When We’re Silenced

Preface: This blog is a whole hodgepodge of thoughts regarding faith, our gifts, my voice, etc. Sorry if its erratic.

I have been asked many, many times how my faith has never wavered no matter what life threw my way. I have been asked how I can possibly believe SO STRONGLY that there is a kind and loving God when I have seen so much pain. My response?

How can anyone want to live in a world where they believe these things happen by chance?

How can anyone survive in a world where they believe there is no reason?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it a million times more…

Everything that has happened in my life has happened for a reason.

And…usually…that reason is so I can help someone else.

My gift from God is my voice and my experiences.

Is it a gift to me? Sometimes. Sometimes definitely not.

Is it a gift to those around me? Sometimes. Sometimes definitely not. Lol

If you think my voice doesn’t annoy me as much as it annoys you sometimes….WRONG. 😆

But I do truly believe that it is my gift.

To share with those around me that they’re not alone.

So…what happens when people try to silence my voice?

They take away my gift.

They (attempt to) take away my reason to believe.

They take away my one reason to explain the things that happen in this world.

When they take enough voices…They allow the voice that tells people they are alone to fester and thrive. 

It’s an uncomfortable feeling…reading someone’s hurt…sitting in their pain. We shy away from being uncomfortable.  Uncomfortable hurts.

Two things there:

• If the voice is not one you need, you do not need to listen. (Although, never discount that listening may be YOUR gift.)
• Sometimes its ok to be uncomfortable. They’re called growing pains for a reason.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I struggle with this thing that I consider my gift, though.

I have led a life of being silenced. I have led a life surrounded by people who want me to doubt myself…deny my worth…and silence my truth.

It leaves a mark. It leads to periods where I try to be quiet…I try to be the Sheri that everyone wants me to be. Quiet Sheri. Surface Sheri. Sugar Coated Sheri (which sounds like an excellent cereal, BTDubs. ) I try to silence myself…but He still pushes and the words well up…words begging to be written down.

Where is all of this coming from?

I joined a church yesterday. 

As much as I have always had faith…and as much as I have always said that faith matters…I have found that organized religion is often actually the downfall of faith. So, while I have held onto my Christian faith…I will sometimes go to church to celebrate Him…but I will more often celebrate Him in nature or in daily life.

So…weirdly…or not weirdly, if you understand my reason above…I have never been an official member of a church before.

But I really love this church. It’s small, but not scary small. It’s homey. And, most importantly, from all I have seen…they preach love.

Those were my reasons for making the decision to join.

What happened after I made that decision…

I was reminded again why our voices matter and that He WANTS us to use them.

I didn’t want to join the church in front of everyone. As I mentioned, it’s a small church… and on my mother’s side of town. Going up and saying my name…without knowing EXACTLY who was in the crowd. Welp, that’s a big ol’ nope. So I asked if I could join and bypass that experience. Lol

The lead pastor took me into his office.

I knew from being there that his wife had just passed. I knew he probably wasn’t feeling like talking to this strange person. But his calling is HIS gift and he followed.

As we went through our talk, I felt led to tell him the parts of church that have always been hard for me. Namely, “Honor thy mother” and all such Christian doctrines about how it is our job to force ourselves to turn the other cheek. (Sorry. But I ran out of cheeks for her by age 18.)

As I felt led to share, so did he. He told me of his wife’s upbringing. How she’d had a mother who wasn’t a mother…and a father who couldn’t be a father. How she went through life not having an example of how to be a woman…a wife…a mother. He told me how she believed that God gave her everything she needed to do both, though. He spoke of how it’s ok to forgive but never allow back in. I found myself truly wishing I could have known his wife.

I told him that I believe my gift is my voice. That I’m here to show others they aren’t alone. I told him how I’m afraid of my own voice sometimes as it leads others…even other Christians…to be uncomfortable…to wish I’d be less real…to wish I’d be silent.

His response is what stuck with me. (Paraphrased, because I wasn’t exactly writing during the conversation. Lol)

The devil wants us to believe we’re alone. And even Christians can be swayed to speak the voice of the devil. *I* have been the voice of the devil when I said hurtful things. I’m sure of it. It doesn’t make them less Christian…it makes them human…but you can’t let the voice of Satan silence you, even when it comes from good people.

Well, hell.

So…I guess my voice is sticking around. No matter how much it annoys all of us.

And I hope your gift, whatever it may be, is never silenced either.