It Starts Small

I pondered over imagination for a few days. I had heard some verses that said the heart of men is evil and their imagination were equally wicked. (Jeremiah 17:9-10, Genesis 6:5) I knew that what I created I my mind was an imagination. It was my heart in a way that made sense to me. I don’t know why a junk yard made sense, but it’s the way I saw my heart.

I once heard that you have to get away and alone with God to hear him speak. I distract easily. I can’t always pray sitting in my house. There’s too much going on around me. Koji is in my face begging for his morning cookies. Scout is outside barking at deer. Cars are driving by. The crackle of the fire distracts me. I had to build a place in my mind to go to. To be able to shut off what was going on around me so I could focus in and be able to hear that inner quiet voice speaking to me.

That quiet inner voice. How do you explain that? I honestly can’t. I can sense it comes from within me. Not like my voice inside my head. It’s something all together different. I always feel pressure on my heart and my left ear. Sounds, crazy, I know.

Going back to imagination. Was this all real? Was my Savor, Christ, actually in that place with me? God said in his Word, the imaginations of men were continually wicked. There was nothing wicked about this. There was evil present. It was in the middle of my heart and that was the whole point and purpose of this journey. To rid my heart of the control it had over me. Control I had given it, but didn’t know how to take back.

But there was that question: do you believe I am real and here with you?

When I’m in this place in my mind, by myself there is not joy or peace. There’s no sense of hope. Just like when I talk to myself there’s no joy or peace. I can’t produce joy and peace. I’ve tried in vain, but I can’t reproduce what Jesus can when his presence is there with me. Evil is the opposite of joy and peace. When evil is in that place, it creates division, chaos, confusion, and fear. So my only logical explanation was yes. It had to be the presence of my Savior.

I closed my eyes and went to that place. I needed to know more and understand more. Standing in the middle of my junk yard I spoke and said yes. Yes, Jesus I know you’re here. I’ve created this place because I need to see it all, but does that make it wrong? That I have to see it change to believe it’s changing?

I sat on a hill over looking my junk yard. I spoke to Jesus and told him, yes, I believe you’re here. I believe this place is a visual representation of what’s going on in the deep places of me. My heart. This place represents my heart. I can’t explain to even myself why I believe, I just do. It goes against everything I know. I know that sounds terrible, but you know this place. You know me, and I know you understand what I mean.

I walked to the center of this place. I looked up to where I had left my Savior. I wasn’t putting together all these things. I know he sensed my frustration. He left where we had been sitting and walked a short distance and stopped. He spoke, what you did right there, What did you see? I thought about it for a moment. I replied, you stopped. You always stop at that place. You never go beyond that place.

He asked me to come closer and put my hand up. He put his hand up but there was something between us. I couldn’t see it but I could sense it was there. I shouted there’s still a barrier between us. He asked me how did I know? I knew because I could recall all these moments. I recalled all these instances in my mind. I could walk freely about, but Jesus always stopped at a certain point. I explained to Him we always sat together on the outside of this mess. When I walked into the middle of it, he always stopped at the same place. He never went beyond. I still wasn’t getting the picture of what He was trying to show me.

He spoke, do you remember the day you figured out one plus three equals four? I did remember that day. My entire first grade was spent in torment. I did not like that teacher. She was mean and cruel. I spent nearly every recess and lunch in that classroom. I remember this day in particular. I was forced to do worksheet upon worksheet of addition, subtraction and always having to write letters because my handwriting was horrible. I sat there that day contemplating what was the point and purpose of numbers and letters. Some how, at six years old I needed to be explained the point of this so I had a reason to want to do that. I looked at the mess of numbers on the page. I wanted to cry because I didn’t understand what three plus one meant.

Something odd happen that lunch hour. For some reason as I looked over the entire paper full of numbers that didn’t make sense I saw something different. I didn’t look at the three as a 3. I’ve had a hard time explaining this even to my therapist. I’m sure there’s a label for it, but I don’t know the concept that three plus one equals four. I just know the pattern and shape of three plus one equals four. I was once told I was autistic, again, another label, but from that day on I started seeing patterns in numbers and letters. I can knock out a word search in seconds because it’s not the word I’m looking for. It’s the pattern of the the letters and their shape in the mix of letters that had no pattern. It’s some how linked to why I can speed read and some say have I a photographic memory. I can’t explain it. I can remember in detail something I’ve seen.

Somehow seeing these things, I started getting accused of cheating. It happen in first and second grade. My mother would get called into and I would get accused of cheating on spelling tests and math timed sheets. I mean seriously, let’s use some common sense here people, how on earth does a person cheat at those. The teachers used the same sheets, a few various mix, but I memorized the entire math sheets. I couldn’t explain how I could do double digit problems in my head without showing my work, or how I could ace spelling tests. During spelling tests it was the actual word I recalled, it was the shape and pattern of letters. I felt like I must have been speaking a foreign language because my explanation didn’t make sense to them. So what did I do? I started to purposely fail the tests, and that didn’t put me in a better place. I do recall it spurred me to be tested in my reading ability. In second grade I had a 12 grade reading comprehension and vocabulary. I got put in a special reading class. While all the dumb dumbs were reading Dick sat and Jane stood, I was reading chapter books assigned to middle schoolers.

I heard Jesus speak my name. It broke the train of thought I thinking about all these things. He said, you are a very intelligent person. You see what only a special few can but it goes beyond numbers and letters. Think outside numbers and letters. I stood there contemplating this. What did this mean? Patterns? 💡

Jesus, are you taking about seeing patterns in behavior? Patterns in the way the world revolves, so to speak? My therapist once told me I had an acute sense of seeing the cycles and patterns of behavior in people but it was my interpretation of those things that cause me issues. Jesus, said, yes. You have a unique ability to sense, hear and see, a break in normal patterns. When someone is lying, you can hear the shift in their voice and see their body language change. When someone is hurting, sad, or in need of help, you can see what they’re not telling you by the pattern of their words and body language. You can see what is not being said. You know these things because you are in-tune with your own self. There has been a pattern of repeated situations throughout your life and you can recognize things you can’t explain about people.

I had never thought about it. It just came natural. As natural as looking at the Numbers and letters. I chuckled. I knew Jesus was on to something big, but I still was not getting it. I asked Him, so, what does all this have to do with that? I pointed to the shack of fear.

Jesus spoke, you have used this gift to shrink your world down to nothing. You have used this gift to protect yourself from people and situations you perceive that could hurt you or hurt others. In the midst of shrinking you have refused yourself your own basic needs. You believe that by protecting yourself you’ll never have to hear, see or feel hurt and pain. The very hurt, pain and suffering of others you shrink from because it reflects what is inside of you. You’ve gone so far as to even cut God your Father out because you fear anything he has to reveal to you will hurt and cause you to be forced to give up something you treasure most. (Ouch)

You’re ability has molded and shaped how you see the world around you. Your fear is what drives and motivates you. Fear is what clouds your Visio and understanding. It’s not wrong to want to see, hear, and feel. It’s wrong to see hear and feel on your own understanding. You shoulder responsibility for others when it’s not your job or place to shoulder their sin. You take on what others are feeling and think you are the cause of what they feel. You think some how you can heal them, fix them, and if you practice degradation of yourself you are somehow lifting them higher. (Double ouch)

I stood there in awe of what I was hearing. He was speaking truth and I knew He was right. I looked at that shack. This was silly. I had fears that were silly. I knew the answer lay in knowing who God IS. The word promise came to mind. I looked back at Jesus and asked, is it in the promises of God I hear about all the time, that unlocks fear?

He didn’t need to answer, I already knew the answer, Ok, time to search God’s Word for his promises.