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For years, I have battled a voice of accusation and guilt that left me tormented thinking, “Is this God?” The voice would constantly taunt me with, “You’re not doing enough” and “You’re not good enough”. The cruel voice was never satisfied and constantly craved more. It assaulted anything that brought beauty or joy to my life.
Although I now recognize that the domineering voice was not God, I was convinced that it was. There was no pleasing what I’ll just call, “the voice.”
Ever Changing Rules of The Voice
It would issue rules and then change them before I could get any measure of success. Sometimes it controlled what I ate and what I wore. I would get food out only to be told I shouldn’t eat it. I’d obey and put the meal back. I’d reach for clothes in my closet and be told I shouldn’t wear that outfit. No reason was given; it was just pressure to choose something else to wear.
Choosing what to eat or what to wear became stressful as I attempted to obey and please the domineering voice that was controlling every aspect of my life. The control and torment became unbearable. However, thinking the voice must be God, I desperately did not want to risk disappointing Him so I tried to be obedient.
I viewed God as someone who was critical and full of judgment. Not knowing His true character made it easy for me to fall for a counterfeit.
The Cruelty of The Voice
Once, I was told to get rid of half of my belongings. I wanted to be willing to give up anything God asks, and thinking He had commanded it, my desire for peace fueled me to comply. As I began to go through my things, I tried not to look at any item I enjoyed. Chances were that if it were an item I liked, it would have to go.
While emptying the clothes out of my closet, I remember trying not to look at or think about my bedspread. It was a gift from my sister, and I loved it, but I knew that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was complete obedience.
By the time it was over, I had removed clothes, shoes, camping gear, snowboarding gear, work gear, and more. I thought that if I just did enough or obeyed in the right way, the voice would be satisfied. I reasoned that complete obedience was the only way to find the peace I so desperately longed to possess. Sadly, peace never came. No sacrifice and no amount of compliance was ever enough.
Trapped Between Truth & Its Counterfeit
I have since learned that doing the will of Jesus is not torment. His burden is light. His yoke is easy. Even when I was trying to obey the false god, I felt trapped, like I was at the mercy of something I did not understand. For example, when I was told to get rid of my things there was no joy in it. As I was obeying, it felt like I was being ripped apart on the inside. Everything in me screamed, “This can’t be right!”
Whenever I was presented with the truth, everything in me longed for it to be real. I wanted nothing more than to know I was wrong about who I thought God was because what I believed only brought torment. However, I was so bound with the terror of being deceived and disobeying God that I struggled to receive the truth, even though it was the very thing I desired.
Every time I attempted to believe the truth, I was plagued with doubts of, “But what if listening to that voice is right, and I am rebelling?” I couldn’t let go. There was an unwavering steely grip on me. That voice compelled me in such a way that I could not stop myself.
Over the years, I would battle back and forth, constantly in torment. I’d think there was no way this voice could be God, and then feel like it had to be God because it felt so awful to resist it. When I rebelled against the voice, the emotional torment that followed made me conclude that it was a sign I was sinning.
The Voice Twisted Everything Good
The false god preyed on my genuine desire to please and obey God. It twisted something that was good and precious, making the desire to be right with God a torment and bondage instead. There were many times I wished I could somehow remove the desire to please God. I wished I could cut it out of my heart and throw it away because it only caused me pain.
I so badly wanted to be good and please what I thought was God. However, it felt that there was no way I could ever achieve my desire. It felt like my desires for God were being used against me. I thought that if I didn’t care what He thought then I could be free, yet no matter what I did, I still cared. I would cut and bleed my very soul in an attempt to appease the voice, only to be told it wasn’t enough. The sacrifice was never big enough. All of this caused excruciating pain with no way to find relief.
Because I did not know the truth of who God is, my experiences caused me to conclude that God was demanding, tyrannical, and abusive. I was in so much error about His identity that if I heard the truth about Him I quickly dismissed it. The truth seemed more far-fetched than the lies I was believing.
Righteous But Misplaced Anger
After over a decade of living with the unmerciful voice, I developed an intense anger towards God. Rage even, if I’m being honest. I hated the anger even while it burned in my chest. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be angry at God. My head knew He is perfect and doesn’t make mistakes while my heart cried out that He was mean and not to be trusted. I would try to talk myself out of it. I didn’t want to be angry at Him. No, in fact, the whole torment of this was rooted in the fact that I longed for a relationship with Him.
Despite that longing, I couldn’t make the anger go away. I couldn’t believe that He was good. I couldn’t believe that He loved me. I thought that either He didn’t love me, or that if He did truly love me, His definition of love was different from what I believed and longed for. I’d wonder if perhaps I needed to change my definition of what love was.
I Could Not Believe God Is Good?
I judged myself for not being a better Christian and found myself thinking things like, “What is wrong with me? Why can’t I believe God is good? Why can’t I believe God loves me? Why can’t I get rid of this anger?”
Those around me would tell me I needed to believe in God’s goodness and His love. The few I did allow close enough to see my rage at Him became concerned about my heart. They said I was wrong to be angry at God and not believe He is good and loving. I came to the conclusion that I must have an unbelieving heart, perhaps even an evil heart.
Coming Out of Error
But God. I never thought I’d get to say those words when referring to my story. Even now they bring a smile to my face. God didn’t leave me there. He brought people into my life who have slowly helped me see that the voice that enslaved me wasn’t His.
The process of healing has been slow and has not happened overnight. It took people in my life continually speaking truth to me and exposing that voice for the liar it is. I had to hear the truth again and again and again. I have never been more happy to be proven wrong! It has been pure joy.
The Revelations
As I started to heal, I had a scandalous revelation. There were parts of my anger that were good. It was grossly misdirected, don’t get me wrong. I have had to repent for things I have done. However, not every part of my response was wrong. There was some part of my heart, or spirit, that KNEW what the voice was doing was wrong.
A part of my anger was there because it knew that what I was experiencing was abuse and oppression, and it would not accept what was happening as okay, no matter how hard I tried. As misdirected as it was, there was an element of my anger that was a voice of truth, standing up and screaming at me. It would not be silenced. It would not allow me to accept this version of “God” as good and right and true. What I didn’t fully understand was that my anger was meant for the voice, not God.
I had yet another scandalous revelation. I thank God I could not believe that the counterfeit god truly loved me. I was too blinded by the lies of the voice to be able to see that the real God loved me with pure love.
Because I believed that voice was God, if I had been able to believe that “God” loved me, it would have shaped my understanding of love. I would have come to accept that abuse and tyranny is what real love looked like. If I had been convinced that’s what true Love was, I would have stopped looking for something better, and I would have become its slave.
Unraveling the Tapestry of Cruel Error
It astounds me to think that what I saw as an evil, unbelieving heart, God saw as a heart hanging on to truth even while it was being broken. How crazy is that?
What I have since learned about my Creator goes against everything I’ve thought God would be. He doesn’t fit in the mold I had of a perfect God who looks for perfection in His people. He is humble enough to be satisfied by even the smallest offering of sincerity in our hearts. To Him, what I offer out of a sincere heart is a treasure.
What a revelation He’s led me into that it’s not about the size of our faith or belief; it’s the authenticity of it. He saw that little scrap of faith somewhere deep in my heart that wouldn’t allow me to fully give in to the lie.
It makes me think of how His kingdom is upside down. It’s not always the big, showy faith that is strongest. Sometimes it’s the little scrap of faith that we cling desperately to for dear life that moves mountains. Sometimes, it’s so small we think we don’t have any faith at all; we think we don’t even believe anymore. Yet somehow, He sees it and finds delight in it. Somehow, He is fully satisfied with the offering. When the widow offered her two mites it seemed so paltry, useless even, yet it was all she had. She gave it and He said it was worth more to Him than all the sacrifices given out of abundance.
Freedom from the Torment of the Voice
After so many years of giving everything I had to a tyrant who was never appeased, that revelation is something that makes this heart sigh with relief. God is not like that voice at all.
Now, as I learn how He is so easily satisfied, no, delighted even, by what I have to offer Him, my heart can slowly breathe again. This is what my heart was fighting for, even when I didn’t realize it. This is what I always dreamed Love would look like.
