Refusing the Lie

What’s the lie that you believe?

When you’re by yourself, in the shower, your car, about to go to bed, what lie creeps into your mind? What words do you hear yourself repeating that continue to tear you down?

“You will never experience sisterhood.”

I stood in my shower this evening, scrubbing my conditioner into my scalp, feeling the scalding water bead down my back. As the water washed over me, the lies continued to wash over me in waves as well.

“God didn’t give you a sister as a child because you weren’t created for sisterhood.”

“You live by yourself because you don’t deserve to experience life lived with other women.”

“You won’t ever experience the deep relationships of sisterhood.”

“The relationships you have with other women are not made to last. They do not stand firm.”

“If you have daughters, you will fail them as a mother because of this.”

If I’m telling the truth, these lies have been inside of me for a long time. Eating away at me, forcing me to pull back in relationships with other women, scaring me into silence when I angry, or frustrated, or hurt, or alone. I have sat in my bedroom, with a wall between myself and my best friend, and suffered through a panic attack because of these lies. I have sat in my current bedroom, with a phone call between myself and my best friend, and suffered through a panic attack because of these lies.

The devil has spoken these lies for so long. He had me believing the words spoken were from my own mouth. He is so well practiced in deception. He has listened to the words I have whispered to myself and began to mimic my voice so well that I could not hear the difference.

But there was a crack in his voice tonight. He let it slip that it was not me that was speaking these words, but rather he.

And another Voice told me to speak my own words. With Encouragement, I fought back.

I spoke over and over again aloud, “I refuse to believe this lie. I refuse to believe this lie. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS LIE.”

And suddenly I found my voice amidst a screaming choir of voices, a cacophony of noises telling me that it was true. I found freedom in truth. I found freedom instead of slavery to lies that had robbed me of joy. Instead of experiencing moments of bonding with sister, I had allowed myself to experience bondage to lies so intricately woven around my heart.

I took a step towards the Father and asked him for freedom. He whispered kind words, soothing words as He delicately unraveled the bonds woven so tightly. The cords cut deep. My flesh sears as the reality of these wounds sets in. So now here comes the choice given.

Do I take back the cord laying between myself and the Father? Do I wrap it back around these wounds, staunch the bleeding, and allow it to continue to cut deeper?

Or do I allow Him to enter in? Do I allow him to dress the wounds, continue to rewrap new bandages as the old ones grow full from my weeping wounds?

I’ll leave you with a verse that seems to resonate deeply with me as I begin a journey of healing, with much hesitation and fear of what lies ahead:

For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, “Abba, Father!”

Romans 8:15  

Courtesy of: Bumble and Bristle

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