Showing posts with label God's Creations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God's Creations. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

He Likes to Make Me Angry Because He Finds it Attractive


Drained Wrote: i love my boyfriend so much but we argue everyday over little unimportant things. i also feel verbally and emotionally abused by him. he says he likes to make me angry because he finds it attractive when im stirred up. it's taking a toll on me and draining me out. i love him a lot and i don't want to leave him.what do i do?

Response: Every relationship has disagreements but it’s not healthy to have them everyday, especially if it’s for someone’s amusement. If you feel verbally and emotionally abused, you have to break away.

Abuse by definition is
1. to use wrongly or improperly; misuse: to abuse one's authority.
2. to treat in a harmful, injurious, or offensive way: to abuse a horse; to abuse one's eyesight.
3. to speak insultingly, harshly, and unjustly to or about; revile; malign.

Is this something you think God wants for you? No!! God wants to bless your life! A blessing is God’s love, thoughts, and desires for you to become all that you are meant to be. You are a blessing.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good." (Psalm 34:8)

Isaiah 30:18
"Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you;
he rises to show you compassion."

Psalm 16:8-11
"I have set the LORD always before me.
Because he is at my right hand,
I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the grave,
nor will you let your Holy One see decay.
You have made known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand."

God does not intend for relationships to endure hardships like abuse. What He intends for you is a life of love, unconditional love… first with Him, our Lord and Savior, then with others. In finding and strengthening your love with Christ, you will also strengthen your self-love. And, with that, you will realize that what you’re dealing with from your boyfriend is NOT love.

Pray for God’s strength to help you with this. God will give you the tools you need to see yourself out of this dysfunctional relationship.

Psalm 18:35
"You give me your shield of victory,
and your right hand sustains me;
you stoop down to make me great."

“Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise your name." (Psalm 142:7)

Remember that God cares about your life and wants the best for you… don’t let vicious words break you away from that.


With Love,

Saved By Faith

PS - The women of WeUsed2bu love and care about your eternal soul. Therefore, we must tell you that there will be a day when each of us will have to stand before God and be judged for all we have done on this Earth. To find out how you can have right standing with God CLICK HERE


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Monday, November 24, 2008

Let the Good Times Roll


Written by: Blessed and Highly Favored

“And she will have no more fear of change, being full of salvation, wisdom, and knowledge: the fear of the Lord is her wealth.” Isaiah 33:6

“So then, let your hearts be changed and be turned to G-d, so that your sins may be completely taken away, and times of blessings may come from the Lord”; Acts 3:19

I was a single girl, an early twenty-something living in New York City. I had moved to New York with $2000 in my pocket to prove to myself that I could really do anything I set my mind to. Not knowing anyone except some friends-of-some-friends I could contact in case I got in trouble, I had absolutely nothing lined up: no apartment, no job, nothing but raw, tenacious ambition and confidence in my ability to adapt, overcome and always end up a winner.

Within two weeks, I had an apartment and a job. The apartment was a sublet on the Upper West Side from a dancer who got a six-month gig in Las Vegas. The job came from an agency that sent me out on five interviews the first day. All five wanted me, so I picked the one that paid the most money. The job was a proofreader/storyboard editor at a small ad firm. I actually was paid to watch TV ads, listen to radio ads and become part of the creative process in advertising…in the Mecca of the ad world! Oh my, this was a wonderful life!

Life was exciting and fabulous. I was a working girl enjoying every bite of what the Big Apple had to offer. I went out most every night for dinner and dancing; and I always made an effort to see a Broadway show on the weekend or catch something at Lincoln Center.

Moreover, the smart, hot, eligible men were everywhere! At every turn, somebody wanted to “show me New York!” And I let them with wild abandon. It was so very intoxicating to be noticed, to be chased, to be caught, to enjoy a rendezvous, to move on with no commitments. I was never without male “companionship” and dated a lot. However, I never, ever brought anyone to my apartment, and I never gave them my home phone number. I always used the office number for contacts. I never wanted anyone to just to “drop by” and think they could have access to my personal life. I told men what they wanted to hear, and so long as I could have them physically, I really did not care much about them.

At the end of the six-month sublet, the dancer had another dancer friend in the West Village who needed someone to sublet his apartment for six months. I jumped on it! I lived on Christopher Street with an awesome view of the Twin Towers. The Village was like another whole world! Wow! I was loving life!

The only time I ever thought about going to church is when I passed St. Patrick’s in cab on the way to somewhere else. That was the extent of it. The baptism I had when I was 19 with Calvary Chapel in Riverside, CA was a distant memory, and although I discussed Christianity all the time, it was merely a topic to engage conversation. Sometimes I would feel the need to go to confession and spill my guts to someone, but I never made it knowing G-d was fully aware of what I was doing, and I could talk to Him at anytime…if I wanted to.

Then a strange thing happened.

I was sitting at my desk, having just come back from lunch, and I felt sick to my stomach. I did not have anything unusual for lunch; a sandwich, chips and a beer. I remember I had started to feel bloated and a little yucky over the weekend. I was a size 4, and watched my weight pretty well. Something didn’t feel right. Then, I almost did not make it to the restroom to get rid of my lunch. I felt awful, looked awful, took the rest of the day off, and went home to sleep. Stupid food poisoning.

However, the vomiting continued. I ended up in the emergency room looking for something to end this hurling. They poked, they prodded, and they drew blood. All the while, I never knew so much could come out of a little tummy. The doctor walked in with the labs and gave me the news, I did not have food poisoning as I suspected. I was pregnant. I remember it got very quiet, and the room narrowed. It was as though everything went into slow motion. I asked her to repeat herself. She told me again I was pregnant. Most likely about a month along because I told them when my last period was. How could that be? I was taking birth control and I never missed a pill!?! Well, she says these things happen and no pill is 100% effective. She told me that the nurse would give me information about options and that I was free to go after signing out. I just sat there stunned. Pregnant?

My dilemma was not only being pregnant, but also being single and having had multiple partners, I had no idea who was the father. This was a life changing moment; an event so profound, all I could do is sit on a bench and cry. And this being NYC, people just let you cry. They don’t let it faze them or even take a moment to ask why, they just keep on walking. I composed myself long enough to call the office and let them know I would be out for the rest of the week with food poisoning. I had to make time to think about what was going on, to make clear-headed decisions about my future.

I had no one to talk to. I had no girlfriends to confide in. I was too busy collecting boy toys. Other women to me were just stupid emotional children who were intellectually challenged who never had an original thought, or were aware of anything outside of their little “perfect” worlds. I couldn’t call my mother or my sister. They had NO IDEA what I had become and occasional phone calls kept it that way. I sat in my apartment, crying, weighing my options; be a mother; not be a mother; go back to school to finish my degree; not be a mother. I tried not to think about it for even a moment, and the reality came back smashing into my face.

In a moment of cold, unemotional thought, I made my decision and acted quickly. I thought about G-d, and what was right and what was wrong. But I never asked Him or prayed to Him for an answer. I just did what I thought was best for me.

I showed up at my appointment, cash in hand for my abortion. I filled out the paperwork, and just got down to business. In and out in a couple of hours and it would all be over. “It” would be dead, and so would a piece in me be dead. All the time I was in that building, I wanted to run and get out. I could smell the death, imagining the innocent bodies being extracted for convenience sake. But that wasn’t enough to change my mind as tears flowed down my cheeks. What kind of monster had I become to play a part in the assassination of my own child?

I finally thought, “G-d, please forgive me for what I am about to do. I know it’s wrong, and so against everything You are. I deserve hell and deserve all of the fire to consume me eternally. I deserve Your judgment. I am such a coward. What is the matter with me?” These thoughts raced through my head as I was being prepped. I lay on that table, did what I was told and felt the anesthesia course through my body, numbing my lips, of all things. A speculum was inserted, a masked and gowned doctor appeared, a machine was turned on, I felt an insertion, there was pressure inside me, and I could feel the probe removing tissue from my uterus. I could hear the machine sucking liquid and then it stopped. The doctor double tapped the inside of my thigh and said “good girl, all done!” And he left the room. I was moved to recovery.

It seemed like forever, but as soon I was able, I got dressed, listened to their instructions, and walked out into the sunlight, wondering if everyone knew I had just had an abortion. I knew my guilt was like a cloak of shame that everyone should see. I needed to disappear, and just be numb.

I scored a bag of marijuana, got a bottle of Jack Daniels and made a beeline to the nearest movie theatre. In those days, you could smoke in the theatre. I went to the mezzanine, lit up a cigarette, rolled a joint, and spent the entire day in a vegetative state. I don’t even remember the movie, but I know I spent at least 8 hours high and drunk. I don’t know how I made it home, but the next couple of days, all I did was smoke and drink my pain into some sort of submission. I was consumed with guilt and shame, but I put on a mask and pretended it happened to someone else. I continued in my lifestyle having many partners because at Studio 54, you could meet anyone and have anyone just for the asking.

Years go by, and I’m having a spiritual awakening. I’ve never told anyone what I had done, and I meet this girl who is witnessing to me about Jesus. She asks me directly, “What have you done that doesn’t deserve the redemption of Jesus Christ?” The abortion was the first thing in my mind, and I finally confessed it to someone. She said, “I’m not the one you should be talking to. Tell the Lord.” And I fell to my knees, them to my face on the carpet, and sobbed and cried and asked for forgiveness, not only for my “little” sins (OK, THERE ARE NO LITTLE SINS - SIN IS SIN - AND ANY OF IT SEPERATES US FROM A JUST G-D) but for taking a part in the murder of my child. I confessed my selfishness, my pride, my hard heart, etc. I think I was at her house for a good four hours just spilling my guts before G-d. And she was there giving comfort and unconditional love helping me through the process. That week I came back to the Lord and became Born Again.

So if you find yourself pregnant, contact the nearest Pregnancy Life Center. They can help you have your baby, and set things up for adoption. The greatest act of love you could ever do is to give your son/daughter the opportunity to grow up in a Christian two-parent household who will love that child as their own. Sacrifice your own desires and dedicate that child unto the Lord and let it go.

G-d is all about life, and giving it to us more abundantly. I made a crucial mistake in my life and I regret it to this day. But I know I will see my children who have gone on before me when I die. They will know me, and I will know them. Jesus forgave me of all of my sins and iniquities, including those that affected other people for my selfish gain. I am set free by the power of the Blood and I know I can stand blameless and Holy before a Holy G-d because of what He has done for me, in spite of my past, in spite of my sins, in spite of the death I brought on my own flesh. I am free of guilt and shame. Look what the Lord has done!

Monday, November 17, 2008

Accepting God's Limitless Love


Written by Guest Author: Tiffany Stuart

Cross Posting from Ungrind

Dating John was an adventure. He sang Elvis' Love Me Tender to me in restaurants. He pulled me to the nightclub dance floor when no one else was dancing. Once we met at a steak house and pretended we were on a blind date. We role-played the entire meal and the waiter believed us. Not knowing what came next with John captivated me.

Until—the day my period was late.

I drove to the pregnancy center—alone. After peeing in a plastic cup, I waited in a chilly exam room. When the nurse returned, she said, "The test is positive." She paused. "Do you know what you want to do?"

"I'm keeping the baby." She checked the box "continue pregnancy," recommended an OB-GYN, and suggested prenatal vitamins.

I'm going to be a mom. Me—a mother. I'm not ready.

I left in shock. Missing a couple birth control pills had consequences. I imagined a wedding, buying a house, and what our sweet baby would look like.

John and I will live happily ever after—after I tell him our news.

"I love you, Tiffany. Now is not the right time. I'm sorry," John said as he hugged me. "I'll pay for the abortion. Some day we'll do things right. Get married and have babies. I'm not ready."

"Do you think I'm ready? I didn't plan this. But I'm not having an abortion. I'm keeping our baby. I'll raise him alone. I don't care."

I left John's apartment crying. John will change his mind with time. What if he doesn't? What will happen to us?

Over the next week, John and I talked on the phone. We ate dinner together once and acted like nothing happened. We didn't discuss our baby. We kissed and said our goodnights.

When I got home, I couldn't take the silence anymore, so I called him.

"What are you thinking about my pregnancy?"

"Same thing, I'm not ready."

Heartbroken, my mind buzzed: If I keep the baby, John will leave me. I don't want to be a single mom. Who will love me with someone else's child? Will our baby grow up fatherless? I don't want to be alone. I love John too much to lose him.

Against everything I believed—I made an appointment.

Numb, I arrived for my scheduled abortion, filled out paperwork, met with a consultant, and took another pregnancy test. John waited in the lobby.

As I lay on my back with my knees up, I tried to block out the suction sounds of the machine. This "outpatient procedure" was more than I could emotionally handle. I closed my eyes. It didn't help. I'll be OK. I’m doing this to protect the baby from the heartache of a broken family. The fetus isn't alive. It's not an "official" baby yet.

I knew better.

Afterwards, John greeted me with a smile and affection. Every ounce of love I had vanished. I was furious. How could the man I love choose death? I made the biggest mistake of my life. If this is what love is—I don't want it.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Just a little crampy."

What kind of person chooses to kill an unborn innocent child?

My kind.

Me.

I was the worst of murderers. John, my accomplice. I hated myself. I hated John.

That day, I promised myself: Never again will anyone tell me what to do with my life, my body. I will choose my own path.

I distanced myself from John. Within a couple months, he showed up at my work and asked, "Will you marry me?" No engagement ring in hand—just a dozen red roses.

"Sorry. I can't." It was too late. Too much pain. Too much past.

Moving beyond my abortion wasn't easy like I hoped. But I pretended it was. The following year, I married Derek. Within six years, we had two children. A boy and a girl. Perfect. I worked in property management, enjoyed promotions, and an out-of-state transfer to Colorado. A fresh start. New friends with no memories of my past.

After two years, I left my career to become a stay-at-home mom. I attended church and women's Bible studies. My kids participated in school, playgroups, and sports. I kept busy planting flowers and decorating our first home. I tried my best to forget what is behind (Philippians 3:13). But predators named "Shame" and "Guilt" lurked in the corners of my mind.

One night my facade ripped to shreds. In my small group, my two friends and I shared our answers from our Bible study lesson. The question was to share about a time when God spoke personally to us. My friends told a couple stories each. Devastated, I said nothing. God didn't speak to me. I knew why. When asked to explain, my abortion experience spilled out. I sobbed. My friends comforted me with a prayer and hugs.

Now my Christian friends know who I really am: a baby killer.

Even after twelve years, I still couldn't forgive myself. I felt like I committed the unforgivable sin. I was sure God was appalled with me too.

I withdrew from people. I stopped attending my small group. I made excuses to miss my four-year-old daughter's weekly playgroup. I no longer strolled down my dirt road to talk to my girlfriends.

I hid, cried, journaled, read my Bible, and prayed. God, why haven't I ever heard your voice like my friends have? Am I being punished?

After a couple weeks of seclusion from friends, God spoke to me personally from his Word.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9

As much as I wanted to sentence myself to a life of imprisonment, I wanted freedom more. I hated being stalked by Shame and Guilt. If the Creator of the universe forgives me when I confess, then I can forgive myself too.

Lord, please forgive me for killing my unborn child. I'm so sorry. Take Guilt and Shame away from me. Grant me peace.

As weeks went by, I continued to seek truth and healing. I read Romans 8 and when I read verse 39 one word stuck out to me.

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (emphasis mine).

Not even the death of an unborn child separates me from God's love.

My view of God changed that day. I fell in love with Him again. I realized God isn't out to punish me; He's out to love me.

Period.

My healing is an ongoing process. Some days I feel such freedom. Other days, I fight my predators, fending them off with the truth of God's Word. Whether high or low, I'm discovering the greatest adventure I've ever known. The adventure of God's limitless love.

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Tiffany Stuart is a freelance writer, speaker, and stay-at-home mom of a ten-year-old daughter and a fourteen-year-old son. Her passion to see women free from their past failures and walking in the truth of God's love. She and her family live in Colorado. She enjoys blogging at her blog, Tea With Tiffany and her group writing blog, The Writing Road.