“God, I am a shell of the woman I used to be.”
This was my lamentation in February of this year when I began a program at CityChurch called PTO or Peel the Onion. The program is known throughout the city of San Antonio and is attended by many. After all, I would be in the SIXTIETH GROUP to go through it. Basically, PTO gets down to the core of who you really are by taking inventory of your junk and owning your story. It is well known for being a painful but worthy process if you can make it through.
During Orientation & Signups we were dazzled by several speakers who had previously gone through the program in the months prior. They were jazzed for God and oozed confidence, promising that we could always take our old ways back if we did not find freedom. I was skeptical. I had a full-on panic attack in the bathroom on our first day and barely managed to keep myself from running to the nearest exit and never looking back. I was a mess and I knew it. But I knew I needed this program. I had spoken with many women all over the city who told me it was worth the commitment of 24 weeks plus a weekend retreat. HALF A YEAR, once per week plus homework.
The choice was easy because I really had no other choice. I was small. I was empty. I had no hope. I had no future. My mom had died that previous October following a long battle with cancer and kidney failure. I was her caretaker and every ounce of my personality, grit and joy had left me.
So I made the commitment and showed up until…
COVID CAME.
Our program was suspended for almost two months and I was so angry and broken that I could not bear the thought of not finishing. I was so grateful when leadership made it possible for us to continue via ZOOM.
I cannot tell you what goes on during the 24 weeks of PTO. But I can tell you that I had things long buried and mislabeled in my past that needed to see the light of day. Shame, anger, guilt, fear, identity…all dealt with one by one as the weeks grew harder and harder. I watched our small group of 10 women dwindle down to just three.
After “graduation” this week I received a sealed letter that I wrote to God, dated March 3rd. It was more of a cry for help than a letter, but if I am honest with myself, my most powerful prayers have always been cries for help.
“Help me. It feels like chaos.
I am tormented and traumatized by these past few years and I don’t know what to do with it.
I want to feel free.
I want to be unshackled.
I want to have hope and a future.
I want to heal myself so I can have the space and energy to be a force of good in the world.”
I cried when I opened my letter. I had forgotten my prayer in that sealed envelope. I had forgotten that whisper of a girl that wrote that letter. But God didn’t forget. He delivered to me EVERYTHING I had asked for. Not one thing was left out.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, that is not the end of the story. One of the things that came up for me during our teachings was the church’s stance on LGBTQ. One of the lessons absolutely broke my heart, and I knew I could not ignore it.
I thought I attended a church that just did not talk about these things. And in hindsight, I know that was wrong for me to accept even that. After speaking with my friend and pastor, I found out that LGBTQ or allies could not lead any programs at the church. I am so thankful for that honest conversation because it was exactly what I needed to hear to begin a prayerful shift in trajectory.
One day on a walk I was hit with the very simple truth: I did not belong in a church where others cannot belong.
In January, I had declared 2020 to be “my year” with the intention of building my tribe and get my life back together after several years of mess. I thought the shutdown was the worst thing that could have happened to me. And I fought it. Being quarantined at home all these months I lost my freedom to move, but my real freedom was found in the stillness of allowing GOD TO MOVE.
And now…it is time to follow Jesus and move again. I thank CityChurch and the amazing volunteer leaders for equipping me for the rest of this journey.