Revelations

Last night I wrote a blog about being far less than perfect. This morning, I woke up, still flawed, still battered, still in pain.

My perception of Christianity has skewed, Satan whispers, drilling rules and regulations into my head, rules I can never live up to, lists of behaviours that I don't conform to. How being a Christian is all the things I will never be.

A lengthy conversation with a dear friend has helped.

Throwing insults around is not bad, but neither is it nice. I don't loose 'God points' for being miserable, I don't need to win back His love because I haven't read my Bible for a few days. He loves me. End of. And really, I should live in the way He wants me too. I should love my neighbour (even when she has 3am arguments) and when I think bitter, angry thoughts I should try, really try, and pray instead. Not because I should. Not because I think it'll win me my place in heaven. But because I want to, because I love God and I want to be closer too Him, because that's what Christianity is about.

My second time in church I came out in tears, I learnt that Gods love never fails. How He holds you, snug in His arms, and, if you pull away, He squeezes that bit tighter. My first time in church I learnt the freedom of forgiveness, and applied it, truly and honestly, into my life. It was amazing.

I haven't gone to church for the last two weeks.

Right now, I'm sat in peace, the only noise coming from the washing machine. Rinsing clothes, dirty with life and living. Right now, I'm praying that He will help rinse me of the paralysing pollution happening in my mind. Right now, I want rekindle the love, burning in my heart.  

Breaking news

I'm a Christian.  And I'm not perfect.  That's right, not even a little bit. I sit in meetings and get distracted by daddy-long-legs gangbangs, I laugh at my 3 year old when he falls off the bed, I whinge, I moan, I throw insults around without knowing what they actually mean. All in all. I am flawed.

Sometimes, I make inappropriate jokes about church halls being hotter than hell, which is ironic (if you think about it). I wonder if God gets overwhelmed when everyone prays all at once. I question whether falling to the floor in a fit of 'Holy Spirit' is actually holy at all.

I wonder what is mental health and what is devil whispers. When that fog of gloom descends I hide in my bear cave until the outside world is a little less challenging,  until I have the strength to say f*** off devil. Then I remember, good Christians don't swear.

Sometimes,  I enjoy sex with my husband. And I mean really enjoy it.

I am flawed.

God knows, He made me this way. I am not perfect. But I am perfect too Him, who knit me together in my Mothers womb. He, who knows every hair on my head. He, who let's me fall, over and over, just to help me back on to my feet, on firmer ground with a stronger heart. He, who listens to my prayers, to my fears, and He, who gave me the joy to laugh at inappropriately sized vegetables. Always.

A letter to a younger me

To me.

You are not alone- in this battle in your head, demon whispers and black holes. In the corners where shadows lurk and grey scales blur into a fog of nothing.  Pick up that book, the one sat abandoned on your shelf. Read about God,  about the Lord and your armour and His plan. Fill yourself with the knowledge that He's on your side and it's not your fault. Wear your scars with pride, they're your story, and find peace.

You are not alone.

Xx

Linking up with #lettersto at http://indirectrevelation.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/letters-to-younger-me.html?m=1 go, read, link!