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Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

unbelief

Traveling the Broken Way

October 25, 2016 By Michelle

The Broken Way

Faith has never come easily for me. I’ve often described my spiritual journey and faith itself as a two-steps-forward-one-step-back kind of process, with doubt rearing its ugly head from time to time, and me clamoring to smack it down like I’m playing whack-a-mole at the local carnival.

This past summer I traveled to Tuscany on a spiritual writers’ retreat expecting to uncover clarity and direction in my vocation. Instead I ended up spiraling into a dark night of the soul I never saw coming. Sitting cross-legged under a grove of trees overlooking the golden Tuscan hills, I got real with God real fast. It was the quintessential “I believe, help my unbelief!” moment, and it left me wrung out and reeling. God and I wrestled it out like never before.

Two days later, hands trembling, voice shaking, I told my traveling companions about my dark night. It was a confession of sorts, and that community of brothers and sisters — most of whom I’d met for the first time only days before — gathered around and held me close. They lamented with me. They consoled me. And most of all, they gave me hope.

When, following my sputtering confession, one of my new friends declared, “God delights in you,” I tucked that word of encouragement into my heart. Since then I’ve taken it out and reexamined it again and again.

My dark-night-of-the-soul experience in Italy and how I’ve come to understand it was a game-changer for me, a life-changer. As Ann Voskamp writes in her new book, The Broken Way, “Our God wants the most unwanted parts of us the most…Nothing pleases God more than letting Him touch the places you think don’t please Him. God is drawn to broken things — so he can draw the most beautiful things.”

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The Broken Way

The Broken Way

Cracking open wide in Tuscany allowed me to receive the understanding that just as I delight in my own children, God delights in me. He loves me like I love them, sweetly, tenderly, fiercely, but infinitely, unfathomably more. I never really understood that. I never really believed it.

Truth be told, three months later I’m still leaning hard into what it really means that God delights in me – what it looks like and feels like. I’m leaning hard into believing it. I’m allowing God to teach me, to show me what he is doing for me, to show me what I need to enter into. God is already loving, he is already delighting in, and he desires that we enter into that space. As Paul says in his letter to the Romans, “God does not respond to what we do; we respond to what God does.” (3:28, Msg.)

Ann Voskamp’s book The Broken Way has helped me move farther along in this journey. She’s put words around the unexplainable and indescribable. She has given language to the mysterious, inexplicable yet sometimes palpable presence of God.

“Belovedness is the center of being, the only real identity, God’s only name for you, the only identity he gives you,” she writes. “And you won’t ever feel like you belong anywhere until you choose to listen to your heart beating out that you do — unconditionally, irrevocably. Until you let yourself feel the truth of that – the truth your heart has always known because He who made it wrote your name right there.”

A long time ago I looked up the origin of my name, Michelle. It is derived from the Hebrew name Michael, which means, in some interpretations, “He who is closest to God,” as well as, interestingly, the question, “Who is like God?” The online site I visited noted that in Hebrew that’s a rhetorical question, because no person is like God.

I laughed when I read that bit about the rhetorical question, because honestly, it’s so like me to question my identity as one who is “like God.” Who me? Flawed, questioning, always-seemingly-on-the-cusp-of-unbelief me?  But the answer is, inexplicably and unfathomably, yes, an emphatic yes. For me and for you, too. For all of us. We are like God because we are created in his image– imago dei.  Each of us is wholly his, loved by him, beloved, called into oneness with him.

God calls us to walk toward that which we despise most about ourselves, because he knows that when we face that hard, ugly place head-on, we will finally be fully surrendered. And finally fully surrendered, we will finally fully find him.

God is in our most broken places, the parts of ourselves we least want to admit or expose to the world and perhaps especially to our own selves. For me, that’s my wrestle with doubt and unbelief. God ironically calls me to step into that very place, to acknowledge its existence, not to run and hide from it, but strangely, to offer it, my most broken place, to him. I know, it hardly makes sense. But yet it does. Because he is there, even there. Because there is no place God is not.

The Broken Way, by Ann Voskamp

I want to add, for the record, that Ann Voskamp doesn’t need me to write a review of her book. As I write this, The Broken Way, which releases today, is probably already number 1 on Amazon, and it will likely go on to become a New York Times bestseller, just like One Thousand Gifts. But here’s the deal: I wrote this blog post because I couldn’t not write this blog post. Like its predecessor, One Thousand Gifts, The Broken Way has had a lasting impact on me. Beautifully written and full of profound wisdom, this book is a life-changer, if you allow Ann’s words — God’s message, really, spoken through her — to sink in deep and change you. Powerful, prophetic, vulnerable and deeply authentic, The Broken Way is not an easy or a quick read, but it’s absolutely a must-read.

Filed Under: book reviews, doubt, love, unbelief Tagged With: Ann Voskamp, The Broken Way

The Truth of My Shadow Side

October 6, 2015 By Michelle

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I had to admit I didn’t believe in God before I could begin to believe in God.

I realize that doesn’t even really make sense. But it’s the truth.

I grew up in the church but had “a hard fall from faith.” That’s usually what I tell people, even now, when I need to give a cursory overview of my spiritual journey. The reality, though, is that I didn’t believe in God for most of my adulthood, perhaps even for much of my childhood.

For a long time – decades — I didn’t admit that to anyone, most especially to myself.

I went through the motions of faith: I went to church and confession. I prayed, sort-of. But all the while I was pretending. I’d erected my fake belief as a façade, like one of those false storefronts in a ramshackle Old West town. Behind that façade was the real me, falling apart slowly, brick by brick.

…

Wild in the Hollow…Today I’m over at Amber Haines’ place. Amber has a new book out, a memoir called Wild in the Hollow, which I highly, highly recommend. It’s raw, truthful and beautifully written, and if you love spiritual memoirs like I do, this one is a definite must-read. Come on over to Amber’s place for the rest of my guest post about truth, and while you’re there, introduce yourself to Amber and learn more about her book. 

Filed Under: Spiritual Misfit, unbelief Tagged With: Spiritual Misfit, unbelief, Wild in the Hollow

A Simple Prayer {I am a Spiritual Misfit series}

August 8, 2014 By Michelle

I haven’t yet met today’s Misfit writer, Sharon Osterhoudt, in person, but I’m thrilled to say I will soon when our paths cross at the Jumping Tandem Retreat right here in Nebraska in May! In the meantime, I will tell you flat out: this woman’s faith amazes me. Sharon has been through a whole lot in her life, but the way she keeps her eyes and her heart tuned to God is truly an inspiration. Please give Sharon a warm welcome here today, and be sure to visit her at her blog, too.

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Before I became a Christian my view of God was one of skepticism and unbelief. I thought of God as a Santa, someone who gave things to people when they asked. God was far away and not at all approachable. Jesus was a man in a storybook.

I was not raised in a Christian home, yet I do remember walking to a small church as a little girl to go to Sunday school. As I listened to the Bible stories, God and Jesus were unreachable to me, like characters in a book. I couldn’t touch them or feel them. They were songs sung to the music of an un-tuned piano.

I began to search for the meaning of life during my freshman year of high school.

We had moved again to a new rental home and another new school, and adjusting to life was normal for me. Every morning I talked with a girl at the bus stop — an honor’s student who lived with her parents in a stable home, much different from mine.

I wore the ratted up hair style like Diana Ross with fake eyelashes and white eye shadow. I listened to Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, and my life was not at all like her life, with a mom and dad and family dinners.

Every day as we waited for the bus this girl asked me questions, pursuing me and forcing me to think of God and church and life in general. Every day I argued with her. I could not see how a God could allow hard things to happen. My life experience had been much different than hers and my concept of ‘love’ was not something she could understand. We were friends speaking different languages. She challenged me often and left me with many questions.

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The girl at the bus stop told me I could test God, that I could ask Him to show me who he was. I didn’t understand or believe her words at the time. How does one test a God who seems to know everything?

But one night out of the blue I decided to test her ‘God’.

My teenage sister was a drug addict and a runaway who had been living on the streets for a long time. I missed her greatly and wanted desperately to see her. We didn’t know if she was dead or alive. I remembered what my friend had told me at the bus stop – that God hears all prayers and listens — and while I didn’t believe it, I figured I couldn’t lose anything for trying.

I prayed a very simple but bold prayer from a heart that was searching. It was a long shot and full of despair.

“God,” I prayed, “I would believe, I think I can believe you, if you can find my sister and bring her home. If you are God, if you know everything, then you can bring her home tonight. When I wake up in the morning, I want to see her sleeping in her own bed. If you can do that God, then I will believe. If you can’t, then leave me alone.”

When I woke up the next morning and looked across the room, the room my sister and I shared, she was sleeping in her own bed. Somehow in the middle of the night the police had found her. She had been beaten and was very rough-looking, and the police had called my mother and brought her home.

She was sleeping in her bed, in our room. Just what I had asked for.

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My sister didn’t stay long after that first night. I didn’t ask him to allow her to stay long. I just asked him for one night. She went back to the street, but I knew God had answered my prayer.

I believe now that God knew the only way I would trust Him, was for Him to show me an answer to a simple prayer — a prayer from the heart between an all-knowing God and a simple teen. A prayer that would become life changing for me. He knew that. Within a few months I began to trust Him, and the journey continues to this day.

I spent the remainder of my high school years in youth group activities, youth choir and surviving the home I lived in. The girl at the bus stop became my sister-in-law when we married brothers. The years since I first believed have not been easy, but God in his faithfulness has shown me over and over that as long as we ask from an honest heart, He will hear the cries of the broken.

I learned to trust when I didn’t understand the meaning. I learned about love without conditions. He was hope when I felt hopeless and peace when the peace was not found. He was love on a cross saying to me, “I care deeply for you.”

His ways are mysterious and wonderful and leave me always in awe of His abiding love. My first prayer changed my life’s direction forever.

The way God reached out to me is a wonderful and powerful reminder that He does indeed listen to the prayers of those who do not know Him.  I was a spiritual misfit, without any idea of what it meant to believe or accept or understand a love that was not ‘conditional’.

Our God is a God who hears the simple prayers of those who don’t even know what to say or how to say it. The words do not need to be fancy or eloquent, but simply from a heart that is searching.

I didn’t believe until He showed me that no matter what I believed or knew to be true, His love was always there waiting.  I will never doubt how deep, how wide, how precious His love is for us. He heard me and answered my prayer.  He cared and He valued my heart.

My name is Sharon. I am a spiritual misfit. And I will always share how great the Father’s love for us is. 

SharonOSharon is a native Oregonian. She will have been married 41  years in November, and she and her husband have two adult children and six grandchildren, two kitties and a very old dog. You can visit Sharon at her blog Something to Think About and on Facebook. 

 

 

 

Click here to purchase Spiritual Misfit: A Memoir of Uneasy Faith. Click here to read all the posts in the I am a Spiritual Misfit series.

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Filed Under: guest posts, Prayer, Spiritual Misfit, unbelief Tagged With: I am a Spiritual Misfit Series, Is God listening to my prayers?, Sharon Osterhoudt

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: When You’re Unwilling to Let God Be God

December 1, 2013 By Michelle

The people I love most in the Bible are those, like Zechariah, who wrestle with doubt.

Zechariah actually starts off on the right foot. When Gabriel visits him in the temple, the priest is properly awed, trembling in amazement as he stands at the incense altar before the angel of the Lord. But when Gabriel prophecies that a baby — a son filled with the Holy Spirit, a son who will lead the Israelites to the Lord — will be born to the aged Zechariah and Elizabeth, the priest’s faith wavers. Skepticism begins to surface.

“How can I be sure this will happen?” Zechariah asks the angel. “I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.” (Luke 1:18) Zechariah doesn’t buy it. He wants proof.

Suddenly, this holy man who minutes before had stood trembling in awe and fear before the angel of the Lord now doubts what the angel tells him. Zechariah is only willing to go so far in faith. He’s willing to believe in God, but he’s not willing to believe in the possibility of God’s miracle.

I get this.

When the doctors told my mother-in-law that there was nothing more they could do, that her cancer had spread too far, I didn’t pray for a miracle. I prayed for hope, strength and peace. I prayed that Janice would find solace and comfort in her last weeks. I prayed that Brad and his father and brother would find the strength they needed to endure the loss. I prayed that my children would somehow survive the aching absence of their beloved grandmother. But I didn’t pray for healing. I didn’t pray for a miracle.

Looking back, I think I was afraid to pray for the miracle because I didn’t want God to disappoint me. I figured if I didn’t ask, if I didn’t allow myself the expectation, the hope, I would avoid the crush of disappointment if it didn’t turn out as I so desperately wished. Ironically, I didn’t have faith that my faith could withstand God’s no, so I didn’t even bother to ask. I didn’t allow myself to pray the big, bold prayer because I was afraid my faith would collapse in the absence of a miracle. I kept my distance from God; I held him at arm’s length.

I didn’t allow God to be God.

I wish this story had a happy ending. I wish I could tell you I learned my lesson and that my faith is now rock-solid, unwavering, complete. But I can’t, because it’s not. In many ways I am still Zechariah, my voice hesitant and skeptical, my prayers strained with disbelief. Doubt still unfurls its tenacious tentacles, squeezing into the cracks, lodging itself firmly in my faith. More often than not, my prayer is still, “Lord, I do believe, but help my overcome my unbelief.” (Mark 9:23-25)

Questions for Reflection:
Have you ever held back in your prayers, unwilling to pray bold and big? What do you think was your reason for doing that? Do you think doubt and faith can co-exist?

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Welcome to the Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word each week. If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information.

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Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!

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Filed Under: Gospels, unbelief, Use It on Monday Tagged With: Gospel of Luke, Hear It on Sunday Use It on Monday, Zechariah

Authentic You: Who Are You Pretending to Be? {day 13}

October 15, 2013 By Michelle

I pretended to believe in God for a very long time. I wouldn’t admit, even to myself, that I didn’t believe in God because I was afraid. Afraid of dying and the thought of no afterlife. Afraid of disappointing my family. Afraid of not fitting in. Pretty much everyone I knew was Catholic, from my extended family and my best friend to my neighbors and my pals at school. I couldn’t imagine being anything but Catholic, never mind an outright unbeliever.

I went to church every Saturday evening, but instead of reciting the opening lines of Nicene Creed aloud with the rest of the parishioners — “We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth, of all that is seen and unseen” — I cleared my throat or coughed instead. I couldn’t say, “We believe” aloud because I knew in my heart it was a lie. I didn’t believe. I didn’t believe in God. I didn’t believe in Jesus Christ. But I continued to pretend like I did. I was good at pretending. I fooled everyone.

The problem with pretending is that it’s easier than facing what is usually a more frightening or challenging reality. Pretending  becomes comfortable, even routine, if you practice it long enough.  The false persona slides in, all stealthy and sly, and before you even really know it’s happening, that persona begins to feel real. After a while, the make-believe becomes reality. That’s how easy it is, how insidious. You start off pretending to be who you want to be, or who you think other people want you to be, and before long, you buy into yourself.

That’s how it worked for me. That’s how I tricked myself into believing I believed in God for more than twenty years. And let me tell you, when you’ve perfected the act of pretending for that long, it takes a lot of time and a lot of  difficult, soul-searching work to shed the layers that obscure the real you. We’re talking epic mid-life crisis, people — or, as Brene Brown likes to call it, a Breakdown Spiritual Awakening.

So let me ask you: who might you be pretending to be? The Super Mom? The Go-Getter-Has-It-All-Together Professional? The Life-is-in-Perfect-Balance Working Mom? The Proverbs 31 Wife? The Good Christian? The ____________?

Maybe you’re not pretending to be anyone – maybe you are truly and authentically 100 percent you. And if that’s the case, I am very, very glad. But if you feel a little tug in your gut, a bit of tightening in your throat when I ask that question, think about it.  Who might you be pretending to be? And who might you find if you began to strip away some of those false layers?

 

 

Filed Under: 31 Days to an Authentic You, unbelief Tagged With: 31 Days to an Authentic You, unbelief

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a Triple Type A, “make it happen” (my dad’s favorite mantra) striver and achiever (I’m a 3 on the Enneagram, which tells you everything you need to know), but these days my striving looks more like sitting in silence on a park bench, my dog at my feet, as I slowly learn to let go of the false selves that have formed my identity for decades and lean toward uncovering who God created me to be.

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