The Journey from Error to Heir

Chapter 22

Finding Freedom

Have you ever thought a haircut could bring a sense of peace? As I've been working through the writing of this chapter I was recently awakened to the sense of peace a haircut brings. One of our men in Celebrate Recovery recently gave his testimony. He mentioned that he'd never had a barber haircut growing up. Hearing this I had this jolt of disgust run through my system remembering back to the awful experiences of dad's haircuts. One thing about me, I love the work I do and I love being involved in the work I enjoy. I like to look nice, but once I'm dressed I have no more thoughts of appearance. I think about work. So, what does this have to do with a haircut? Let me explain. All through my growing up years my dad cut my hair. This wasn't just true for me, but he did this with all of us boys. I thought little about it as a young child. I didn't know a haircut was important except to keep it out of your face and things like that. What I did notice about a haircut was that I never wanted dad to cut it when he was in one of his nasty moods. All of us knew the scars of haircuts: nicked ears from scissors and the embarrassment of a "butch cut" when hair was to have a little length to it. I had never had a professional cut until I went to college. I didn't even know what to do when I went in the barbershop. My roommate told me there would be chairs typically to sit in and do that. The barber would tell me when he was ready for me. When this actually took place, I recall the barber asking me what I wanted my haircut to look like? All I could think was, "Not like dad's." I finally said something like, "Could you take the way I have it combed and just make it be smooth looking so it doesn't have the appearance of a butcher?" I then told him this was my first barber cut. He chuckled and cut my hair nicely. What is amazing is that once I experienced this barber cut, I never gave any thought to my hair. I could relax and think only about what I was doing. My youngest daughter is a licensed beautician and she now cuts my hair. I chuckle thinking about my early years of haircuts and how ugly I felt afterwards growing up and how self-conscious this left me. Now, I'm at peace and a little part of that peace is a good haircut.

When Alice's husband, Tom, passed away from liver cancer a few years ago, she wanted me to conduct his service. I would have never thought I would be asked to do something like this because I wouldn't have been worthy of such an important thing. However, Alice and family didn't think that. These kind of thoughts I was learning were about my own thinking of me. I needed a "heart of flesh" about who I am. God was remaking me to see myself as valuable to others. Tom's service was a blessed time and a wonderful tribute to him--a great man. I loved the opportunity to do this for Alice and her family.

A year or so after Tom's service, Bonnie's younger son was getting married. They wanted me to do their ceremony. Much like with Tom's service, I felt so unworthy. This time however, I didn't contest it, I thanked them for the opportunity. I paid to get an "on-line" certificate legitimizing me to conduct the service, but being a wise nephew, he and his bride got married by the justice of the peace and I conducted what we called "the spiritual ceremony". That made it all much easier! While we were in California for the wedding ceremony, Bonnie's husband, Randy, asked me if I'd baptize him. This is what brought me to tears. I was the most unworthy of all people to conduct such a sacred moment. Yet, I wanted to tell my brother-in-law no because I was operating from my past instead of from my freed body. We did it and it was such a special time. God keeps chipping away at this belief system (character defects as Celebrate Recovery says).

Just this last summer I was asked by a couple in our Celebrate Recovery group to conduct a marriage renewal for them as they were having their 25th wedding anniversary. The man had been one who had become a Christian resulting from the time in Celebrate Recovery. Their marriage had totally turned around from this. They wanted me to do this honor for them. I was so humbled. He told me I was like the father figure he never had. How could this man find a father figure in someone who kept his past hidden because of his awful identity? Why would someone say this about me when they knew my past? Once again, God keeps chipping away at my belief system. God keeps teaching me that the past Satan wants me to believe is my identity, is simply a past. It is not a good one by any means, but it is what happened to me. It is not what was created in me. The heart, the soul, the mind, the body are all what God created. Satan has truly wanted me to remain paralyzed by this past, but God wants me free from it so I can use the mess of it to be a message for someone else's freedom as He is providing my own freedom.

Our quartet sings for some of the assisted living homes in our valley. It is always a blessed time to do this. A few years ago, Mike, who puts our order together when we sing, wanted me to give my testimony to the group of elderly people. I told him I thought it was completely out of line. These were folks who needed to be lifted up in song, not laden with the burden of my ugly past. He said to trust his judgment as God had wanted him to have me do this. I consented and told a 5 minute summary of my past and God's work to redeem it. What I was not expecting at all was how many of the attendees wanted to talk when we were done. Two different ones held my hand saying they had been abused all their childhood years and had never told anyone. Even their deceased husbands had never known. They were so relieved to hear me tell mine so they could finally say out loud what they'd kept as their tarnished secret. I've said earlier that in Celebrate Recovery, we have the statement that God takes our mess and makes it a message. That is exactly what he is doing with mine and I will be forever grateful.

It is one thing to give my testimony to a group of folks in Celebrate Recovery, it is another thing to do it for a group of people I’ve always thought were better than me. These would be the folks in church on a Sunday morning or those in an assisted living place. These folks don’t need to be troubled with someone’s story. I would hear the voice of dad in my head saying things like, “Quit feeling sorry for yourself,” “You don’t need to try and get attention for yourself,” “You’re just telling this to put me down. Well, I hope you are proud of yourself!” I fight these voices knowing now they are the voices of Satan. They aren’t even dad’s voice. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that dad is proud of me. I say this very humbly.

Another item I’ve found in finding freedom is the singing with the men in our quartet. I’ve talked already about how disappointed I knew they’d be when I found in my identity that I’m not a singer. I talked about going to see Mike and what he said to me. In the last few years I’ve never heard from any of them about their disappointment. In fact, they say complimentary things—things I’d never expect to hear from them. It is amazing to me how much God is wanting me to learn. Each one of our singing engagements is an opportunity to help someone find a step to freedom that someone may not find otherwise. I’ve yet to tell my story when I didn’t hear from at least one person who said—“Thank you so much, this is my story, too.”

I've mentioned the Serenity Prayer earlier and the line in it that says: "Taking one day at a time, one moment at a time, accepting hardship as a pathway to peace." This applies to finding freedom, too. Now that I'm more fully awake to my past being a past and not an identity, I have to use this line as a promise from God.