TPFKA...

I have been following the series begun by Bill Kinnon called "The People Formerly Known as..." since it's inception. I have felt deep inside as if I had something to add, but it never surfaced. I was disappointed in myself for not being able to articulate it. This evening, it came to me.


The People Formerly Known as Wounded...

Once upon a time, I was wounded in the church. At this point the causes, and responsibilities are no longer relevant except to say they are as much mine as anyone else's, and in that I do take ownership of them.

At the time this journey began, I could only see the hurt. I accepted the hurt as a burden, my cross to bear, and I allowed it to define me. It was heavy and dark, and in response I chose to sling mud, cry out, and run fast and far, for at the time I felt unable to otherwise cope. I realize now sometimes trauma can cause vision to blur. I could not see clearly for the loss, the pain and shame. I chose to walk away, to embark on a path which showed me no visible destination.

In the process, I have shared. I have wept and laughed and pounded my fists against the wall. I have commiserated with others like me. Sometimes I have wailed, for at times the loss seemed to great to bear, and yet I still could not bring myself about, to return. I realize some of what I have felt has been accurate only in my warped perspective, in my own mind. However, some say beauty is in the eye of the beholder; I will testify that ugly is, as well. I now know what I might have seen as painful is easily another persons refuge. As time has passed, I have seen the beauty where I once could not, I have conceded loveliness where I once only was bitter.

Along the way, I realized could no longer see myself as the same, so I chose to see myself as different; simply unable to fit in. While this may be true in some ways, I chose to allow the differences to create a chasm, a gulf, one which I felt I could never bridge. And I have suffered loss for that bridgeless gorge I allowed to form. I have made promises I have not kept, I have failed those who I once loved. I have caused hurt, possibly as much as I experienced it.

I am sorry for the ways in which I have fallen short, but I am not sorry for the journey. For I have found my God in the process, a gift for which there is no imaginable value. I have drawn near to Jesus in my despair and He has held me up, providing me a security in His love that I have never before known. Over time, I have healed. How that has happened I am not certain, expect by the grace of God. I can see and appreciate with kind eyes that which I left behind, even if it is not where I am to be. I no longer hold ill will towards those who could not accompany my journey.

Most of all, I have found my people, those who understand, who teach, help and correct and yet still allow me to be me and accept where I am coming from. I have found a community of sorts, where those of us who have been wounded congregate. You might say it is only a pseudo-community, I will tell you that this community saved my faith, and is it not the fruit which we judge? Here exists a family, and I am speechless to define the love and encouragement I have found among them.

I have found my art, my soul and my peace on this path, where I hopefully have left a trail for others to follow.

And I am no longer wounded.