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Breathless

I only worked about 25 payable hours this week, but I put in a whole lot more work time than that.

Two different freelance gigs have come my way — writing gigs. Can you believe it?? People actually want me to collaborate with them on some writing projects! Will wonders never cease. — These gigs, however, have propelled me into a world with a HUGE learning curve needed. I’ve spent probably another 20 hours or so just researching, reading and brainstorming for these.

A third freelance gig is in the off-ing as well. A job working the board for a weekly radio show here in town. I wouldn’t work every week, probably. It’ll be more a rotation thing. But still. A chance to learn a new board, to learn Pro-Tools (an invaluable skill for an engineer), and the experience (and resume credit) I gain… cool!

Over three years ago I felt convicted that I wasn’t using all the talents God’s given me. Nor was I really tapping into the passions I have. Two of those areas I felt strongest about were writing and sound.

A little over a year ago, when I resigned from the IMB, I felt God releasing me to follow the dreams and passions I have in these two areas.

Eight months ago, when I made the decision to move to Nashville, it was with the intention of pursing these two passions. I had no idea how to go about it, I just knew I needed to pursue them. It was long since time. I’d hidden away out of fear of failure for too long.

So here I am, three freelance gig-possibilities in the two areas of my passions I’d moved here to pursue, "dropped" in my lap by people I met at my current part-time temp job — the one I thought would probably get me nothing more than a paycheck.

I am overwhelmed. I’m in awe. I’m excited. I am scared spitless! What if I can’t cut it? What if they don’t like my style? What if all three of these fall through? What if even after working my butt off at all three, I still don’t have enough money to pay the bills? What if…?

One "what if" I’d carried with me since I got here became a real-life situation yesterday. My car needed $1,600 worth of work — and that doesn’t include the transmission, which occasionally acts funny. I came face-to-face with my deep-seated unbelief of God’s reliability and trustworthy provision. My wrestling with Him left me with a new-found deeper trust than I’ve ever known before. Now that trust is being tested.

It’s a struggle. Part of me wants to run screaming into the street as I watch my savings — mom and dad’s inheritance gift to me — dwindle into near-nothingness. Or take the first job offered to me that’s solid, decent paying and permanent, so I can have the security that comes with it.

Another part of me is comforted with the knowledge that this is what dad and mom would have wanted me to do, that they would be proud of me for pursuing these passions, living my life the way I am and would have gladly given me everything they had to help me now. They were both very encouraging of my talents and passions in both writing and sound.

Another part of me  — and this part grows bigger every hour — wants to trust God, to believe Him — believe He will provide, even when that savings runs completely dry.

This is a new place in my journey with Him. I’ve never been this "both-and" before. Both scared and in awe of the whole situation. Both untrusting and desiring to believe. Both nervous and at peace. Not the all-well, life-is-a-serene-lake type peace. But a the-storm-is-raging we’re-in-the-rapids but-I-think-we’ll-make-it kind of peace. Have you ever felt that kind? You can’t really describe it, ’cause it makes no sense. It’s not the kind that makes light of the situation, or counts it as "no problem" for God. It’s the kind that understands the gravity of it yet is convinced there’s a Greater Source in charge. Not just watching over, but in charge.

Lest you think this is just all about money — I have also been overwhelmed with the knowledge that all three of these tasks are far beyond my skill level. Should they all come about I will be stretched far beyond what I can do in my own natural self.

Speaking of far beyond what I can do — Mosaic Nashville is another stretching exercise. The "core group" of us finished "Life In Christ" Thursday — we are fast becoming the "lead team", at least for now. Until new leaders rise up. We spent many hours this week brainstorming, struggling, debating, discussing and ultimately come to some decisions about our direction and action to take in the  immediate future.

I’m doing this. I’m really doing this. I’m helping begin a new community. Do you fully comprehend the sheer scope, the bigness, of this endeavour? It’s enough to leave you breathless.

And I am. I’m breathless. Breathless with wonder, and awe. With fear, and peace. With excitement, and apprehension. With clarity, and fogginess. With God, and me.

But God faced him directly: "Go in this strength that is yours. Save Israel from Midian. Haven’t I just sent you?"

Gideon said to him, "Me, my master? How and with what could I ever save Israel? Look at me. My clan’s the weakest in Manasseh and I’m the runt of the litter."

God said to him, "I’ll be with you. Believe me,, you’ll defeat Midian as one man."  — Judges 6:14-16

"You are my witnesses," declares the Lord, "and my servant whom I have chosen, so that you may know and believe me and understand that I am he. Before me no god was formed, nor will there be one after me. I, even I, am the Lord, and apart from me there is no savior." — Isaiah 43:10-11

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Barbarian

I’m a Barbarian Christian. There’s no other way to put it. I gave up on civilized religion many years ago. It didn’t satisfy me. It left me feeling frustrated, unfulfilled, empty. The life I now live is uncivilized, uncultured and raw. I follow Jesus where ever He goes. Not because He tells me to, not because I’ll be "blessed" if I do, not because I must. But only because I want to.

I followed when He parked me in Hollywood. I followed Him to India. I followed Him to the Mediterranean. And I followed Him to Nashville. Yeah, God loves even Nashville. Kid Rock and all.

I don’t run around saying "Praise Jesus!" or "Glory!" But that’s just me. I’m more the "cool!" "Awesome!" "Jesus, You Rock!" kind of freak.

I’m not into Christian-eese. I hate it when people use those big churchy words, like propitiation. I mean, really. Who talks like that? My dad used to. But he was 80 when he died nearly two years ago. You expect 80 year-olds to talk like that. But not someone half his age. And certain not someone a quarter his age!

In a nutshell, I don’t fit in in a "regular" church. Singing songs, listening to a sermon and going home to Sunday dinner just isn’t me. I need to get my hands dirty, be down in the mud and muck with the rest of the world. That’s where real life happens. In the trenches, with people. And dang, people are just messy.

Life got really messy for me. It’s been ugly and painful for about three years now. And I’ve spent some pretty hefty time in deep contemplation of whether this whole Barbarian thing is worth it. It’s a rough, rugged, bare-fisted kinda life. And I ain’t no camper-girl. I’m more you standard hotel/urban-lovin’ city-girl.

I came to Nashville to plant a church like the one I have in Los Angeles. But now I’m struggling with whether to commit fully to this venture. Barbarian or not, there’s only so much pain I can endure. Planting a church is about as easy and painless as birthing a baby. Yeah.

Did I mention I hate pain?

Yes, I am a Barbarian — an urban-lover-pain-hater Barbarian. It’s not about the warrior part — Don’t think Conan. Yikes, I’ll never be that! Think — Amelia Earhart. Or Katharine Hepburn. Or Mary Tyler Moore. The ground-breaker. The Pioneer. Fierce, and unwilling to yield to her own fears or the nay-sayers around her. Its not about slashing and dashing, it’s about… the courage to give your life to something bigger than anything you ever imagined. Its about the humility to be transparent, to be real and authentic, even at the cost of your own heart. Its about caring so much about the people in your life that you give your life’s blood for their well-being. Its about living out the Bible, not just memorizing it or talking about it. And most of all, its about having a deep, intimate, passionate, crazy-making, relationship — with the Creator of the Universe.

My teammates saw in me something I couldn’t see myself. Last night they reminded me that I AM a Barbarian. They celebrated my un-civilzation and in doing so, they momentarily cleared the fog of confusion brought by my pain and brokenness. It takes time to heal. The deeper the wounds, the more time it takes. My wounds are pretty deep. But I’m still here. Someday I will be better. Last night, for a brief moment I saw myself clearly in the reflection of my teammates’ hearts — and I remembered Who I Am.

My name is Lu, and I am a Barbarian.

The Barbarian Way

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Creativity

The other night I experienced creativity in a whole new way.

I’d watched my mom cook all through my growing up. It looked like chaos to me — a dash of this, two of that… one more for good measure, a sprinkle of something else. On it went, till she thought it tasted just right.

I thought she was either a madwoman or a genius. No cookbook, or recipe cards or aids of any kind, and rarely any measuring tools. But it always tasted perfect. Even when she didn’t like it, I thought it was heavenly (except spinach. I don’t think there’s any way to cook spinach and make it edible, nonetheless palatable).

The other night, for the first time in my life, I cooked like my mom did. I experimented and just kept tasting until it was close to mom’s. I figured I had nothing to lose. Adria was still at work, so if all went well, I could surprise her with dinner. If it all went south… Well heck, I could just throw it away, make a PB&J and pretend the whole thing didn’t happen.

I had a blast! Anyone entering my kitchen would have declared it a national disaster area and insisted the whole place be cordoned off till the experts arrived to assess the damage and begin clean up. Pots and spices were everywhere, small spills of liquid and a smear of olive oil riddled the counter, what a mess. If I’d been in a movie I’d have been covered head to toe with flour, my hair all a mess, BUT a beautiful banquet spread across the dining table.

But I’m not in a movie (even though I do have a soundtrack and a theme song — more on that later…). So I had to settle for broiled chicken, corn and muffins. Not much, but it tasted great. Almost like mom’s. And I did it all in my own unique brand of creativity.

I wonder if this is what God did, In The Beginning.

…God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning… — Genesis 1

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Quiet

Forgive me if this rambles or has lots of errors. I took some allergy medication shortly before I began writing and now I’m quite loopy….

Been a rather quiet weekend. Except for the fact that my phone nearly rang off the hook for a while. I am truly blessed with friends who love me and get concerned when I start talking about yelling at God and all. I’m so grateful for them!

I’ve been exhausted much of the time. Perhaps from wrestling with God. Perhaps just from depression. But I’m tired of whining to God. That’s part of what prompted my need to wrestle with Him. I’m tired of whining. Tired of crying out to HIm. I hurt, I want answers, I want Him to keep His promises — and yes, I want Him to keep His promises in MY time, not His. Well, while I know my passion moves God, I also know it won’t move Him to live by my timeline.

My relationship with Him is stronger, though, for the wrestling. He met me there, He fought with me there, and I now know beyond doubt He won’t leave me, He hasn’t forgotten me, and He will take care of me.

I still walk on a fragile ledge, though. The stresses of daily life can overwhelm me at a moment’s notice. Tonight I nearly crumbled under the weight of them, as I thought of all the things I don’t have settled, and how much I long for them to be so. 

Wendy wrote about Purpose the other day, talking about how single women sometimes get rather hung up on the issue, and wondering if David, Peter, Paul and others ever stewed over this issue or struggled with knowing what their purpose was. It prompted me to think of writing a children’s story about a pot wondering what it’s purpose was, since it seemed to rarely get used. Yet in the end it is the most special of pots, because it’s used only for special occasions, like making candy or perhaps to cook a turkey. My mom used to use the same huge pot to mix up and heat homemade ice cream as she used for baking a turkey. But she never used that pot for anything else.

What if we are like that pot? What if I am like that pot? And God only pulls me out for use once in a great while, but that use is incredibly important and special….

I realize we aren’t pots. Most people don’t have relationship with their pots the way God has relationships with us (unless you’re like my roommate, Adria, who’s nearly obsessed with cooking). I don’t believe we are just vessels for God to use for His purpose. If we were, then free will and all that is in vane.

No, we’re here for more than just to be used by God. I think we Christians try way too hard to simplify life down to its bare-bones. It’s either this, or its this. But life is much more complicated than that. It’s usually in the both/and that we live and  find the truth of life. It’s both hard and rewarding. Its both pleasure and pain. And it’s both purpose and just ’cause God wanted to have a relationship with us.

I love the show Joan of Arcadia. It portrays God the way I always experience Him. Not that God talks to me by taking control of other people, but the way He talks to me, what He says, and the way He acts, is so much like the way He talks to Joan — even down to the little wave as He walks away. 🙂

Friday night’s episode was on love. And romance. At the end, God sums up the lesson for Joan by saying that Romance is an illusion, given to us because we wouldn’t risk otherwise. Then he concludes by saying:

"Illusion dies so something bigger can take its place. Love is hard work. You have to decide if you want it in your story, or if you want to stay in the dream."

More than six years ago I decided I no longer wanted to stay in the dream. I wanted to experience real life the way God intended for me to live it. I had spent years insulating myself and isolating my heart. But in one moment, I threw open the doors and let God in to every part, even the parts that were tender and raw from previous hurts and deep wounds. I look at where I am now, everything I have experienced, and I know it is because of that one moment back in October 1998 when I told God, "I want to LIVE."

Had I known then what I know now… I still would have embarked on this journey. I would have paused for a long moment, but I still would have opened my heart up to God and allowed Him to breathe fresh life into me. It has all been worth it to travel this road with God. For what has been birthed in my heart and lived out in this life I now have is NOT adventure, as I thought it would be six years ago. What has been planted deep in my heart and continues to grow even today is Love. A deep and abiding love — from Christ, for Christ and by extension for all those around me.

Love IS hard. Its hard work and full of pain. Those we love hurt us, disappoint us, and eventually leave us, their bodies decaying in the ground as their spirits live on in eternity. There is no way around this pain. No way. We must either endure it, or not love.

I want love in my story. Even with all the pain I have experienced, and the losses I endure, I would not give back a second of my time loving my parents, loving those who have rejected me and loving those whom I no longer see with my eyes.

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Tussling With God

I spent the night last night like Jacob once did, crying out to God, refusing to give up, arguing my case, spending myself in the struggle. I was not alone. God came. He fought with me. Not against me, but with me.

This isn’t the first time we’ve tussled. We’ve wrestled many times in the nearly 34 years I’ve been walking with Him. But this time was different than all the others. This time I had no intention of leaving Him if He gave me the "wrong" answer. This time I wasn’t threatening Him, or living in fear of Him removing His hand from my life. This time it was a true struggle, an argument involving both of us. I didn’t just tell Him off, I listened to His responses. I heard Him. And I know He heard me. This time it wasn’t about me getting my way. It was about me being able to be honest with Him about how I’m feeling and know that He isn’t going to shut me off, cut me off, or tear me down.

I’m so tired of living this life where I feel it’s not okay to be honest about my brokenness and my feelings, especially my anger — and especially when it’s directed at God. Those who love each other are willing to fight with each other, because they know the strength of their relationship, they know it can stand in the face of strong emotions and another’s resolve. And they are willing to test it, to test each other. Like God tested Jacob’s resolve as they wrested, and discovered Jacob would not be moved, he wouldn’t be discouraged from His pleas, or from his insistence that God deliver on His promises (Gen 32:12).

God proved Himself a faithful Lover. He stayed and tussled with me. He didn’t withdraw in a huff that I would dare address Him so. He didn’t smite me down for being insolent. Instead, He fully engaged in our wrestling match. And He discovered my resolve. He’s made promises. I want Him to make good on those promises. He’s made statements. I want Him to back them up with action.

God’s resolve can be strong. But He can be moved. Perhaps theologians would argue against that. I don’t really care. I know He can be moved. I know He because He was moved by my passion.

I never had any intention when I called Him out of leaving Him, no matter the outcome. And I told Him so. I love Him. Deeply. Passionately. Eternally. With all my heart. I have no intention of not serving Him or rebelling against Him. That is not the point of our tussle. The point of our tussle is honesty. If I cannot be brutally honest with the God who made me, with the Lover to whom my heart belongs, there is no hope of me ever living in integrity in any relationship I have.

For now, our tussle is over. He requested that I let Him go, for it was morning. He honored my request for a blessing… and perhaps I am already limping from a wound from a previous tussle… who knows.

All I know is that God loves me. And I love Him. He heard me out, He had the integrity and compassion to fight with me, and it was all worth it. The sun rose on our battleground and I left knowing I had seen the face of God, and lived to tell the tale. Not because I was better, not because He gave me a break, but because He loves me, He respects me, and He believes in me.

I also know one other thing. He knows my Names. All of them. And now I know one of them. Warrior Princess. For I am a child of the King, and while I’m no match for the Zenas of the world, in my heart and spirit I have the courage, compassion, passion and grace of a true warrior.

I’m going to bed now. I’m exhausted.

And then Jacob prayed, "God of my father Abraham, God of my father Isaac, GOD who told me, "Go back to your parents’ homeland and I’ll treat you well.’ I don’t deserve all the love and loyalty you’ve shown me. When I left here and crossed the Jordan I only had the clothes on my back, and now look at me–two camps! Save me, please, from the violence of my brother, my angry brother! I’m afraid he’ll come and attack us all, me, the mothers and the children. You yourself said, "I will treat you well; I’ll make your descendants like the sands of the sea, far too many to count.’"

….But Jacob stayed behind by himself, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he couldn’t get the best of Jacob as they wrestled, he deliberately threw Jacob’s hip out of joint.

The man said, "Let me go; it’s daybreak."

Jacob said, "I’m not letting you go ’til you bless me."

The man said, "What’s your name?"

He answered, "Jacob."

The man said, "But no longer. Your name is no longer Jacob. From now on it’s Israel (God-Wrestler); you’ve wrestled with God and you’ve come through."

Jacob asked, "And what’s your name?"

The man said, "Why do you want to know my name?" And then, right then and there, he blessed him.

Jacob named the place Peniel (God’s Face) because, he said, "I saw God face-to-face and lived to tell the story!"

The sun came up as he left Peniel, limping because of his hip. — Gen 32:9-31

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Raw Emotion

Larry posted a comment to my last post:

I understand about the Snark-O-Meter going off the scale… I understand about the Rebel taking the point. I even understand about being just plain overdone.

But could you please TELL ME what in the world is going on? WHY is the meter pegged? I’m trying to piece the story together and there just aren’t enough dots to make a coherent pattern.

I’m sure there are others who want to know. And I have no intent to try to stop the rebel. Rebellion is good for the soul as long as it leads to God, and you do have to rebel against much of modern life to get close to him.

Here’s the deal. Everybody’s got rules. Even the Church. Even God. I’m just sick of playing by the rules when it seems that God doesn’t.

Does He get to make up the rules? I guess so. This whole universe is His deal, so I guess the Creator should get to make the rules. But I’m sick of playing by the rules but Him not playing by any.You can say "that’s His right" till you’re blue, but I don’t care anymore. I’m sick of it. I’m angry. And I’m not gonna bury this anger because "He’s God", or stuff it down and pretend I no longer feel it because it’s "not my place" to fight with God, or argue with His "wisdom" or His inaction.

Yes, I said INaction. I’ve been begging God for two years now to give me guidance, direction just some sort of freakin’ clue as to why I’m on this planet. And so far I’ve got jack.

So I followed a couple of my hearts desires — because the more I prayed, the stronger they got. I thought, "perhaps that’s the way God is answering my prayers." Others concurred that might be the case. Now I’m living back in the States, as I desired, living in Nashville, as I desired, and pursuing some sort of freelance-type work in the literary world — writer would be ideal, but in the immediate need I’ll take proofreading or typing or whatever I can find — or perhaps the music world.

Oh, and did I happen to mention that I have no permanent work to take care of my permanent needs. That the work I DO have doesn’t cover but about half my monthly expenses. That the professional I spoke of earlier works in the literary world and his email pretty much crushed my fragile dream-made-from-heart-desires of immediate work in the literary world — and did a powerful number on my ego as well. And all this crap could be avoided if God would just freakin’ ANSWER my pleas for PURPOSE.

So let’s recap, shall we? God sends me half-way across the world to a team so dysfunctional it can’t even stand, then takes my parents to heaven and promptly quits talking to me. Except to say, "I love you." and "I’m here." Well, woo-hoo! Great, tell me how Your love and presence is gonna pay my bills, or satisfy my burning ache for purpose and direction?!

Yeah, I’m mad. I’m so storming mad I can’t hardly see my fist in front of my face. I’ve been begging God for years, Larry, YEARS, for purpose. I just wanna know what the heck He created me for. That’s all. Nothing earth-shattering like why the dinosaurs died, or what black holes really are, or why zebras have stripes and leopards spots. I just want to know why HE created ME.

I’m done. I’m done asking. I’m done playing by His rules. I’m now up in His face demanding. And I don’t care anymore if He "smites" me for my insolence. I’d rather He take my life than live like this anymore.

That’s the short answer. The longer version would take another two-hour conversation, at the least.

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Rebel Emerging

There are just times when I get sick of trying to live "right", when life’s crap has just piled up a bit too high and that little "ping" goes off somewhere in my soul and my rebellious nature kicks into overdrive.

I’m feeling it big-time today . Oh, yes. The rebel has come out, and she’s ready to fight anyone who dares get in her face. The rejection of my abilities from a professional — and, in essence, the failure/death of a large dream of mine —  pieces from a long discussion I was involved in last night, and a dream I had early this morning that reflected my sad, frustrated, rejected feelings from yesterday. Add all that to the complete frustration of daily life and you get one over-cooked Lu.

Stick a fork in me. I’m done.

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American Idol Reject

I feel like an American Idol reject.

You know, those people who can’t sing a note in tune to save their lives, and you wonder why in the world they subjected themselves to such humiliation — and others to such auditory agony.

Then, after Simon’s ripped them apart — and even sweet Paula’s shaking her head in utter disbelief that anyone could sound so wretched — they come out of the audition room in complete disbelief and devastation, all the while saying, "but everyone has told me all my life I’m so good at it!"

All my life people have told me I’m so good at a particular thing. Tonight a professional told me I’m not good at it "at all". I came away feeling just as devastated as an those Idol rejects. And it’s not like its something you can "get better" at. You  either have the talent to do it, or you don’t. And, apparently, I don’t.

I’m getting really tired of my dreams being squashed like bugs under God’s unyielding feet. Why won’t He just tell me what I’m made for, instead of letting me go through these painful exercises in futile vulnerability?

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Be-ati-wha…?!

This week’s challenge, laid out by my counselor last Thursday, is to meditate on the "beatitudes" with an internal perspective, instead of an external one — applying them to myself toward myself, instead of to myself toward others… I don’t know if I fully comprehend his meaning in all that. But I’m working on it anyway.

What I’ve discovered along the way is that I really don’t like the traditional translations of Matthew 5. "Blessed are the poor in spirit…" What the heck does that mean?? Seriously. What does it mean?

So I moved on to The Message. I don’t know if this is a translation, or a paraphrase… or whatever. But this makes sense. I get this.

"You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

"You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

Jiminy-crickets! Has someone opened a window into my life here! All I can think to say is, "Word!" That is my life all the way.

Every night is a testament to the grace and power of God and how He has given me the strength I needed to get through the day. I never wake up in the morning feeling I can make it. It’s really an issue of resolve, determination and tenacity. I take life one step at a time, one hour, even one minute at a time, resolved to never quit, determined to see things through, pushing on even when everything in me screams, ‘no more!’ Eventually, the sun sets, the evening ends and it’s time to lay my head on the pillows once more. Every night is a celebration that I got through it all.

And that celebration is an exclusive party of two. God and me. No one else can possibly understand the tremendous victory we have just won together. That second blessing is so very true. I have lost what is most dear to me. My parents, my dreams, my career, a sense of stability and security. Yet every single day God embraces me. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel His touch, hear His voice, powerfully sense His presence, and know His love, in deep and intimate ways I have no words to express.

"You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are–no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

I wish I knew what that felt like, to be content with just who I am. I’ve never experienced that.

"You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

"You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being "care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

Wow. Applying that inwardly — taking care of myself, not just others.

I know… I’m throwing some of you for a horrible loop. A godly leader is "supposed" to always focus on others. I mean, doesn’t this verse back up the idea that if we care for others, we will find ourselves cared for? But listen to me for a second. We ministry-types, we tend to get rather type-A when it comes to this stuff. We can end up caring for others at the expense of ourselves. Now I ask you: how does that honor God?

So where’s the line here? Where does caring for others, being generous with our lives, spending ourselves for God by serving others… when does that cross the line into being careless with our own lives, at the expense of our health, our families, our homes, our relationships with those closest to us? Where’s the line? Is it a clear-cut one, or a jagged one that moves all the time?

And conversely, when does caring for ourselves move into self-centeredness, and a self-focused me-ism life?

These are the questions that keep buzzing around in my head. I want answers, but God seems bent on keeping them hidden. Or am I just not seeing what’s plainly right in front of my face?

"You’re blessed when you get your inside world–your mind and heart–put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

"You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

"You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

"Not only that–count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens–give a cheer, even!-for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.