She turned to me with great big eyes of disbelief. “Sophie, very many of the great poets wrote only about their personal misery. Have you learned anything in my class?”

——————-

For two days it’s been on my mind. Some recent revelations indicate that those relationships were not as I believed.

In fact, it’s been on my mind: Was that love ever real at all?

And if it wasn’t… well, there once was a time I would have been devastated.

I tried an experiment today, listening to Jaeson’s “Namesake” in the car when I dug it out of the glove compartment surprised to find it there. I wondered if I’d feel the familiar sting but I didn’t. I wonder if the worst is over – oh it must be.

I hope the some of us who became mentally ill can rest in that.

And the some of us who felt lost.

And the some of us who wanted to hold something against someone.

And the some of us who ran away.

And the some of us who felt ruined.

And the some of us who tasted blood.

And the some of us who left the country.

And the some of us who felt responsible for recreating it. Perhaps obsessed.

And the some of us who sampled various house churches in the aftermath and found none suitable to call home.

And the some of us who wrestled about the thought of love and if it’s possible for real love to fail. If it failed, then was it ever real to begin with? Is the question suspended in the air, like a pendulum defying gravity. It’s been very awkward these past years fighting delusion and sorting through what’s real and what is counterfeit, though it’s all memory it still penetrates the present and all my future seems to depend on its being aptly sorted. Only just seems though…. And still sometimes I’m waiting for the pendulum to remember it’s act. Down you fall! I’m just waiting. It will feel like a crashing wave, and yes I will feel submerged but just for a minute. Then I’ll rest! And feel blessed.

At least that matter is different from the one I do have sorted, the primary one. That matter is a bit off center. Whereas You, when I doubted if your love was real…. I suppose Lord some things I think are very urgent and important, You think is not as urgent or as important as I presume. While my hands are on one project, you’re calling my attention to another.

I must have not seen the situation clearly. Back then I mean. I must have been seeing it a bit wrong. At least a bit wrong!

And it’s good that we’re not berating ourselves for asking questions. You get good answers if you ask good questions. But only ask those questions in the secret place in that corner of your mind’s life where you know you have permission to talk about anything and it won’t affect or prevent you from health and happiness in the reality that is right now. Right now – the current blessing. I’ve been receiving it only since stretching out my arms eagerly. How do I love You with my heart and affections so fragmented? I like that you don’t call me crazy, that you call me Sophie Full of Faith.

In case you haven’t had access yet :) // For my own recalling when I am thirsty for a song // For when I look back on January 2012 and want to know what I (along with thousands of others) was listening and singing to.

Measure of a Man

The measure of a man is the measure of his heart
The measure of a man is the measure of his love

You don’t measure me like man may see
You’re looking at my heart, the core of me
Your eyes of fire see differently
Keep me in the gaze of love

When it’s all been said, when it’s all been done
When the race is run, well, it all comes down to love.

Did you learn to love? That’s what You will ask of me
Did you learn to love? Not about my ministry
Did you learn to love? Not about my money
Did you learn to love? Did you learn to love?

Lord, I Want You

To You Lord, I’ll be true
And through it all, I love You

In the blindness that comes
Through the bitterness of soul
You’re teaching me to see with my heart
In the weakness that comes
When you touch me with Your hand
Forever I’ll be leaning on You

Lord, I want You

Or… they may be confused.

Or… they will feel sorry or guilty.

Or… they will think, “Is this what Sophie feels?”

Like, “She loves me this much?”

“How odd she is.”

Real love. REAL LOVE. Real real love. I wrote today in my journal earlier, and I only just discovered I wrote it now when I opened it to write some more — Lord, show me what it means to be confident in real love. Real real love. The pains of growing apart… I long to be with you.

Why did I write those words? When I am feeling the presence of God every day these past two weeks with such intensity? Am I a crazy woman? Why do I feel like… we are… growing apart… Am I speaking about you, God, or others? The trouble with stream of consciousness writing is -

You know. You can never tell where your schizo-bipolar ideas come from – but maybe that insanity is what is most truthful. Lord, I am missing someone… some people, as I always have. But I must believe wholeheartedly that nothing can separate you and me except for what I allow, and maybe you can take that “missing” feeling away. Freedom from emptiness, loneliness, doubt, and “does He love me”-ness. Oh how I long to be certain deep inside my core!

You say You want to love me
You say please, Daughter, let me
I say Lord, will you convince me
And this time for good, I will believe.

If you would do the little thing of taking the step-by-step journey, then I will do the big thing and set you free. That which tripped you up yesterday is what you will tread upon tomorrow. – Julie Meyer, Dreams and Supernatural Encounters, P. 103

It never feels like the right time to start loving God, so the wise choice is to start “now.” You will never feel prepared or adequate. Worthy or competent. You will begin with an experience of grace and end with one as well. This is what I’m learning.

I’m glad I went along with it, feeling completely inappropriate (This is so inappropriate! I would think to myself, that I am even allowed to walk in Jesus.), because through this uncertain walk, I changed and am changing every week. Last week, I prayed what I promised: Lord, reveal insecurities and I will make a step to choose you over fear. On Thursday, our bible study group had a Christmas potluck and white elephant exchange. And if you know me, you know that I have a  great insecurity about gift-giving. Somewhere inside, there was a thorn inside my heart that caused me to believe that I am a terrible gifter. Thinking about it now, I recall a particular moment out of many that contributed to that false identity: I once bought my mom a pair of pear earrings but when I gave it to her, she was angry and had a fit about the cost, making it a situation about my dad’s financial provision, caused my dad to storm out of the house, and I cried myself to sleep that night. The next morning she apologized to me and wore the earrings to church where she lost one, then cried herself at home after calling many many people at church to look for it. I’m embarrassed even to be talking about it right now… I hope my future husband will never tire of knowing me more, so I won’t have to be embarrassed that I have a limitless emotional memory.

Anyway, last Thursday, I was majorly nervous about my gift, a pink orchid, and the dull disappointed looks that might fall on the chooser’s face. I was sickly afraid of being hurt if people politely rejected it, which was so beautiful in my eyes and captivated me so much I impulsively bought it. But at the potluck, there was such a glorious fight over it that I couldn’t believe myself and had to go lay down in the bedroom, feeling so touched by Jesus. I felt his interest in redeeming me.

Anyway, that’s all just extra fluff. Maybe that’s not what this blog should be for. I don’t know. I guess since it’s mine, I can do whatever I want.

————————————-

My friend and mentor Brian Orme has a wonderful teaching about the orphan spirit and here’s a summary. The caveat is that unless you allow God to help you commit to discontinuing these behaviors and mentalities when you identify them, there’s no benefit in identifying them. I pray for you that you may be free from every symptom and behavior. God bless you as you journey.

The Orphan Mentality

The orphan condition is caused by the loss of a father’s love. This wound effects the very core of a person’s life from thoughts, feelings, words, and actions. This separation from a father’s love can be instant or gradual. A father can be physically present but emotionally distant.

10 Symptoms of the Orphan Mentality

Symptoms are internal feelings that wounded people experience.

1. Abandonment – Some father abandonment is permanent (through death/divorce/etc.) and others are temporary. Abandonment leaves a pathway of low self-esteem and an inability to express feelings.
2. Rejection – Rejection results in low self-esteem and aggressive behavior. Abandonment is not done with malicious intent but rejection is always done with malicious intent.
3.  Loneliness – Loneliness is not having anyone to share your heart with. It’s having no one to relate to on the level of true intimacy. Where there is a father breach, we will feel dislocated, uprooted, and isolated.
4. Hopelessness - Being separated from a father may produce a feeling of despair. It can lead a person to a reckless love of danger and a belief that only today matters
5. Worthlessness - When a father isn’t present physically or emotionally, then we don’t hear, “I am proud of you,” “you’re beautiful/handsome,” etc. In the absence of affirming language, we drift downwards into feeling worthless. We can believe the lie that if we had been more valuable, then our father would not have been gone or distant. This can lead to hating ourselves or even harming ourselves
6. Sadness - Some can appear as the life of the party, but beneath the veneer, are very sad. When there is separation and shame, we search for something to fill the void
7. Insecurity - An orphan mentality needs constant affirmation from others. People functioning in an orphan mentality tend to repeatedly ask, “you still love me, right? You do like me, yes?” The basic human need of identity isn’t met. There can be emotional withdrawal and chronic shyness or aggressive behaviors
8. Hypersensitivity - When there are father wounds, we can become very sensitive to signals being sent by those around us. Hypersensitivity always derives from the loss of a warm and secure environment of attachment in childhood, either a mother or father. This can manifest as a reclusive lifestyle or relationally obsessive. There is a strong tendency for jealousy
9. Fear - This is one of the most common feelings of the orphan mentality. This is when the basic human need of protection isn’t met. Fear can manifest in so many areas such as: fear of abandonment, rejection, betrayal, disapproval of others, sickness, redundancy, failure, death, being replaced, isolation, not being good enough, etc.
10. Poverty - This is when the basic human need of provision isn’t met. It’s the feeling of scarcity, or never having enough, which is a foundational lie in the orphan spirit. There is always worry about never having enough. It leads us to becoming self-centered and not caring about others needs.

10 Signs of the Orphan Mentality

Signs are outward behavior problems.

1. Mistrust - Derived from a deep sense of suspicion concerning the reliability of their love, we will have a hard time trusting people because it was eroded from our father relationship. If we didn’t have a father that was a source of constancy and stability, then we will believe no one is trustworthy. Mistrust breeds mistrust, so not only do we not trust others, we become untrustworthy ourselves. If our father was abusive or manipulative, then we will see any institution as agents of control
2. Hiding - When we function in an orphan spirit, we will conceal our true selves. It can be physical hiding or emotional. It’s an attempt to protect our hearts from pain. This just breeds loneliness. This can lead to an uncontrollable release of pain at the wrong time with the wrong people. A third kind of hiding is verbal, where we hide behind the plethora of our words
3. Superficiality - If we function in a orphan spirit, we will live at the superficial level. This is linked to hiding. Our relationships with others are formed on the basis of what we can extract from others not on what we can give of ourselves. Delving too deep into the heart is too dangerous and painful, so we must stay shallow
4. Attachments - The reason we are drawn to addictions with an orphan spirit is because it alters our moods and masks our pain. There are five different kinds of additions: Substance, Behavior, Technology, People, Ideology. The loss of a healthy attachment (to a father) leads to unhealthy attachments (to father substitutes).
5. Manipulation - This can be defined as the attempt to gain control over others through the use of underhanded means. This is birthed out of fear, where we are frightened of being hurt again. To insulate against pain, we seek to dominate and control others into doing what we want. It is a highly toxic form of influence. The negative tactics are: Deception, Spin, Shaming, Exploitation, Intimidation, Evasion, Blackmail, Yelling, Lying, Denial, Sulking, Silent Treatment, etc. The positive tactics are: Praise, Charm, Sympathy, Gifts, Approval, Seduction, Attention, etc. All manipulators aim for certain “buttons” which are:
   • Need for Approval
   • Need for Acceptance
   • Need for Love
   • Need for Protection
   • Need for Belonging
   • Need for Resources
   • Need for Control
   • Need for Position
6. Anger – When we have been robbed of a father’s love, we will feel a sadness over what we’ve missed and a deep resentment against our father for not being there. It’s a toxic mixture of grief and rage. When a father is abusive, this can lead to emulating the behavior.
7. Selectivity - When we function in an orphan spirit we are often selective about what we remember. This is about blocking out painful memories that might produce a negative picture about ourselves
8. Fantasy – We will have a tendency to indulge in fantasy. This is morally neutral, neither good nor bad. This is about creating a fictional version of our lives in order to protect ourselves from harmful emotions connected with our life script. It’s a disconnection from reality. Sometimes as we live from an orphan spirit, we speak about past events in a way that doesn’t seem to correspond to what actually happened.
9. Misinterpretation - To misinterpret someone is to interpret or explain what they have said in the wrong way. It’s about a deep expectation of disappointment, so I interpret what others say as negative.
10. Independence - This is the desire to be free from the control, guidance, oversight, and influence of other people. Fatherlessness is a breeding ground for independence. This causes us to be overly suspicious of authority figures and deeply cautious of any submission. The absence of a father causes us to grow up without boundaries and without a healthy respect for authority. If we had a controlling father and/or mother we will have a hard time being accountable in a trusting way to authority figures.

He’s gonna turn it all around, just wait and see
He’s gonna make everything beautiful just in time.

“Yes,” she sniffed.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Because,” she sniffled some more. “I can hear you thinking from over here.”

It figured. Put two highly sensitive people in a room together, one who can’t shut off her brain even in the silence of night and another who soaks up every emotion in a room, and see if they can get a decent night’s sleep.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’ve been awake…. since we went to bed three hours ago. Do you think you can fall asleep now?”

Implicit was the obvious fact that unless I could, she wouldn’t be able to either.

“I’ll try.”

——————————–

There are mornings like this: I am suddenly awake for no reason. Not only that, the cats have been messing with my stuff! Decorative Anthropologie pumpkins are strewn across the floor, removed from their place on the window sill. Baby guitar has slid from it’s upright position and is now lying dormant in the very middle of the floor (how?). There are feathers lying around, possibly from my sister’s down blanket, a corner of which is hanging off the side of the bed very limply.

It’s now 7am and I’ve been awake for 2 hours. Again wondering if God is trying to speak or if it’s all because of the strange sleep patterns of late, having tense discussions at unseemly hours and alternatively feeling wretched and inspired over and over again.

I tried resting my hands palm up (Lord, tell me what to do. Tell me what to do. What are you wanting to give me today?) and palms down (Lord, I release what I’ve been holding on to, I want to lay hold of you). I confess, I prayed it very poorly. Is a half-hearted prayer even a prayer at all (yes)? My mind feels too thick and foggy to mean anything I say. Except for one thing I was able to say truly with my heart, “I am hungry, Jesus.” But it helps that I am actually hungry, famished from eating only lentil soup last night.

Sometimes, prayer just seems like a hilarious experiment. Even after this many years of prayer, it still makes me feel like a silly goose.

Maybe 2 hours wasn’t enough of a chance for God to do anything with me. Longer prayer sessions are in order. I better clean up this ole house in my heart. It’s a little too messy to have any visitors, let alone the Guest of Honor over. Not that the Guest of Honor isn’t willing to humble himself and do the Swiffing without being asked.

And if there are any questions about it, no, praying longer doesn’t make you any holier. Neither does reading the bible every day. You are a saint because of Jesus, end of story.

So we just do it for the fun of it.

P.S. Recently nothing I actually intend on writing comes out when I’m sitting in front of the laptop, fingers poised. And everything that does get written…. I’m not sure why they turn out that way and, more importantly, they’re not very satisfying. I still feel extraordinarily frustratingly inexplicably clogged in my chest.

After I hooked up my cell phone and laptop I rested my head in my arms miserably for what seemed like a long and long awaited respite, the man at my left carefully positioning himself away so as not to witness my indignity. The woman at my right gave me a brief knowing smile as in, “I know what kind of day you’re having.”

I finally mustered enough strength to order a cup of coffee. “Is the pick of the day any good?” I asked, with as much of a disarming smile I could come up with despite my inner exhaustion. “Yup, it has this delicious hint of floral. I think you’ll like it.” He shouted at the young barista for a grande Columbia Flor, who gave both me and his manager a frown of exaggerated displeasure, as if I had greatly solicited him. “Allllll riiight,” he drawled, “I’ll make it for you… but only because you looked so sad sitting over at that table there.” I laughed, surprised at his cheekiness.

My very own Taylor the Latte Boy.

————————————-

He had looked at that moment like if I had encouraged him, we could have exchanged names. But I didn’t and three months later, I still remember his good-naturedness wishing I knew what to do in those instances of clarity. An opening. Because everything else about human emotion is unstable, except for that, when at the present moment there’s an opening: a moment of shared laughter, a mutual acknowledgement of the up and down nature of life, something… something. Anyway, I shyly took my coffee and sat back down without another glance.

How do you feel about that now, Sophie? Don’t you wish you showed him you appreciate his small gesture? That it was the sweetest spare moment that whole day? Hm. Maybe that’s what the tip jar is for.

Maybe that’s what a warm smile and conversational back-and-forth is for.

(But also, don’t forget the tip jar.)

I know I sound cheesy right now. But it’s because I just realized my grave error. Not only do I have permission from God to be confident, my own confidence is necessary for me to uphold Love. The goal, when it’s all been said and done, is love. When I am confident, I am upholding the authority in my words when I speak God’s love and promise into another person’s life. No one needs to take my encouragement seriously if I don’t believe God’s promises work the same way for me. And it does – to completion, to perfection. All that is His is ours.

This revelation has no basis in God’s word, at least off the top of my head. Sorry, no scripture references.

But I have an idea, God. I want to dedicate this coming year to dismantling every insecurity I have in my life. I don’t mind exploring the darker sides to my heart. I want to know and obliterate and put every lamb that needs to go on the altar. If there’s a part of me that is afraid to be confident or clings to selfish behaviors and insecurity because it serves me and my purposes, then Lord untangle each thing and show me how I can love you more than anything.

And Lord I’m sorry for each time that I passed up a chance to lead worship because being insecure helped me to get out of responsibility or risk. I’m sorry that I treated each time I was asked to play as some kind of special request rather than a privilege. How self-centered the act of passing up opportunities is! I want to have the kind of heart that leaps at the opportunity to serve you even if I actually sound terrible and my piano makes people cringe. I want to be that oblivious person who believes if she is asked to do something even inadequately, then You must have some kind of reason (and if I suck so damn much then I won’t be asked next time but I’ll leave that up to You). Lord, please put me to the fore and just as much as you choose to use my music, put me through the fire. I want to see what’s left in the end.

Yesterday, I was so busy listening to a love song for Jesus in the car that I missed the El Monte/Moody exit off of 280, forcing me to drive all the way to Stanford for the next exit and come back around, a detour of 20 minutes. As I was driving, I had the distinct feeling that God was trying to steal a moment with me. To hold me near. And I was late to meet a student by 10 minutes, which annoyed me greatly. The question is “Does God ever make us late to things?” Because He himself is never late. And He is never distracted.

Like the cinnamon stick curled so delicately at the edges to send me a tiny message, there are so many little coincidences in the world that make me feel like someone in control of everything loves me. If I didn’t believe in God, or if I believed in God but not that He influences us, or if I believed in God and his influence but not by direct communication or miracles, I might think that a pleasant surprise in my hot apple cider or an unexpected detour might just be arbitrary incidences that don’t mean a thing.

But this girl right here believes in the resurrection of the dead. So her believing in tiny messages isn’t the least of it. Oh if you only knew of all the crazy delightful nonsense…

Prayer: I want to believe with all my heart and my soul that you love me all of the time.