&nbsp;

<a href="http://provoketive.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/wilderness-church.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-145 aligncenter" style="margin-top: 10px;margin-bottom: 10px;border: 10px solid black" src="http://provoketive.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/wilderness-church-300x187.jpg" alt="" width="439" height="286" /></a> A profound spiritual encounter with God  at  the tender age of 18  derailed the train of self-destruction I was on. Jesus helped me  disembark and with the wisdom and power of the Holy Ghost I have managed  to stay out of that train yard for good.

Instead, I've  hung out in churchyards. From the get-go, I loved this thing called  church. Each Sunday was like a party. People from all walks of life  gathering together to sing songs, hear a sermon, pray and cry and laugh  together. Sometimes there were potlucks. Along the way, though,  somewhere in adulthood when I realized church is not a party but an expression of God's kingdom,  and thus, people are needed to serve and use their gifts to keep the  kingdom of church going- this is when I shifted into living a  church-centered life.

I evolved into a super-volunteer.  I was at everything. At one time I was teaching Sunday school, leading a  missions program for kids, on the prayer team and I attended a Bible  class on Sunday mornings as well as typically attended three services a  week. I kept this kind of pace up for years, thinking it was how it's  supposed to be. I felt pangs of tension along the way, though. When I  slowed down long enough for the dust of my chaotic church schedule to  settle I'd hear the faint voice of my real self buried under the rubble  saying, "This ain't right. You've created an  insulated church life for yourself. Break out."   But the voice was so  little that it was unable to keep  my attention.

One fine Portland morning when the rain was falling  pretty as  the grey clouds cried from the sky, I had what  some would call an  epiphany.  I had sat down to pray, and Lord knows I was a workhorse of a  prayer warrior on top of everything else, when I felt the overwhelming  presence of the Creator Lifeforce whom I know as God hush me right down  with a startling single sentence : <em>unplug from every ministry you are  in.</em>
<p style="text-align: left">I began to cry like the rain clouds outside my  window as the voice of Love exposed my wretched overworked soul. Oh how  hard I was working  to achieve worth through spiritual service and gain  people's favor through church volunteerism. I was desperate to belong,  but without a sense of self-acceptance I could not trust that anyone,  God or the family of God, could accept me for Me. I had to work my way  into that acceptance, and ohmyf*ckinggod, I was wearing myself out and  neglecting my children along the way.</p>
<p style="text-align: left">I trusted that  small but big Voice that visited me that day. I began to  unravel my  ministry obligations. And then, I sat. Just sat, like a  second-string  right fielder sitting the game out in the dugout. I sat.  And as I sat  with my unscarred calendar hanging in the kitchen and my  voice mail box  empty and lonely, life unfurled within my perishing soul.  I was in the  wilderness, and wild as she may be, there is a vista of isolated  beauty  that can't  be found unless you leave the hustle of the crowded  city and head deep  into it. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-11e5hP2gX4k/Tcl0bgqG1uI/AAAAAAAAC3k/hnj8MlOYzMA/s1600/wilderness+church.jpg">
</a></p>
That was more than five years ago. I have  discovered new canyons and mesas of wilderness wisdom on this spiritual  trek. I learned that I actually do have an anchoredness in the love of  God. We are good. But what is lacking is trust and security with the  people of God. I still have a bent inside of me to prove myself lovable  and likeable. I want to show you how cool I am so you'll be my friend.  This surfaced again in my life not too long ago. My family and I are now  part of an irreverent, irreligious faith community of fierce  no-bullsh*t-allowed sisters and brothers, and even in this freeing space  of life, I managed to once again move in a spirit of codependent  neediness for love and approval. Once again the spirit of epiphany  rescued me and once again, I am relegated back to the dugout which is  just fine with me. I am blackdog determined to let the people of God  prove that I am a woman loved even if I never do a damn thing to pitch  in and help with whatever church chores that are begging for volunteers.  I am capable, oh-so-capable, but my capability will ruin me like that  first drink a recovering alcoholic takes. I have to say no and recover  from my churchalholicism.

It's liberating and  unsettling. I suppose there might always be a bit of a limp in me to  veer into unhealthy service mode. But I've thrown the crutches of  churchcentered living down into a gulley somewhere in the wild. I'll  stay on my wilderness sojourn knowing that I'm in fine company with  other sun-kissed women and men who will enjoy my company without needing  me to do anything for them.  This is life unfurled on the inside and  out.

&nbsp;