People are layered like coats of paint on a wall. With each broken heart, deserted dream, or loss of hope a new coat is added.
Imagine what each layer hides; fear painted over with sadness, sadness painted over with anxiety, etc. now, imagine a person seeking true healing because they are tired of the paint masking reality. You scrape off a layer of anxiety to realize your anxiety was a byproduct of sadness. Your intrigued now, what other lies have you been living with?
Your once perfect, white wall, is now gone. all that remains is the frame and lead in the air from paint dust, poisoning you as you breath.
Do you clean up? Start over? Now your standing in a poisonous pile of paint chips and regret is all you feel. Why did you ever let it get this bad?
There is an unseen war going on all around us. Good vs evil, and the war in our own minds. When scraping your layers of paint you have chosen to fight in this war, to become part of something bigger.
You might be poisoned, but it’s a causality you accepted.
After my divorce I was desperate for a church, refuge; so I could heal. I knew God, I could sense him all around me. It was like air standing still so I could reach out and touch him. The desires of my heart were manifested in front of me like a soft ripple.
I prayed for a church and the direction he was guiding me made me want to cower back into my shell and to add more paint. But I stood strong knowing the ripples of air surrounded me.
Nobody from my past was there, they had moved on to start a new church. I was able to breath and relax a little until they caught word I was back at *their* church.
Little by little they trickled back in like dirty water, a stagnant river that had started to flow.
My fear was like a pair of hands around my throat. But I held steadfast To where god planted me and I would remain there until I was released.
The things I saw broke my heart. I hated these people, how was my heart breaking for them? Visions of flesh hanging off bone. Demons lurking behind angry eyes.
Disease was rampant and people were dying a spiritual death. What could I do? I was nobody, weak from an abusive marriage. I was afraid of these people. God wanted me praying for the church that crucified me? The people that called me a whore after the service? To fight demons that had ripped my soul apart a year earlier before I was saved?
I was released after about a year of spiritual warfare. In a way, it was beautiful because I was made stronger then I ever thought possible.
** present day and an update on my last blog post.
The woman I spoke with had the very same mentality. A mind so closed nothing got in, but hopefully god made it in there. I don’t know what it was about her words that triggered the flashbacks but I dove into a river of fear and sorrow rummaging thru the memories.
I pray I’m never asked to go up against closed minds again. The secrets they hide under the guise of God sends my intuition into fight or flight mode.
I spent a few days riding the waves the flashbacks brought to my shore and I realized I need to scrape off a few layers of paint again.
He brought me to it and he will see me thru.