ways.

Part of the reason I told her not to worry about it was because I broke my foot, which affected the outcome of state anyway. At the time I didn't know it was broken, but six months after the initial injury, I got an x-ray and began the healing process, which eventually required surgery. I simply waited too long. This was a big bummer. My senior year was not going the way I had dreamed and hoped.

It added to my desire to get away, thinking that going away would solve my problems. It was coming time to decide what I was going to do with my life. Some family friends and my boyfriend talked about Doane College all the time and how amazing it was, so I too wanted to check it out, I was convinced it was where I needed to be. Now, I realize my decision was very selfish - I left behind my family and it cost my family an arm and a leg - but I was only thinking of what I wanted.

I couldn't wait to get out from under the wing of a father who I thought was too controlling. I couldn't wait to be closer to my boyfriend. But what I didn't do was think of how I was hurting my best friend - my brother - by moving ten hours away. Being fifteen months apart we did not know life without each other. We did everything together. And when I walked out the door, I sobbed as I said good-bye, but now when I look back on that day I realize how much I hurt him as I replay his broken heart over and over again in my head. I also left behind two sisters who needed me and who heard me endlessly rant about how unfair our father was - planting a seed of rebellion and animosity towards him.

All I cared about was getting out and moving on to something I thought was better.

My first year of college was eventful.

I broke up with my boyfriend, joined a sorority, "played" basketball (I had a boot, so I went to every practice and watched), participated in the pep and concert bands, and partied, partied, partied. At the time I didn't realize that I was self medicating.

I was still struggling with the death of my friend Brian and then I learned that my friend Ashley had died from complications involving a four wheeling accident. I was crushed. What I regret most was that after hearing about her accident I kept telling myself I needed to call her and told myself I would, "later." I never called her. To my everlasting shame, I also decided to not go home and attend her funeral. There was no closure and now I was living with this huge regret - Why didn't I call her?! Why didn't I go to her funeral?!

When I drank, my mentality was, “I drink to forget.” I'd tell myself that I’d feel better and I wouldn’t think about all that crap, so I would drink to the point of blacking out. When I did that, I made horrible decisions. I would wake up, feeling horrible about those decisions, want to forget that I made them, go back to drinking, make more horrible decisions, feel horrible, drink more, make more horrible decisions, and this vicious cycle continued until my best friend said, "Becky, I don't want to hear about it anymore. I don't feel sorry for you!"

I was mad, but despite my rebellion I came to the understanding that she was a true friend. She was willing to risk our friendship so that I would change the way I was living. That was the first step towards healing. Yes, I continued to drink, and yes, I continued to make stupid decisions, but not at the astronomical rate I was going during my freshman year.

When something bad happened, I still had that mentality to drink and forget it, and I still had this weight on my shoulders as I continued to live a destructive lifestyle.

Then my junior year my mom decided she wanted a divorce.

You talk about anger. 

I hated her for that decision and I did not hesitate in telling her through screaming phone calls, nasty emails, and begging her, pleading with her, to change her mind. Our family was broken and my heart literally felt like it was torn in two. Just the thought of what my family was going through brought me to tears. I could barely talk about it - I'd become a sobbing mess.

I was piling on a lot of emotions: loss, regret, anger... and I dealt with it all by drinking more.

The only place I felt where I belonged was with my sorority sisters. My basketball team rejected me and the more I felt rejected by them, the less I liked playing basketball. I felt judged when I attended church with a friend, or went to the Fellowship of Christian athlete's meetings, or the Christian events hosted by the college. I felt like I didn't belong - I was tainted - I was a sinner.

I met Kyle at the end of my senior year of college. After three months, I knew I was going to marry him and it freaked him out! I accepted a job on the other end of the state and after graduation we would begin a long distance relationship, so he broke up with me. I was crushed and mad at him. After four days, he came to realization that he felt the same way I did and that we'd make it work.

Our relationship was not God centered. Neither of us were living Godly lives, but that all changed when we got engaged.

One of dad's requirements was that Kyle and I find a book that focused on putting Christ at the center of our relationship. Kyle took it seriously and the day after I said yes, we went to Barnes and Noble and found one book, one, that met dad's requirements. At the time I didn't understand divine providence, but I said, "Well, it's a sign that it's the one we're supposed to read!" So we bought it and read it!

Our lives began to change because now we were seeking Godly advice. We knew we wanted something different. We wanted to last, we wanted to be happy, and for some reason we knew that the only way to attain true happiness was by following my dad's advice. So we found a pastor that would guide us. Our first meeting with him was both hard and absolutely amazing. Hard, because forgiveness and a means of acceptance of things that cannot be changed needed to take place in regards to past relationships. Thank goodness for a forgiving husband.

More importantly...

Kyle accepted Christ as his savior.

I reaffirmed my life for Christ.

And we began an amazing transformation.

It did not happen overnight. Although our partying had slowed down significantly, we continued to live that lifestyle, but this time we came to realize that we had to change, we wanted to change, and the only way that was going to happen was through Christ and learning and growing through Him.

Two things happened for me: 1. I partied too hard at my bachelorette party, woke up feeling absolutely horrible, and vowed I would never, ever do that again. and 2. Through divine providence I realized we needed to find a church, Kyle knew it was the only way we were going to grow.

I hated the idea of going to church. As a pastor's daughter I saw the in's and out's of the hypocrite's who attended and a big part of me blamed them for my family being ripped apart. My dad put up with so much drama, my mom was excluded from women's groups, problem after problem would arise because someone thought they needed to be in charge, or there were fights over music, or misunderstandings would arise because of something they thought was said or not said, or grotesque sin was made blatantly obvious by people who were leaders in the church, or or or or or...

As a child soaking all of this in and watching how it affected my parents, I wanted nothing to do with church or the people who went there. So when Kyle brought up the idea of finding a church, my immediate response was NO! Kyle, knowing my "church" history, only asked me to pray about it. I agreed to do that at least.

Well, God knows best, because Kyle bought us a men and women's devotional set. We'd each read our own devotional teaching for the day and talk about it later. The very next morning after Kyle asked me to pray about it, the topic was: Church! (And I hadn’t even prayed about it yet!)

We found a church and our pastor started the process of discipleship - rightly teaching God's word so that we could study and teach others on our own. When I began to read God's word, meeting with another woman from our church, and listening to verse by verse, word by word teaching of God's word every Tuesday and Sunday, my faith, my understanding of God grew and grew and grew and continues to grow!

God's grace took my anger and regret away. A load was lifted off my shoulders and for once I felt like I could breathe! I finally understood the power of God's sovereignty and I finally understood true freedom when I learned to let go and let God!

I was changing and growing and learning and then I had Brielle.

It was a scary experience, but Kyle and I grew significantly in Christ as we held each other and prayed for her and His will for us. When I finally held her in my arms I began to understand the depth of love God must feel for His children. At this point, I was more than ready to accept whatever fire God was going to put us through, I seriously thought that her birth was the end of that "refining fire".

Was I ever wrong.

Ten days after giving birth I hemorrhaged and nearly lost my life. I thought I was saying good-bye to this life and as I was being loaded on to the flight for life and began singing "Indescribable" I was suddenly okay with dying. I believed, beyond a shadow of a doubt what it says in Roman's 10:9, "... if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." I had faith in Jesus and the hope of salvation through Him, "… there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved." (Acts 4:12) I knew that if I died I'd be with Jesus in heaven. A few years ago if someone had asked me where I would go if I died, I'd shrug my shoulders, "... heaven ... I think..."

But, now, I know and am so excited for that day! I don't see October 1st as a horrific experience. Instead, I often wonder what I would be doing right now had I died. I find myself aching to know what heaven is like and aching for the day when I finally get to meet Jesus! And aching when I think of how God describes hell, so much so, that I ache to tell others about Jesus and the hope we have in Him.

For many years, I didn't understand why my life turned out the way it did. Why did I go to Doane? Why did I lose my friends? Why did my parents get a divorce? But now, I understand that Doane helped me develop into a passionate teacher and that's where I met Kyle. I was able to help my students through tragedies like losing their friends and empathize with them as they endured their parent's divorce. Instead of judging the sinner, I see a hopeless, struggling individual who needs God. All of these events are part of my testimony because they are now a means of ministry!

I do not fear God's "refining fire" because He is in control. And I do not fear death because I have faith that what Jesus taught is true: "Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life." (John 6:47-48)

The Beauty of a Home

I used to think the beauty of a home was in the picturesque set up, neatly placed decor, and the spotless floors. I have to be honest, I put that sentence in the past tense, but in reality I find myself thinking that way all the time. I look through endless Better Homes and Gardens magazines and dream of creating a similar haven. I accumulate all kinds of stuff in hopes that my living room will look half as perfect (no cords showing). Instead of a relaxing homey environment I have created a small version of hoarder central! I force myself to look at the bigger picture on a daily basis: what am I trying to accomplish? When people walk through the door what do I want them to see? I am my homes manager and quite frankly I am missing the mark. I've realized this for quite some time now and deep down, with all of my heart I want our home to glorify God - in every room, every corner, right down to my closet. This mindset motivates me at times to start a project and stop when I find myself feeling overwhelmed.

Then I got this book, "Glimpses of Grace: Treasuring the Gospel in Your Home" by Gloria Furman from a generous family in our church for Mothers Day. Furman asked the exact same question I've been asking this last year: HOW do I glorify God in my home - even as I sweep the kitchen floor for the umpteenth time this week?!

I read the introduction and became so, so excited! I was highlighting, taking notes in the margins, and looking up scriptural references like a mad woman. It's like Gloria Furman has been reading my mind!

Stop.

Rewind.

It's like GOD has been reading my mind and provided Gloria Furman as a means to help me accomplish this task: glorifying God in my home. I can't begin to describe how excited I was about the INTRODUCTION! And then I read chapter one....

I kept thinking... these verses should be all over my house, inspiring me to glorify God as I scrub the toilet (for example) and then I read this sentence,

"Motivation can't be written on an index card - it must be written on your heart." (p.29)

Wow. Okay, Lord, way to call me out!

It's not that putting these verses all over my home is a bad thing, because it is in fact a fantastic idea, it's just that I go back to Furman's intro where she quotes Tim Keller,

"Your private prayer life is one of the key indicators that your Christianity is inner and true and not just the product of your environment." (p.19).

My mind immediately went to Betsie Ten Boom, Corrie Ten Boom's sister, who was imprisoned for hiding Jews during WWII and a quote from Corrie's book, "The Hiding Place" (which I recently finished),

"More and more the distinction between prayer and the rest of life seemed to be vanishing for Betsie." (p. 197, The Hiding Place, Corrie Ten Boom).

After finishing that book my prayer has been, "Lord, I want to be like Betsie. I need to be like Betsie. I crave that kind of relationship with you." So, yes, the environment I create is important, I want everything in it to glorify God, however (and more importantly) how is my private prayer life? What do I do on a daily basis for the spreading of the gospel - in my home?!

I have so many, many pieces of Furman's book that I want to share so bad, but I won't because I want you to read it, but listen to these wise words,

"Clearly we can't live our lives lawlessly, taking pot shots at people to make ourselves feel better. And clearly we can't just muster up our self-determination and will power to "do the right thing." I simply can't do it. Either way I choose, I don't please God." (p.31)

Yup. That's me right there. Everything I want to do, I don't do. It reminds me of Paul in Romans 4:18-25,

"... For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. (v.19) ... Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? (v.24)."

I'm a mess (really, who isn't?). Everything I want to do, I don't do, everything I don't want to do, I do. So how am I going to become a good housewife?!

"When I take hold of Jesus by faith as my only hope to please God, God declares that I am justified." (p.31)

Whew. It's not about me or what I do to gain righteousness! My only hope is through Jesus!

"God can use the ordinary moments in your life to glorify himself by conforming you into the image of his Son. ... Dirty dishes in the sink or red crayons smushed into an electrical socket by a curious toddler are not just worrisome ordeals in your otherwise uneventful day. They're opportunities to see glimpses of grace." (p.33)

Wow.

I already knew that Christianity is a process. I am "being saved" (1 Corinthians 1:18). But God is constantly reminding me of that these days! I find myself growing prideful and forgetting Him. My growth in Christ is not about what I've done or what I'm going to do. I am forever growing because God is at work in me. I'm so excited to read chapter two and continue to grow and change into a godly woman who lives to glorify God daily. Ahhh! I cannot do this alone, thankfully I know that I simply can't, that God is the one who works in me, but if you are one of the women in our church who also received one of these books - hold me accountable! I want to walk, talk, and breath for the glory of God. Help me not to become self righteous or prideful,

"The gospel keeps me relating to God on the basis of Jesus's perfections, not on the illusions of my religious achievements. God strengthens me and protects me according to his faithfulness, not mine (2 Thess.3:3)." (p.33, Glimpses of Grace, Furman)

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If you too are sick and tired of the mundane tasks that loom before you - a dirty floor, heaps of laundry, whiny children - then you too need to read this book and become encouraged that 1. You are not alone. 2. God has a plan to glorify himself through you even through these mundane tasks. and 3. There is hope. You too can be transformed through the power of the gospel, even as you change another diaper! Read this book: "Glimpses of Grace" by Gloria Furman!

My Nightmares

It’s after work and I close my door, almost tripping as I’m climb into bed, I’m so tired.

It’s warm outside, but I put a blanket on anyway.

It’s a security thing.

It doesn’t take long to fall asleep and I’m in a state of nothingness when I hear it.

It’s the door.

It opened, I swear it.

It may be my nightmares so I try to drag myself from my sleepy, stupid slumber.

But I decide against it and tell myself I’m dreaming.

It’s so easy to fall back into zzzz’s and I relax until,
I hear it…

It’s footsteps, slowly, creaking… I can almost see the intruder, everything but his face.

It’s almost as if he’s smiling, knowing I’m home alone.

“It’s just a dream,” I scream inside my head, like I actually believe me, but…

It’s getting closer.

It’s the footsteps I hear, softly at first, growing louder as the intruder makes his way down the hallway.

It’s almost like he smells my fear and mocks me as he stands at the doorway, forever.

“IT’S JUST A NIGHTMARE,” I try to whisper out loud, shrieking inside my head, until…

It’s the doorknob… turning, slowly turning, I don’t open my eyes, but I hear it’s sound.

It’s… it’s, unmistakable.

It clicks about mid-turn. Every time.

“It’s not a nightmare this time,” I try and breath so I reach for my knife, but in my sleepy stupor I can’t grasp it, I can’t even lift it, which only adds to my fear.

It’s hot outside, but I’m shaking, my teeth clattering, shivering, and sweating all at once.

It’s fear. He knows it. I know it and I try to hide it, to pretend it isn’t happening.

It’s just the stuff of my nightmares, it’s just a nightmare, it’s just my nightmares...
Right?

I’ve dreamed this dream a thousand times. I can never wake myself up, but I think I do.

I’m REMming and think I’m out of bed, walking, trying to shut and lock my door, but I can’t push it. So then I know I’m still asleep. Once that realization hits me, I’m immediately back in bed. So it starts over. I try to wake myself up. Walk. Shut my door, grab a knife, hit the lock, only these tasks are impossible. Once that happens, I know I’m sleeping. Bam! I’m back in bed, so I focus on trying to WAKE UP. It’s exhausting. I hate it so much. I’m so sick of being tired and so sick of being afraid to close my eyes.

I’ve always had weird dreams. As a kid my dad said I had night terrors where I’d wake up, point to the same corner, and scream, “Don’t you see it daddy?” Thank God, I don’t remember what I was trying to get him to see.

Eventually it evolved to me sleep walking, but the worst of them was my upside-down dreams. Yeah, seriously. Everything was upside-down. After having this dream, I’d open my eyes and everything would still be upside-down. Briefly, but it scared the heck out of me. Scared me so much that I refused to close my eyes again, knowing what would happen if I did.

These dreams continued long into my twenties, when I was living on my own. People told my parents I’d “grow out of it.” I guess I haven’t grown up yet. I had nightmares after watching this stupid movie about a witch who couldn’t survive in the light, so the poor guy bathed his house in it. It was a stupid movie, but I dreamt about it anyway. I even remember having nightmares after watching, “The Legend” with Will Smith. They’re stupid movies. I know that, I tell myself that over and over and over again, but it doesn’t matter. It’s like I’m feeding my nightmares. Why do I do that to myself?

Then I made the biggest mistake. I watched “The Exorcist”.  Dumbest move ever. I had the “all my friends are watching it” mentality. It has forever affected my dreams.

The last movie that affected my dreams the most, which will totally surprise you, was "The Passion". I totally recommend that movie to anyone and everyone, you will not be unaffected, But the part that affected my dreams was the demon children who followed Judas to his hanging himself. Read on and you'll see why....

The movies weren’t the “icing on the cake,” so to speak. It was a break in attempt. It was around 10 p.m. and I was on the phone with Kyle, who was my boyfriend at the time, when suddenly my front door slams open. Whoever wanted to get in, tried really hard because it actually bent the screen door when whoever-it-was opened it. Today I thank God for two things: one, I had my pad lock locked and two, my lab, pit bull mix puppy went nuts. Because once she started barking the door knob stopped jiggling and whoever it was ran away. THAT’S when these dreams started.

At first I was trying to wake myself up so I could defend myself against a break in, but eventually it lead to little demons running around my house. I even thought a few times that I was actually being levitated off the bed! The worst part was… I knew I was dreaming, so I’d try to wake myself up, and was never successful unless I got Kyle’s attention. I’d try shrieking his name, hitting him, screaming as loud as I could, but he told me over and over again, after waking me up, that I was just “breathing weird” and making "strange noises."

It was almost like demons were haunting me through my dreams. I hate writing this down, or even admitting it out loud but it scared the bejeebees out of me. Plus, it sounds crazy. Demons? Really, Becky?

My dad told a story of a woman he witnessed, after asking a group of men to lay hands on her and pray for her, barely being held down by numerous men after attempting this prayer session. Her anger was obvious and her overall demeanor changed, and the way my dad described it – it was not of the heavenly world. I’ve heard others about scales over the eyes, voices changing, angry dispositions gone. Believe me, this isn’t fantasy. The more I thought of this, the more I wondered if my dreams weren't just dreams.

So I figured I needed to figure out a way to peaceably sleep. But, I soon found out I am unable to do that.

I went from having these dreams every, single, night to disappearing altogether. It’s because my trust focus changed from, I need Kyle to wake me up or I need to wake myself up, to “God, please help me.” I began praying and quoting every Bible verse I knew. I still have freaky dreams occasionally, but I suddenly realized they feared God more than I feared them! AND I HAVE GOD WITHIN ME! What was I to fear? It was never about me after all! DUH! Once this realization hit me, the dreams were less frequent.

It’s crazy, I know it, but these dreams returned after hearing my pastor preach about Angels and Demons, adding to my plethora of scary stories. I mean, come on! I hear a sermon – confirming what I already know – and it brings these dreams back?! It’s like a relapse of PTSD. I hear one story about a kid possessed with evil spirits, how he told him he was “hearing voices,” and cutting himself because it was the only way to stop hearing them – and wham, bam-a-lam, I have another dream. After this dream they stopped for a while again.

Until last night.

I can't explain the dream really. But I can tell you what happened...

I was exhausted and couldn't help closing my eyes, but the moment I did the darkness changed. I don't really know how to explain it except like this... close your eyes, now put your hand over your eyes. It went from dark to dark-er. Then there was a heaviness. I struggled to breath, talk, or lift my arms. So I'd pray and wake myself up. Again, I was exhausted and had a hard time keeping my eyes open, but the moment they were closed, I felt the darkness and heaviness, so I'd pray, wake up, close my eyes, pray, etc. Then I tried to wake Kyle to pray with me, but I think in the moments when I was most awake I was still partially asleep because it did not affect him in the slightest. I was terrified of closing my eyes, so I decided that I had nothing else to do but get on my knees and pray, beg, for God to help me.  I fell asleep in that position and next woke up on my hands and knees, sleeping peacefully.

So telling this, writing it down, is an attempt to figure out why I'm having these dreams and to ask that you, as the reader, pray for me. Maybe I'll never figure out why I'm having these things happen to me, but I have a feeling that this isn't the last of these nightmares. Thankfully I have faith in the promise for a perfect ending with no tears, frustrations, or fears because Satan will be defeated. Call me crazy, but I seriously think that I'm being haunted by a demon. I only wish I knew the reason why. But until the day this all goes away I will face this demon straight on, knowing I have the power of Christ Jesus. The Holy Spirit is way smarter than me, or any demon, and thankfully He resides within me, so there’s one thing I know beyond a shadow of a doubt: I’m not alone. I can face my nightmares having faith in that one fact, because now when these dreams do occur – whether I feel like I’m floating above my bed, or dealing with an overpowering mess, or someone is trying to break into my house, or if I have little demon children running through my hallways, I find myself praying and praising God! And guess what? My nightmares haven’t entirely stopped, but when they do come, not only am I able to wake up, but I’m able to peaceably fall asleep afterwards.

Dang. The power of prayer and praise, to a God so worthy of it, amazes me still!