Jesus Acid

This is another poem I wrote as dance homework. It tells a story that I tell in detail later on in the post. It's kind of long, but I think there's someone out there who needs to hear the whole story.


Jesus Acid

Let me tell you a story
One that is true
About a normal young girl
Like me and you

She lived as a slave
Though she didn't know
She was trapped in a cell
With an open door

Her cell was her guilt
About every-day things
She thought she was wrong
To dream certain dreams

She knew it was ordinary
For girls of her age
To think what she thought
But she still was a slave

You see, she held higher standards
For herself than for others
But she couldn't hold up
Under the yoke she was under

She knew all of this
And thought in her heart
I'll ask God for help
He'll give me new start

But here, too, she blundered
For she was so used to control
She thought she'd get help
But do the rest on her own

So she was trapped in her cell
Held fast by her chain
The door stood wide open
But she forced herself to stay

For years she fought hard
Against every temptation
But each system failed
Driving her to aggravation

At last! She let go
She prayed, "God I give up!
I don't know what's wrong
And I've emptied my cup

Please show me where I've strayed
I can't do this anymore
Tell me what needs to be fixed
So my joy is restored!"

And ever so kindly
He calmed her right down
He said, "Wait till tomorrow
At church you'll find out."

And boy, did she ever
For a prophetess spoke
And showed her the picture
Of her heavy yoke

She showed her the cell
She showed her the chain
God said, "It all can be gone
If you'll trust in my name

This chain holds you back
By you it can't be unfastened
What you really need
Is some Jesus acid

The acid breaks down the chain
By it you'll be free
And each drop is a thought
You've committed to me"

She didn't know what to think
Didn't want to give up
But she did let them go
Drop by drop

And as she did, she felt lighter
And not so condemned
As she found her best power
Was resting in God's hands

So now when she's tempted
Or weighed down by her guilt
She asks God for more acid
To break the new chain she built

This girl, she was a slave
But now she is free
And I know this story's true
Because that girl is me


I don't know if you caught the whole story, but basically I struggle with guilt a lot for two reasons. First, I hold high standards for my own behavior. Second, I sometimes believe the lie that I have to earn God's favor.

This poem is about a specific time when I struggled a lot with controlling my thoughts, especially towards boys. The more I tried to shut out inappropriate or sinful thoughts (or thoughts that I believed were wrong), the less successful I was. But I refused to surrender to God, basically because I didn't trust him. It felt like if I let go of control, there would be nothing stopping the sin from coming in. So I pretty much tried to live a godly life without God's help.

The part in the poem where I "thought I was wrong to dream certain dreams" points to a specific crush that I had during this time. Ever since I was twelve, my Mom had told me to avoid getting crushes because when you dream of being with someone, you are creating unrealistic expectations. Not only is it possible for you to never end up dating or marrying that person, and so set yourself up for a big disappointment; but even if you do end up with that person, your life together will never be what you pictured.

I still believe this to be wise advice. However, being the perfectionist that I am, I think I took it too far. Any time I felt anything positive towards any boy (even if it was just friendship), especially the object of my crush, this huge weight of guilt would come crashing down on me. Looking back, I realize that I was being accused, not disciplined. The difference being that that weight of guilt consisted of a reminder of all the times I had felt that good feeling before. God doesn't work like that, because love keeps no record of wrongs. I had already repented of those things many times, and I continued to repent every time it happened again. I just couldn't find a feeling of forgiveness.

So I continued on, feeling trapped. I didn't feel worthy of God's favor, and as I said earlier, I felt like I could only accept help from him; that he couldn't take care of my whole problem or that I was supposed to deal with most of it on my own. That was a lie.

This went on for about two years, getting progressively worse. I got to the point where I didn't like church. I still went, because I knew it was the right thing to do, but I almost hated it. Tasting the presence of God reminded me of my guilt. I couldn't hear his voice clearly, so I was second-guessing myself all the time. I thought I was "called" to do everything that came up. I couldn't get into worship because it felt like a performance. I couldn't stand sermons because they reminded me of yet another aspect of Christianity that I should be working on improving.

Take a good look. This is the look of a life that tries to be a Christian, but without surrendering to or trusting Christ. I am seriously surprised that I wasn't miserable all of the time, and I think that if it weren't for God's grace, I would have been. I started questioning whether or not I had the Holy Spirit, probably because I simply didn't trust myself to hear him. I was being so accosted with lies that I didn't trust any voice that I heard. I started feeling depressed. It wasn't bad, but it was miserable. I had trouble falling asleep, because I refused to let go of my conscious thought, which was the only thing keeping the sinful thoughts from entering.

I would come up with systems to keep the thoughts out. They were usually successful for a while, but none of them were able to last for more than a couple of days.

Saturday nights were especially bad, because I was reminded that I had to go to church the next morning. One of those nights, I was just fed up. I was sick and tired of doing it alone. (Well, I wasn't doing it alone exactly. I did a lot of talking with my Mom, and she helped me with wading through the lies that were in my head). So I prayed. I told God that I didn't know what was wrong, I was giving up on trying so hard. I told him that he'd better do something quick. I could feel myself sinking further, and I finally acknowledged that he was the only one who could stop me.

Just like the poem said, God calmed me right down. He poured his peace into my heart and just let me know that he was there. He said to pay attention in church the next morning, because someone would speak about me and tell me what to do. I think he knew how much I would second-guess myself if he spoke to me directly.

So when a prophetess from my church started speaking during worship the next day, I saw it coming and I listened. She said she could see someone in a prison cell who, no matter how much they struggled, couldn't escape. I knew she was talking about me. She said the cell door was open the whole time, but I couldn't leave because I had chained myself to the wall. I kept trying ad trying to leave the cell through the open door, but my chain held me back. She said that Jesus is someone who breaks chains and sets captives free. All I had to do was trust the Holy Spirit.

I sat there, and I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. That was all I had to do? Trust the Holy Spirit? It sounded like so little, but it felt like so much. I didn't know how. God showed me a way, though. Every time I felt one of those dreaded thoughts coming, instead of tensing up, I would relax. I would redirect the thought up to God's control. I would picture watching it pass by and go up a tube of light. And without fail, every time I pictured it and let it go, another picture would follow. I would see Jesus coming into my cell with a jar of acid, and I'd see him drop a drop on the chain. The chain would react by burning away and going up in smoke. Each thought I gave to God made the chain a little weaker. I tried the system for a few days, waiting for it to stop working, but it never did. I felt free for the first time in years. I had peace and joy again.

So why am I telling you this? Every so often while I've been writing I've hesitated to put in a detail or two. Those of you who know me, and knew me while this was going on (ages 15ish-17) will probably be surprised to hear about it. After all, all you could probably see was the sweet, responsible, girl who was always willing to be of service and always greeted people with a smile. You never knew about it for two reasons. First, I wasn't feeling like that all the time. It would mostly hit at bedtime. So I really was happy to help and happy to see you. Second, I don't like to feel vulnerable, which is also who I hesitated to put in a few of those details. Even my Mom, who became my confidante in all this, didn't know the whole picture. That was partially because I didn't see exactly what was happening until it was over, and partially because I didn't want to tell her.

I'm telling you this story hopefully to encourage you. Part of my encouragement to you is this: my story isn't over. What I mean is, I haven't reached my happy ending yet. I still struggle with guilt, with trusting God, and with control vs surrender. However, I now know that there is no condemnation for me, and that I can boldly approach the throne of grace. I have also built up a recognition of those lies that had me trapped for so long, much like the human body builds up immunity by remembering the diseases that has attacked it before. Hopefully, by reading my story and knowing what I've been through, you may find a way to trust God with what you deal with. You may also be fed the same lies I am, and only now recognize them for what they are. I don't know how it will help, but God tells me that it will. God knows exactly what each individual person is going through, even if that person doesn't. And if I have played a part in the healing or encouraging process by sharing my story, I will consider it all worthwhile, even the pain itself that I went through.

If you have questions or comments, you can leave them below or e-mail me, Facebook message me, or something like that. Sorry it was so long, I don't blame you if you didn't read it ;)

Scales of Surrender

This is a poem I wrote this spring for a dance class devotional time. By poem, I mean I threw together some lines that mostly rhyme and mostly stick to a set rhythm.


Scales of Surrender

At the alter of God
There sits a pair of scales
For measuring the balance of surrender

A child approaches
With a handful of dreams*
And stares at them wide-eyed with wonder

They look at the scales
They glance at their dreams
Wondering which one is better

They take one side
Deposite their dreams
But to the tray they are in they hold harder

The scales are tipping
Ever so slightly
Because of the weight of the dreams

The child is desperate
Holding so tightly
They watch as their offering gleams

Then a gentle touch
A soft, scarred hand
Finds the fingers that are free

It smoothly guides them
A little to the side
Where the other tray is empty

The child looks up
At this person's eyes
Their dreams momentarily forgotten

The other pulls out
His own free hand
That is holding a life of freedom

The freedom is placed
In the empty tray
That is sitting in the child's left hand

The child now holds
The scales of surrender
Whatever his choice, it will stand

Then the scales start tipping
As the child takes a peak
At the other man's life that is offered

Time seems suspended
In those fleeting moments
As the child's other hand starts to lift higher

Freedom is so pretty
Compared to his dreams
His clench on his tray starts to loosen

Then he finally lets go
Of the tray of dreams
And grabs the contents of the tray he has chosen

The other is emptied
And its contents are kept
In a special place to wait for use

And the scales of surrender
Once again sit
Ready for more bondage to loose

*It is optional to replace "dreams" with "needs" depending on what you need to hear :)
It is also optional to replace "he" with "she" etc.

Explain Yourself

Hey!
My name is Katie James. You may know me, you may not. As you may have noticed, I have another blog called 30 Days of Heartwork, Working. I really enjoyed the experience of 30 Days of Heartwork, especially the part where I decided to share what I learned from the experience with all of you.

Unfortunately, 30 Days of Heartwork only lasts for, you guessed it, 30 days. So it probably wouldn't make much sense for me to continue posting on that blog now that it's over. With that in mind, I have made a new blog: Sunset Room.

This first post has been purposed with explaining why I picked the name that I did. Have you ever seen one of those golden sunsets where the sunlight is just fighting its way through the clouds and lighting up every little water droplet it touches? I love those. They make me feel like I'm looking at a doorway to heaven. I can't see what's going on, but I can tell that it's an amazing place. So I decided to name my blog after that little glimpse of heaven that I only see in those golden sunsets.

I'll be using this blog for my random babblings, but hopefully all my posts will have a purpose, and that is to encourage myself and others in our walk as Christians.

If you are not a Christian, you are still very welcome to read and enjoy. I plan to post some songs, poems, or just experiences that teach me something.

If anybody wants questions answered or other explanations, you can comment on the individual post you have a question about. However, if you have general questions that don't really fit on any specific post, you can feel free to post them here.

I hope you enjoy your journey up the mountains and into my Sunset Room! God bless!
Katie