No More Masks...

I think that the hardest part about being in this life is being self-honest. I also think that my lifetime in church has taught me to wear a mask. I can not remember any pastor who encouraged me to walk in my authenticity, and wait for God to meet me there. I have always been under ministries that encouraged me mask my truth with hyper-Christianity! You know the rhetoric..."When you are depressed, just have Joy!" When death happens to your family, "Thank God for Heaven!" The "Put a smile on your face" theology has always only put a tiny bandage on my gaping and messy emotional health.

So here is my life in a nutshell... *only the parts you can digest* 😂

I was born in Gary, Indiana. I was raised extremely poor. My parents loved each other and were hard workers. I have never gone to bed hungry, but I witnessed the burden of finances on my parents' relationship. I went to a Christian school that was very racist. They groomed me to be mind controlled by there cult. After much love-bombing, my dad left his church (where he pastored) and joined the IFB church that was a cult. They made sure he was the star, and my mom was the villain. This behavior is typical in racist arenas. They love the black man, but try to place in his head, that his black wife is not good enough. It is literally impossible for a racist to have more than 1 black friend! The cult took a toll on my parent's marriage, and suddenly became abusive. I witnessed pastoral encouraged domestic violence to the point that my head accepted it as true masculinity, while my heart knew it was sinful and wrong! Physical abuse became a normal in my home. Because my school dehumanized us by spanking us in front of the classroom, I didn't realize that some of my "spankings" was actual abuse until I was educated on child abuse. I was groomed to believe that abuse was a form of love to keep me from making God mad. Eventually during my discipline sessions, I trained my brain to black out, until it was over. In 2001, while on my way to church to workout with my dad, a drunk driver hit us....he died right before my eyes. I remember being strapped down to the gurney in the ER and the nurse delivering the news. Instead of digesting the traumatic information, I went to tell her that I thank God for Heaven and recited the entire Romans Road, and tried to save her soul! I did what I was trained to do, look out for the souls of others, instead of dealing with my truth- I was hit by a car at 100mph, and my dad died in my face---I needed saving! My pastor's grief counsel was to try to bamboozle and shame my mom out of the life insurance money and home, while also telling us that God killed my dad because we were bad and held his ministry back. Even though I knew that was wrong, there is a part of me that over-compensates in relationships in order to make sure that I don't hold anyone back. They chose the pastor to do the funeral in our church, who ended up being a racist alcoholic. He admitted to being drunk on stage while preaching. We never went to therapy. I was asked to make sure that during our annual Preaching Conference, that I not walk around crying. It would make everyone uncomfortable. They sang my dad's songs...they had the worst voices!

I eventually left the IFB cult. I was broken, confused, but full of hope. I went on this journey from church to church, seeking healing. Churches really don't have mental health or grief ministries they advertise. They also do not have ways to connect a person in need with a licensed therapist. I kept seeking and searching. I was going to get my healing! All churches had to offer was a mask! Just pray, serve, smile, give, forget, forgive, let it go, worship...the list went on...it did not end... Desperate for healing, I did everything I was asked to do! Nothing! I was the woman with the emotional issue of blood-seeking help from "doctors" doing all the things, but to no avail! I wouldn't say everyone was trying to bamboozle me, I think many ministries are equipped to do real ministry to actual hurting people...and some were just scam artist using church to launder untaxed money.

Welp, COVID happened. I got it as soon as it was sprayed over the globe! I thought I was gonna die, but I didn't. I lived. And then I decided to take a break from church. My most toxic relationship was with church-ness. God had to push the reset button. I would visit various churches, but mostly I stayed home, worked a 2nd job and got 3 necessary degrees. Two weeks after I finished my 2nd Masters Degree (Early Childhood Education), my mom, who I was thought was only sleep walking, dropped dead at my feet. This was unexpected. I have accepted her death, but in that moment, It felt like a complete back hand from God himself. I sat in the house alone for about a day and a half. I cleaned the house and just sat, bewildered, waiting for my family to come in. To make matters worst, we were ghosted by my father's side of the family. They had a beach vacation they didn't want to miss. Even though they actually drove THROUGH Alabama to get to Florida from Indiana.

All-in-All, I kept a good face. I smiled. I traveled. I worked. I laughed loud. I shook it off. I served. After about 2 weeks, I wanted everyone to feel comfortable around me. I tried to go back to being the "normal" Sharon. I went on job interviews, while boxing up her stuff and smelling her scent in her apartment. I remember asking my aunt to help me. She said it was too hard for her. It was hard for me. I pushed through. I did it alone! Everyone was overwhelmed by the tragedy. I worked through the tragedy. I had enough sense to get a couple of therapists. I taught school, crying my way to school. I put eye drops in my eyes to cover up the weeping. I masked my grief with food and Amazon purchases. I messed up my rising credit score. God placed me in a good church family that was loving. They are my true family. I wish I would have truly been all in. They deserved that. I was held back by my pain that I was trying to get over!

If I were to take the mask off, I would realize that I resented everyone. I resented people who hadn't gone through what I went through. I resented people who only had happy church memories. I resented those whose lives turned out as amazing as they planned it. I became the gatekeeper for trauma and pain. I resented everyone who did not just grab me and give me a long hug. My body craves it...even today! I resented people for assuming that I was strong enough to handle trauma. I resented people who were allowed to go through this life never leaving their soft era. I could not figure out which sin caused my tragedy...

I realized later that my resentment had nothing to do with people...I resented God.

God offended me.

I realize today that I am offended by God. My parents struggled, but loved God. He took them both away. I am 44 years old, and I have no parents. No parent figures. No relative that I am close to. I am close to my siblings. I long for the warmth of a dad's hug. I want to talk to my momma. I thought that when I married, my dad would walk me down the aisle. Then I was happy to have my mom. When I saw my mom's casket in the ground, I realize that the happiness of a wedding would always be laced with devastation of my parents not being there. I long for my mommy to teach me what to do when I have my first child. I never learned how to make her famous pound cake, friend chicken or my daddy's chili. While I am a good cook, I loved to cook for her. I loved hearing her approval. I thought I had more time. God offended me when he took them away. So, there are times that I resent preaching that promises blessings to the faithful. I am very grateful for everything God has given me, but I as I take off the mask, I realize that I am offended. I need to work through that.

You see, church-ness taught me wrong about life. Christianity does not block Life from life'n! Faithfulness is not a "Get-Outta-Life" free card. Life is not easy. The beauty of entering a relationship is that when the honeymoon is over, it is all about choice. Choice overrides feeling. God chose me. Therefore, his love is big enough for my offense. He is not going anywhere. He will never leave me or forsake me. Right now, I need that. I wish that I could end this saying that I no longer offended. I am offended with God. God's love is so much bigger than my offense! God's love is powerful enough to carry me through my hurt, resentment and pain to a healthy spiritual place.

In the meanwhile, I am going to take one step towards Him: I went to church. I went forward and awkwardly stood at the altar. I let them speak over my life. I stayed until the service was over. I met new people. I was present. That is all that I have at the moment. Even though honesty with myself has proven to be hard, I strong enough to pull off the mask. I am offended. I am offended by God. If I don't admit it, then I can't be rescued. God chose me. He chose to love me. His love is big enough for my truth. I don't have to fix it. I don't have to shake it off. I don't have to overcompensate for it with large acts of service. I don't have to smile it away, or shake it off! He only requires that I tell him and let him do the rest. I don't know what is next. I don't know when the offense will go away. What I can say is, even though I am offended, I know that this is my season of Divine Alignment, so every crooked place will be made straight. I don't how I will look, act, or do. Even though I am gutted with this revelation, I think this is a good space to be in: Mask-free and Honest!