Withdrawal: A True Test of Faith

I’m not much of a thinker.  I prefer to let others do my thinking for me while I use my energy for other things (like feeling, and emotionally processing).  Very often, I find myself feeling a certain way without knowing why I feel the way I do, or what it is that’s causing me to feel that way.  So, naturally, when I manage to find someone who just seems to understand what I’m going through without me having to explain myself, it’s kind of a big deal (when they can explain to me what I’m going through, that’s a bonus).  Lately, I’ve been caught in the downward spiral of being an adult living at my parents’ house for financial convenience while trying to make my way in the world—it’s taken me a few years to come to the conclusion that, at least in my situation, it just doesn’t work, and it won’t ever work.

The amount of transformation that God has performed in my life this year has been absolutely incredible, particularly while on mission to Bangladesh a few months ago.  I acknowledged this transformation as it was happening, and began to think of how challenging it would be to return home to my family and the same old same old after everything I had learned and experienced.  I prayed that God would also be working in the hearts of my family members as He was in mine, but, as we know, our desires and God’s don’t always line up.  When I came home, God really began to stretch and grow my character and ability to extend grace to my family members, and others who just didn’t understand who I was or where I was coming from.  This was fine for a while, but it did start to get old and incredibly frustrating as my patience wore thin.

When I had been back for about a month, I began to wean myself off of the prescription antidepressant drugs I had been taking for almost two years to treat my panic disorder and agoraphobia.  I was to gradually reduce the dosage over the course of two weeks from the maximum safe dosage (I find it kind of concerning that this was the minimum effective dosage for me, as a relatively small female person) to zero.  I did this, and felt totally fine—zero side effects—until after about a week of no medication.  I started to get severe migraine headaches, tingling spells, panic attacks, and I experienced prolonged episodes of heightened emotions and crying.  From everything I had read, these were all normal withdrawal symptoms that would go away in a few weeks.  I knew that God must’ve been on my side for this—the entire time I’d known Him I had depended on these drugs, but now I knew that freedom and peace could be found in God, and didn’t have to be sought in a chemical pill.  It really hurts when other people don’t understand that.  I’m a scientist—I get that modern medicine is an absolute miracle, and many things actually require pharmaceutical intervention, but isn’t there something else to be said about the Great Physician and Healer?  I have experienced supernatural peace in the midst of panic that has come from God; He has brought me out of incredibly dangerous, desperate situations—taking away my anxiety is peanuts to Him.  God is all powerful and does this kind of thing all the time, on a daily basis—I am no exception.  Still, my faith is tested every time the symptoms persist longer than I feel they should, and whenever I have a panic attack—where is God?

I came across a quote yesterday that I feel is one of the most truthful statements that can be made about my life and my walk with God; I suspect that others will also find it quite applicable.  Here it is:

“Sometimes god lets you hit rock bottom so that you will discover that he is the rock at the bottom” – Tony Evans

For me, this is truer than true.  I had plenty of opportunities to accept God into my life for years before I actually did.  It took more than a few nights of staying up all night worrying about every aspect of the day to come before I found God at rock bottom.  I would worry about what I would eat and at what time so that my blood sugar levels would stay constant and I wouldn’t pass out—but more importantly so that I didn’t get fat.  I would worry about school, marks, getting into grad school, and finding a job in the future.  I would worry about my finances and how long my money would last since I was unable to hold a job in my condition.  I would worry about whether I would be able to a) get out of the house in the morning b) get on the bus and survive the 15 minute bus ride to campus c) sit through class while sort of paying attention without fidgeting and drawing too much attention to myself, and d) get back on the bus and make it home without incident (all of these things occurring on the same day was extremely rare).  I would use and abuse drugs and alcohol to numb the pain of uncertainty, until I became a shadow staring into space, just waiting for time to pass.  One of my favourite things to do was to cry myself to sleep, since crying was a way to get out all of the emotions that I couldn’t express in words, and because sleep was the only freedom that I had from this life where I was suffocating, and couldn’t be trusted with my life in my own hands.

Only after I had tried everything else that I had access to as a human being in the western world did I attempt to seek God in this dark place.  I had never felt His presence ever in my life, despite being dragged to church every week by my parents for 18 years, but now that I was ready to seek Him and see what He had to offer me, I found Him.  He had been waiting for me for such a long time and He let me know through a number of different ways that I was in the right place in His arms.  No, my symptoms did not instantly go away, but little by little, God started to build me up from the rock at the bottom (not the sand at the bottom. Remember that story from Sunday school? Sand house guy’s house sunk and fell down, but rock house guy had a solid house…).  Coming off the meds was a huge leap of faith, and as much of a slap in the face as it was, it made me realize that I had more faith in that little white pill than I did God, the rock underneath me.

Yes, sometimes God will let us fall; even face-first into a rock, but that rock will always catch us and provide a firm foundation for building upon when the time is right.  I’ll take that over a soft landing in the sand where I can sink away and be forgotten, any day. 

The Bangladesh Diaries: Love and Grace

And just like that, it’s the middle of June.  I’ve been back from Bangladesh for a couple of weeks now, and I’ve needed all the time I can get to think and process and grow from everything that I saw and did and learned there.  The past two weeks have been particularly emotionally and spiritually challenging for a number of reasons, but the Bangladesh GUP was undoubtedly the best thing that God could have done to grow my weaknesses and give me the support system and the faith that have carried me through these struggles.

To put things plainly, I haven’t had an easy life.  I was emotionally hurt pretty deeply when I was a kid, but didn’t have an outlet to express that pain, so it just kept being suppressed and building up.  As I got older, my methods of dealing with this pain became more radical, and I was caught in a downward spiral of self-destruction.  Miraculously, when I was 18, I realized that this wasn’t how I was wanting to spend my life; I didn’t necessarily want more for myself, but I just felt that someone, somewhere, had something better in mind for me.  I withdrew completely from a lot of people to try and become a new person.  Then the anxiety took hold not long afterwards, and I withdrew even further.  When I was 20, I met Jesus.  It was He who saved me from my reckless lifestyle and put me on the path to freedom and righteousness.  In time, I was able to forgive myself for all the irresponsible behaviour and self-loathing—but I still had contempt for those who had hurt me.

This is where Bangladesh comes in.

One of the first nights in the country, we were studying scripture.  It was a fairly quiet evening aside from the normal traffic and hustle and bustle of Dhaka.  Suddenly, we heard a loud “bang”, like a firework, or a gunshot, that must’ve been really nearby.  All of a sudden, everything came flooding back to me—how I had been hurt so badly to the point where I came really close to losing my life at my own hands and became trapped by my own insecurities and shortcomings because they were all that were ever emphasized.  I was so angry.  I broke down, told a couple of teammates the whole story in confidence, and just wept.  I hadn’t ever had the opportunity to do that before, but here God had provided me with the support that I needed, and the opportunity to get 11 years of hurt and pain and suppressed emotions off my chest and into a loving, caring, and compassionate community.

Over the course of the month, God showed me ways that would change my way of thinking around love, community, and brotherhood (or in my and half of the rest of the world’s case, sisterhood).  Every morning, we would go to our different placements around Dhaka.  I, and 5 of my incredible sisters of the Lord, went to CUP (children’s uplift program).  It was essentially a daycare for children of destitute women, or children whose mothers were being rehabilitated out of the sex trade.  There was also a program for the mothers of these children, called Basha, where the women learned how to sew and make jewelry and other handicrafts as well as business skills, with the goal of getting them off the streets and into the workforce so that they could make better lives for themselves and their children.  When we arrived at placement every morning, we would do devotions with the women.  The sisterhood and camaraderie that exists between these women was truly something wondrous to behold; they have all experienced so much hurt, pain and marginalization under horrifying circumstances, but when they come together under God there is this unbreakable bond that is formed.  These women unite and share and learn and grow and build each other up as the body of Christ knowing that He wants something better for them and their families, and they are going to support each other, walking hand-in-hand together as they follow Him to freedom and righteousness.

Working with the children of these women was also incredible.  Their little bodies and brains had seen, heard, and experienced some really tough things that we, as middle-class Canadians, could scarcely imagine.  Still, every day they were overjoyed to see us, and loved to create artwork, play games, and sing songs with us.  During the short month we were there, we formed really profound bonds that we and these children (the older ones anyway) will really remember.  It was extremely hard to leave these kids at the end of the month—there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.  It was really difficult to grasp that we might never know what happens to these kids or how their lives turn out.  I think one of my sisters said it best: “we are very sad to leave, but at the same time, we know that Jesus is here in this place”—exactly.  Growing up in so much turbulence and uncertainty, and then being brought into the presence of this ministry, these kids are learning to depend on Jesus for their every need and concern.  As long as they can remember to turn to Him in all circumstances, they will all certainly live full and rich lives rooted in Christ.  All that we can do from here to support this is pray; pray for these women and children that they might never lose sight of Jesus, and of the community that He has provided them with at this mission.  Pray that they realize that God is in control of their situations, and even when the outcome looks bleak, we cannot take matters into our own hands, for God’s plan is supreme, and He truly does have our best interests at heart.

It was through witnessing all of this love and compassion between members of our team and between the women and children at CUP that I learned how to love.  As a child, although I was loved very much, it was never expressed in a tangible way to me, but negativity was.  I felt rejected and abandoned because I didn’t feel loved, and this translated into self-loathing over my many insecurities that I was constantly being reminded of.  It was having this love that I had so desperately craved for so long be demonstrated to me by teammates I had never met a few months before, and women and children that I might only ever interact with for five mornings a week for a month that I learned the value and importance of expressing love.

God was also very much at work in this situation as well.  During our final week at placement, we were traveling there by rickshaw through the crowded streets of Dhaka when our rickshaw hit another rickshaw.  My foot was caught between the fenders of the two rickshaws.  I screamed and we were thrown from the rickshaw into the middle of the road.  My foot was a mangled, bloody mess and I was so shaken up that I just wanted to go home and cry.  We got back on the rickshaw and I burst into tears, not understanding why God kept putting these obstacles of anxiety and physical illness and now traumatic injury in my way of serving Him.  When we got to placement, my cuts were cleaned and my foot was bandaged.  I was just so overwhelmed by the whole situation that I just didn’t want to be there.  I wanted to go back to Grace House and lie on my bed in the dark and cry myself to sleep, but God had other plans.  A couple of women and children came into the room I was in and saw me crying.  I had been so caught up in my own misery that I had forgotten about these beautiful human beings that I loved so much, and how I wanted to be strong and supportive for them.  I had trouble walking, but I went upstairs to the daycare and as soon as I hobbled in the door, a little person with a glowing smile ran up to me and hugged my thighs, nearly knocking me over.  I picked the boy up, looked into his dark, hopeful eyes, and forgot all about the accident.  Seeing God in these kids’ faces was my motivation.  They had such a hunger for God and a thirst for love that I had to do my best to quench, and they, albeit unknowingly, did the same for me.

I was able to escape that accident with nothing more than a broken toe that will eventually heal—it could’ve been much worse.  Similarly, I was able to escape my childhood with my life; I was insecure and broken, but by God’s grace I found Jesus and was saved from all the hurt and pain and anger that plagued my life before.  Although it’s not always easy to love those who have hurt us, we can remember the grace that God has extended to us, even though our sin has hurt Him deeply.  As it says in Ephesians 4:31-32: “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.  Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”

Bdesh: updates, back story, and prayer

                          I’ve had an absolutely incredible couple of days.  Yesterday, I received a dollar figure from KesPres for the support for my trip to Bangladesh, and I was very happy to discover that it was over and above what I needed to cover the difference that I still needed.  The rest of the day was filled with other pleasantries, including a free donut, an aced practical exam, news that a logistical problem concerning my upcoming recital had been solved, and the potential of obtaining my own motor vehicle by the summer!

            

              Bangladesh.  I want to thank each and every one of you who gave of your financial resources to assist me in this endeavor.  Your gifts will be well used to continue to shape me as a global citizen and woman of God, and to help bring joy, peace, and rest to the Bengali people.  If you haven’t yet donated, donations will still be accepted until April 15.  You can still donate to me, since extra gifts will still be put to good use, either by helping out team members who didn’t fully fundraise, or buying gifts for the Bengali people.

            

            For those who have been praying, thank you as well and please continue to pray.

            

           Now, I have a very large and specific prayer request.  As some of you know, I suffer from an anxiety disorder known as panic disorder, which can cause me to have unprompted panic attacks.  Although I’ve learned to manage it pretty well over the past year, there are still moments when it overpowers me and I have to let it win.  This illness may overpower me, but it will never overpower God.  Let me share a little bit of the story of how I came to go to Bangladesh.

                        

I’d been a potential subject for recruitment for a couple of weeks.  These people all meant well, but they didn’t know me.  They didn’t know my situation—I was different, I had issues that they’d never even dream of; I was a liability.  I attended a worship event.  There were about fifty hot and sweaty people in a living room, all singing and praising and having a gay old time—except me; I was getting awfully claustrophobic and uneasy.  I was nauseous, shaky, lightheaded, and breathing heavily—a classic panic attack.  Because of where I was in the room, there was no way to exit discreetly; as uncomfortable as it was, I would have to ride it out.  The pace of the worship was especially not helping—it was excessively slow and would probably have been very nice and poignant had I have been able to be alert and focused.  I just wanted out.  Between two songs there was a time of prayer, where we prayed in “one voice” (I believe this is a Korean tradition where everyone says their own prayer aloud at the same time).  We were asked to pray that God would take away whatever it was that was keeping us from Him.  I did not want to pray.  I knew that I had to ask God to take away my anxiety, and that that would mean that He might call me to go to Bangladesh.  I wasn’t ready.  Everyone around me was praying; I really didn’t want to pray, but something was calling me to share in the experience with all of these people.  I bowed my head.  The instant I brought my hands and eyelids together, a wave of calm came over me.  The nausea, shaking, lightheadedness, and hyperventilating had ceased, and I felt a sense of peace like I’ve never felt.  This was so amazing.  I began to pray, praising and thanking God for what He had just done while crying tears of amazement and joy.  He had showed me that I was not in control, the illness was not in control, HE WAS IN CONTROL.  This was God’s promise to me that if I followed His lead to Bangladesh, He would uphold and protect me, and show me more of what He is capable of.  

           

            Friends, our God is God of the impossible, and He proved it to me on that day.  I need you to pray that He will continue to show me himself in these ways, and that I will not submit to the illness and the evil one on this trip.  Also pray that I would be open about sharing my situation with others so that they would know what they can do to support me, and pray that they would be open to doing so.

           

           A year ago, God didn’t have my heart and the illness totally controlled every aspect of my life.  Now, following His word has made me free.  Can I get an Amen?

The History Lesson: an Ode to KesPres

What an amazing few weeks it’s been!  Since I was last hit by the blogging bug I’ve gotten over that nasty, nasty cold, caught up with some family and awesome friends over reading week, had an incredible weekend of bonding and prayer with the Bangladesh team, visited my childhood church, and yes, I even went to school a couple of times in there, too.

While I could talk at length about any one of these items, one in particular really made my heart overflow with joy…  

Rewind 10 years:  I’m 10 years old (but not any shorter than I am right now), mature for my age and well into the dreaded teenage angst—a complete misfit at school, since being a nerdy girl in a hockey town was the farthest thing from cool—lost, and unable to find myself, and with no support, or so I thought…

For a number of reasons, a large one being the lack of youth group activities, our family uprooted from the Anglican church we had been attending, and settled in at the closest establishment to our house: Keswick Presbyterian Church.  I wasn’t a big fan at first—everything was different from what I was used to, but once I started to warm up to things and found my niche playing violin with the worship team, things were pretty good.

I went to church, but I would not by any stretch of the imagination call myself a Christian.  I was holding on to a lot of anger, and became quite a rebellious teenager.  Every adult I ever came in contact with had nothing bad to say about me, other than I didn’t smile.  I really had nothing to smile about as far as I was concerned.  It seems so illogical now, but it was my reality for almost 10 years.  I said some things I shouldn’t have and did some things I’m really not proud of to numb the pain of being nobody.  God had other people to be concerned with—He didn’t need me.

In my first year of university, I tried really hard to fit in with the party crowd at first.  These people seemed like they were really living the life from a distance, but up close, their lives were so empty and unfulfilling—I knew this wasn’t me.  I spent a lot of time alone, contemplating life, and death, and everything in between.  I had freed myself from the clutches of the church and organized religion, but was that what I had really wanted all along?  In second year I was crushed by a devastating mental illness that severely impaired my ability to function.  I was the lowest I’d ever been.  Somehow, after countless panic attacks, medications, self-inflicted injuries, therapies, and trips to the hospital, I made it out alive.

To me, this wasn’t a coincidence—you don’t just have no regard for your own health or well-being for three years and come that close to death that many times and choose life of your own accord.  After some endearing conversations over coffee with some kindred spirits, it became apparent to me: God does need me, and He loves me, and He wants me to live.

The magnitude of what God has done in my life over the past six months is nothing short of a miracle (see previous blog posts for details).  Last Sunday I had the pleasure of returning to KesPres to share my testimony, and more about the trip to Bangladesh on which God has called me.  I was kind of apprehensive about how the message would be received, since these people kind of knew me as “that girl who plays the violin and never says anything”, and I was afraid of having them stuck in that ideal.  Let me apologize, folks, I grossly underestimated your love of the Lord.  It was like coming home to an old friend, although you both appreciate each other more when you come back mature and refined.  I had no idea that these people cared so much about me and what I was doing, and that God had done such big things in my life.  I can tell that you’ve been praying for me and that I would really find God, and for that, I cannot thank you enough.  Whether or not I wanted it when I was 10 or 13 or 16 or 18, it was what I needed when I was 20, and will continue to need for the rest of my life.

To those at KPC and other places who have prayed for me and supported me through the dark places: thank you, from the bottom of my heart, and may God bless you all very richly for what you have done through Him in my life.

Love always,

Helenz

Hot and Cold and Awesome

The last couple of weeks have been kind of a roller coaster.  Going from WinterCon, back to school and everywhere in between has been a total whirlwind for my mind…

            

Allow me to elaborate.  Last week I found out I was accepted to go to Bangladesh for a month through the fellowship I’m involved with at school.  How I came to apply is kind of an awesome story, but I’d really prefer to tell it in person because the magnitude of awesome is just too great for my typewritten words here on the interwebs, so if you want to hear it, let me know and we’ll unite over tea/coffee/skype…(or if you don’t really want to know and just want to talk, that’s cool too—we should just talk anyway J).  I don’t think it’s totally sunk in that I’m actually going to do this yet, I’m still just totally amazed that my relationship with God is at a place where I can trust Him enough to agree to do something this big.  When I think back to a year ago, two years ago, three years ago… at any point in my life, I’d never pictured myself doing something like this, especially for the Lord.

Then the next day my parents came to visit, and they were actually excited for me and totally on board with the whole thing (which was NOT the case when I first told them about it).  I’m so glad that my relationship with them has improved the way that it has.  I used to say that the best thing that ever happened to our relationship was when I moved out, but that can’t even compare to what has happened since I fixed my relationship with God.  It was like I couldn’t be their daughter without also being His daughter…

            

And then the next day after that, I got sick.  Nothing huge, just a cold/flu type thing, but I was pretty miserable.  I didn’t change any plans for the rest of the week though (that was a dumb idea).  I’m a warrior, and I usually power through stuff like this.  So that is what I continued to do for the rest of the week, until Thursday, when enough was just enough and I bailed out of all of my plans for Friday just to have a day to myself in bed to try and get better…  Then, that night, our furnace broke.  No heat in the house.  Normally, I’d probably just laugh it off and have some kind of winter campout in the house, but being sick and irritable, I wasn’t having any of that.  So as I was trying to cry myself to sleep huddled under the duvet, watching awful reality television on my laptop (I know, it sounds super morbid, but sometimes it’s just the best way to get me to sleep in a stressful situation), I got to thinking—Okay, I’m sick, and cold, but what is really wrong with me?  Nothing.  I’ve been hurt, stabbed in the back, insulted by people who were supposed to love me, I’ve had more surgeries in my life than vacations, I’ve got the arthritis of a 65-year-old, I’m damaged goods--a hopeless romantic, I have no idea what I want to do in the future… the list goes on!  But it’s okay!  I’ve got people and a God who love me for who I am, and that helps me love myself so much.  I thought briefly about people never have any heat, but then I thought about my trip to Bangladesh.  If I can gather anything from what others have told me about the country, it’s freakin’ hot! And crowded!  Hot and crowded places kind of freak me out.  The people there are kind of in reverse of my situation last night, except I bet many of them don’t have the luxury of calling up their HVAC guy to rectify the situation. 

            

My point?  Whether I’ve realized it the whole time or not, and despite my many flaws, I have been blessed by God far greater than I deserve, and I owe it to Him to share this love with the people of Bangladesh.  It’s going to be super awesome.

The Greatest Love Ever

I’ve lived the best life I’ve ever lived since I decided to accept Jesus four months ago.  I’ve been warmly welcomed into a community of strangers whom I know consider my brothers and sisters.  I’ve learned to listen to God, and felt that He was calling me to take an enormous step and trust Him to send me to Bangladesh for a month, and I accepted that challenge.  This weekend I was privileged enough to attend WinterCon13, where I felt probably more love than I’ve ever felt cumulatively over my whole life.  I’m so absolutely thankful for the people who have brought me to this point and spiritually enriched me over the years—for God for choosing them to minister to me and for these people who have allowed God to use them to soften my heart and open my mind to this new way of living with Him. 

I was raised in a “Christian” home. Although we went to church every Sunday and were very involved in the church both on Sunday and on other days of the week, church was never really talked about outside of the church.  Community existed at church, but as soon as church was over it was back to the grind, and the community was gone.  Grace was said at the dinner table, but it had become a routine of my parents (purposefully) singing in atonal harmonies as my brother and I hung our heads in shame and prayed for it to be over.  We were kind to our neighbours—when we saw them…and felt like talking to them.  I tried to read the Bible on my own once when I was about 10, but what drive did I have to try and decipher what was going on at that age by myself?  I was a good kid, and I knew I wasn’t going to go to hell because I went to church.  There were so many holes. 

Every couple of years I would go through a Jesus-loving phase when I would start to pray regularly, but it faded out as quickly as it came.  As I became older, I thought of the church as a corrupt organization that would bend over backwards, sacrificing all integrity just to get another body in the door.  I was just going through the motions.  God wasn’t alive in me and I wasn’t alive.

As a spiritually lost nineteen-year-old, I felt unloved.  I didn’t matter to my friends, my family, or myself.  This sort of complex is not uncommon in the teenage years.  Add a mental illness to the mix, and you get one walking miserable disaster.  It wasn’t until almost a year after that diagnosis that I found Jesus.

Faith has finally become real to me over these last few months.  I knew at the start that this time it wasn’t just a “phase”.  This time was different.  I needed to change.

Anyway, when the opportunity to go to this conference came up, I didn’t really question whether or not I should go.  I was so eager and excited to learn more and listen to the word of God with my peers.

I have never felt so much love and acceptance and such a sense of community from anyone—let alone from a large group of people who were mostly perfect strangers.  I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and support from people when they found out that I was going to Bangladesh.  It left me kind of confused—I really hadn’t done anything yet, and I was too new to this whole “devoted-to-Jesus” thing to really understand how big of a step it was to trust God enough to let Him bring me to a completely foreign land.

This outpouring of love felt completely surreal and almost unjustified.  Six months ago I was living day-to-day in fear as a depressed nobody.  Then I said yes to Jesus and I was the apple of God’s eye, and He showed me that through every person I interacted with this weekend.  It was the most invigorating, wholesome, profound experience of my life.  I am so excited to see what else He’s going to reveal to me in the weeks and months ahead as I prepare to go to Bangladesh and beyond as I prepare to meet more brothers and sisters and share the awesome news that Jesus is alive, and the grace of God is so amazing.

Words of Wisdom: Keep Working

I’ve been caught in a bit of a rut this year as far as school goes.  This daily verse from an app on my phone came at the perfect time.  Just remember, you are not alone, and your reward is great.

            

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.  It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” - Colossians 3:23-24