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.

Day 2. Philippians 3:12-14

The first time I remember being exposed to this scripture was in Bangladesh two years ago. It was close to the final leg of our trip, and the (very timely) sermon at church that week was based on this scripture. I remember the pastor speaking very passionately, and although I didn’t quite absorb all of what he was speaking (I was probably hot, tired, and sick), I remember being so gripped by the passage that I looked it up promptly when I had some time alone and scoured the chapter, and even the rest of the book of Philippians to try and gather context and understand Paul’s angle.

“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.  Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

After professing his own human imperfection (which is significant in itself, as a teacher), Paul debunks the myth that salvation is a one-time prayer or commitment to Christ. With those words, he’s saying that yeah, it’s true that Jesus, through his dying and resurrection has purchased me as his own, and I have faith in that, but faith cannot stand without works (which is a nice parallel to James 2, one of my other fave passages), so I have to outwardly show that I have faith and believe by sharing this gospel with others and loving my God and my neighbour as Christ commanded.

Jesus offers each of us a new identity in him, but we have to want it. We have to work towards it, and forget our old self so we can get to know our new self—straining forward towards Jesus, giving it our all to be more and more like him until we are finally with him and cannot try any more.