I mentioned asking the Lord to find me a church to attend in this post It was as if He’d answered my prayer in full. I found one, not too far from the railway station, within walking distance. I loved the preaching, but being alone when I went, I was left alone. Still, at least I was going somewhere, and, hopefully meeting the requirements of Hebrews 10 where it talks about not turning away from fellowshipping with others: especially as you see the Day approaching.
Two ushers, both who looked well-to-do decided, one day, to upset the apple cart, making me feel as if I was nothing but a curse to them. The way they spoke about my then situation was nothing short of dreadful. I was already going through the trial by then, (Don’t be surprised at the fiery trial that is to try you! Remember?) and had had an awful start to the day. The awfulness continued with these two people, and I walked out of that place before the service had begun.
That was my first real taste of judgement.
People I knew online tried to soothe, telling me things like: “Oh, Jesus must be SO SAD!”
No, I didn’t recognise sadness, I recognised anger. Judgement. After all; hadn’t I been cast out of a holy place? From that day, things only ever got worse! James’s Epistle talks about two situations. One, where a man might walk in, wearing all his finery. Another might walk in wearing “filthy clothes” and be treated as such a one.
I wash my clothes! Thank God, they’re not filthy. But it didn’t stop what happened that day. What stopped was fellowship – the little I got, such as a handshake from one or two ushers as I walked in, week after week. But I always felt like I was on the outside looking in. Everyone else had friends and family and they tended to stick together.
Such is life! It ain’t in the Scriptures, but it is life.
That day, I went and did some shopping, then went back home. Things there didn’t improve. Day by day, they only got worse. I often felt like running away, even though I’m disabled myself. I planned to leave at night, if I was to go anywhere. Trouble with that was, I knew that if I sought my own deliverance from the trial, I would become my husband’s murderer. He cannot care for himself, due to what he’s suffering from. It isn’t much of a choice, is it; knowing that you either have to see a thing thing through to the end, or run away, becoming a murderer. I’m not joking, folks. It’s a very serious situation.
You might baulk at that, thinking: stupid woman. Why don’t/didn’t you ask for help? I did. Many, many times, only to be fobbed off every time. I have taken this also as a sign of judgement. See, the thing is, nobody should survive spiritually, living with this! You just shouldn’t survive; which is why I froze inside when I recently read of a 95 year old man who’s wife was diagnosed with a similar sickness to which I’m having to live with. I can see that it’s going to be left to the old and sick, caring for others who are older and sicker. It only takes a bit of digging/reading/researching to come up with that statistic.
But I made my marriage vows in church. You don’t quit when your spouse becomes sick.
That’s what’s causing my trial. His sickness.
I’ll deal with that a bit more, next time.