The Flood of Doubts


This photo holds a very distinct place in my history.  It was taken in the summer of ’62, when I was four years old.  I’m the little brown girl in the forefront!  A barrage of thoughts and doubts flooded my mind during that wedding, and that was the last time I remember a flood of varying thoughts until my mind was healed 32 years later.  Obviously there was more leading to the fracturing of my awareness than a single afternoon of high pressure, but it was the last time that feeling of overload, overwhelmed me.  Usually the flood of doubts and fears came on at home, not in public, and certainly not with all eyes upon me.  The one thing of I was sure that afternoon:  if my Grandpa were there, everything would have been all right.  For the next few years, I seemed to have a safe perch above stressful or fearful situations, and then after time, I simply lost track of those situations, all together.

The afternoon was apparently going as planned, but it didn’t seem like the rehearsal.  At the rehearsal, I got to walk down the aisle with Aunt Bonnie and she told me to pretend I was dropping flower petals.  She was the maid of honor.  This day, however; she was walking down the aisle alone and I was to follow, Phil; the ring bearer.  I knew a number of the people in this large wedding party, as the bride’s family lived next door to my grandparents.  It was so difficult to be a part of this celebration without Grandpa.

So, here I’m watching Aunt Bonnie head down the aisle, leaving only the ringbearer, myself, a few ushers, and the father of the bride in the vestibule.  Patty, the bride, was apparently still in one of the rooms awaiting her walk down the aisle, when the sound of something metal hit the floor, and then the steps.  Apparently, before the days of “faux rings” tied to the pillow, the bride and groom actually entrusted the responsibility of delivering the genuine rings, to a 4-7 year old boy.  So, in addition to all my doubts and fears, confusion and mayhem also entered the scenario.

I just wanted to run down that aisle and stand by Aunt Bonnie or better yet out the big door into the sunny afternoon, but the usher stopped me and told me I had to wait until Phil walked down first.  He couldn’t go until they found the ring.   Fortunately the ring was found, and carried by an adult back up the steps.  The young ring bearer, who is absent from the photo above, seemed to have taken the whole thing in stride, whereas, the little flower girl was now a major wreck.  I just knew I was going to do something wrong, and that nearly petrified me.  I didn’t like to disappoint adults at all!  I didn’t know what to do, but “the show must go on.”   Once Phil arrived down front without further incident, it was my turn.


I stepped into the sanctuary and felt the people watching.  Oh it was such a horrible feeling.  I absolutely didn’t want to disappoint my parents, and Patty was counting on me.  She was always so nice, I certainly didn’t want to let her down.  So I put my head down, set my jaw, and determined one foot in front of the other until I was standing next to Aunt Bonnie.  I wasn’t going to make a mistake . . . as a matter of fact, all I could do was cling tightly to that little white basket full of flower petals.  My hands remained at my sides and I didn’t drop anything!  When the crowd realized I wasn’t going to drop any flower petals the smiles and “grown up chuckles” began.  They were laughing at me!  An entire sanctuary full of people were laughing, when I was trying to so hard.

I’ve often wondered if my failure that day, affected my outlook on marriage in general.  In all my weddings, there was never a flower girl.   No child should have to feel the way I did that day!  To date, although I’ve tried numerous times, when it comes to weddings and marriage, I’ve still never gotten it right.  I am, however; fully aware of that exhausting fact.






The last entry certainly stirred my thinking.   At this point in my life, I don’t believe in becoming terribly self focused.  I want to simply be an open book before my Heavenly Father and be pleasing to Him.  I want to be like Y’hshuah.  Sometimes the seeking becomes a bit of sorting, as there are still areas of struggle.   Abba has shown me a certain spirit that is drawn to me, or that I attract. In remembering the fragmented bits and pieces of my former fractured self, I see all too many times, the same situation, the same circumstances, and now with discernment, the same spirit in the atmosphere.

I don’t want to spend any more time dealing with that spirit, but by the same token, I’d truly like to see what is in me that draws it!  As I began this post, I just became intensely sad.  Although my memory prior to my healing is still differentiated to a point, I can remember the patterns.  I remember the times of “looking down” on a little brown girl that simply did not know what to do . . . and being so thankful I wasn’t her.  Now, with healing, I am of course; aware of the reality.  That little brown girl was me, and there are now many memories that I hadn’t even had to look at, at the time the events and circumstances were actually taking place.  This also grieves me.   I remember so many times of just longing to be invisible, and at the point of my next awareness, the circumstances were different.  I was young, I had a child’s perspective, but that didn’t go away as I grew physically.   The broken separation deepened.

As a child, I thought my mother’s humiliation of me was my being overly sensitive, as that’s what I was told.  Now, fully aware and still dealing with it, others have noticed her treatment of me, to this day.  Our relationship hasn’t really changed, but my awareness has!  It’s the same with one of my daughters.  She keeps trying to catch me separated, but doesn’t realize, I have all those traits and qualities of each alter, but there is no longer a separation or loss of awareness.  That same daughter has actually told me she can count on her grandmother to financially reward her disrespect of me.   Now that I am aware of the requirements to be accepted, I’m pretty comfortable to accept the rejection or exclusion, but I won’t allow my grandchildren to treat me by the example that’s been set.  I’m not seeking rejection or exclusion, mind you, but accepting.  I simply cannot relate to their standards and definitions of right and wrong.


In looking back before my healing, remembering is sad, it’s always sad.  Now, in twenty years of healthy living, I realize the definition of normal that I was taught, was not normal at all . . . black was white and white was black, yet it wasn’t that simple.  Green was purple and orange was blue, depending upon the moods of the adults and the circumstances.  Through the time of seeking mainstream psychology for answers, the count of personality alters hit 39.  Of course, some were quite fragmented and held exclusive or isolated incidents that I just couldn’t face at the time they were happening.

Although the last 20 years have been much more peaceful and enjoyable than the first 36 years, remembering is still difficult for me.  Even with healing, my scars still draw certain spiritual attacks.  As I seek Abba in this matter, I am grateful to finally be able to realize it, and to know it’s not an alter personality I am relying upon, but rather, the Creator of the Universe.  YHWH Nissi has me covered!




Healing Test (Pt 3)

I hope it was the FINAL, in this particular subject!

While I was trying to gain footing in this new marriage, I had not fully let go of my old way of coping:  which is escape.  I didn’t want to fail again or end in divorce, I truly wanted the circumstances to change.  Of course, when that’s boiled down to reality, I wanted this person to change.  Before we married, I liked him.  The chemistry wasn’t so awesome, well or even present at all, but I did think we would be best friends.  I guess the truth of the matter was, he was enough of an oddball, I thought I’d feel a little closer to normal, next to him.   When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong.  I was wrong . . .  I kept feeling stranger and stranger.  Everything I thought would be at least normal between us, was even more foreign than when I was crazy, trying to be normal!

I guess we’d been married about 3 months, when I shared something from my heart.  His response was something that changed everything for me.  His words were few and concise, “You can’t feel like that!”  I looked at him with what must have been a startling look, because he reworded it and said, “You shouldn’t feel that way.”  With that I responded as calmly as I could, “You can’t tell me how to feel.  I do accept the fact, however; that you don’t want me to voice it.”  I have to refer back, once again to how I operated as an adult before my healing.

From the time I’d been a very small child, vulnerability and true feelings were not to be shown.  As I aged, the multiple personality disorder expanded, it regulated what feelings were demonstrated and what feelings were hidden.  Feelings that were to be hidden were the trigger for a personality change.  When it wasn’t safe to be real, that realness was hidden from the rest of the world, as well as my fragmented alters.  Having been made whole, I now saw something I’d not experienced in my single life.  Of course, I’d been in social settings in which one doesn’t bare their soul or spill their guts, but in living alone, there was the refuge of home in which I could be myself.  I had not shared an address with someone who would dictate what feelings could be shared and what feelings must be hidden, since I gained total awareness.

It’s not like I’d cussed or falsely accused, or even had some sort of “tizzy,” as I know women can do.  I wasn’t slamming doors or throwing papers.  What I had said was not an accusation toward him, but simply I’d shared a vulnerability with the person who was supposed to be my soul mate.  His words hit all the way to the core of my being.  My hope in a soul mate vanished in a single instant.  Then, of course, I was afraid I was holding a grudge.  I still didn’t know how to discern accepting another’s control issues without being controlled, having my own boundaries, while “sharing a life.”  As life continued, I learned to not share my vulnerabilities with him.  He simply did not have it in him to protect or value me.  In all honestly, at first that was pretty upsetting, but as time went on, the distance between us became very reassuring, even comforting.  As the time has gone on, it’s not a regret or a grudge, simply a fact that is accepted and actually embraced.  There are places where feelings can be shared and places where they cannot.  It’s not a grudge to know who can be trusted and who cannot, it’s wisdom!

It did take awhile to be able to be openly honest with feelings of vulnerability.  We are called to love our enemies, but we aren’t told to trust them.  My mind was in shattered pieces for over 30 years of my life, yet it protected my heart.  I’ve come to realize, when we missed the feeling of safety as a child, some spend the rest of their lives looking for that safety in a mate or boundaries in a career.  When being real was forbidden, we long for that opportunity and acceptance.  When being vulnerable is unsafe, we can become hardened, but there is a true option to all that searching.    As an adult, before my healing, without awareness of the disorder process; when the personality alters quit, I simply ran out on the relationship.  I know if I’d have sought my old method of escape, through divorce, I would not be where Abba has brought me today.  I have Messiah and He has brought me to the Father.   Finally, I had reached the end of the trying of my faith on this healing.  He truly has healed my mind and I continue to seek Him and am renewed!

And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of YHWH.



The Healing Tested (Part 2)

While the spiritual testing was going on, another test was taking place, that was absolutely horrendous.  I can honestly say, I had/have never been so humiliated.  Although I was healed and had been for some time, I faced an experience that had previously been relegated to an individual “alter” or personality.  Existing with multiple personality disorder, was not a conscious choice, as an adult.  My shattered mind simply cubbyholed experiences and one faction dealt with the circumstances while the rest of the pieces were basically;  oblivious . . .  That was the way I functioned for years and years . . . I believe my mind was fractured to protect my spirit, so my mental awareness and accomplishments were compartmentalized, while feelings were lost or hidden between the broken pieces.  When Abba healed my mind, I had no real frame of reference for operating in wholeness.  I, of course, knew the Scripture about having the mind of Messiah, but that would obviously involve growing in Him.  The mind of Messiah didn’t come instantly, like the healing did.  There are some thoughts, still;  that must be brought captive, as mentioned in II Corinthians 10:5.   In many areas of my life after being made whole, I functioned well with my full awareness, in other areas, I was fully aware of the dysfunction.  In any situation of dysfunction, it was first nature to presume the problem was my inadequacy.  As it turns out, all these years later, there are many folks who do not have multiple personality disorder, but are still quite dysfunctional!


When making plans to get married in 2002, the realization hit home that I had not experienced intimacy since my mind had been healed.  Of course I was aware that I had a sexual past, but the realization that I would be fully involved was quite overpowering and overwhelming.
Oh, how I wish I’d had a deeper understanding . . .  When Abba had told me I was this “man’s rib,” I presumed, or I should say “assumed,” that meant we were soul mates.  We all know the old adage about what happens when one assumes . . .  From the time I began following Messiah, I had spent the years of my mental healing, being spiritually open, giving glory to my Heavenly Father, coming closer to Y’hshuwah.  I was highly functional, and enjoying the fact that my awareness was fluid.  I was feeling quite well, as a connected individual, even after a setback with MS the previous year, in which I realized my family would never accept me, or my healing.   What would unfold next, still has me shaking my head, as I write this.

The courtship with Mr. B, seemed fairly normal.  Most people who knew either of us thought we looked like a great couple, with the exception of his mother.  She took an instant dislike to me that she held until the day she died.  My family just figured I’d ‘screw up’ another marriage, so when the engagement was announced, Daddy asked me if I’d prayed about it.  I told him I had, and he said, “You better pray again!”  Although I was open about my call to ministry and service to YHWH, before getting married, I spoke clearly and directly to my “intended,” making sure he understood the vows I’d made to Adonai.   I also mentioned that if there was ever a problem between the two of us, he’d have both mothers on his side.   My parents have been wonderful in-laws to this man.  Daddy has truly done everything he could to help with the homestead, as well as provide handicap equipment and build accessibility options when Mr. B became disabled.  Now back to the healing test.

When Mr. B and I married, I had no idea what to expect as far as marital intimacy was concerned.  I was used to not “feeling a chemistry” ever, and there was clearly none; so I prayed that I would love him as a wife should love a husband.  We were not physically intimate before the ceremony.  Before I was healed, it was just one of the things to be accomplished in married life, so that was my perspective . . . a wifely duty, in which to accomplish accordingly!   As it turned out, in this situation, marital intimacy was work!  There was no natural spontaneity at all.   As a workaholic, this seemed to be the perfect match, yet something just wasn’t right . . .  At first I thought it was just nervousness or my own awkwardness, but instead of things getting better, the situation deteriorated further.  Considering the honeymoon, I had no idea, it could actually get worse!  Although we hadn’t talked a great deal about sex before we got married, he had mentioned a couple of things alluding to “spontaneity and timing.”  Without going into detail, suffice it to say, my attempts to please him, turned out to be EPIC fail.

At first, he almost had me convinced I was a failure as a woman.  I listened, but cringed; as he openly discussed experiences with other women.   As I sat there in shock and disgust, I reminded him that he told me that he loved the fact I wasn’t like other women . . . I was then given an “anatomy lesson” complete with illustration.  At that point, I could no longer maintain my “poker face,” the tears fell.   I couldn’t imagine destroying another, or attempting to destroy another,  by comparing experiences of intimacy.  I was also well aware and comforted by the fact that every man I had ever spoken with, was respectable enough to never discuss intimate details involving other women.  The men I knew and respected never kissed and told!  In my experience, the discussion of sex in mixed company was done in only three ways.   One, in an open discussion amongst adults, it is matter of fact science, or two;  impersonal innuendo.   The third way was privately, between a couple, and never ever about someone else in an intimate setting.

To add insult to injury, he discussed my attempts to please him, with co-workers!  He talked about me like some cheap one night stand.   One simply does not bring another person into the intimacy of the bedroom, nor publicly discuss the private details of the bedroom . . . everyone knows that!   His words made me, literally, sick.  I did a lot of throwing up the first  of marriage.  I really thought my ulcers were coming back, and sadly I began to self-doubt, self-blame, and wonder if I’d heard G-d at all.   Years earlier, YHWH had healed me of an ulcer problem I’d had for decades.  When the vomiting began, I truly became fearful that I would lose my healings.  I couldn’t imagine this was normal marriage!  Thankfully, I now know, it was far from a normal marriage . . .

By late summer of that year, when reading the 49th Torah portion, which included Deuteronomy 24:1, I literally begged and pleaded for a divorce.   When a man takes a wife, and marries her, then it shall be, if she find no favor in his eyes, because he has found some unseemly thing in her, that he shall write her a bill of divorce, and give it in her hand, and send her out of his house.

The futile attempts at intimacy faded quickly, and I; more or less, settled back into the solitary life I had before marriage, except I had to cook and clean and do laundry for a roommate who rejected me, yet insisted upon putting in all public appearances with me.   When Abba showed me it was time to relocate, I really thought he would finally send me on my way.  When that didn’t look like it was going to happen, I mentioned the difference of spiritual beliefs and the lack of intimacy.  He calmly and coldly stated, he didn’t know why he didn’t find me desirable, but that’s the way it was and there would be no divorce . . .  I still didn’t give up hope; not of reconciliation, but of freedom.

Considering his words when talking about another couple with intimacy issues, “where there’s a will there’s a way.”  I am fully aware of my circumstances and realize according to the Word, I am simply undivorced.  I think often of the 49th Torah Portion.  Interestingly it was when I was 49, reading the 49th Torah portion, it became clear that there would be no divorce.  That was the year he became disabled and I became his nursemaid and physical therapist, yet he still didn’t have a change of heart to desire me, or grant a divorce.  He even stated later that with G-d giving him a second chance and everything I did for him, he should probably feel differently . . . Thankfully even with no paper of divorce, I am not soul mates with that sort of thinking.  Although it may sound strange to give thanks for this test, my healing has been proven beyond any shadow of a doubt.   I was literally rejected spiritually and physically without being able to walk away.   Although it was devastating, I maintained well, until he told me how I should and couldn’t feel . . .



The Healing Tested

This is the first of three of the most difficult entries I’ll ever post here . . . at least I hope it is.  Speaking of being broken as a child is one thing, but the test of the healing was painful on a level, I’d never before experienced, and hope to never have to repeat.  This test targeted every level of my being and felt invasive on the most basic of levels.  10665689_731894803532788_6988600202647556611_n

The day I was filled with the Ruach HaKodesh, I received my mental health healing.  A marital separation soon followed, which was my fault and ultimately resulted in divorce.  The test began when I remarried . . . The marriage was not immediate, it was actually several years after I was healed.  The healing came in 1994, with the separation in 1995.  I met my “intended” in 2001.  So, seven years after the healing, came the test.  All I can say is, “Oy vey!”  I thought I was praying and entering a relationship that would demonstrate Abba’s forgiveness and power of restoration after divorce, but I was wrong, oh so wrong!  This was a test of my mental healing in a situation that was not a fairy tale romance of  “happily ever after.”  This situation was, in fact, far from happily ever after . . . And yet, my miraculous healing was proven.  

Please allow me to share the test results, with a little background first. The man to which I was married when I entered covenant was not so much interested in the covenant lifestyle and we separated.  Nearly five years later, YHWH instructed me to send him a letter of release.  I did not send a divorce document or even a letter asking for a divorce, just a letter thanking him for being a wonderful father to our children and acknowledging the change that had come about in our direction, after my “conversion.”  I acknowledged my responsibility and simply wanted him to be happy, whatever that meant to him.  In less than a week from the time I mailed that letter to him, he called and told me he wanted a divorce and gave me the details for what he thought was fair.  He was more than fair, so in less than two months, I was a divorce’ . . . again.  Moving along now, to the test.

I was still thinking the only difference between Torah Observant Believers and Christians was a lack of information.  I was still young in the faith, seven years,and think I viewed my beliefs like another denomination, but I was so wrong!  I knew some denominations were not receptive, but some seemed to be, unfortunately in a curious novelty sort of way.  I was zealous and still sometimes stumbling between discernment and being judgmental.  When I saw spirits, I recognized them, but “works of the flesh” sometimes confused me, especially when it came to relationships.  I can honestly say, I’ve learned a lot . . . especially about the journey after the second mile.   I had truly hoped what I am about to share, would some day be just a bad memory and rocky start, but instead, the Sabbaths are more separate, except when someone is looking, and sadly, just the other day, as a shared a praise report, he interjected his explanation to remove the glory of Abba.

Within hours of my last marriage, seriously within hours of the ceremony, I found myself literally wanting to jump out of my car.  I was in the passenger’s seat, so it wasn’t about inflicting injury, just the overwhelming feeling of needing to escape!  The honeymoon was spiritually and emotionally, “excruciating.”  I was far from understanding this test.  I was hoping things would settle down into some sort of calm, but that would not be the case.  Friday evening, as I had prepared for Shabbat,     he acted confused that I had not cancelled the gathering since we had just gotten married.  I reminded him that he had gone to work that day . . .  Through the course of the next six months, I continued to try to be patient, thinking his involvement in my ministry was simply misguided zeal or something, but it finally reached a chrescendo near the High Holy Days.  His utter disregard of the importance of Sabbath and the ministry to which I’m called, to the point of making comments like, “since you’re not doing anything . . .”  By the time he’d repeatedly interrupted the Sabbath gatherings, I simply told him, if he wasn’t interested to please stop attending.

In this same time frame the anniversary of 9/11 was observed.  I served voluntarily as both fire and police chaplain and was asked to participate in that observance.  Now, this same man who had not been able to ever participate in a respectable manner at the mission or privately was suddenly ready to attend and be on time.  I’ll never forget the familiar feeling that came over me that morning through that observance.  The television cameras were there, the radio DJs were present and there were about 3 rows of chairs facing a podium in front of the fire house.  My seat was between the Fire Chief and the Mayor.  This man, who had not participated with me in any spiritual joint endeavor suddenly made his way to be seated between myself and the mayor.  I looked around, feeling like a deer in the headlights.  I knew most all of the people involved in this observance and many of them were married, yet their spouses were supportively in the background.  All I could think about was thoughts of escape.  This may not seem like a major situation to most, but “center-stage” confusion and embarrassment were my old triggers to disconnect.  What had started as fear and confusion for a small child had become my way of life as an adult.  I’d lived mentally broken for so many years, separation was not my second nature, but first response.  I did not want to have my picture taken,  I did not want to be on television, and just as when I was three years old, I desperately wanted to be invisible.  I could not understand how someone could use the spiritual convictions of another to garner attention.

Instead of disconnecting that day, I “womaned up,” graciously accepted the seating rearrangement and spoke with both officials, read my poem based upon II Chronicles 7:14, and resumed my seat, sad and embarrassed, but well aware of the entire day.  My mind had not separated, and this marriage was not joined.



No Refuge

I honestly don’t know when my mind shattered or if I was simply born in pieces, but I do know my one safe place was gone before I was four.   Grandpa endured a lot of nonsense and rules from his micro-managing daughter to be in my life, and when he died, there was no one to provide me refuge, so unknowingly, escaping became my safety.  I didn’t plan it, and I don’t know how much went on before he died, I just know high tension became my normal.  I was a very insecure child, but I couldn’t express it or let it show.  How does a kid hide their insecurity or share their feelings of insecurity with the people who make them feel insecure?  To further complicate the issue I lived with those people.

Thankfully, I had a number of “experts” sharing my existence.  As an adult, before being healed, I tried to gain “normalcy” through therapy.  In discovery, I referred to the other personalities as the “experts.”  As a child, those experts were master performers to meet the never ending demands of my fearful and micro-managed childhood.  My younger sister bit and hit, but I was not allowed to defend myself, since I was bigger.  As for bigger, my mom used a number of disparaging names and adjectives toward me.  Daddy was a young, hard working, anger driven man, so although he was one of those “hands on” dads, he was gone a lot, working to make money.   When he was home, he seemed to want to enjoy himself, but he was often pressured into  the in the position of enforcer . . . Home was definitely not a place of refuge for me.    Although I didn’t consciously choose the dissociative identities, I did learn very quickly that I was expected to take everyone’s word for what happened and I simply couldn’t prove otherwise.  There’s no place like home” has a completely different meaning for someone like me . . . and as a child, I was very thankful to find those places that were not like home.

I recently watched part of  a video that brought back a memory.  When I was very young, before my sister was born, I had a German Shepherd.  I loved that dog and she loved me.  She loved me so much, my parents had to be very careful about how they treated me around her, so one day Kristi was gone.  I was told she scared someone in the neighborhood and they gave her away to be guard dog at a warehouse.  I wanted to believe that, but I didn’t.  Before the age of four, I realized these people did not make me feel safe, and I really didn’t trust them either.  I could not wait to grow up!  I grew up in Kansas and I remember the very first time I watched the Wizard of Oz.  Even as a young girl, I could not understand why Dorothy wanted to get back to Kansas.

By the time I reached school age, I was definitely aware of my awkwardness, and also very aware that what happened at home was not to be shared.  When I got to school, I found myself particularly fond of the older strict teachers.  They were consistent and that was something new and refreshing for me.  I didn’t fit in well with the other children.  I was called names and even hit, but I didn’t realize I was bullied until much later.  I remember going home and telling my mom what happened the day a girl hit me in the face, at school.  She did nothing, except ask me if I hit her back.  I said, “No,” and she said, “Good.”  The name calling hurt my feelings more than being physically hit, I think.  In spite of the treatment, school became my safe place.

First grade was wonderful.  My teacher was so straightforward.  That was back in the day that teachers still had paddles, but she never used it on me.  I wasn’t a bad child at school, I couldn’t figure out how I could be such a disappointment to my mom, so much so, she’d have to have Daddy deal with me.  I just didn’t know what I was doing wrong . . . I was never in trouble for doing horrible things.  I didn’t want to get in trouble.  I was always in trouble for making my mom yell and disappointing Daddy, but unlike the teachers, they wouldn’t tell me what it would take to make them happy.   I certainly wanted to please my parents, because their expression of displeasure was very hurtful.  Being a child was just so painful and confusing.



G-d’s Permissive Will

In one of the earliest entries here at “loosed woman,” I made mention of being told after making a life changing decision as a teen, I could live out my days in “G-d’s Permissive Will,” and I promised I would address the topic.   My life changing “decision” was fornication, that ultimately resulted in motherhood.  I used to believe it was an heretical teaching from the pit of hell, and for many it has served to be exactly that, but what man spoke for evil in my life, YHWH has used for good . . .  In a nutshell, G-d’s Permissive Will is the Protestant version of Purgatory while you’re still alive.  It’s the belief that a wrong decision after having said “the sinner’s prayer” removes G-d’s call and purpose for your life.  That can clearly be the case, if one doesn’t repent, but to present it to young people as some sort of life sentence has actually driven many away from G-d, or to a worldly solution, and is absolutely anti-Scriptural.   As it turns out, neither “permissive will” or “the sinner’s prayer” are actually Scriptural.  That’s not to say, bad choices do not come with consequences, because they do.  “Reaping what we sow” is absolutely a Scriptural truth!


Peter denied even knowing Messiah that Passover night of His trial and yet preached a mighty sermon a little over seven weeks later on Shavu’ot.  He continued in ministry for the rest of his life, even writing two letters that were canonized.   Clearly he didn’t wait to die in “G-d’s permissive will.”

David pulled a couple of major “big sins” like adultery and murder, yet was referred to in the New Testament as a man after G-d’s own heart.  Even in wanting to build the Temple for YHWH, it was not his sins of adultery and murder that prohibited him from being the builder, but the fact that he was a warrior, rather than a king of peace.

Back a little further, we’ve got to wonder if Jacob’s deception of Isaac for the blessing didn’t cost him 20 years and basically the same dishonest stunt pulled on him with the wrong sister for the wedding . . . Yet his name was still changed to Israel.  Of course there are consequences for sin, but YHWH forgives those who repent and His plan still stands.

Abraham is one of the first examples of just how anti-Scriptural this “G-d’s permissive will” teaching actually is and how horribly detrimental it can be.  Abraham clearly made several wrong choices when it came to matters of intimacy.  Now, you may argue that this was before written Torah and that would be correct, but by the same token, the man heard G-d’s voice and he knew enough about the “rules” or laws of matrimony to misrepresent his relationship with Sarah, not once but twice in his travels.  He also referred to Hagar as Sarah’s property, rather than a second wife, so . . . Abraham could hear the voice of El Shaddai, and he clearly understood right from wrong.  Even the heathen king asked why he’d lied about Sarah’s identity and Abraham knew enough to walk through the loophole.  Now back to Abraham not having to settle for “G-d’s permissive will” and the conviction I felt when the revelation hit me.

What if after Abraham’s fiasco with Hagar and the birth of Ishmael, Abraham just settled back into G-d’s perfect will waiting to die?  If the child with Hagar prevented Abraham from completing the plan or purpose, then all of history would be different.   Ishmael, the father of Islam was already here, but Isaac would never have been born . . .  When that revelation hit me, I gained an entirely new perspective.

This protestant teaching of “G-d’s permissive will” is heretical, no doubt, but by the same token; it kept me from ever returning to the denominations that hold to that teaching, which spared me from missing the plan and purpose of our Creator.  Sadly, I let it keep me out of the purpose and plan for a time, and I even made more mistakes and bad decisions, but at the moment I knelt before the Creator of the universe and asked forgiveness, He granted that forgiveness and restored me to His plan.  In all fairness to those believing the falsehood of waiting to die.  I continue to experience the heartbreaking consequences of my sin, but I’m not about to miss my part in G-d’s plan for me, now.  The world continues to experience the heartbreak of Abraham’s decision and child conceived with Hagar, but the world also has received the Messiah through lineage of the child of promise.

I’m so thankful I got back to the plan before I was 99!

   For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says YHWH, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
For the gifts and calling of G-d don’t change.