Live and Pursue

By Jerrylyn Holland

Life is not about never feeling pain or not going through adversity. Pain and adversity will always be around. The difference in how we overcome is in our response when it circles our life.

Nevelle pursued love from one man after another until the heartbreak it brought became unbearable. The pursuit brought her to her lowest point until she had no desire to live.

God was to blame. The man was to blame. Her father was to blame. She was to blame. This vicious cycle seemed to have no end. All she wanted was to love and be loved, yet to acquire it was not that simple. Nevelle had to reach deep within herself and face the truth of her past.

An encounter with the Lord led her to the beginning of where the pain began. It was a pain that she had buried deep in her heart, one in which she had not known had become the filter of how she lived her life.

With a new perspective of God, love, forgiveness, and repentance, Nevelle began a new journey to live and pursue godliness and wholeness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798885400787

Book preview

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Live and Pursue

Jerrylyn Holland

ISBN 979-8-88540-077-0 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-281-5 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88540-078-7 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Jerrylyn Holland

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Excerpts by Dr. Henry Malone taken from Shadow Boxing by Dr. Henry Malone. Published by Vision Life Publications, copyright 1999. Used with Permission.

Excerpts by Erwin Raphael McManus Taken from Soul Cravings by Erwin Raphael McManus, published by Thomas Nelson, Copyright 2006 by Erwin Raphael McManus. Used with permission of HarperCollins Christian Publishing.

Scripture quotations marked (NKJV) are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®

Scripture quotations marked (AMP) are taken from the Amplified Bible, Copyright © 1954, 1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

Scripture quotations marked TPT are from The Passion Translation®. Copyright © 2017, 2018, 2020 by Passion & Fire Ministries, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved. ThePassionTranslation.com.

Scripture quotations marked BSB are from Berean Standard Bible. Copyright 2021 Berean Standard Bible. All rights reserved. Used with permission.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Foreword

Preface

Blinded by My Desire

1

Kent

2

Rance

3

Harper

The Healing Process

4

Silent Tears

5

What Can God Say to You?

6

The Process

A Walk through the Past

7

Philippines

8

Cusp of Adulthood

The Lessons Within

9

Because I Love You

10

Go Beyond the Pain

11

After This

12

The Genesis of Fear

13

The Power of Words

14

The Illusion

15

The End Game

A New Perspective

16

You Are the Gift

17

Proof of Love

18

The Power of One

19

Prayer in the Simplest Form

20

Live and Pursue

My Prayer

To God, My Abba Father

Whose love is with eyes wide open, seeing all the flaws and still says, yes, I do love you. Whose love would accept a heart shattered in a million pieces, yet piece by piece make it whole. You took my breath away at the thought of your long-suffering toward me. Father, my faults were not hidden from you, neither was my anger, sadness, and shortcomings.

I pulled back; you stayed.

I ran; you drew closer.

I jumped; you placed your hand under to catch me.

I hid in darkness; you turned on the light.

I said, No, not me; you said, Only you.

I said, Let me go; you said, Never.

I yelled; you whispered.

I pushed; you leaned in.

I cried; you caught the tears.

I bled; you healed.

I left; you said I am worth the wait.

I felt defeated; you said it's already been won.

I said, Don't let me see another day; you said, Live and pursue.

I didn't deserve another chance; your grace wouldn't let go.

What love is this but the greatest love story ever told. You accepted me as I am.

Your loved pursued me and changed my world inside and out.

When nothing could get through the thick dark cloud that I couldn't get myself out of, it was your grace and mercy that reached in and saved me.

With every word of lies, you canceled it with the truth of your word.

You gave me peace, strength, hope, and a future (Jer. 29:11).

I am the apple of your eye (Zech. 2:8).

I didn't do anything to deserve such a love, yet you freely gave (John 3:16).

Your love is the love I love; it never fails (1 Cor. 13:4–8).

I am forever grateful to God, my Abba Father.

To you, I give my heart.

Your servant and daughter.

You hold the key in your testimony to free those still in bondage by their past.

Foreword

After more than twenty-nine years of working with young girls between the ages of ten and seventeen who were struggling with low self-esteem, middle school dropouts, early pregnancies, drug abusers, and girls who were challenged in broken family settings, I had met many individuals who expressed the need for a program for young adults who were either married, seeking to get married, or were just in a platonic relationship. I would earn my master's in psychology several months later, and the vision for this population of young ladies became well-defined. This is when I met Jerrylyn Holland, and after listening to her testimony, I asked her to work with the women's program.

I planned the first women's meeting to communicate the vision. I was looking for leaders who could lead the different branches of the vision with love, concern, compassion, and truth. After much discussion and planning, there was one segment of the program that would take place on five consecutive Saturdays at which time the attendees would discuss their very intimate issues. This final segment would culminate on a sixth Saturday morning beginning at 5:00 a.m. with an all-white celebration representing a new start. I was reminded of Jerrylyn's testimony and her concern, passion, and eagerness to help young ladies, and I immediately appointed her to this task without even asking her—I just knew she would be the perfect leader!

Reflecting on the memories that have shaped our lives and hoping to touch others' lives, being authentic and open, and being always open to receive are the unique characteristics that describes Jerrylyn Holland that would soon establish her credibility as the author of Live and Pursue. The book captures some of the most challenging give-and-take interpersonal moments that can sometimes place young women in imagined worlds, taking on alternative roles that may differ from the role they play in real life. The book is simple, engaging, and an easy read that depicts the path of a young woman who found herself struggling with an inner hunger and deep need for a personal male bond, and a desire for a healthy relationship.

The author will take you on a journey through her many challenging and failed relationships, the different culture of men she engaged, the moving experience of a broken and contrite heart she felt could never be healed, and, finally, the true answer to the healing! This is a must read!

Saundra W. Rhode, PsyD

(aka, Pastor Yana)

Preface

I was introduced to the Lord by my stepmom, Diane, at the age of eleven. She was more than a stepmom to me, so from here forward, you will see me refer to her as Mom. Prior to that I was with my birth mother, Mama, in the Philippines. I was born and raised there for the first ten years of my life. Before I knew of God, I always had a sense that there was a God, and I believed that he could hear me though I was not raised to attend church every Sunday while with Mama. For my family in the Philippines, we did our Catholic duties on Easter, Christmas, and on the day of the dead, a holiday to celebrate the loved ones that have passed away. My sense that there is a God burned inside of me so much that when I accepted Jesus into my heart, I was elated. It validated what I knew to be true: God is real. This experience was completely opposite from what I was raised in. Once I came to live in the U.S., my mom brought me and my sister to church every Sunday. She taught us how to pray and read the Bible. There was no yearly celebration of the dead but a celebration of their life as how they lived it before God. I was like a sponge soaking in all the knowledge of God during the Sunday sermons. A relationship with God is a fundamental of life. In everything we do put him first. I heard the preacher say loud and clear and the words etched themselves on my heart. I grew up with a vision of how I wanted my life to be, believing that God would provide for the life I pursued. After all, God provided a way out of poverty and abuse when I came to live with my dad and stepmom in the U.S.

As I grew older, I had a simple plan: married at twenty-six, living in New York City, and settled in my career as a top fashion buyer. Have a set of twins, a boy, and a girl by the time I was thirty-three. Before the kids hit the age of five, my family and I would move back to the suburbs. How can God not be on board with such a simple plan? I have a relationship with God, shouldn't he automatically know this is the plan we are going to pursue? I say we as though I had prayed and asked God what the plan was for my life and we were in collaboration on where my life was to go. As each milestone year came and left—twenty-six, thirty, thirty-three—my ring finger was just as barren and my womb childless. I knew something had to change. I did not fathom that the change possibly had to happen in me. I did not stop to consider what I was giving up nor who I was giving it up to. Meanwhile, my heart was being broken over and over again. Yet I was too consumed with my own desire to achieve my plan to see the path I was headed into. The more my heart ached, the more I craved to accomplish my plan. But at what price? Pain and disappointments. My emotions—scattered. My joy—bleak. My view—skewed. My driving force—fear. Until one day I hardly recognized the person I had become.

We all have a different way of coping with the things that deeply hurt us. Some choose to bury the memories deep in their hearts without realizing that their actions are dictated by the ghost of the past. Others may choose drugs, alcohol, food, shopping, sex, or anything that will take the place of pain to fill the void not realizing that they have ended up in a vicious cycle, living life as though they are sleepwalking. We can run all we want, but there is no hiding place from the past. When I left the Philippines, I never looked back. Burying my past or pretending that it did not happen skewed my views and decision-making. Some pain laid dormant for so long that I had forgotten their existence. I did not know that my undealt nor unresolved pain from my childhood would be awakened by a traumatic event causing me to seek love outside of God until I believed that life was not worth living.

I was in the same cycle for many years. Desperate for change, yet I did not change my habits. Albert Einstein's definition ran true, Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I did not know that I had buried so much pain in my heart that it had affected my actions. The stories may differ from one person to the next, but an unconfronted past all leads to self-destructive behaviors. By the time I inquired of the Lord, it was out of anger, frustration, and defeat. I was angry that every relationship I tried to keep together failed. I became frustrated in my ways. I became frustrated with God until I finally had no more strength. I felt defeated. Unexpectedly, in my defeat came the answer, though not in the way I hoped for.

Belatedly, I asked God to heal my emotions. I wanted instant healing. Poof—all is gone! That was not God's plan. The healing was a process that included me having to face the reality of my past and being awake to the truth of the pain. The buried past had to be exposed, allowing it to become a part of me rather than trying to hide it as though I could hide my own shadow.

One day I found myself tired of chasing the wind. Tired of the emotional ups and down. Tired of faking it to make it. I was living in secret sin and shame because I didn't think there was a way out. So many fall victim to believing that there is no way out. We believe the lie that we are alone. We believe that we are beyond reconciliation with God because we have done too many bad things.

I do not want to hide from my past any longer or bury it. I want to embrace my future by accepting the past is the past and it does not dictate who I am. I can no longer stay in the state of anger, unforgiveness, depression, and self-destruction. Hanging on to the past will never allow us to achieve our full potential because it blinds us from seeing ourselves accomplishing something great. I learned that there are lessons in the past to learn if we open our hearts to forgive. I learned the past can be taught a lesson by overcoming and living better than the past. This is why I am telling my story.

I've written my story as it was illuminated to me. I heard every word and saw every action as though I were living it again. Part 1 is the story of how my desire caused me to believe in the words of men and run to them one after another rather than run to God. Finally, I asked myself, How did I get here? I did not know that this question would cultivate the start of a journey that has changed my life. Part 2, you will discover how I began to agree with God's process. In part 3, I will take you on a journey with me to the past. Part 4, After I allowed God to heal me, I was able and ready to learn the lessons. Even our deepest pain provides lessons to take away. He ministered to me as I read his words in the Bible. I heard his voice in my heart as I felt his love envelop me. In some areas, you'll notice I speak to you directly as my heart yearns for you to see what the Lord has shown me. When we are healed from our past, it feels like a new beginning. There are times I clearly see what I have entertained as truth, and it makes me mad. Part 5, after gaining a new perspective, if I were to speak to my younger self, this is what I would want her to know.

I believe we are in a season where God is calling all that He has called according to His purpose. We have been fought by Satan, our adversary, hard. His tactics and tools are distractions from God's work. Depression, so we will not know who we are nor have the energy to discover all that we are. Pain, to blind us from truth and immobilize us. And fear, to keep us from believing that we can accomplish all things through Christ Jesus. I believe this is our time to come out of the pigpen that Satan has tricked us into thinking it is a mansion. I believe it is the time to heal, forgive, live abundantly, and pursue righteousness. I pray living in secret sin will no longer be an option and that you fight to get all that has been stolen from your life. For a long time, I believed that it didn't hurt anyone for me to wallow in pain. We are not just anyone. We are worth the change. We are worth the blood that Jesus shed on the cross.

I pray that you will seek the Lord for your victory because it is already won, you just need to accept it and live in it. I pray you see yourself through God's eyes. How beautiful and loved you are. I pray you live and pursue righteousness.

Part 1

Blinded by My Desire

I especially remembered the bedroom and all that transpired in it, and indeed, in it, love was a lie.

—Nevelle

1

Kent

It's Friday.

The plane pierced through the clouds with a final destination to Dallas, Texas. I had to get away from my usual scenery. I needed a break from the looks of pity from people that knew me and Rance as a couple. I met Kent during one of our company's conferences; it was an instant connection between me and him, but because it was a working environment, neither one of us made a move. Subsequently, we were partnered together during a business event where we exchanged numbers for work relations. Over time the conversation became more pleasure than work-related; our conversations began to extend beyond business hours. We laughed, we talked, I cried, I complained, and he listened as our work relationship grew into a friendship. I had this great idea that I would visit him, though I have never been alone with him. Before that, our physical meeting were restricted to work meetups during the conferences. We exchanged numbers, and the rest was history.

The plane rattled as it made its way up thirty-five thousand feet in the sky, but I was too distracted to be bothered by it, thinking I hope I remembered what he looked like since it had been a couple of years since the last conference. The captain announced, We will be descending and arriving in Dallas Fort Worth Airport shortly. The temperature in Dallas is eighty degrees. The current time is 2:15 p.m. The flight attendants walked up and down the narrow aisle one last time collecting trash and checking for fastened seat belts before they too had to be strapped into their seats. I released a heavy sigh; there was no turning back. The captain landed the plane so smoothly that everyone on the plane clapped as though he were a hero. For a moment it distracted me from feeling anxious about my impulsive decision.

I made a beeline toward the baggage claim in anticipation of seeing a face I didn't know if I would recognize if he stood in front of me. I stood next to the baggage carousel waiting for my bag to make its way around when I noticed a man approaching me in a red fitted T-shirt and dark indigo jeans. He walked slowly and focused as a cat ready to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. He was tall and on the slim side. His dark brown hair trimmed so close to his head it could have been painted on. He had a proud look behind his mustache grown perfectly between his nose and lips. The way he looked at me told me it was Kent. We stood face-to-face for a moment before either one of us spoke.

Hi, I said nervously, hoping my voice did not betray me.

Hello, Nevelle, he spoke in a baritone voice always extending my name longer than it should.

I hugged him and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. I bent down to pick up my bag off the baggage carousel, but before I could, he quickly leaned in to grab the bag my hand barely touched. The ride to the hotel was filled with small talks to fill the silence. How was your flight? he asked.

It was great, I said cheerfully, trying not to think of how weird I felt. It was like getting into a stranger's car. I was a bit tired from staying up late the night before that I just wanted to rest for a moment when we got to my hotel room, but I couldn't tell him to leave; after all, I've traveled so far to visit him.

At the lobby where we checked in, I noticed a sliding door that led to a small patio with tables and chairs, so I asked him to join me there instead of asking him to leave. You're not hot? Kent asked, as I basked in the afternoon sun.

No, I enjoy the sun, but we can go in if you are hot.

No, I'm okay, he claimed, though I knew he was not used to giving the sun freedom to shine on him like a spotlight highlighting his saffron-colored skin. I put on my sunglasses, leaned my head back, and pulled up another chair to prop up my feet as I allowed the sun to ignite my energy. Meanwhile, he ran down the plans for the weekend like a checklist. At the top of the list was dinner and a jazz club; somewhere in the middle was an art museum, ending with more dinner plans. When we got back to the room, any anxiety I felt earlier was replaced with flirtatious acts. I advanced toward him, daring him to not kiss me knowing he would lose the dare. The flirtatious act was short-lived as we both noticed the time and hurried for the evening. What I assumed was going to be a mellow night at a jazz club was a full-blown beat pumping evening. The music was so loud you had to read lips to have any conversation. The crowd jumped up and down, swaying their bodies side to side. The dance floor was crowded with unfamiliar people, bumping and touching your body without permission. Kent took my hand and led me to the dance floor where I was distracted by the dancers and foolery going on around me; guys running in circles with women on their backs as the women screamed, giddyap and swinging one hand in the air as if riding a bull. Noticing my discomfort, Kent was careful to keep me close to him using his body as a shield to protect mine from unwanted touch. I felt out of my element, but I convinced myself that I could play along. It was only for one night, so I did my best to join the crowd.

It was dawn by the time we headed back to my hotel room. Should I ask him to leave or stay? I thought to myself as I had him help unzip the back of my dress until I could reach the zipper on my own before I headed to the bathroom to put on something more comfortable. I didn't think anymore once I entered the bathroom, coming out in only my undergarments, black lace bra, and a matching panty. He looked, but his eyes neither moved up nor down to scan what stood before him. He kept his eyes locked to mine. What was he looking at? What was he thinking? Can he read my thoughts? Does he see me? A few seconds felt like an eternity as the thoughts danced in my mind. He walked a few steps slowly toward me. Boom, boom, boom, my heartbeat was louder than normal; I wondered if he could hear it. Using his index finger, he delicately lifted my chin toward his face as he lowered his chin to meet my lips. He wrapped both arms gently around me and gave me a soft kiss once, then again until our lips locked in place. He laid me on the bed as though he was placing a gentle