What's in a name?

I find Christian spirituality quite difficult to talk about. There are, of course, extremists on both ends of the spiritual spectrum within the faith--those who are quite flamboyant and open about how they feel the Spirit of God, and those who think that those people are crazy. I grew up in what I believe to be the latter tradition, although on the non-evangelical side of things, which makes it all the more atypical and confusing. And then there is the predicament of trying to explain spirituality, particularly connected to one religion, as legitimate…

I've always wanted to feel connected to God. There weren't very many prominent figures in my life growing up whom I felt were truly connected to God, but when I did encounter such an individual, I was drawn to their sense of peace and confidence in God. As a kid trying to hide feelings of depression, holy crap, did I need that confidence that God loved me, and had a plan for me, and was going to be my strength no matter what.

I could make excuses of why I thought I didn't deserve God, and play the blame game over how relationship with God was never modeled well or encouraged by the adults in my life, but I think by this point I've reached the point where I've acknowledged that I just need to get over it, be an adult, and be accountable for my own faith.

When I was first exposed to, well, let's just call it "non-liturgical spirituality," I thought it was bloody crazy. It seemed so illogical and ethereal. I thought that people who raised their hands or danced during musical worship, or spoke of dreams or visions or prophetic words that they believed to be from God, or claimed that God had done x in their life/in someone else's life after they had prayed about it, were freaking bonkers, and if I'm being totally honest, part of me wanted to slap them across the face and shout "control yourself, you're being totally illogical and stupid!" (There's a really beautiful irony in the fact that I'm now doing my masters in spiritual formation…) I had a theoretical, hypothetical understanding and knowledge of a God who was good, but little context for the application of that knowledge.

There have been revelations of that God that have entered the more non-liturgical spirituality side of things over the last few years. I've encountered God in many of the ways that I thought were totally illegitimate before. My heart has been softened a bit to that side of things.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have doubts.

Does God actually care about the things that we care about, or is he preoccupied with his own interests? Where is God when people are suffering? Why does God allow people to do so many evil things in his name?

Generally, the last few months of being at seminary have been pretty stable on the mental health front, and as I've been growing in understanding of God and who he is and how he functions, I've been gaining confidence concerning his good intentions for humanity, and my place at his table--or so I thought.

In October I was on a retreat for a spiritual formation class. On the second night I had a dream interpreted that I'd had a couple of years ago. In half a sentence, it turned out to be a prophetic dream (now who's freaking bonkers, Helen?!) indicating that God uses me to speak into the lives of others when I share his Word with them. Cool. I was satisfied with that interpretation, but still apprehensive--what reason did God have to choose me for such an important task? What in me is even remotely worthy of such a noble call? 

When I went to receive communion in our chapel service the next morning, the girl who was distributing the wafers said to me, “Christ chose you,” as she gave me a wafer. I thought that “the body of Christ, broken for you” might have been a more appropriate statement for this context, but I shrugged off her slip of the tongue. After the service, she came and found me to advise me that those were not her words, she hadn’t said that to anybody else, and that she hadn’t planned to say it to me. I knew I needed to spend some time with God to figure out what that statement, “Christ chose you,” meant. 

Opportunely, there was a scheduled period of two hours’ silence following the coffee break after the service. I walked to a park with a group of people during this time, and sat alone by the river. I closed my eyes in prayer, asking God what the girl’s statement meant. I heard very clearly, “Christ chose you to share the message,” but wasn’t sure of the significance of that assertion. I sat in silence for a few moments, chewing on those words. As the sun was shining down on me, I was reminded of one of my favourite verses, John 1:5: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Then it hit me: my name, Helen, means “light!” I know that in scripture we are all called to be light, but to have that personally affirmed was very special for me, and very powerful. It gave me a sense of purpose and determination to stick close to God, studying his Word, listening for his voice, and following his lead.

Anyone who's known me since I was a kid knows how much I hated my old lady name growing up, and probably also knows how upset and angry I was most of the time, mostly for reasons that were beyond my own comprehension. I cannot overemphasize how freaking awesome it is to see all of that being redeemed by the one who created me for a purpose that is infinitely greater in every way than anything I could ever envision for myself. Figuring out exactly what that looks like to live out that purpose is going to take some more time (like, probably the rest of my life), but I feel like I'm on the right track to getting there.

Just a quick little thing

I'm obviously supposed to be doing homework right now, but just thought it would be pertinent to give an update on how this whole seminary situation is panning out.

In short, I am completely convinced that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be right now. This is precisely where God has paved the path for me to be for this season, and that has been evident across so many different situations. Every day I find myself just sitting back in awe of how he has woven this whole thing together (and that I was actually able to listen and discern and obey!). I know he has awesome plans for me, and the next three (or more) years are going to be the most amazing journey--even more so than the last three years (as if that is even possible!).

Already, this experience has been unimaginably challenging. Starting at a new school and a new job, and living in a new city are difficult circumstances for any normal human to adjust to. Throw in an anxiety disorder and depression and the situation explodes. I did a science degree for my undergrad--the world of reading textbooks and writing papers is almost entirely foreign, and yet I've been tossed into it, being expected to read a few hundred pages a week while going to school full time and work part time (this coming from a kid who seldom read more than the back of a cereal box--mmmm, sodium benzoate!). I feel kind of dumb in some of my classes as someone who's never studied the bible academically, and who doesn't have a lot of "Christian" life experience. Many days I feel like my face is physically being pulled downwards and I'm upset for reasons I can't identify and I just become flustered that I can't verbalize my frustrations and angst and just have to take some time alone to sit and regroup. I've fallen back into old habits a few times and gotten so angry and frustrated that I've self-harmed… This has been SO hard.

But then I think back to four years ago, and even before that, how helpless I felt--days when I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed, but just in the silence of my own self-doubt came this notion that someone, somewhere wanted something better for me. I'm so crazy excited that I now recognize that that was God speaking to me, and that he's going to continue to shape and refine my life into something beautiful and useful. He's going to redeem all of that pain and suffering. I'm seriously getting super giddy and antsy right now, on the verge of a panic attack getting all excited about it.

I mean, even down to the points where I've been in panic mode during class, and have just felt a sudden profound wave of calm wash over me and I instantly stop shaking, not of my own volition. This has happened more than once in the short two weeks that I've been here. That same exact thing happened nearly three years ago and was what convinced me that God was real and cared about me and that I was his. He is real. He knows me. He loves me. He is working this all together and I'm 110% on board to see what he's going to turn this into.

As if it wasn't blatantly obvious already, this is absolutely impossible apart from him. I'm so unbelievably grateful for all of the individuals who have walked with me on this journey so far. You are all so, so special. God bless you.

I Surrender

"Go to seminary," they said.

"It'll be great," they said.

There's not a doubt in my mind that it will be, but it's also going to be hard--so hard…

I hadn't thought much about what the actual experience of sitting in a seminary class and doing the work was going to be like. I've done a bit of emotional maturing since the last time I graced a lecture hall with my presence--usually for about 25 minutes before being swept out of the room by a panic attack. Panic attacks are funny like that. Just when you think you're going to be okay and breeze through a potentially difficult situation unscathed, they like to attack you (they're so aptly named!), and all kinds of terrors you'd previously tucked away to rest take a joyride through your head, mostly with thoughts like, "we're right back where we were three years ago, nothing's worked" or "what am I even doing here? I have no freaking idea." or "I can't be a contributing member of this community or society if I can't even sit still like any normal human being and pay attention without my mind tricking me into thinking I'm going to drop dead suddenly sitting still in a lecture hall and my body spazzing out like I'm a hyperactive five-year-old who's just inhaled a whole package of Skittles."

I know that those are all lies, but good luck trying to get me to remember that in the middle of an attack when everything my body is thinking and doing is telling me "no, the panic is in charge, you have absolutely no agency here."

Today is world suicide prevention day.

I don't even know how to verbalize the sentiments of fear and gratitude that wash over me in a clear state of mind: if I hadn't have met Jesus, if God hadn't have found me in the sick, twisted state I was in and shown me a little tiny light in the black hole where I was trapped, how long would I have put up with existing as a shadow of the human being that I could be if my brain would just work properly? How much hurt and rejection and fear would it have taken before thinking and feeling nothing became the preferable option?

It's scary. I don't like to think about it.

But that's not the way it is. The recovery period from every panic attack is an emotionally-charged reminder of how, geez, even if God doesn't exist, I sure need something to store hope in right now, because I sure wouldn't have any confidence in myself in an emergency…

I'm confident that this "yes" to seminary was the right "yes". I know that he has come around me on all sides and isn't going anywhere. Jesus promises quite the opposite of sunshine and butterflies in exchange for following his lead.

So last night at 2 in the morning after several hours of emotional turmoil, I got down on my knees with open hands and said something like "I can't do this. This is all you, Jesus. This is all you. I know that you've blessed me into this, even though right now it feels like absolute crap, so just have your way."

"…I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong." -2 Cor 12:8-10

It'll be good.

Just stop.

I recently returned from a trip to New York City. As I had kind of expected, the culture shock of going from a small town of 1200 to the biggest city in the country next door within 12 hours was a bit of a challenge. I have been surprised, however, by the difficulty I am facing as I try to understand the culture of human identity in this economic and cultural centre, and the implications as they relate to our perception of our value as individuals.

Let me explain:

I'm not sure if someone coined this quote or if it's just a sentiment that's been passed down through the generations, but, here goes, "If you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere."

Honestly, makes sense, probably true. If you can "make it" in the largest city in the wealthiest country in the world (for most of recent history), you can theoretically "make it" anywhere. Presumably, by the North American cultural definition, "make it" means to land a job (preferably in your area of study/passion/interest) and be "successful" enough to live a "comfortable" life, and/or to be known/renowned for what you do--to have security in your identity and be somebody.

New York, obviously, is very business-driven, being basically the financial headquarters of the world. It's full of people working crazy long hours for "the man" on the top of the corporate ladder, hoping that someday, after years of grind, they'll make it up to those echelons themselves, or make enough money to not have to, or maybe something else. No one can be 23 and work 80 hours a week forever, the same way that no one who is 23 and fresh out of school will ever just magically find themselves at the top of the corporate ladder. The system makes logical sense. 

Similar things can be said about the entertainment industry in New York. People spend a ton of money on education with hopes that they can "make it big" in this prestigious entertainment centre. Except getting your foot in a door appears to be an extreme challenge, so they'll get to the city and wait tables, serve coffee, or scrub toilets for more hours in a week than a human should be allowed to work, to pay for astronomical rent and food prices while also preparing for stupidly competitive auditions that may or may not yield anything.

I don't get it, but at the same time, I do.

People are unsatisfied being "normal" or as they are, and believe they will find solace in becoming something bigger, and living up to ideals that our culture deems "desirable". Of course I wish I could claim an impressive job title at an impressive firm on a resume to land a more impressive job at a more impressive firm. Of course the performer in me thinks it would be absolutely awesome to have a stint in a broadway musical, or play in a prestigious symphony… Even though I might not necessarily enjoy any of those things 100% of the time, how awesome would it be to have those bragging rights? (Like how I can say I got my first job working for the government at 13, but really I was just bringing people papers and water)

And I wish that all these people who are busting their buns to make it big, sacrificing so much for so little time to actually sit back and enjoy moments in life because the potential for a high payout later takes precedence over living in the moment now--oh, I only wish that they could know that their value as a human being is in no way dictated by any position, degree, or accomplishment. I hope they know how much they are loved; how valuable and precious their lives are just because they exist and not for any other reason; how there is nothing they can do to take that love and value away, or make it any greater.

I'm not saying this to detract anything from people who pursue those goals and lifestyles. I feel especially passionate about conveying this message of love to people who place their identity and worth outside themselves (in something external like their job or education) because some of the people I care about the most fall into this category…and I know how that feels, too.

Five years ago, I was ready to work really hard for a few years and make myself into something I thought was going to make me more successful--something that had the potential to give me an enviable job title and comfortable annual salary. Panic disorder changed everything. All of a sudden I wasn't able to go to school and sit through classes, labs and tests. Any value that I placed in my ability or potential to get good grades, get into a good grad school program, land a good job and be set for life all of a sudden felt worthless. With no desirable life prospects visible from the outset of my new reality of living with a mental illness, I believed that I was absolutely useless and therefore unlovable. Looking back, I feel like I can say that those assumptions were unfounded. I didn't lose any friends over that diagnosis--if anything, my existing and new relationships grew stronger since I was forced into vulnerability of what was actually going on inside my head, and sometimes that made other parties want to be vulnerable as well.

In light of that, though, I began to understand how broken we all are as humans. Life is so, so hard, and we can't do it on our own. As much as we may strive to be around for one another and hold hands and sing kumbaya because there's always a way to make things right somehow, we fall short. We let each other down, through no ill intentions of our own. We misinterpret the actions and words of others. We avoid potentially beneficial confrontation for the fear of things turning sour. We are so flawed, and there's nothing we can do to change that human nature.

And then: grace. Grace says "although I regret that you weren't there for me in the way(s) I thought you should've been, I forgive you, I still love you, and I want to move forward with you as my friend", and "I'm not going to shame or look down on you for the fact that you're only human and you mess up sometimes", and "I release myself of the responsibility to do more than I am capable of in an effort to maintain the equilibrium or wellbeing of myself and/or others". The grace of God says "I fulfill your shortcomings so you don't have to pretend they don't exist, because you're not superhuman, and that's just the way it's supposed to be" and "I love you in spite of your humanness and vulnerability". In spaces where grace is extended, God is glorified, and that grace is always freely flowing. So cool.

Sometimes I just want to shove Jesus at everyone so bad saying "Here! Free love! Take it! Explore it! Get to know it!", but oh my goodness, especially people whose identity, value, and self-worth lie in their careers or wealth of life experience. Mostly because those things are so transient--a job can be gone suddenly without warning; a terminal illness could be diagnosed; visiting every country or wonder of the world doesn't make me better than you. It's impossible to raise yourself above or lower yourself below the reach of God's love and grace, and raising or lowering your apparent position in the world won't get you faster or better grace, love or care (i.e. don't sin more so that you'll get more grace). If we had any idea how much Jesus loves us, and how to pass that love through ourselves to all whom we meet, we wouldn't feel the need to be so superficially impressive as to implicitly say "get away from me, I'm good enough on my own and I don't need you" or "my situation suck[s/ed] so much more than yours so here's why [I need more x more urgently/my transformation story is more impressive than yours]."

Did this trip make me bitter because it was a slap-in-the-face reminder of a time when I was on track to being "somebody" in the eyes of the world? Yeah, maybe. 

Did it make me question God's sovereignty, seeing such a gap between the wealthy and the poor? Absolutely. 

Did it make me feel guilty about various aspects of my privilege, despite highlighting the areas where I lack privilege? You bet.

Did it reignite my passion and purpose for sharing the love of Jesus with everyone? Without question.

You can bend over backwards, break your neck, and slowly kill yourself adhering to norms to be seen in a favourable light by society and culture, but it won't last. We'll mess up. Our best is never good enough for some people, no matter how hard we try. The love and grace of God reach beyond those confines and expectations we put around ourselves and call "necessary" or "good". Just take this most precious gift that is being freely given to you, and feel the need for no more justification for your deserving of it! This is the same God whose first recorded words to Jesus were "You are my beloved son, with you I am well pleased."--prior to any of the laundry list of expectations of Jesus ever being fulfilled.

There's a dude out there who wants to give you the best thing ever, for free, and it won't require you to "make it" anywhere. Stop fighting to be "somebody" and let that guy love you!

The surprise

So two weeks ago I moved for about the 12th time in under 5 years. Unlike most of those other moves, this time I moved back home for the most significant period of time in a couple of years--certainly the most significant period of time since my parents moved to their current place. This place, unlike the others where they've lived, is quite far away from where I grew up and went to school, and is also a lot smaller than those places. The marriage of those two factors essentially translates into deficiencies in the areas of community, and things to do. I expected to be bored and lonely this summer, as I just usually am every summer while I'm not at work (and, let's face it, sometimes I manage to find boredom and loneliness at work too, regardless of what the job is!).

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For context's sake:

Summer after first year: I worked my butt off 9-5, Monday-Friday, and found myself too tired to do anything but sleep on the weekends (but made a ton of money that stretched a really, really long way)

Summer after second year: Panic attacks, anxiety, and prescription drugs had knocked the wind out of me during the year, and I decided I needed to take some time away from work to regroup, so I basically allowed myself to have panic attacks at home instead of at a job. This was not my favourite summer.

Summer after third year: I went to Bangladesh for a month, then came home and fought with my parents a lot while trying navigate side effects and a new mental reality that came when I weaned myself off of all prescription drugs. Then my parents moved. The day I moved back to school was the best day ever.

Summer after fourth year: I worked part time, but spent a bunch of time being alone, searching for another job, and moving. This was the summer that I moved and my parents moved and both of our houses became one. It wasn't very pretty, for the most part.

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So this summer I was expecting to get a hold of some textbooks and start reading for the fall since I was probably going to be alone with nothing to do anyway--that and try and train my body to tolerate wheat once again (results are mixed so far). The last two summers since I've become a follower of Jesus have typically been times of spiritual regression as well, and I wasn't holding out much hope of having the guts to go out church hopping by myself and actually finding a church community that I would feel right plugging into, coming alongside and joining their mission in this community that I was sort of temporarily living in--this place where I didn't grow up nor know anyone or anything.

I'd been to this one particular church a few times before on the odd weekend when I was home throughout the year, on recommendation from a couple of friends who had been there a few times. From the small glimpse I had, it was alright. The teaching was good, and I could tell that it was a loving, tight-knit community, but I didn't see room for myself there. I'd been to three services and had had two individuals approach me to talk, mostly for all of about 2 minutes, politely acknowledging my presence, thanking me for coming, and offering a hot beverage and a cookie before the start of the service. I shouldn't rip these people up for not being hospitable or friendly, because I'm absolutely the worst hostess in the world and just feel so awkward asking questions and offering anything that my guests probably always feel like they're walking on eggshells. I get it--hosting isn't always natural, and sometimes it's just awkward and hard! Anyway, my first Sunday at home after moving from London, I really didn't want to go to church. I didn't want to go to my parents' church for other reasons that I won't get into, and I didn't want to go to this church that I'd been to before, as I really wasn't interested in sitting in the back by myself, left to my own anxious thoughts and feeling like an outsider. But somehow I felt that I should go there. I put all kinds of parameters in my way: "I'll only go if I get up early enough…" Well, that happened, because my body doesn't know how to sleep in; "Well, now that I'm up, I'd better shower, and I'll only go if I can get ready in time" Conveniently, despite purposely taking a longer-than-necessary shower to try and stall myself, I emerged from the bathroom with the exact amount of time needed to get in the car and go; "I don't want to drive my big car and parallel park it downtown" But of course, my dad's smaller car and his keys were left for me to use; "I got here a few minutes late, I don't want to go in late and cause a scene" Good thing this is one of those churches where services never start on time… You get the idea. I didn't want to go, but I felt like I was supposed to be there.

Then right when I walked in the door, some young adults introduced themselves to me. It wasn't awkward. Sometimes talking with Christians can be the awkwardest, and I find myself feeling probably like Spongebob did when he got sent to Weenie Hut Junior's (like, ugh, you people are such wieners and I am not weird like that! No wonder Christians are so stereotypically lame!). But this wasn't like that! It was so refreshing to find this community in such a small town where I didn't know anyone. And it's been so great. I haven't even had time to be bored sitting at home because I've been having coffee and drinks and barbecues and bonfires and going to the movies and the beach with this group of awesome people that I just met. It's freaking amazing. Yay. And also crazy ridiculous how God just works these things out, how I didn't make any real connections while I wasn't able to go to this church consistently, but then when I am able to go on the regular I get plugged in right away.

And it gets better. This church is planting a church in Toronto, and I'm moving there in a month and a half. Awesome. They had a day this past weekend of fellowship, worship, and prayer for this church plant in Toronto, and it was full of more chill people who also happen to love the Lord, and are doing an amazing job of making me feel welcome, loved, and at home as a newcomer, without being overbearing. They were even giving me jobs to do, which is one of the ways I feel really valued and like I belong, when I can contribute to the production of something. Sweet.

Of course, there have also been questions. I haven't agreed wholeheartedly with all of the interpretations of scripture, and at some points I've wanted to just shout out "HEY! I don't entirely agree with what you've just said regarding this scripture, here is what I think/believe, what do you think about that?" and have a longer, fuller discussion, but I didn't want to stir the pot as a noob, or distract from the greater purpose of this church planting prayer session, and I'm honestly probably a little afraid of what the reaction to a young woman's speculation would be in this context, although those fears are rather unfounded. But, regardless of any theological differences, it's obvious that we all love Jesus and want to serve him and love God and our neighbour, and any remaining differences are all reconciled through Christ. 

One big thing, though, is that I don't believe that this particular church affirms women in leadership roles. As a woman who feels called to explore the possibility of a career in church leadership, that's kind of a big deal to me. I fully feel like preaching and teaching are gifts that God has given to me, and I don't believe it is sinful or out of place to use those gifts for the edification the entire body of Christ (not just the women and children). I've never consistently attended a church that did not affirm women in leadership roles, and it seems a curious thing to begin doing so now that I am pursuing a call towards church leadership. To be honest, I feel like this is something I'll be wrestling with for the long-term. There are voices that say "you're wrong, just look at scripture, submit, and assimilate" and others that say "others telling you that you can't preach because of your sex is a form of oppression, and Jesus was not about that. It's not in the character of God, and it's a greater transgression to keep the light that God has given you under a bucket than to put it on a lampstand while some interpret certain scriptures to say that you have to let a man do that because he has a penis and you don't". I don't believe that just because of this "minor" theological difference (although it is pretty major in the context of my own situation) I should abandon this community that has already demonstrated that they're about a lot of the things I'm also about and a lot of the things I believe Jesus was about. I feel like everybody wishes the whole world would just agree with them and their ideologies, but that's just not the way it is. At the end of the day, Jesus is about reconciliation and living as one body in the Kingdom of God, not pride and cynicism. The best we can do is to keep ourselves educated and informed and on our toes, with open hearts and minds to hear what ALL people have to say, especially those who are affected by specific parameters or circumstances in question. No one can claim to be informed while only listening to voices in concordance with their own opinion.

So far, I'm having an amazing summer--no sports injuries, no surgeries, no inability to eat anything softer than overcooked pasta due to incessant jaw bone grafts, no prescription drug addictions or withdrawal, no major family turbulence, no crippling panic attacks thwarting plans to leave the house or have a good night's sleep, no moves requiring more than my SUV, and my parents are in their own home without any fear of being kicked out. And I've found a great community in what I thought was just desert wilderness in the middle of nowhere. Best summer since we went to Europe in '06, easily. 

Sold Out

"God works in mysterious ways"

After my confirming my offer of admission from Tyndale, I knew that I was going to the right place, but I had this lingering feeling that I'd end up switching into a degree program once I got a feel for everything after the first semester or so. When I started registering for courses, I noticed that there weren't a sufficient number of spiritual formation courses offered within a year for me to complete the diploma in one year--I would have to stick around for two. Additionally, the one course I really wanted to take had a prerequisite. I asked my admissions counselor if it was possible to get special permission to take it without the prerequisite, and he even spoke with the professor for me to ask about it, but it ended up not being possible to get special permission, and my admissions counselor posed the question as to whether I would be opposed to taking the course in fall 2016. It was becoming clear to me that God was using tactics he knew I would respond to in order to get me to make a larger commitment, although in my typical stubbornness I was still not convinced enough to bite the bullet and commit to a master's degree. Which stream would I commit to? Wouldn't I have to have more of an idea of where I wanted to go with my life so that I could commit to a specific stream for 2-3 years? How on earth was I supposed to finance this? I began having very physical anxiety symptoms, worse than I had in several months, and became kind of worried about the prospects of what I was getting myself into. What even was God's deal?

Around this time, I had lunch with a friend at a Vietnamese restaurant. For some reason (that reason being that I live in the west, and apparently white people have been conditioned to expect a fortune cookie at the end of a meal originating from any Asian country) we had fortune cookies at the end of the meal. When I cracked mine open, my fortune consisted of only two words: Don't panic.

What? How did they even know? (At this point I'm reminded of The Simpsons--obviously--when Homer gets that "you will find happiness with a new love" fortune cookie while out for dinner with Mindy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNZmqtzoYaY).

But seriously. That was too perfect, too timely, too apt. Was God now speaking to me through a fortune cookie?

A few weeks later (last week) I traveled to Tyndale for their accepted students open house bbq thingy. I spoke to one of their financial aid advisors, and he asked me if I was planning on applying for OSAP, to which my answer was basically "duh, that's the only way I'm ever going to afford this." but obviously in a nicer tone, you know, probably more like just a plain, drawn-out "yeeesssss". And his response was essentially "well, then you may want to switch into a degree program, at least for now, because OSAP typically doesn't grant any funding for diploma programs here." If I was anyone else in any other situation, I'd probably have been pretty ticked off by that initially, but I really felt like this was another block God was setting up in the road to get me where he wanted me, in this case, in an M.Div. So later that afternoon I filled out the paperwork to make the switch, and so far I have felt really good about the decision--really at peace, and confident that this is where God wants me. So good!

Around this time I also decided that I wanted to get baptized. I've had countless conversations about baptism over the last few years, ranging from "this is a sin if you don't do it, you need to do it NOW" to "you're obviously not following Jesus right now, don't do this, you'll know when it's the right time" to "you were already baptized when you were a baby, you don't need to do it again". It ended up being kind of a culmination of the three main points of those conversations that resulted in me being baptized yesterday! 

First, I was baptized as a baby, although I never took a first communion (not as a formality, anyway), was never confirmed, and never gave a profession of faith. I felt the need to make a public declaration that I was sold out for Jesus and following him, and to have the support of my friends and family, and church family at said declaration. Second, the bible clearly commands adult baptism by immersion, and doing so would be following in the example of Jesus, who, before he began his ministry, was baptized by John the Baptist (and all kinds of cool things happen--read Mark chapter 1). Third, when I was having those conversations where others were calling me out on not following Jesus, that was an appropriate response, because I was not following Jesus, just seeking ways to feel like I belonged to him, and to this group of people that I thought were pretty cool and about good things. Now, circumstances have changed. I feel like I can confidently and truthfully say that I am following Jesus (although I can always do better), that I'm about what he's about, that I'm sold out for him and the Kingdom of God. By the time I'd decided I was going to seminary, all I could think about it was "just do it already!". And just like that, there was an announcement at church on Sunday that in a few weeks they were going to have a baptism service. Score.

So I did it. Family and friends traveled from great distances to support me. I gave my testimony, and it was powerful. People were encouraged. God was glorified. It was just so, so great! The sermon was about love and belonging. Perfect. Then I shared this version of my testimony:

***

Whether I've realized it or not, the biggest questions that I've spent the majority of my life attempting to answer have been surrounding my own identity: what it means for me to belong, and feel loved.

I grew up in a small town, where your popularity as a kid was mostly dictated by how well you could play hockey. Although I was a decent athlete, I was known more for my book smarts and violin playing, which I kind of resented. I wanted to be well-liked and feel like I belonged, and I didn't. I began to feel really depressed quite frequently by the time I was about 10, but I was shy and confused about what was happening in my brain, so I kept pretty quiet… What was I supposed to say, anyway? That I was upset and sad because I felt like nobody loved me even though I had a family and talents and privilege?

I also grew up in church. My parents had me baptized as a baby, and I went to Sunday school until I was competent enough on the violin to play with the worship team, which I did every Sunday from when I was 11 until I went away to university at 18, and quit going to church. Every Sunday school class hammered home the exact same point every week: Jesus loves you. I knew those words in my head, but did not believe them in my heart. If Jesus loves me, why don't I feel loved? If I am made in God's image, why do I hate what I see when I look in the mirror? If Christians are supposed to love and support one another and those who are different from them, why do I feel like I don't matter, and why do I feel like I'll be told to just suck it up and get over myself, because other people have bigger problems?

In my second year of university, I started having panic attacks--violent, tantrum-like episodes where I would feel like I was dying-- I couldn't leave my house to go to school on many days. I became very dependent on prescription sedatives to have a small, fabricated sense of peace every day. I ended up hospitalized in the psych ward. Jesus loves me? Why isn't he stopping this? I belong to him? I'll never belong to anyone. I'm damaged goods. I can't make anybody love me for reasons other than guilt.

But maybe he did love me. Maybe he wanted to heal me, and transform my life into something good. I kept hearing this voice inside me saying "this isn't it, I want something more for you, something better…" I couldn't sink any lower, and had nothing to lose by giving Jesus a shot. In September of my 3rd year, I got connected with IVCF. I went to bible studies and large group events, I went on a global partnership to Bangladesh that summer, I joined student leadership the following year. I said I loved Jesus, and I did, but for whatever reason, I still didn't feel like I was good enough to be loved by him and his people.

Going into my fourth year, I'd had a rough summer since coming back from Bangladesh. I knew I had to find a church, though, and get plugged into a community that was about following Jesus and living out the kingdom of God in a practical way, where I could learn and grow. But the process of finding a church was absolutely daunting. And then one Sunday I got invited to Hillside.

This has been a community who has said "we love you for you, and not for your violin playing", who has said "I haven't seen you for a few weeks, is everything okay? Want to come over to my house for lunch and talk?", who has said "we barely know you, and understand that you're only in this city for a short while, but we want to see you do well, and help you out however we can because we recognize that even though you're 22 and past youth group age, Jesus still wants to change and transform you and we feel like he wants to use us to be a part of that so we are going to say YES to him!" "We are teaching you to say YES to Jesus by saying YES to him ourselves by loving you because HE loves you and you belong to him and he has placed you here with us and that is good!"

And now, I'm saying yes to Jesus. I said yes to him today by getting baptized. I'm saying yes to his call to start a Master's of Divinity at Tyndale this fall, and I can't wait to say yes to wherever he calls me next. Although I'm broken and anxious and imperfect and awkward, he doesn't care, he loves me, and I belong to him, and he says that I am a new creation in him and he wants to use me to grow his father's kingdom! No one can ever take that away.

***

"God works in mysterious ways" 

What ways are those? Who even knows. But he makes this socially awkward, anxious girl get up and testify in front of a church of 200 that he is Lord and he works and he is good, and then the body is encouraged. He heals. He brings peace, joy, hope, and love in his own time. He moves the hearts of individuals to pray for others that they will know him and they hold that faith and continue for years until the ones they have prayed for cry out to him in desperation. It is totally crazy and ridiculous. I am sold out for this God right now. I know I won't always feel this way--that trials are on the horizon, that growth is hard and painful, that the enemy is active and lurking, that sometimes I'll wonder where God is or what he's doing… But right now, I'm just going to ride this high. 

What even just happened?

Recently, I learned of my acceptance to Tyndale for a year of bible college. I've had inklings for quite a while that this was something that the Lord would eventually lead me to on the path that I've been walking, and it's a bit of a long story involving walking away from the notion of attending seminary, and then coming around again thanks much to the prodding and encouragement of (un)suspecting individuals.

The buildup of expectation seemed intense though--I'd had this feeling for over a year that I would end up at this particular institution eventually, but didn't say much about it to anyone. I typically don't like sharing things with people unless I am absolutely certain that they are factual, or as close to perfection as possible; I think that's a pride thing. I also didn't really want to go to this school, outwardly (as in, what I shared with people) for financial reasons (tuition isn't cheap, and neither is the cost of living in the city), but inwardly (what I didn't really share with people) I didn't want to make anyone think I was following the lead of somebody else, as there are a few quite influential individuals in my life and faith journey who are alumni of the school. I wanted to carve my own path, not copy someone else who may have felt called into ministry under similar circumstances as myself, and didn't want to create lofty expectations for my own life based on the experiences of others at this particular institution. As it turned out, though, independently, and louder than all of those inner voices, God spoke to me in ways he knew I would listen and not doubt: through my own prayerful intuition, affirmed by trusted mentors and cross-checked with communication with admissions counselors and students, and visits to different campuses. Despite my desire to do my own thing, independent of extraneous human influence, I really felt like this was the place where God was calling me.

I still find the will of God so hard to talk about. I feel like I have to justify my beliefs in God or about the character or actions of God to make them sound legitimate, when I truly feel that they are sometimes just too enigmatic or emotionally overwhelming to string into simple sentences. It usually takes hours of written processing, conversation, and prayer before I feel I can be confident in what I think and wish I should just be able to hear and discern quickly from God. I feel like I always sound crazy, whether I'm trying to tell non-Christians why I believe in God and how he speaks to me, or trying to rationally justify to Christians why I think something is of God, and I feel like I usually just end up sounding stupid because I can't find adequate words to express the magnitude, depth, and source of my convictions. (If you've ever had a spiritual or theological conversation with me, you may have observed that you probably did most of the talking, as I responded with concordance or frustration expressed in grunts of "mmmmm!" or "ugh!"--occasionally, I manage to muster the word "YES!"). It's like I have a fear of making my opinions known and open to judgment from others, and causing upset or putting myself in an unfavourable light, which is pretty contrary to Jesus, and so probably something I need to be consciously working on.

…Anyway,

On the cusp of this exciting new adventure, I've found myself under a lot of spiritual attack, characterized by overwhelming anxiety and a feeling of general malaise and self-doubt. I am nowhere near adequate or ready enough to make disciples; I can't even communicate properly. What am I even doing with my life? Some of my friends are already working in ministry, in the mission field and here I am after noon on a weekday sitting in my pink batman onesie in an empty house because everyone has gone out to make a difference in the world. In some ways, I feel like pursuing higher education in ministry before actually working in the field is for people who haven't been able to demonstrate their commitment to a lifestyle of serving Christ, and ability to love and disciple people well enough to be asked to join some kind of ministry team, which makes me feel just wonderful about myself and my potential to make a difference in the world for the sake of Christ. Having these negative thoughts magnified to the point where I question this call, my ability to be loved as the human I am, and whether I should even be following Jesus at all if I constantly feel sidelined and unworthy to serve him alongside my peers rather than challenged to be and do better--I struggle to understand a lot of things about the Lord and how he works on a daily basis, but I know that those things are lies, and the fact that I'm believing them is dangerous and just underlines a need for Jesus. 

I'm a relatively new Christian, and feel like I have very little knowledge of the bible, and how to pray, and feel rather unconfident when it comes to justifying and defending my faith. I don't think I can adequately answer the big, hot-button questions of why God allows human suffering to occur, why the God of the old testament seems so different than the God of the new testament and how on earth to reconcile the two, whether or not homosexual relationships are sinful, why God doesn't always answer prayer, etc. etc. Essentially, I feel immensely underqualified to begin a career in ministry, and rather intimidated to begin a formal education towards one, knowing that I will likely not only be among the newer Christians at seminary, but also among the younger individuals with limited life experience. I can just see a nervous breakdown looming somewhere around October or November of first semester due to the stress of deadlines and academia and just feeling lost in an environment where I feel like everyone is more advanced or better than me in every way.

Why am I even doing this? I've thought and prayed about it for a long time, and had conversations with people whom I trust to lead me towards Jesus and give me honest, constructive feedback on my ideas. Heck, I'd totally planned to just throw in the towel on this whole Christianity thing, and move back home and start my own business about six months ago when I was feeling super alone and far away from God, and I did not enjoy having people tell me that I needed to find community and stay with Jesus and find people to love and disciple and to love me and disciple me. I knew they were right though, and I thank God for placing them in my life, and giving them boldness and courage to confront me honestly, love me, and intercede for me. Why am I even doing this? I find it so hard to explain, and I'm not going to lie, I feel a particular desire to prove myself to anyone thinking "Helen, you're so full of shit, you change your mind about what you're doing with your life every damn week, you're so full of yourself, why don't you get a life…"--but I really feel like this is something God wants me to do. I could be totally wrong, but I'm willing to give up a year (and a ton of money) to risk it, just trying to live out what I feel God calling me to, and seeing what he might do with that. It is not going to be easy, at all. The last 3.5 years of my life have been one crazy ridiculous experience of humbling (I was a pompous, pretentious jerk 4 years ago, and if I ever ran into my 18 year old self on the street, I'd probably punch her in the boob [heheheh, that comment was totally precipitated from Bob's Burgers: "don't be such a boob punch!" - Tina Belcher, possibly my spirit animal, actually, jokes, it's probably Louise]. And, don't take this the wrong way, but in a lot of ways, I hope that I'll be able to say the same thing in a few years about my present self.)

I have zero idea where this is headed, but an incredibly rare, solid conviction that it is the will of God. Please pray for me on this new endeavour:

• that I will do my best to stay close to God; that he will speak truth over my life, and that I will listen; that I will be surrounded by good, life-giving community that will challenge me to grow in my relationship with Christ and strive to be a better human being
• for confidence and boldness as I share this news with family and friends, and for opportunities to utilize that confidence and boldness to share the gospel of Christ with those of them who do not believe
•  for wisdom and discernment of direction in what to do and where to go afterwards
• against warfare and spiritual forces that seek to distract from God's will and purpose for me here

I feel like I can't say this enough times or in enough different ways, but I am so extremely thankful for God taking me on this journey of the discovery of himself and my true self over the last few years; for every part of this journey that has been culminating into a fuller picture of who he is, and how he has hopes and dreams for this world and he yearns and aches for all of his creation to be reconciled in the perfect peace of shalom: a peace infinitely greater than anything conceivable and achievable by our human minds and bodies. I'm so, so grateful to have come to a place to have heard this call, and respond to it, and only hope that in so doing, that God will be able to use me for the furtherance of his Kingdom.

mmmmm!

ugh!

YES!

Day 7. Philippians 1:6

I had a bit of a time sorting through the plethora of options with which to finish this challenge—as it turns out, there are more than 7 good verses in the bible!

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

This.

This has been an incredible source of hope for me, and I’m sure countless numbers of others who have ever doubted God’s presence, intentions, or sovereignty in their own lives. Time and time again, we fall short—we’re humans, sure, but couldn’t God be working a little harder or faster to make us not suck so much? It’s not like that’s not within his power to do so, right? I have no idea how God works, but if both his word and his spirit affirm that he is doing a good work in us and slowly bringing it to completion, then gosh golly gee… maybe that's the still small voice we should be listening to, rather than our own shortsighted impatience.

I’ve heard it said that your goal in life should be to not recognize the person you were x-amount-of-years ago. Since Jesus has become part of my life, I don’t recognize the person I was a month ago, or even last week—inwardly, we are being renewed day by day […] so we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal – from 2 Corinthians 4

I also want to talk more about this CD my mom gave me for Christmas…

On this album, Welcome to the New by Mercy Me, there is this song, called “Finish What He Started” that is based on this piece of scripture. There’s one line in particular in there that really gets me every time I listen to it:

Remember you’re forgiven, so there’s no need to give in to the lie that you’re disqualified

God is able, more than capable to be faithful to the end, and finish what he started

Yes.

How often have I thought that grace isn’t for me specifically, but humans in general (which somehow doesn’t include me—my logic is just impeccable sometimes), and given into that lie that somehow God doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I’m on my own. This has manifested itself in so many ways: avoiding prayer because I think God doesn’t care and won’t answer, not volunteering to serve in church because other people are more gifted than myself and their gifts are more desired than anything I can offer, and failing to attend church and seek out community in other ways because I feel like already established communities are better off without me, just to name a few.

Grace is for all of us, individuals, as we are. God doesn’t leave unfinished business. Just because our lives aren’t unfolding the way we’d planned doesn’t mean that God isn’t working. He is working, all the time, in ways that are higher than our ways—we can’t even comprehend them since his thoughts are higher than our thoughts and his vision for us is bigger than we could ever dream for ourselves—it is infinitely bigger than our own.

No matter what you see or think when you look in the mirror, God loves you, so, so, SO much. He is doing good work in you. That love that he has for you is far too big for him to give up on you, ever.

Day 6. Psalm 46:10

Be still and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.

Here’s the other verse that I’ve considered getting tattooed somewhere on myself. How powerful this verse has been when I’ve struggled inconsolably with anxiety and panic. A few months ago, my church used this scripture as the theme for one Sunday, and there was this lovely little video to go along with the message that took away a word or two at a time—something like this:

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

God is God. He is God. No matter what we face, or who we think we are, that remains as truth. He is our refuge and strength, our ever present help in trouble. So we will not fear, though the earth gives way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea. [...] He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with fire. That is who made us, and who wants us on his side. We actually do not need to be anxious about anything (I should really practice what I preach) because He is God. Once we allow that knowledge to permeate both our heads and our hearts, we just have to be still. 

Funny thing I just remembered: in grade 12, I went through a period where I was extremely depressed, and I had this one friend who was trying really hard to brighten my outlook on life, and we usually had really long, elaborate conversations, but one day when I just couldn't get out of bed, she sent me this text: "just be.". I threw my phone at the wall. She had no idea how hard this was for me. How could I possibly just be when just being hurt so much and I didn't want to be anymore. At the time I was a secular humanist, and had Christian people in my life pointing me to the bible as if it was some kind of pill that would magically fix all of my problems. I was obviously more qualified to handle the problems of my own life, so I did, and it worked for another couple of years, before my life fell apart. I feel like sometimes maybe all we can do is be. Be, and acknowledge that although we may be in a crappy situation, God is still God, and he is still sovereign, and he is still jealous, and he is still good, and he is still for us. We just need to be.

Day 5. Ephesians 4:31-32

This was another passage that I first came across in Bangladesh. We studied the book of Ephesians together as a team over the course of the trip, and many of the study sessions (as I recall) were often filled with tension and arguments over interpretation and emphasis of the passage at hand. Truthfully, I misremember whether or not the study session that included these verses was tension-filled, but I do remember being very relieved to find these words in scripture.

I’m typically very non-confrontational, and there are many instances where I can only find myself wondering why a topic is even the subject of intense debate, rather than joining a side. This is not to say that confrontation and conflict are all bad, because in many other instances they are good, and necessary.

Up until this point, there is a lot in this letter about breaking down walls of hostility between different people groups (gentiles and Jews), and living together as one Body of Christ. Paul explains the implications of this revolutionary idea in reasonable detail, and I imagine that some of the contents in his letter to the church at Ephesus probably met with some pushback, particularly from Jewish Christians who weren’t sold on the idea of sharing salvation with non-Jews. Regardless of those implications, and that pushback, Paul summarizes how we are required to live graciously as one body of believers, regardless of ethnic background or any other plethora of interpersonal variables, in these last two verses of this chapter:

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

I’ve seriously considered getting this tattooed somewhere on my body (I’m actually dead serious—betcha didn’t see that one coming) because it is something that I will always need to remember. I harbour bitterness in my heart like there’s been a massive sale on some product I don’t use—I feel a need to have it, though it just takes up space and doesn’t accomplish anything. As soon as I let go of bitterness towards one person or thing, I feel a compulsive need to replace it with bitterness towards something else. It’s not a good thing. I need this reminder to put away those negative thoughts and feelings and replace them with the grace and tenderheartedness that I have chosen to accept as a gift from Jesus, and to give them away as freely as he has given them to me.

Salvation is for all. Grace is for all. Kindness and tenderheartedness are for all. Forgiveness is for all. It’s easy to accept that as truth on the surface, but deep down, I think we all have reservations and need this reminder.

Day 4. Zephaniah 3:17

The Lord your God is in your midst,

a mighty one who will save;

he will rejoice over you with gladness;

he will quiet you by his love;

he will exult over you with loud singing.

Normally, I like to do my research and explore a little bit (or a lot) into context, cultural significance, and translations from the original language when I find a verse I like (or don’t like). Sometimes, though, I prefer to just read the words that are on the page as they are, and let that be the truth that is spoken to me. Although it might not be academically correct, sometimes it’s just what I need. The case of this particular verse is one of those times.

I know nothing about Zephaniah, although I can assume he was a prophet—I’m not sure from where, or who his audience was, or the intricacies of his relationship with those people, or with the Lord, and although a quick google search, or even flip through the pages of my study bible could give me those answers quite quickly, I really don’t care.

I’ve had a really rough couple of days, and anxiety has been mounting as I’m trying to figure out where I should live and what I should do for the next stage of my life. I’m second-guessing myself a lot, and God. I’m wondering if he really knows what he’s doing. I’m wondering if I can ever live the life I want to live, given my history with mental illness, and if it’s ever going to really go away. I’m wondering if all I’m worth is this lifelong sentence of depression, anxiety, loneliness, and feelings of worthlessness and filth, and why God has allowed me to sit in those feelings for so long. I wonder why I choose to sit in those feelings when I know there are better choices to be made. I wonder about hurtful things people have said to me in the past, and how much truth they hold, why they said them, and if those relationships can and should be reconciled. I wonder, and it eats away at me.

Sometimes scripture is comforting during these times, and sometimes it’s kind of infuriating to read about all of these wonderful attributes of God that I just don’t see. The nice part about that is that there is truth there, whether or not I feel that it is true in the moment—the fact that this is something else to believe as truth other than the flawed perception of myself and others as imperfect humans is a gift in itself. I just like to read that God is with me through these times, and saves, rejoices over his children with gladness, and quiets with his love—I just love that image, it reminds me of a parent lovingly holding and comforting a crying child. He also exults over his children with loud singing—not just some under-the-table, empty sympathy smalltalk of “hey, I think you’re really nice” but a loud, beautiful, majestic, genuine declaration of elation in our success of merely existing: “this is my child whom I love!”

Sometimes, I just need to read that, straight up.

Day 3. Mark 4:35-41

On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.”  And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great fear and said to one another,“Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

I never really thought too much of this story, until very recently. I’ve been rereading through the gospel of Mark as part of a bible reading plan, and as I was reading this particular section, I had peace on my mind. Previously, I’d studied this passage a handful of times in manuscript style, and we’d had pretty much the same questions and observations (why and how was Jesus asleep through this storm? Why did the disciples wait until they were perishing before asking Jesus for help? Does Jesus do this to test the disciples? Was Jesus in control of the weather the whole time? Etc.). As I recall, the interpretations that we reached were inconsistent at best—whether or not he was testing them, the point is that Jesus calmed the storm, and we should have faith that he should calm the storms in our lives. Like many other things in the bible, this sentiment is great in principle, but a little more difficult to actually implement in real life.

But this time when I read this story, I was reminded really powerfully of my first encounter with God. I was 20, and suffering from ruthless, unexplained panic attacks that seemed to occur absolutely at random. I’d just begun attending bible study and hanging out in Christian community a few months before, searching for solace and hope in something other than my broken body. At one particular worship event, I found myself in the middle of a crowded living room, having a panic attack, with no way to exit the room discreetly, so to avoid drawing more attention to myself, I decided to ride it out. 

These panic attacks were violent. I would hyperventilate, shake uncontrollably, and bang my fists into my legs to try and distract myself from the fear that I was about to die. I just hoped that everyone else in the room was more focused on the worship than watching me make a scene. Somewhere during the worship time, the worship leader opened a time of prayer, where we were to pray in one voice (many voices—everyone prays whatever they want out loud at the same time), asking God to take away whatever it was that was keeping us from him. I was so scared. I knew that if I asked him to take away this panic, that that would be it—that would be proof enough to me that there is a God, and that he cares about me and listens to me, and then I’d have to change so many aspects of the way I’d been living, and open my mind up to how he wanted me to live. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to do it. I looked around, and saw all these other people praying, and the best likeness I can give to what happened next is peer pressure, even though no one was looking at me, or forcing me to do anything, but I somehow found myself closing my eyes to pray… The instant my eyelids met, the panic attack was gone—I stopped shaking, I was able to breathe normally, and I physically felt the tension being released from my body. I felt an inexplicably profound sense of peace and calm to a degree that I did not know was even possible. It was absolutely the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.

This time when I reread this story in Mark 4 about a week ago, I started to see the parallels in my own story. That night two years ago, it took until I felt like I was going to die (like, every panic attack of every day) before I even thought that seeking Jesus might be a thing that could help, and it took 4 months from that initial seeking to grow a faith and understanding sufficient enough to ask him to take the panic away (although I’m still not sure how exactly that happened), all the while fearing the outcome—kind of like the disciples. Here they are in this boat, and this storm comes, and some of them are experienced fishermen, so they’re like, “nah, it’s cool, we got this, Jesus is asleep, we’ll let him sleep…” and then when the storm gets worse, to the point where they say “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” –so, they’re dying, they don’t know what else to do, Jesus is their last resort. And then Jesus says “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. So this time when I was reading that story, the lightbulb went off and I was like, DUH, Helen! This is exactly what happened two years ago, the parallels are inexplicable. Not only that, but this is one of the first miracles that Jesus performs; in this gospel, it is the first miracle performed after the appointment of the twelve apostles—the first one that they are all present for (presumably), and he chooses to show them that even the wind and the sea obey him. Incredible. For me, that really started the journey into “who is this, that even my body’s biochemistry obeys him?”, like that was just a taste of the healing he was going to bring about.

I was originally told I’d have to be on medication for life—I’ve been drug-free for going on two years.

I used to have three violent panic attacks a day, now I might have one every three months.

Anxiety and panic developed into agoraphobia, meaning I couldn’t leave the house, and the faith that has been planted and uprooted and replanted and ever so slowly growing and being pruned, and flourishing, has allowed me to overcome that, to the point where I can confidently say that I feel like a productive member of society again, and also more fully human for having been through this struggle.

Jesus says “Peace! Be still!” and the wind and the sea obey him.