A Deep Root of Contempt

I grew up a hyper-sensitive soul in a yelling family. The natural, sensory world was inebriating to me. The beautiful part of my sensitivity was my artist’s awe of creation. Colors of flowers were vivid and the breeze they danced in was saturated with the most intoxicating perfumes. Distinct, delicious. I would spin and spin in the Illinois wind and breath deep as I hiked all over Salt Lake.

A more difficult side of sensitivity manifested indoors. The light from the lamp in my home was so bright, it’s heat so hot--- it flickered maddeningly--- and I would melt in it. And all noise of family on top of the noise of my mom’s in home daycare was noisier to me--- the yelling especially. I would cover my ears from the yelling.

There was too, too much noise at home.

Anger amped my family’s volume past my limit. When my parents or siblings would fight I would curl up under a blanket to escape from light, heat, and noise. Once I vowed to never, never be angry like that, and I intentionally buried the overwhelmed parts of me deep inside. That night I fell asleep a child hiding under her blanket, and upon waking emerged an old soul.

A robot who had resolved shoulder the burdens in my family without being hurt. I felt like this was my only choice. My way to live… to help my family survive. It was years before I grieved me.

But in 9^th grade emotion returned in flash flood power. I became a “cutter” to release the nameless hurt that screamed in me. The internal noise was louder than all former torments--- so my hatred for myself grew until it was one step away from lethal. I drank deep draughts of self-contempt until I was saturated with white hot rage. Life was a nightmare I didn’t wake up from, a nightmare so real I still wear the scars.

When I look the scars today I feel a grateful smallness. They remind me that even when I rejected His way Jesus stay beside me. He rescued me from the nightmare. I haven’t hurt myself in five years and even as I type those words my heart swells with love as I realized how tenanciously he has stood between the deep contempt and my body to keep me from going back.

Now every time contempt fills me to raise my hand against myself I find Christ in between

and I cannot hurt Him.

I cannot tear his flesh…

so I just break down in Him. I thank Him for another rescue.

Another intervening grace.

Still the contempt remains… not a phantom, but in the same nightmare reality. This is the contempt my Lord has put His finger on time and again because contempt now stands between Us, stands between a resurrection of the girl who died in me so many years ago. I know I should let go of contempt, but I really don’t know how and I’m left praying “Jesus help me with this one too.”

I know He will.

Maybe you are here too. Holding your mess out to God. Fully aware of that your heart holds lies that you don't even know about yet. I would love to pray with you on this one, please call me. Please know that Jesus won't leave you or me in waiting on this one forever. He promises we won't be his first failures,

I am encouraged by Paul's words in Philippians 1:3-6-

Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God. Each exclamation is a trigger to prayer. I find myself praying for you with a glad heart. I am so pleased that you have continued on in this with us, believing and proclaiming God's Message, from the day you heard it right up to the present. There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.

But maybe you've made it through this one. Maybe the deep root of contempt has been pulled from your heart. Would you pray for me. Would you tell me how it happened for you? I need some encouragement on this one because I truly wish I were able to resolve it more quickly.

We are brothers and sisters in this journey;

May we build up together.

And May your kingdom come, Jesus. We love you.