Trudging when you want to Fly

I have this amazing friend who I love a lot. She and I are very similar in some ways and in others are completely the opposite. We use to live next door to each other and would see each other all the time for coffee and catch ups, but now we are in different cities and I miss seeing her and being able to chew the fat.

She is an incredibly talented and passionate woman, but she suffers from a debilitating illness. It is one of those illnesses that doesn't show on the outside so often people don't realise that is just a struggle for her to get out of bed some days. If she does make it out of bed, that is an epic win! But she doesn't feel like that. She feels like she is trudging when all she wants to do is fly.

Her and I were talking about it about it last night, and I really feel like I know where she is coming from. I too feel like I am just doing the daily trudge at the moment. Though I do not have an illness as severe as hers, I do get migraines that throw out my plans. I have to watch how much I do, how often I rest, and when I take my medication. I feel like my life is dictated by me head.

I also know how she is feeling when she asks me what God has planned for her and how it is possible. I sometimes feel like I have done all this study and research and now I am not using it or working in the field I am most passionate. I feel like I just live from day to day waiting for the opportunity to do something else, something more.

Our experience of church is very much dictated by our experiences of life; we both find it a struggle to go to church. We find it hard to do small talk with people who don't really know how we are struggling silently. We find the music often contrite and dishonest to how we are feeling. We can find the sermons boring and/or rip them apart mentally due to our theological training. So we tend to avoid church, or go very unwillingly.

We are trudging, but oh how we want to fly.

During these times it is the story of Joseph that really sustains me. If you know the story, fell free to let your mind wander as I summarize it for those who do not.

Joseph was the second youngest of 12 brothers. Though usually the eldest brother was the most loved, the most favoured, but Joseph, the first child of two children from the favourite wife of Jacob, was the most loved by his father. We was doted on and, frankly, was a little spoiled and outspoken to boot. He annoyed his brothers by telling the of dreams he had where his whole family would bow down to him. In a fit of rage, the brothers took Joseph, intending to kill him. Instead, they sold him to slavers that then took the young boy to Egypt to sell. He was sold to Potiphar, an important man, and he worked hard to please his master. However, his master's wife took a little too much of a liking to him and, when he didn't reciprocate, falsely accused Joseph of rape. Joseph languished in prison for 14 years, working hard and earning the respect of the guards of the prison in the process. When fate brought two men of Pharaoh's household to the prison, Joseph was given the opportunity to interpret their dreams and, in the process, asked them to remember him to Pharaoh. The dreams came to pass as he said, with one man being killed and the other being reinstated in his former position. It was another two years before Pharaoh had a dream and the reinstated man remembered his promise to Joseph. He told Pharaoh about the now fully grown man, and Joseph was released to interpret the Pharaoh's dream. He did so correctly, thorugh the Spirit of God, and was made second only to Pharaoh in all of Egypt. Eventually a famine struck the land for 7 years and Joseph's brothers were needing food. They went to Egypt to ask for grain from Joseph, who had been preparing for the famine for years after being warned in Paroah's dream. It was then that the dreams of seeing his family bow before him were fulfilled. Joseph forgave his brothers and brought his whole family to Egypt and died an important, wealthy and loved man.

That was a very brief explanation of the story. If you want more look it up in Genesis and have a read. It is worth it.

Anyway, back to my point.

It was 16 years before Joseph was set free. He didn't know if he would ever get out of prison alive. He didn't know what the plan was or how God would get him out of it all. He had a terrible experience as a child and now he was locked away for something he didn't do.

If I was Joseph I would have despaired. There seemed to be no hope, no light at the end of the tunnel, no justice.

Even though the story doesn't end that way, it is this part I want to focus on. The part where for 16 years Joseph trudged through everyday in prison.

He had dreamed he could fly, and was made to trudge with no end insight.

But it was he did in prison that impresses me so much. He worked so hard and so faithfully that the head of the prison made him his right hand man. He was put in charge of other prisoners and earned the respect of both them and the people paid to keep him locked up. He didn't give up, he just found another way to serve God.

This challenges me. So often I ask God what his plan is for my life and when will it come to fruition. But really, all God calls us to is to live faithfully in loving him and loving others where ever we find ourselves. 

Whether we are trudging or flying, our purpose is the same. Whether we feel defeated or elated, our response to God and to others is meant to be the same. We are meant to live faithfully in love. Maybe our circumstances will change, maybe they won't, but that should not determine how we live or what God is asking from us.

We may feel like we are trudging, but it is living out our faith in Jesus that brings us to flight, whether we feel it or not.

Remember that it is the sacrifice and love of God that makes us fly, not what we do or where we are headed. We may feel like we are in a prison and that we will be in it for life, but it is how we live and how we respond to God that will define us.

I look back at the last ten years of my life and see how far I have come, even though most of it has felt like one long trudging slog. I remember that this time a decade ago I was in an abusive marriage, was alcohol dependent, was in and out of psych wards and suicidal. Today, I am loved, happy, healed, and 7 years sober. It was a long hard walk, but I am flying, whether I feel it today or not. God's work in our lives is not dependent on our feeling it. However, it is our hope in God that keeps us going everyday.

You may continue to trudge, but remember that it is our hope that makes us fly.

Will we now abuse the abuser?

Hubby and I finally managed to get our act together and have officially moved cities. After an eventful move that included our truck tipping over on the motorway and our car getting stolen, we arrived in one place, found jobs, bought a new car, and have got ourselves a house. All that is left is the final unpack, buying a kitten or two (because...KITTENS), and finally sitting in our own home with a nice cold glass of something and curling up into the foetal position until the next time someone

needs us.

I have moved many times before, including moving cities on four separate occasions, so I thought I knew how this all went, and wasn't too worried about anything going wrong. 

Boy, was I wrong on that!

Everything that could possibly go wrong did. Though no one got hurt, the mental and emotional stress that we have been under is insane. Today, after we signed the contract for our house, both of us immediately felt exhausted. We had done it, but it had been a hard road.

God is good though, and through it all we have been blessed.

We have been blessed by the fact that we could stay with our parents and store our stuff for free in their garage while we sorted life out.

We have been blessed by the help we have received from family and friends in moving and through prayer and love.

We have been blessed that it really didn't take as long as we thought it would to get settled here.

Everyone, including ourselves, had predicted that it could take months to find jobs in a small town, and those jobs would probably pay a lot less than our jobs in the big smoke did. But this has not been the case. Both of us found jobs within a week of moving down and both jobs are at better pay than what we had previously!! In our minds this fact cemented that we are doing the right thing.

I am working now at a charitable trust for Maori. I process grants which help encourage the health and education of the local iwi/tribe. Though i may sit behind a desk, I find it very fulfilling knowing that I am helping a people that have had much work against them.

Hubby is working as a supervisor as the local Alternative Education centre. This is a centre for kids aged 13-15 who have effectively been expelled from the local high school and yet, by law, have to still be enrolled in school. They are all from rough backgrounds, most are related to gang members, and 95% of them are Maori. His job helps give my job even more meaning.

Needless to say, his work stories are far more interesting than mine, and far more heartbreaking.

He comes home with stories of drug use, abuse, crime, kids not having lunches, being picked up by the police, and getting in fights. They are hardened criminals, who also turn into excited little children when he teaches them ukulele. 

I breaks my heart when he tells me these stories. I mean, these are little kids and yet he laughs if I offer to invite them round for dinner. My instinct is to mother them. Yet, if I did that, we could/would be targeted by gangs intent of burglary or other devious crimes. They are children on the outside, and yet their lives have taught them only violence and crime as survival instincts.

I feel hopeless when I think about this. The reality is that these children are going to grow up and be, whether willingly or forced, part of a gang system that will feed them nothing but hate and drugs. And there is nothing I can do about it, because I can't get involved. Even hubby has limits as to what he is allowed to do within his role.

So how do you help a kid who you can't give things to, who it isn't safe to bring back to your house, and who you know is vulnerable and needs love? 

Does my safety trump bringing them home?

It messes with my mind when I try and bring my sacrificial faith face to face with the reality of what would happen. And I know what would happen. Hubby's mother works in the police down here and knows the families of these kids well. She knows what they would do. And it wouldn't be pretty.

So I pray, and I cry, and I physically ache for these kids. And I try my best at a workplace that would try and change the inevitable for these families. But mostly, if I am really honest, I try not to think about it. I don't want to feel hopeless and helpless, so I block it out.

Until I read an article like the one linked here.

If you can't be bothered reading the link, here is the cliff notes:

1. abuse is bad

2. here are some signs of how abusers act

3. abusers are out to get you so watch for signs

4. we will help you if you are in an abusive relationship

Now I agree with 3 out of 4 of these points. And point 3 is not explicitly stated, it is more the way that the author talks about the abuser, as if they were purposely acting in such a way in order to fool you.

I don't think this is the case at all.

When I hear about the kids at the AE centre, what I hear about are children who have been brought up in an environment perfect for producing an abuser.

They own nothing.

They lack love.

They respect no one (especially women).

Figures of love use violence.

Violence is how they solve their issues.

If they want something they take it.

This list is exactly what happens in an abusive relationship. But I don't think an abuser looks a someone and thinks "right, I want to abuse them, so I need to con them into loving me and then beat the s**t out of them."

Rather, what I think happens is that they are genuinely looking for love, it's just that they have been taught that love is possession and control. It's not that they necessarily WANT to hurt someone, it's just that they have no other tools in their emotional toolbox to deal with relationships, jealousy, love, anger, or anything. So they use what they know.

The sad thing about our society is that we demonise those that abuse. Yet they have often been at the hands of abuse for so many years that nothing short of extreme, extravagant, loving help is going to make any difference. 

But instead of help, they receive misunderstanding. Instead of compassion, they receive death threats. Instead of love, they receive hate layered on top of hate layered on top of hate. They are told they are devious and wicked, instead of being told that they too are a victim. They are told they are as bad as socio and psychopaths, instead of being nurtured into healthy communication. 

Society is trying to heal hurt and anger with segregation and hate.

It won't work.

And yet we persist in this kind of thinking and acting time and time again. Even if we go to something less extreme as abuse, and look at bullying, the same response dominates how we treat those who victimise others.

Case and point is the X-factor debacle that dominate NZ headlines recently. Cliff notes again, judges said nasty things to contestant, judges were fired. From that one, very brief, story, news agencies around the world went crazy.

And so did the responders to the judges. 

It is unfathomable to me how we can yell against bullying, but then do it by bullying the judges themselves!! Hate messages, mail and tweets poured out towards these two judges who, to be fair, had been told to be harsh to make good tv. What was said about them was worse that what was said by them at times.

Society thought it was permissible to abuse an abuser.

Why?

Why do we think that pouring out hate towards those who have shown hate can possibly rectify a situation?

Is it still a form of 'a tooth for a tooth' mentality? 

Because that is not what we are called to. Jesus refuted this way of thinking by calling humanity to something greater. Not a tooth for a tooth, he said, but love your enemies. Bless those who curse you. Turn the other cheek to those who hurt you.

I AM NOT CONDONING ABUSE IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM.

If you are in an abusive relationship then get out, so you can get help, and so that they can get help outside of the volatile situation that is your relationship. Neither of you will heal or grow if you stay where you are.

But as a society we are not called to defend the honour of victims by making more victims. We are called to show love and understanding in order to offer arms of healing. We can point out bad behaviour by refusing to take part in it. 

Be better than those who hurt others. Don't stoop to their level by showing only hate and refusing help.

I would like to finish with a quote by Martin Luther King Jnr. that pretty much sums up everything I want to say about this; why try say it better when a master has captured it so eloquently.

"The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, 

begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. 

Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.

Through violence you may murder the liar, 

but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. 

Through violence you may murder the hater, 

but you do not murder hate. 

In fact, violence merely increases hate. 

So it goes. 

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, 

adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. 

Darkness cannot drive out darkness: 

only light can do that. 

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

Which is more important....forgiveness or healing?

On my way to work in the mornings I tend to arrive at the train station about 10mins early so I can sit in my car and read my bible and pray a bit (I know, I am so holy and I put you all to shame). I do this so I start my day the right way, focused on God and not on how tired, grumpy, wanting to be in bed I feel.

Sometimes I just go through the motions. I don't really take in what I am reading and/or I don't really care (maybe not that holy after all). But sometimes what I have read really gets me thinking.

Like yesterday for example.

I was reading Mark 2:1-13. For those who don't know their bibles off by heart (shame on you.....you are going stright to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200...jokes) this bit tells the story of a paralytic man. Jesus is chilling in a house, maybe eating some dinner or something, when the people of the town hear he is there. Like the celebrating swarming of the 1st Century, they all flock to see him, filling the house and the road outside and basically acting like people do around the Kardashians today, but for much better reasons (hopefully). 

In this town there is a paralytic man who is hanging out with his mates, who start to think to themselves that maybe they should get him to see Jesus and maybe something like a healing would happen (because by now stories of Jesus' healings have spread). So they pick up this guy on his mattress and start carrying to the place where Jesus is.

When they get there the doorway is full of people who are not gonna give up their precious opportunity to see and hear Jesus. Perplexed, these fellas start brainstorming and decide to climb up on the roof (which is flat in this part of the world, and usually has stairway access), and dig a hole through the roof (really hope the owner was pissed off that this) and then lowered the man, mattress and all, down to right smack bag in front of the great man himself.

Now I can imagine Jesus looking at the man on the mat, then looking up at the hole in the ceiling and breaking into a huge smile. He is really impressed with the faith and commitment they have all shown. So he looks at the man and says "your sins are forgiven." Some religious elders and stuff and kinda annoyed by this because in their reckoning only God has the authority to forgive sins and Jesus is a man. So Jesus (apparently reading their minds!!!) looks at them and says "which is easier, to forgive sins or to tell this man to get up, pick up his mat and walk. But so you know that the Son of Man [a title Jesus uses for himself] has the authority to forgive sins..." he looks at the paralytic man "stand up, pick up your mat and walk home." And the dude, who is paralysed remember, gets up, picks up his mat and walks out.

Now there are many amazing things about this story. I mean, the paralysed guy would have had muscles that were all shrunken and munted and yet he could get up and walk straight away! The full body healing that occurred here is mind blowing in medical terms. It is not just the cause of his paralysis that is healed, but all of the issues associated with that. All instantaneously!! Flippin wow!

But what struck me yesterday was not the healing. It was that the healing was almost an afterthought in the story. 

Jesus didn't heal the guy immediately. He forgave him first. And then he implies that it is harder to forgive sins than to heal this man.

The healing is not of the first importance to him!!

This made me think about the priorities I would have placed on this story. If I had been Jesus I would have healed the guy first then said something like "BOOM! Look at what I can do! Now believe all you peeps, because I am badass and,as a bonus, I will forgive his sins too!"

In churches I see the same thing. We pray often for people's healing, but how often is there salvation or relationship to God seen as more important than their physical ills. It is the mentality that says "show me a miracle first and then I will believe and ask to be saved."

And yet that is directly opposite to what Jesus does here. His main focus is on the spiritual ill of the man. He sees that the healing that had to occur between this man and God was more deadly, more disastrous than the physical disabilities he had. This reconciliation of man and God was the priority.

How would this attitude impact how we speak to people with disabilities and illnesses? If we adopted this attitude what would change in our hearts towards others? Would we stop seeing people with disabilities as something to be pitied but rather view the state of their faith as more important? Would their disability pale in comparison to their knowledge of God? Would we approach them differently? Would we approach our own issues differently?

I for one am someone who empathizes greatly with people who suffer from disabilities; I have been one and, but for the grace of God, would still be one. I remember feeling like if people prayed for my healing and it didn't happen, that I or they had failed in their faith. I stopped asking for prayer because I felt ashamed.

It was in the prayers of some ladies who prayed for God to be made known to me, not to be healed, that I was healed. They prayed for my salvation, and God, like in this story, forgave me first and healed me second. And the first was more important for me than the second. My shame and fear was lifted. Even if I had remained in my illness I believe that my experience with God in that moment would have changed my life anyway, even if not others perception of my life.

So when you pray for healing for others (and I am not saying not to) remember that of greater importance to God is that this suffering person would know the love and forgiveness of Christ. It is then that true, deep healing is found, that the broken is made whole, and the world is reconciled to its Creator.

Loving My LGBT Neighbour?

I, like everyone else not living under a rock, is aware of the fact that the world is changing in regards to homosexuality. Laws are changing in many countries to allow homosexual couples to marry, decriminalising homosexual lifestyles and basically allowing homosexuals the same rights as their straight counterparts.

However, this isn't the case in other countries. Uganda is one such example. Watch the below video to catch up a little as to what is going on.

This clip is satirical in nature so maybe something a little more serious is in order.

It cannot be denied that to be homosexual in Uganda is somewhat dangerous these days and that this atmosphere of intolerance has been fuelled by extreme views by pastors claiming to be of the Christian persuasion.

So what? I hear you ask. Why do we care? Uganda is all the way over there and we are here and it doesn't affect us. Why don't the homosexuals just go to another country and leave Ugandan's to their ideas?

Well, let me just throw a few things out there for you.

1) This issue has been inflamed by the West stirring things up in Africa. This makes it our problem because it began as our problem.

2) Anything that hurts human rights for any human being should be our business. We are human. We don't like being treated like less human than other people. Therefore we should be really concerned if some people are being treated that way. Just as we now get upset if anyone claims that a black person is less human than a white person (which use to be law just fyi), we should be upset if someone says that a gay person does not deserve the same rights as a straight person. Saying that basically relegates the gay person as less human as the straight person. If you wouldn't like to be treated that way then you should be flipping upset if it is happening to someone else.

3) Why should people be kicked out of their country because they choose to live in a different way with a consenting adult? I am not talking about a crime that is dangerous and hurtful. Homosexuals are not paedophiles or dangerous to anyone. They just want to be treated as a human being who gets to choose their lifestyle. Why should they have to leave for that?

Now I need to state something before I go any further. I am a Christian and I do not agree with the homosexual lifestyle. I don't believe that being Christian and not agreeing with homosexuality goes hand in hand for many people, but for me they are linked. HOWEVER, my gay friends (yes, I do have them) know this and we are able to talk about our opposing views with love and respect. 

My views on homosexuality HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH my views on human rights.

And this is an issue of human rights NOT religion, faith, belief, sexuality or anything like that.

As a Christian, above and beyond everything else, I love God and I love others. 

To love others is to always, no matter the issue, stand with those who are being oppressed. It doesn't matter if they are being oppressed for being a woman, being black, being Muslim, being gay, or being a vegetarian. If someone is being oppressed, if their dignity and worth as a human being is being taken away and/or abused, then it is my duty as a Christian to stand with them, to speak for them, and to fight for them.

What is happening in Uganda to the LBGT community is WRONG. 

It is wrong that people are living in fear because of sexual orientation.

It is wrong that when I watch the above video I am ashamed of the Christians and being associated with them (on another note it is not wrong that I totally proud how Pepe dealt with that awful interview).

It is wrong that when I post pro gay statements on Facebook that I get slammed by Christians who see it as bad that I can support people fighting to be heard as equal human beings.

When Christians speak only about why we stand against homosexuality all we do is paint Christians with the homophobic brush. Everyone is well aware of how we feel about homosexuality by now. I don't think anyone is surprised when a Christian says that they don't agree with that lifestyle. Duh!

But to stand with the LBGT community as they fight for equal rights is something unheard of. It is something that has the potential to bring reconciliation and love between to opposing camps. It has the possibility of showing the love of Christ to those who are all to aware of what we stand against.

So I guess the last reason Uganda should be on our radar is because it is symptomatic of the arguments that are occurring between Christians and LBGT communities. It shows what happens when those conversations become part of law. It shows how hate can be taken to a national scale.

Uganda, if nothing else, should make us pause and think about what our words sound like to those who are LBGT and what impact that may be having on the wider global community.

The Gospel and Geordie Shore

It has been a long time since I wrote a blog. This is due to the fact that I have been finishing my Masters Thesis. Now it is done!!! Handed in and everything!!! So now I am back and ready to look at life, the gospel and everything!!

Tonight I am home alone with a lung infection while my man goes out and plays a gig. That means that this lonely heart is flicking through the channels and wondering why there are so many crap shows on! I have hundreds of channels and nothing to watch!

Geordie Shore flicked across my screen and, like an idiot, I decided to kill a few brain cells by watching it. If you have never seen Geordie Shore a) don't and b) here is a short synopsis:

4 guys and 4 girls in Newcastle, England (also known as Geordies) are put into a flat Big Brother style and then they drink, have sex with each other, have dramas, and drink some more. It's quality stuff.

Maybe my lung infection has spread to my brain but I started to wonder why this show existed. Can that many people find this show interesting enough that it warrants not only this show but Valley Nights, Here Come the Geordies, and Ex On the Beach (all spin offs)?

The crazy thing to me about this show is the way that every single one of the members has sex with each other, despite having partners and/or sleeping with others of the team, and yet they all get upset about relationship failures. If one of the girls sees her man of the hour hooking up with another girl they go psycho with rage, but then do exactly the same thing back.

It made me wonder, what does the gospel say to people who live like this? How can Jesus reach people like this who spend most of their time drunk out of their minds and having sex with random people?

The funny thing is, I have quite a good insight into this as I was once one of those people. I like to think I wasn't as bad as these guys but the reality was that my life hung on alcohol and boys. 

What I recognise in this show is the desperation that all of these people have for someone to love them. Even if it starts with a one night stand, the reactions show that each of these guys and girls have a desire to be loved, to mean something to the person they are sleeping with. They pretend not to care when they get rejected or cheated on, but it doesn't quite work and they inevitably end up in tears or in a rage.

Ultimately, these people are lonely and desperate for love.

They fill their lives with alcohol and sex thinking that these two things will make them feel less lonely, make them feel loved. One girl said tellingly that she wasn't use to guys not paying attention to her so when a guy she liked ignored her she felt lost and confused. She has equated sex and sexual attention as love, and when that doesn't happen her whole understanding of herself and her life is called into question. 

The gospel would say to people like this that they are loved, that they don't need to give their body to find love. Yet, Christianity is not a faith that is based on extreme sensory experience. Faith does not feel like a drunken party, and being in love with Jesus is not the same as having someone sexually attracted to you. So faith can seem boring compared to a life full of sensual desire.

The challenge that we face in professing the gospel to a generation that is fuelled by drugs, alcohol and sex, is that we first need to explain what love actually means. We are speaking a different language to them when we say the word 'love'. To them love has always been used to get them into bed, as a way to manipulate. Love in terms of the gospel is the exact opposite of this. There is no manipulation involved, merely a desire to bring wholeness to a persons life.

So what do we do with that? 

I believe the first step is to live out gospel love at all times. Being Christians who get drunk or sleep with people outside of marriage is not necessarily bad for our own faith (though I would argue it still is) but actually shows people that our understanding of love through Christ is still not enough to overcome the sensual temptations of the world. Through our actions everyday we say whether or not the love of Christ is something that overcomes the world, or is merely something we profess with our mouths but not with our lives.

With people who spend their life seeing another, false form of love lived out, it is through our every day actions of real love that will show them a alternative that is worth living.

Too many Christians think that getting drunk and having sex with their partner outside of marriage is either ok, or not ok because the rules say so. But actually it is about whether or not the love of Christ is something we take seriously, that impacts our whole life and becomes a testament to a world that has gone crazy on its own desires.

Once we recapture what it means to be loved, then maybe we can start reaching those who are so desperate for it.

Perhaps it is when we start taking seriously the love of Christ in our own lives that this will start to impact the lives of those around us. We don't want to offer Christianity as a Jesusified version of a drunken party. We don't want people giving up drugs just to get high on the Holy Spirit. We believe that Christ's love offers an alternative to everything in life because it transforms life to the point where sensual desires are not the be all and end all.

I watch Geordie Shore and feel deeply sad for the young girls and guys on the show who don't know love and appear to have no one living it out in front of them. I pray that one day someone will be salt and light to those people, and until then I hope I can be the same for people I meet in my life.

A Mother to Hold

Mother's day is coming up fast in New Zealand. It is a time of families celebrating the woman who brought them into the world. Churches around the country will be holding special services that have children handing out gifts to mothers and a sermon focusing on someone like Mary, the mother of Christ.

There is a lot of stuff around mothers happening around me at the moment. My new niece was born a few days ago. Many of my friends are pregnant and giving birth. My mother in law is battling cancer so my thoughts are with her a lot. Hubby and I are thinking about babies and when to start trying for them.

Mothers have such an impact on our lives, for good or bad.

And recently I have been missing my mum.

I have talked briefly about my breakdown in relationship with my parents without giving too many details. I don't think this is the place to vent my issues with them. But suffice to say that it is coming up three years since I have seen or had any contact with either my mother or father.

I love my parents deeply, we just have some issues that we can seem to sort out.

Every month or something hits me that makes me miss my mother like crazy.

This month it is mothers day.

It makes my heart hurt when I think about her. I feel empty and lost, like a part of me is missing. I wish that things could be different and we could talk about things but life is not like that. Things happen.

The thing I have been thinking about is around all of this.

Mother's day was created by a card company that wanted to make profit. The church in NZ has bought into it hook line and sinker. And though I admire the sentiment I think it is wrong.

It is wrong to have one day alone when we celebrate mothers. I think it is wrong because it puts pressure on all those people who don't have mothers, can't be mothers, or have issues with their mothers. It affectively isolates those who are already hurting by pushing in their face what they don't have.

Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to push my misery on everyone but being a grinch about mothers day. I am all for celebrating mothers. But I don't think that the church, a place that is (or should be) full of broken and hurting people, should be focusing on this topic when the rest of society already does.

I mean let's face it, if my church doesn't do mothers day, I am not exactly going to miss it am I. It is all over TV, shop windows, and magazines. I would have to live in a cave to miss the sales that are being pushed in my face to buy my mother things like diamond rings and dishwashers. 

Kids will still be able to get cards for their mums, make them breakfast in bed, and show love to the special woman in their life.

But church? Church should be at least one place where people can find solace for their pain. That on a day that might be really hard for people there is a place where they can go and not have it shoved in their face. Where grief is acknowledged as much as joy.

But the church doesn't do grief well. We don't know how to lament with others. Church songs tend to focus on how happy we are that Jesus has saved us, rather than the pain of still living in a fallen world. We emphasise one and totally ignore the other.

In the last 24 hours I have talked to three women who find mothers day hard. One cannot have children, one doesn't have children yet but really wants them, and one whose mother has passed. Each of these women go to church and each them told me how they would avoid church on mother's day. 

There is something wrong when the people who are hurting are avoiding church in order to avoid more pain.

It's time to rethink how we do this in such a way that we don't diminish the joy but don't ignore the pain either.

The Thorn in my Side

Most people who know me describe me in similar ways (trust me, I know, I have asked). They say I am bubbly, outgoing, talkative, friendly, loyal, sometimes a bit know-it-all and controlling when I want things done my way (which is, of course, the right way!). I know my strengths and I know my faults.

I have learnt these things not just from talking to others but from the soul searching I have done over the last few years since my first marriage fell apart. I know what I like and what I don't like. I know to listen to my gut about things as usually my feelings are spot on, even when I don't have a logical explanation for them. I know I have a tendency to be competitive and aggressive in certain situations, so for the most part I avoid those scenarios. I have issues with food and weight, as well as other addictions that I have had to combat.

I am ok being honest about these things.

But there is something in my life that I am not ok with.

I don't talk about it.

I don't like to acknowledge it.

It makes me feel weak and useless.

And if there is one thing I don't like, it is feeling weak and useless.

It won't seem major to you guys. I know it seems like I am building this up, but I doing that less than I am just not sure how to say it without sounding stupid.

Because I get sick.

A lot.

I have migraines that put me in bed for a couple of days at a time. 

I have other days where my body shuts down and I can sleep the entire day.

If I don't do this I get migraines or illness or who knows what other ailments. 

For every two days I work/study I spend one day recuperating. 

And it pisses. me. off.

It also scares the bejeezus out of me. This is because when I was married the first time I was very mentally unwell. I was on a lot of medications to deal with what was going on in my head, and one of the side affects of this was that I slept. A lot. Like 20 hours a day, no jokes. I get terrified every time I feel tired that I am going back to that. That one day it will move from a physical tired to a mental illness tired and I will be back in the hell I lived in for years and yet, by the grace of God, managed to escape.

My ex also hated it. I get afraid that my hubby now will one day get sick of it just like ex did. That he won't be able to handle me being like this and will pull away from me and leave. I know that he isn't like that (one of the reasons I love him so much) yet the scars remain and so does the fear.

I get scared that I will not be able to achieve all I dream about doing. I feel like God has pulled me in certain directions to do certain things and yet I feel that my body is stopping me doing it. That makes me scared that I am hearing from God wrong or that somehow I will fail. In my theological mind I know that the God I know doesn't have a achieve/fail rating on people, but in my emotional mind I am afraid of letting God down. I have been given so much back, should I not being giving everything?

I am afraid that I will always be like this. I know that there are others out there with much worse health issues than me. Off the top of my head I can think of three people that I keep in contact with whose health issues cause them pain, are degenerative, or have them in wheelchairs. I also have a mother-in-law who is battling for her life against her own body, fighting against cancer. I am grateful that I have a body that can do what it does and a mind that is able to write a thesis and be mentally well. Yet I am afraid that I will never have enough energy for having children, working full time, doing ministry, and a variety of other things.

At these times I remember Paul and the thorn in his side. No one really knows what it was, but some educated guesses reckon he was going blind. For someone who relied on getting letters to people, that must've been a huge blow. He must have hated it. Yet he speaks of giving thanks in all circumstances, of praising God for what has been given. This man founded most of the early church and was going blind! And while that should give me hope, it makes me feel the pressure of my own expectations to do as well with or without my health issues. I mean, if a blind man could, why can't I?

Growing up in this world we are faced with too many expectations. I had them from my family. I remember distinctly being told that our family aimed to be CEO's, not the workers. And to some extent I am proud of that ethos, even if it is misguided. Then the rest of my life I have been bombarded with images of what it means to be the perfect woman, mother, wife, worker. At church I am told how to be a great mother but that also church people are involved in 101 church activities. Even now my pastor and his family (who are great people and whom I love very much) set the bar pretty high by being involved in so many things I don't think they actually sleep.

Yet when I tell people what I am struggling with I am told to take it easy, rest it worship, do what I can and no more. But this is at odds with everything else that the world is screaming at me, what I see in my church, and what I fundamentally believe about myself from what I grew up with.

So how does one accept where they are at? 

I was talking to my friend, and theologian, Immanuel Koks the other day about this. He is in a wheelchair because of dealing with Cerebral Palsy since birth. He is highly intelligent, gentle, and teaches me so much about love and peace just by being around him. I asked him how do I accept where I am at. He answered that it is less about accepting the illness and more about accepting the days when you don't accept it. In other words, it is ok to have days where you are pissed off, and you have to be ok with them.

Well people, I am pissed off.

And I am NOT ok with that.

I am not ok with not knowing each day if I will make it out of bed.

I am not ok with my hubby having to watch his wife have bad days.

I am not ok with this at all.

And what I am really not ok with is that this is most likely my fault.

That is right. I did this.

When I was mentally unstable I was on so many drugs I can't even remember all of their names. They were all drugs that affected my brain. And when I decided that life was too hard, I decided to try and OD on some of these potent drugs. I ended up in hospital, vomiting up charcoal they forced down my throat, being observed in ICU. The lethal dose I took of these pills and the type of pills they were means that there is a very high chance that I was the one who damaged my body.

I am to blame.

I don't know if I can put into words what knowing that does to me. I don't know if I can capture the regret and anger and frustration that I feel. I don't know if you will understand how that compounds all the other feelings of failure and guilt that I feel around this issue.

I believe in a God who takes away the sins of the world. I believe it and know it to be true. I know that I have been forgiven, accepted, healed, and delivered from my past just as effectively as if it had been someone else's life. Yet the repercussions remain and I feel bad for praying for healing because I feel I deserve the pain for what I did to myself. I feel like it is pay back.

I know that is wrong.

I know I am worth more than that.

I know if I was counselling someone else in this position I would be telling them that they were forgiven and don't have anything to pay back.

I know it.

So how do I believe it??

Why I will be a Christian....Always (part two to 'Why I Can't be a Muslim....Ever')

This post has been a long time coming but I finally made it!! Life has been a bit crazy hectic so apologies to all those who have been holding your breath since part one. You can now all partake in oxygen again.

In part one I explained that I have been studying Islam and, though I have Muslim friends and love them dearly, I find the faith somewhat difficult to accept due to four main points: 1) Muhammad - not the best example of a loving person, 2) the Qur'an - not historically reliable or accurate, 3) the role of women - not seen as equal to men, and 4) the freedom to choose not to believe - it doesn't exist. 

It is only fair then that I now critique my own faith from these four points as well. There is no point me questioning someone else's faith and not looking at mine own through the same lens. So here we go:

1) Jesus - a man I would like to emulate

When looking at the life of Muhammad, according to Islamic scripture, he progresses from a place of relative peace to one where he wages war on his enemies. This is not unusual for the time he lived in and is not shocking that he did so. But Jesus IS shocking!

In a time where it made more sense for a man to proclaim salvation by freeing the known world from out of under the thumb of Rome, Jesus came proclaiming peace. And not only did he say it, he lived it! He never acted in a way that was non-peaceful towards people, he always showed love, and his teachings didn't change as the time went by. In fact, he was so shocking I his message that the crucified him (which is a historical fact that can be verified outside of christian scripture) and he didn't fight back! He showed respect to all people of all walks of life, including his enemies the Romans, and loved all he met. 

If faith was only based on emulating the founders of our faiths, I much prefer Jesus to Muhammad. His message speaks to me about love and respect of all, and his life lives it out. The same cannot be said of Muhammad, even within Islamic scripture.

2) The Bible - historically verifiable

Where the Qur'an raises many questions about historical reliability, the Bible does not have the issues. The New Testament gospel, the books about Jesus' life, can be dated to within one lifetime of his death. They are written with eye witnesses still living. There is also evidence found in sources outside of the scripture by enemies of the church. For example, the Jewish historian Josephus talks about Jesus, which is unusual if it didn't make a splash in the time he was writing. There are also a lot of historical markers within the text that point to exactly when events were occurring. The author Luke often notes the main rulers and events of the time to help guide the readers in understanding when events were happening. These can be verified historically. There is much more to say on this, such as the number of copies of biblical scrolls and writings that have been found and tested against each other for the reliability of the script, but essentially, in terms of historicity, the Bible wins the contest hands down when compared to the Qur'an. Being the nut I am for history, I much prefer knowing the scriptures of my faith can be verified and are believable historically.

3) the Role of Women - loved and respected

Though many people think that women in the bible are often subjugated, this is a misunderstanding. Due to the times it was written in, it would not be unusual to find no women mentioned at all! But this is not the case. All through the Bible women are pivotal in major events, showing God's love to the people, being leaders, shakers and movers. The respect and love that is shown to women by Jesus and his followers is astounding considering the rest of society. Women are not marginalized or seen as second class citizen but are held up as part of the image of God, created to be an equal part of creation and in doing God's work. They are celebrated, audacious, brace, strong, loved, forgiven, and redeemed. The women in the Bible are not at all told to sit down and shut up but are encouraged to seek after God and to lead. As a woman, this encourages me no end in my faith.

4) Freedom to Believe

In Islam there is a strong line of thinking that says 'once a Muslim, always a Muslim' with dire penalties if one tries to change their faith. This is not the same in Christianity. Christianity believes that anyone has the freedom to accept and reject God at anytime. It is the gift of free will that God has given us. God tries to show us in scripture why it is in our very nature to worship something, and that the best something to worship is the one who gives life and love (I.e. God) but we are not robots made to bow to God and worship. We can choose whatever path we want but it is only in God that true freedom, love, and peace can be found. It is only in God that our identity is complete and we can live life to its fullest. But if we choose not to, or we reject what we previously believed, God still loves us the same! It is our choice to follow and it is God's choice to love us unconditionally despite that. Every choice we make has consequences but there is no threat of death or violence from the community of believers if someone leaves because we believe that, as God continues to love, so shall we. I like that.

For all of you who are new to my blog and who don't know me, I didn't always like Christianity. I searched and studied and lived my own way until I made up my mind what faith to follow. I still study, I don't believe that I know everything about the Truth, but nothing I find measures up to the grace of God as found in the Bible. Nothing measure up historically, intelligently, humanly, womanly (?), or anything else. When I realized what it was to follow a God who demanded only that I love God and love others, and who gave me life, love, freedom, and forgiveness in return, I found that I couldn't then deny it. 

All of us are on our own journeys. If you are searching, search well! Don't just believe because of bumper sticker doctrines and key catch phrases. Do your research, have a faith that is as intelligent as it is passionate. And may God guide you on your journey

Wanting to Belong

(the second part of "why I can't be a Muslim....ever" will be posted next time but will be taking a break for this post)

This weekend just gone I had the supreme privilege of being asked to go down to New Zealand's most Southern city, Dunedin, to speak about my experience with mental illness and how the church can take part in the healing and reintegration of people with mental illness back into the community. I was there from Friday afternoon til Monday morning and managed to squeeze in six different talks to a variety of groups and churches.

Apart from being absolutely shattered I loved my time down there. It was an awesome city with an awesome vibe and beautiful architecture. Below is the main talk I gave on the Friday night to a bunch of different church people (along with pics of my time in the beautiful city). I hope you enjoy.

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Mary was upset. A man that she didn't like was whispering nasty things in her ear and touching her inappropriately, and she didn't like it. She told him to stop it but he wouldn't go away. So she started to yell at him, screaming at him to leave her alone. When I found her she was lashing out at the man and screaming at the top of her voice for someone to help her.

Natasha knew that she was sick. She could see it in the mirror every day. Her skin was starting to fall off her bones. She could see where it was tearing and bleeding and she didn't know how to stop it. She had been to the doctor many times about it but they kept telling her that it was ok. She knew it wasn't ok, and by the time I heard her story she was in a panic about how to fix it.

Mary and Natasha are real women who both experienced extremely traumatic events. However, both these women did not receive the help they needed to process what they went through.

For any other people these circumstances would have warranted counselling, church prayer meetings for the women, friends coming alongside to console and advice. Hey would have received medical treatment for their experiences and gained compassion and love from every quarter. Mary and Natasha didn't received any of this.

Because what Mary and Natasha experienced were hallucinations brought on by extreme mental health problems.

Tonight I have the privilege of being able to talk to you about mental health and the church. I can't do that without first telling you a little about myself. I am 28 years old, have been married for two years, am completing my Masters thesis and am looking at doing a PhD in mental health and theology.

6 years ago my life was very different. When I was 12 I developed early onset schizophrenia. By age 19 I lived with full blown psychosis, was in and out of the psychiatric ward at my local hospital, and had attempted to take my life numerous times. At age 22 my parents were taking care of me full time, I had ballooned from 75 kilos to a massive 200+, and I had been told that there was no cure, that mine was a life long sentence.

Enter the little old ladies on the church prayer team. Their prayers that day 6 years ago completely changed my life and thanks to the grace of God I am able to stand before you today free from extreme mental illness, free from medication, and able to share my story and give a voice to those who are often unheard.

My life is a life of terrible suffering and miraculous healing. 

While I was unwell for all those years I was actively involved in my church. This involvement did become less the more unwell I became, but what also became apparent was that I was more UNWELCOME the more unwell I became.

No one ever said to me “You are not welcome here.” I was never asked to leave or told I couldn't join a particular group. I was always greeted warmly at the door every Sunday, and prayed over when I received communion.

I was included. I just didn't belong.

People ceased to ask me out for lunch or dinner. I saw numbers dwindled in my home group and heard the whispers that it was because I made people uncomfortable. I wasn't asked to group outings to the movies or the pools. In fact, between Sunday and Sunday I didn't see anyone from my church. I was alone at home. I was at home, lonely.

As my mental health deteriorated so did my understanding of social niceties. I was a difficult person to be around. I never stopped talking. I would speak too loud. I would fall asleep at church and snore. I would eat anything that stopped long enough for me to grab it and put it in my mouth. I was bad at personal hygiene. I was big, loud, smelly, and an embarrassment to the people around me.

So people stopped being around me. I don't blame them, I really don't. It is really hard to spend time with someone that you can't relax around. It is hard to visit the house of someone who smells bad and won't let you leave. I exhausted people. I drained them.

Natasha exhausted people too. I met Natasha in the ward. She was a sweet woman in her 50's who had experienced a psychotic break with reality. She truly believed her facial skin was tearing off. I avoided her like the plague when I was there. If she could corner you she would tell you non-stop about her face and you would be stuck there for hours. She would follow you around too if you tried to walk away. She was embarrassing and exhausting and so I went out of my way not to talk to her.

I didn't care that Natasha was genuinely concerned about her face. I didn't care that she needed someone to talk to. To me she was a crazy old kook who I wanted to stay away from.

I still think about her and wonder what happened to her.

While in the wards I was exposed to many more people and behaviours that, in my early twenties, I was completely unprepared for. I watched a heavily pregnant woman attack staff and have a fire hose turned on her in an effort to control her. I heard the same lady describe her unborn child as a demon. In reality it was her fathers. I met a 17 year old boy who was dropped off by his parents for suicidal behaviour. He remained there for a week with no visitors. I was verbally abused by a man who thought I was his mother, and I was confronted by nurses who were in equal measure compassionate and careworn. When not in the psych ward I was a daily visitor at the day ward with other mental health patients in the community. Though this was a much more pleasant environment I was surrounded by people I did not know, that were usually much older than me, and by community workers who were understaffed and overworked. The people there embarrassed me with their weird behaviours and I felt left out and alone.

One thing that these people and I had in common was we were all identified by our labels. I was schizophrenic, which meant that nothing I said could be trusted as real. Others were bipolar, which meant you had to watch out for mood swings. Others had extreme depression so they were kept away from anything sharp.

Diagnosis of a mental illness alone creates greater issues for the patient than suffering the illness alone. Diagnosis locates the illness entirely with the individual, apart from their family and environment. It claims that there is something 'wrong' with the person that defines them as outside the acceptable 'norm'. This reduces hope of recovery, creates stigma from labelling, and turns a person into a category.

Currently in NZ today it is estimated that 1 in 4 people will suffer from a mental illness at some point in their lives. It is estimated that 38% of europeans, 62% of Maori, 59% of asians, and 59% of pacific islanders will be diagnosed with a psychotic disorder, such as schizophrenia, in their life time

I find that when I speak of my experiences with mental illness I am met with 1 of four reactions by the listeners. The first is ambivalence. These listeners cannot relate, or don't know how to, and so are quick to change the subject and to move out of the area of a topic of which they have no understanding. They may think that mental illness is “all in your head” and something that can be changed by will power, or they may simply have no interest in the matter.

The second reaction is nervousness and confusion. These listeners mean well but simply do not comprehend what mental illness is or how to respond to it. They may look at you like you are about to pull out a gun and start a rampage, or they may ask to pray for you to release you from the demonic stronghold over your life. These are the listeners that will offer to pray for you but end up lost for words as they become confused as to what to pray for. They often super-spiritualize your experience in order to bring the conversation into a language that they understand.

The third group is perhaps the most interesting of reactions. They are the group that leans forward with eyes shining lapping up every word. When you have finished speaking they will say things like “that is so cool” and ask questions like “so, you could actually see people that weren't there? Was that freaky and what did they look like?” They are curiously excited by what is being said and can ask insensitive questions about experiences in the psych wards. They will also be the ones most likely to call people with mental illness 'crazy' or 'psycho'.

The last group is the minority. They are the listeners who will find you alone later, share their own experiences, cry and pray with you. They usually have had an experience with mental illness and have genuine compassion for what I have been through. But these listeners are few and far between.

Unfortunately mental illnesses have stigmas attached to them that cause reactions of fear, disinterest, and wariness. People buy into the stigma that schizophrenics, and other mental health patients, are WORTHLESS, DIRTY, INSINCERE, DELICATE, SLOW, TENSE, WEAK, FOOLISH, INCOMPETENT, NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ACTIONS, DANGEROUSLY VIOLENT and UNPREDICTABLE. It is my experience that these stigmas are found just as much within the church as from without, but the added labels of LACK OF FAITH, DEMON POSSESSED, and ANGRY. With these labels it is easy to understand why mental health patients find it hard to contribute in a world where the stigma of your illness is often worse than the illness itself. It is also easy to understand why mental health patients often talk of feeling isolated and rejected by their communities and churches.

The simple fact of the matter is, people do not know how to respond to mental illness.

Despite a quarter of the population having experienced one mental illness of another at some point or another, it seems to be a human issue that we cannot comprehend or relate to suffering that cannot be physically manifested. People will react out of fear and amusement, but very rarely out of genuine compassion.

And this is true of the church as well.

In the last six years I have had to relearn socially cues and behaviours, get use to being on my own with no other voices to keep me company, and to survive on my own outside of my family's care.

I carry with me the memories of people who have not been as fortunate as I. The haunted eyes of the lady that believed the baby in her womb was a demon. The dead eyes of the man that received shock therapy at age 8 and has been institutionalized ever since. The fear in the eyes of the lady who believed the skin on her face was melting off. The sadness in the eyes of the young teenager with suicidal tendencies. I hold in my heart the conversations we all had about being forgotten, rejected, hated by our communities. I remember the questions I received when I told the other patients I was a Christian as to why no one in my church came to visit me. I remember the loneliness.

Which is why when I met Mary I acted in a way that I had never previously acted. 3 years ago I heard screaming coming from over my fence at about 10pm. Concerned, I went over to see what was happening and found Mary, the mother of my next door neighbour, screaming at a man that I could not see, that did not exist. She had arrived to visit her daughter only to find the house empty, her daughter away for the weekend, and it was enough to cause a mental break with reality. In that moment I remembered avoiding Natasha at the wards and so I went and sat with Mary, listened to her worries, answered queries from other concerned neighbours, and called her daughter. I sat with her all night waiting for the mental health response team to arrive with her medication. I refused to let Mary turn into another Natasha in my memory.

Jesus is a friend to the broken.

I believe this with all of my heart. Yet is it so difficult to befriend a person who doesn't speak sense, who may not even notice your existence while you sit with them, who can act in a way that seems barely human sometimes.

Yet Jesus is a friend to the broken.

I knew this couple who had met in the psych ward, fallen in love and, against the wishes of their families, got married. Everyone expected them to spiral out of control mentally and end up back in the state's care. To everyone's surprise, they found a house, moved in, and, when I met them, had been happily married for 10 years. Their love and care for each other meant that they reminded each other to take medication and see the doctor. But the most profound thing that she said to me was “he makes me feel human, he doesn't care about my labels.” They had discovered in each other a person who saw and loved the intrinsic value that the other contained in simply being human. It was through this love and acceptance that they were able to move back into the wider community and form relationships there. Their mental illnesses didn't disappear or even get much better, but in being treated as human rather than as an illness they have been able to find wholeness and healing.

It was in their example that I saw a vision of what the church could be. Loving the broken is more than praying for their healing. It is more than listening to their stories. It is more than asking questions about experiences.

It is about teaching the church as a whole to view people as human rather than as broken. To value the humanness of a person is to see past the brokenness, the medical labels, the sad stories, and to see the heart of a person who longs only to be treated as worthy of attention. It is to act out the continuing mission of Jesus to all who are difficult to relate to and to understand and to reincorporate them back into the community.

In my experience I have seen this love of my humanness a handful of times. I saw it in my next door neighbour who would come over for coffee everyday and sit and listen to me ramble, help me clean my house, tell me off if I did something silly, and give me advise on my struggles. I saw it in a fellow student who discovered that I had difficulty in picking up social cues and developed a system of signals to tell me when I was doing something wrong. I saw it in one of my lecturers who let me breakdown in his office when things were getting on top of me.

These people listened, heard the issue, accepted it and worked with it, rather than trying to change it. For me, they were the church being lived out.

I still don't know how this love for the humanness of people works in churches. There is no 5 step program about reintegrating the mentally ill back into the congregation. But in a country where at least 1 million people will be diagnosed with a mental illness at some point in their lives, there needs to be a beginning of a conversation. And it is a conversation that includes those that it is about. They may be unwell, but they will be very aware of what they feel is missing, what they don't like and how they want to be treated.

It is hard to be friends with people that don't fit, that embarrass us, that are difficult to understand. But our mindset is fundamentally wrong. This was never about US. It isn't about our comfort or discomfort, but about loving people as the created image of God, as people who embodied the Holy Spirit, as people that Jesus came in form of and died for. If we get over our own embarrassment and start viewing all people, well or not, as as worthy of belonging as we are, then maybe, just maybe, people like me won't have to feel lonely anymore.