Sharing Spiritual Experiences

I've always known God was there.  Not some mystical, magical, undefined being.  A person who cared for me.  A person who protected me.  A person who loved and valued me.

For as long as I can remember.  He was there.  Not in some abstract way, a sense without definition.  In a way that just felt natural.  That felt secure.

I had my first intensely personal experience with God when I was very young.  I was aware of a relationship with God at an early age.  Before I knew who or what God was, before I understood what it meant.

But I don't share that with people.

Because once I started to learn how the world worked I understood that it wasn't safe for me to do so.

I grew up going to church.  We asked a blessing at meal time.  That was about the extent of religion in my house.  An occasional attempt at a religious lesson.  Choose the right.  Do unto others.

But no God.  We go to church, but we aren't those people.  Don't take the religion thing too far.  Don't get all self-righteous.

I learned early that discussing spirituality was not acceptable.  To even discuss God or ask a question about Christ or scriptures was inviting ridicule.  Any attempt I made to be righteous was seen as self-righteous judgment of those around me.  Was seen as holier than thou.

When you feel something so deeply, and have it mocked regularly, it hurts.  It is damaging.  It shuts you down and you learn to keep those thoughts and experiences to yourself.

But I have those experiences for a reason.  The back and forth communication I have with God is not for me alone.  The miracles in my life are not just to convince me.

It took me so long to understand this.  To find my way past the blocks that were placed in my life by judgmentality.  To see that the real power in my spiritual experiences comes when I share them.  When I listen to my heart, see that a person's desire is sincere, and share what I know.

The adversary loved it when I was too scared to share.  He wanted me silent because my words could bring others to God.

I am done being silent.  I am ready to sing praises.  I am ready to proclaim truth.

God lives.  He knows me and loves me.  He is mindful of me.  And of you.  He cares what happens in my life.  He guides my life.  God still works miracles today.

And I refuse to be silent about Him ever again.

Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother

"Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee."  Exodus 20:12

I am a religious person.  One of the driving forces in my life is to be obedient to God.  To please Him.  Knowing that I please Him brings me great peace.  Knowing when I don't brings me discontent and sadness.

I have struggled with this commandment.

When I was young I thought it meant that I should do what I was told.  Plain and simple.

As I got older I began to question that.  What if it isn't possible to obey my parents and God?  What if their desires are in conflict?

I also remember reading that scripture and imagining some parents using it as a threat.  Obey me and I'll let you live (that thy days may be long).

I hope I have learned a lot more about that command.  I have taught it to children many times over the years through various church callings.  I hope I have taught it in my home.  Each time I have taught it I have focused on the word honor.

I come from a difficult childhood.  I did not, and still do not, have a good relationship with my father.  I spent most of my life fearing him.  I often still do.  My mom did the best she could and we had a pretty good relationship, until I realized that I was often used as the surrogate spouse.  And now, when she is struggling, it can be tough to spend time with her.

And so, as I recently spent two weeks working on this commandment and trying to figure out how it fit into my life as an adult, I struggled still.

I no longer believe it is my job to obey them.  I must find my own way.  I do not think my father agrees with me.

I no longer believe it is my job to be what they want me to be.  I need to be who I truly am, to find my eternal self and be true to that.

And I no longer believe I must be at their beck and call.  It is time for me to concentrate on my family and build my life.

I do believe I owe them something.  I can treat them with respect, speak of them with respect when they are not around.  I can help them when I am able.  I can be grateful for the good things that are in my life because they are my parents.

Those would be great things.  Sometimes I can do those things.  Sometimes I can't.  Sometimes I can't be in the same room with my father without intense anxiety.  Sometimes I beg family members to rescue me from my mother.  Sometimes I talk about how crazy they are and how much stress they cause me.

I still feel like I don't have a good grip on this one.  The best thing I think I can do at this time is be a good person.  I think that brings them honor.  Even when they don't appreciate it.