The following is taken from my journal (slightly edited) on Friday 18th of May 2007. It describes what I was going through the day I was heading off to a Women’s Conference that I didn’t want to go to, and I was wondering why the heck I had booked it the year before! As you may have read in earlier posts, I don’t like women’s conferences – the speakers are always great, but it’s all the fluff and bubble that goes around it that I dislike considerably! However, this post is not about that stuff, it is the story behind the writing of the poem ‘My God’.
…I have been listening to and validating, buying into the devil’s lies, and as a result I have been on edge, easily upset and uptight and unable to handle the kids very well, grumpy, snappy and snarly. The lie was that because I hadn’t had much sleep and haven’t for several days now, was that I wouldn’t be able to cope with the kids acting up and I would be grumpy and snarly. I, of course, believed that, and lived up to it; I was all those things and more. And the worst is when I take my exasperation out on X and that makes him cry even more – poor kid, he only wanted me to pick him up and feed him and instead I’m telling him with “that” tone, to “let me go!” as he holds onto my legs in the kitchen.
In the end I am in tears – scones are in the oven and I’m attempting to give X his bottle, sobbing all the while, wondering why T doesn’t just stop what he’s doing and help me (at this stage I haven’t worked out why I’m having such a hard time and T hasn’t yet been unofficially diagnosed with CFS). Anyway, I can’t handle it any more and retreat once more to my room before I do any more damage to the morale of my kids. I’m a sobbing mess on the bed and I can hear my thoughts (they’re quite loud and demanding to be heard) and they are along the lines of: ‘I’m a failure, I can’t do anything extra, can’t even handle the basics, I’m a terrible mum for making X cry instead of comforting him and losing my cool…’ At this point I’m feeling incredibly sorry for myself, am sobbing hysterically and almost hyperventilating.
Somehow I remembered the scriptures I’d read this morning as well as an excerpt from John Eldredge’s ‘Waking the Dead’ – well, it’s more like, the Holy Spirit was able to penetrate the wall of self pity I was building, somehow, and remind me of what I’d been reading!
‘…when David and his men arrived home at their town of Ziklag, they found that the Amalekites had made a riad into the Negev and had burned Ziklag to the ground. They had carried off the women and children and everyone else but without killing anyone…David was now in serious trouble because his men were very bitter about losing their wives and children, and they began to talk of stoning him. But David found strength in the Lord his God.’ (1 Samuel 30: 1-6)
His men, were about to turn on him in their grief, it was a near thing, but despite the dire and desperate situation David found himself in, ‘he found his strength in the Lord his God’ – he couldn’t have done it on his own, he got strength from God. And then there was this stuff that I’d read in a small excerpt from ‘Waking the Dead’ where John Eldredge says that the negative thoughts I was hearing were not my own, those thoughts are whispers from the devil, they are lies.
And so I said, “I’m not going to say them, they are lies, the devil’s lies and I won’t give them power!” So inbetween gasps I started saying, “God you are my rock; You are my strength; You are my shield, my protection. I am redeemed, restored; Your blood has washed me clean, you paid for me with your life; You are my salvation; I am free, the old has gone, the new has come.”
As I started saying and claiming these promises the sobbing stopped and the dark, grumpy, sensitive mood lifted. I immediately felt renewed and restored. I listened to the devil’s lies for a whole day, it took a whole day for me to see the truth, to hear the Holy Spirit speaking to me, but I overcame, I did something different and with the strength I found in the Lord my God, I was victorious! Whoohoo!!
So despite the fact that I was going to a “dreaded” women’s conferece, I left the house victorious, with a better attitude and a lighter heart. And I used the worship song times on the Saturday to work on the poem – I was still worshipping God, I just wasn’t standing there singing. The first two drafts were completed at the conference. We recently gave a copy of this poem, all done up very nicely to T’s mum for her 77th birthday recently, she loved it and was very effusive about it which I found a bit embarrassing. However, she did say to me, ‘that I will be a blessing to a lot of people’ – I think she meant with the poems, and later I wondered if she was perhaps being prophetic without knowing it. I dunno. Anyway, I’ve left that one in God’s hands.
Click here to open My God post
Poem is in Adobe Acrobat format. If you can’t read the poem, you can download a free reader