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.

The challenge begins....again

So as you are all very aware, I have been blogging sporadically about my on going weight loss drama. I haven't blogged about it in ages mainly because I pretty much gave up entirely.

That's right, I gave up!

Did. Not. Care. Anymore.

And it showed it my eating and exercising. I did a lot of one and not a lot of the other. I will leave it up to you to determine which is which.

I hadn't lost any weight previous to this but if I had I would have put all of it back on again. It was a few weeks of not giving a stuff.

Because I was tired. Tired of fighting against my own body. Tired of looking in the mirror and not seeing what I felt in my head. Tired of seeing photos of myself and being shocked at what I looked like. I was tired of feeling like I was meant to love myself and then simultaneously meant to want to change everything about me. I was tired of being worried and upset.

So I didn't think about it.

And then I went to the doctor. 

Well let me tell you, when it comes to weightloss the system is out to make you feel awful about yourself.

The BMI - body mass index - is now fondly referred to in my mind as the BSI - bullshit index. Apparently I am morbidly obese. I am the walking dead people. No more emancipated zombies, the real zombies are fat and coming to eat you and everything else in sight! There will be survivors, anyone who can run will be able to outwit these undead, but if we catch you we will sit on you and then you won't run anymore will you!?

Not only am I now a zombie but I also should only weigh 53kgs! I have never weighed that in my life! Who decided that was normal! I mean, I would understand 70 but 50!? Come on! They are just asking me to fail!

And when they do weigh you they don't just put you on a normal scale. Oh no, they have to put you on the industrial sized, steel reinforced, elephant weigh machine. You just look at it and it screams 'fatty!' at you. It's register has so many zeros it wouldn't be humanly possible to fill all the scale counter spaces. It is a device created to dehumanize anyone who touches it, let alone steps onto it. No maintaining you are pretty and delicate when they pull that thing out for you.

After the ordeal of being compared to a hippopotamus they then tell you that you need to lose weight. "do I?" you gasp, incredulous that such a thing could have snuck up on you unnoticed. They then assure you that yes, you are the equivalent of a zombie mammoth, and that you need to do something about it. At this point you are biting back replies of the things you HAVE been doing because, deep down, you know they won't really believe you, and listen to their advice.

Their advice? The best bit.

Go to the gym

Join weight watchers

Make sure you feel hungry all the time.

Let me address the last one first. As someone. Who has had issues with eating disorders in the past I am not a fan of starving yourself in order to get skinny. Not ok with that, weight watchers isn't ok with that, can't believe a doctor told me this.

The other two require something I don't have.....MONEY.

All weight loss solutions are aimed at those that are rich. When was the last time you saw a rich fat person? Never, because they can afford the freaking solutions!

Why is it that weight is such an economic issue? Because bad food is cheap, good food is expensive, and any support losing weight is expensive. WW costs $50 a month! I am bloody student! The gym is $20 a week, pluss the food needed to eat well.

And I know it costs nothing to go for a walk, but when you have the hurdles I have to overcome, support is necessary! I cant do this alone. And I shouldn't have to just because I am poor.

So my mother in law, bless her heart, and I have come up with a new idea. 10 weeks to lose 10 kilos. In that time she will put aside $10 a week to go towards buying me something if I achieve my goal. This is a win win, she loves buying me things, I love getting things, everyone is happy. But more importantly, it gives me a erroneous to get off my ass. It also gives me someone else to talk to and be accountable to.

If you are going through this same process it is vital that you have people surrounding you who are cheering you on and who you can be honest with about your failings, temptations and triumphs. You can do this but not on your own.

Keep it up, wee can do this!

Why Does a Good God let Bad Things Happen?

In my last blog post about I answered a question from a friend about why I believed in God. I then expanded that to explain why I believed Jesus is that God. A comment was left on that blog that goes like this:

 A lot of people have asked me not why is there so much evil in the world, but why is God letting it happen? Why is He letting people suffer? What would your response to that be? I can answer it but it seems a very uncompassionate answer. One thing I suddenly think of is what you moved on to talking about - Jesus. Before Jesus, God seemed to mostly worry about what the Israelites were doing, as the people of God. But when Jesus came, God in human form, he started to heal people and talk them through stuff in a way I don't think God had so much, BC. It was the human that went out and started the process of 'healing the world' and giving that example of what we should be doing.So it appears to be our duty to be the change we wish to see in the world (together with others).
I still don't get where cancer comes from, though. It doesn't make enough sense that 'God is with us through the suffering'. It's almost like a parent saying, 'oh whoops, you got hit by a car and got paralysed. But it's okay, cos I'll sit with you in hospital'. 
I am kind of thinking that one's faith cannot be based on knowledge alone, but as you say, a personal encounter with Christ, which cannot be scientifically proven, or completely falsified, because it is each person's experience. Even when people have experienced miracles, others will not believe because, well, maybe because those miracles have not happened to them. Maybe their friend died of cancer. Maybe they themselves still haven't been healed. Sorry about the rant but I am putting stuff out there that probably lots of people are thinking. The kind of questions that don't go away..

There are so many things I want to respond to in this comment that it took me a couple of days to get my head in order! First off, thank you for leaving this post and asking the questions that are difficult and that Christians and non-Christians alike struggle with. The problem of suffering is a HUGE issue that often we are too afraid to speak about in case we sound stupid or whiny or because we are afraid that the answers (or lack thereof) will hurt our faith. So thank you for your bravery and you 'rant' haha.

Secondly, I think the only way I am gonna be able to tackle this is to state from the get go that there is a lot about God that I don't know (shock! haha) and that anything I say are my opinions and not necessarily the Truth about the situation. I have only my biblical study, my opinions, my experiences, and my community to draw on. These are big questions that I more than likely will not resolve but maybe I will help add to the discussion, clarify it, or even just point people in the direction of where to look to wrestle with these sorts of things. In other words, this blog post is not going to attempt to solve the issue of suffering in the world, and I am ok with that.

So I am gonna break this down into sections with what I believe are the big issues being talked about here. If I have read this wrong please feel free to redefine and get me to answer the actual question :p

Ok, here it goes.

I see three big topics in this comment:

1) Why does God allow suffering to happen?
2) What is the relation of the OT to the NT in terms of suffering in the world?
3) What is the role of Christians in the face of the suffering we see? How do we respond to it?

1) Why does God allow suffering to happen?

In order to answer this question I actually want to start with the second one. So...

2) What is the relation of the OT to the NT in terms of suffering in the world?

The reason I want to start with this question is because the only way we know the truth about who God is and how God acts is through Scripture. It's the starting point from where we can judge all experiences of God in our lives, or the theology we are taught in churches, and figure out what is God and what is not by seeing if it is compatible with the God in the Bible. For example, if someone says "God told me to steal that person's wallet", chances are God didn't actually tell them that because we know that God in the Bible was really against people stealing. Comprende? 

So by looking at the OT and the NT we should be able to answer question 1) a little better (hopefully....fingers crossed).

It is true that in the OT God seems a little preoccupied with Israel as opposed to the rest of the world. Remember that these books were written by Israelis for Israelis about Israel and Israel's God. They aren't gonna talk a lot about the rest of the world. BUT, in amongst this history of a chosen people, there are whole sections dedicated to people who weren't part of Israel and yet are called Godly people and are seen as saved by God!!! This is pretty mind blowing that they were included in the story of a people who thought God's salvation was for Israel alone!

Let's start with Abraham. He is what we call a pagan (a worshipper of many manmade gods) when God calls him and tells him to go to a 'land which I will show you'. So Abraham (at this point called Abram) goes. Talk about a leap of faith! Leaving everything you know to follow a God you have never heard of and can't see! Like Noah before him, Abraham was seen a a solo righteous man among many unrighteous men. Noah and Abraham were both called and they both followed. Both are really messed up!! Noah gets drunk and naked one night after the flood, and Abraham lies about his wife (calling her his sister) in order to save his own life. Not exactly perfect men but God still used them.

Abraham meets a man called Melchizedek on his travels. This man is outside of the covenant God formed with Abraham, so he isn't part of the nation that will spread God's word. He appears from nowhere, no history of him, and is called the King of Salem (translated as the King of Peace). He is recognised by Abraham as a righteous man and yet not part of the 'elect'.

Jonah is sent to Ninevah, the ENEMIES of Israel who God said were outside the elect people of Israel, and God saves their lives because the repent!

Job is not from Israel, he is not a Jew. Yet a whole book is given over to him as a holy man who God cares about. He suffers greatly and dares to address God and God ANSWERS him. Trust me, in Hebrew literature for God to answer a pagan is a flippin big deal.

When the Jews leave Egypt they also take with them, as part of their number, Egyptians who wished to follow them and they become part of Israel when the land is given to the Jews. So does Rahab, a Moabite prostitute, and Ruth, a Moabite pagan. Both these women are great, great, great....grandmothers of Jesus.

What I am trying to get at here is that God in the OT wasn't just concerned with Israel. Through Israel God is forming a great plan (Jesus) that will save the world, but in the mean time he is also working outside of Israel to save the world also. Jesus acts in the same way. He purposely shows up the Jewish religious leaders by acting in a way that says "God cared about these people, the people you rejected, and always has. It is YOU that has read the text wrong, not God asking you to reject them".

In this the OT and the NT line up. God doesn't act differently. In both he is concerned with the care for the poor, alien, widowed etc (check out the laws in Leviticus, there are heaps of these). God is not only focused on Israel. They are a people that he is making in order to send his Son, but he is at work with love and concern for those not in Israel too.

I hope that answers this question.

That said, let's go back to number 1.

1) Why does God allow suffering to happen?

I think I need to clarify three different forms of suffering here. There is suffering from natural causes (earthquakes, tsunamis etc), there is suffering at the hands of others (rape, child abuse, name calling), and there is suffering through illness.

Suffering at the hands of others is the easiest to answer. In these cases God has given everyone the free will to act as they chose. Though this means that we will all act in a bad way at some point in our lives, some people will chose to act in a way that is purposely harmful to others. It is their choice. It sucks for the person who is at the hands of perpetrator (and as a sexual abuse survivor, I know what I am talking about) but God has chosen, out of love for us, to let us make our choices, even when they hurt others.

Now I know people out there are gonna say "but why doesn't he stop them? What if they are hurting a child?" I get that, I really do. Nothing makes my blood boil like child abuse and I would quite willing castrate anyone who lays a hand on anyone else in violence. But if we would let God take away free will there, when do we say stop? What about stealing? Cheating? Lying to your parents? When does intervention actually start meaning no free will and we become robots made to serve God, instead of people who can chose to love him? When is it ok for God to intervene and it not ok? As someone who has been through it I would say God did intervene in the fact that he gave me a choice to either live on in anger, or to give it to him and learn to forgive. He didn't have to do that. 

Suffering from natural causes is a little harder. The bible tells us in Romans (I think chapter 6?) that the earth is groaning with birthing pangs. In other words, when death entered this world it didn't just affect us, it affected the whole of creation. Everything started breaking down. Global warming is an example of where things are breaking down and it is from our choices. We haven't treated this planet well and it is feeling the affects. And when laws of nature come into affect then these things are going to start affecting at least some of the millions of people who live on this planet. It sucks. It is awful and sad to watch it happen. But God created this world to work with certain natural laws. Unfortunately, those laws work really well and cause catastrophes at times. 

Illness is the one that gets me every time. I don't know why God doesn't heal everyone. I don't know why Jesus at times heals everyone who comes to him and then the next day it is only a few. I don't why I was healed and others haven't been. It can make me angry, thinking of the people I know who get sick, and it makes me feel survivors guilt that I escaped and others have died from their illnesses. Perhaps it has to do with choices (ie lung cancer from smoking) and to do with creation breaking down and our bodies going all wrong. 

But what I do know is that in the face of all this suffering God has said "this ISN'T it!" He sent Jesus to die for us and to rise again to show us that this life isn't just "life's a bitch and then you die." There is healing to be found, if not in this life then in the next. There will be miracles for all who believe. That when a friend dies of cancer we can grieve but also be glad that they are free from their suffering and made whole with Jesus. There is HOPE. And that is a wonderful thing. Because God will heal everyone, and he will stop all natural disasters, and we will live without fear of what others can do for us. So God HAS done something about suffering, he HAS intervened. It is just not on our timeline.

And this leads to,

3) What is the role of Christians in the face of the suffering we see? How do we respond to it?

We are to tell others that this isn't it! That there is hope. That they don't have to only experience life this way. We are to sit with them and grieve with them and pray with them and hold them. And we are to love them as people who are worthy of love, people who are worthy of attention. We don't ignore them like the rest of society does. We aren't to put sick and suffering people away where we can't see them. We are to embrace them as children of God and invite them into seeing themselves that way. Because we love them we will want them to know the truth, that God has intervened, that he has a time limit for suffering and one day it will be finished. That this life with these broken bodies in this broken world is not forever but life and joy can be. 

We are to live in such a way that we point them to the one that will heal their suffering and give them peace.

That is my hope. 

That is my joy. 

I am honoured to share it with you.

Why I Believe in God

I got a text the other night from a friend asking why I believed in God. This sent me into 24+ hours of thinking why I do actually have faith. What I came up with is below. 

I am not an apologist, and sometimes not good with explaining things that are really personal to me. Ask me about the different theories of atonement and I could go for hours. But ask me about my faith and I get tongue-tied. So here it is, in all its inadequate glory. But maybe it will help someone or point them towards others who are much better at explaining these arguments than me (William Lane Craig and Ravi Zacharias are good people to start with).

So here we are. Feel free to add your own insights to this in comment form below.

Why do I believe in God?

1. One of the biggest things I hear from non-believers is 'if there is a God why is there so much evil in the world?' The thing is, how would we know what was evil if there wasn't a higher understanding of the good that should be? In other words, if this is all there is, why should it be any different? Evil and suffering, if morality is invented by humanity, is just part of everyday life. We wouldn't be shocked by it, argue against it, or think that people should act better. But the fact that we DO get shocked, argue, and think people should act better is because there is a higher moral standard that is above our own. It is one that says some things are inherently right and other are inherently wrong and that there SHOULD be something better than this.

If humanity is the one who creates objective morals then morality is relative depending on who you are talking to, the culture they are in, the time in history that they are born etc. So when people say that morality is relative then when a Hitler kills millions Jews and says it is right in his eyes, we should be ok with that because his morality is just as 'right' as anyone elses. Yet we don't say that. We say that he is wrong. This to me points to a higher objective morality, ie God.

2. Everything that begins to exist has a cause, the universe began to exist therefore there is a cause (the cosmological argument). That cause would be a god.

3. Humanity is hardwired to worship something. If it isn't a god then it is mon

ey, ourselves, science etc. This to me points to the fact that we are made to point to something and worship it as the foundation of our lives.

WHY I BELIEVE JESUS IS THAT GOD.

1. Historically speaking, the gospels have far more evidence for them being historically acurate than any other manuscript ever. We don't argue the existence of Alexander the Great, yet there is more evidence (within and outside of the biblical cannon) for Jesus than any other major ancient figure. So he did exist. And not only did he exist but he claimed something that no one else has ever claimed, to actually BE the same as the monotheistic God of the Jews.

2. The radical change from devout Jews who believed in a monotheistic God to including Jesus AS that God is astounding and calls for a serious consideration of the claims that Jesus was actually who they say he is. The eye witness accounts to miracles etc (all written within one lifetime of Jesus) would show that there is something at work here that needs to be considered.

3. The 'stickability' of Christianity throughout the ages, despite persecution and politics, would testify to the truth that people found in it. Even today the accounts of personal experiences with Jesus are vast and varied but at the same time hold similar elements of facts about forgiveness, peace, and hope. This is true in the majority world (also known as the Third World) as in the West where the church seems to be dying.

4. My own story of healing and deliverance cannot be scientifically explained, even though my doctors tried. I have seen my life changed at the power of his name, I have experience the hope and freedom that comes with believing in Jesus (and you have told me of times past where you have to). It is particularly poignant to point out that when I was healed I was anti-God, anti-Jesus, angry, and not wanting anything to do with him. This wasn't my own mind making things up. I cannot deny what I have been through, what I have seen in my own life and in others. This lead me to Christ, all the other arguments cemented my faith for me.

God Slapped

It seems that February is a month of revelation for me.

This year is a decision year for Luke and me. At the end of it we both finish studying (for now) and need to have some idea of where we are going and what we are doing. I like to have things sorted well in advance so I started asking God about it around the turn of the new year. And boy oh boy has God been talking back.

It first started with a conversation that Luke and I had with friends as we celebrated the new year midnight hoohaa. I was asked by one of them what my word was for the coming year. What he meant by this is what do I really want to focus on with God over the next 12 months. I came up with perseverance.

I want to persevere with relationships with friends that have left college and I don't see on a daily basis. I want to persevere with my study and get my Masters degree. I want to persevere with my marriage and continue to grow with Luke. I want to persevere with my relationship with God and learn more about the wonder of the Trinity. I want to persevere in my preaching and look for more opportunities to preach and serve at church. So perseverance became the word for this year.

So I have been praying that God would teach me more about perseverance and give me opportunities for me to grow in that area.

To let you understand the enormity of what comes after this you need to know something about me.

I love the spotlight.

I love to stand up in front of people and preach. I love being the centre of attention. I love telling people what I think and why I think it. As Eminem is to rap, I want to be Preacher to the church. I have daydreams about standing in front of thousands and having them convert and praising God/Me because of my words.

It's a problem. Humility has never been my strong point.

So over the last couple of months I have been thinking of what to do next year. My ideas ranged from getting a scholarship to do my PhD at Oxford University, while writing a thesis that changes the face of theology, to becoming the youngest ever and first female principle of Laidlaw College. I also thought about going overseas and doing youth work, working with women in the sex industry, or becoming the next Joyce Meyer. There was just one problem,

Luke is in a band.

A Metal Band.

Don't get me wrong, I love the band. The boys in it are like family to me and I love that Luke is doing something that he loves and makes him happy. But a metal band in New Zealand isn't going to go anywhere fast, make any money, or even draw massive crowds.

In short, I wrote it off as a hobby that could be sacrificed to follow my dreams.

And then God started talking back.

I was sitting on a bus from Taupo to Auckland listening to Lecrae, a Christian rapper, and talking to God about the fabulous plans I had for my life that he should make work for me, when I realised how unbelievably selfish and self centred I was being. I wasn't interested in what God wanted for my life, I wasn't even thinking about how I could serve him. All I was thinking about was how I could get recognition. I didn't even consider the fact that God was using the band, had called the band members to it, and was working through them. I was thinking only about how God could serve my desires. 

I was God slapped.

And it hurt. 

I felt humiliated and ashamed that I had pushed my own agenda and wrapped it up in a bow called 'God's calling'. It took about 4 hours and everything I had planned for my life was broken.

I am a blind woman. I don't see the world as I should, but through the darkness of sin. I need to hold on the arm of my Saviour so he can lead me. And as he leads me he tells me about the world as he sees it. He describes the beauty and the glory, and he weeps as he tells me of the brokenness. And all the time he leads me gently in the best path for my feet.

But I am stubborn. I don't want to be lead, I want to run ahead. So I do. I leave the safety of his arm and walk by myself, even though I fall in potholes and trip on rubbish. I try to tell him what the world looks like by the limited things I can feel and foolishly believe that this proves that I am not even blind, that I can see just as well as he.

I am a blind woman. God give me sight.

Perseverance is a word heavy with the implication of struggle. I struggle with myself and my own ego daily. If I really do want to follow God and preach the Word then why am I not doing it right where I am? Why does it need to be on a stage where people can see me and know who I am? 

We all have our own individual weaknesses that get us in a sneak attack and we don't even realise that we have shifted our gaze from God to ourselves. This is one of mine. I am still working through it, still praying about it, but I am so grateful that God made me aware of it! 

I will persevere, even against myself.

Time to Run

(For those who don't know my story you can find it here. To understand what I am about to talk about it might pay to check that one out first as they are related)

I have been married to Luke a year now. We are very happy. I love him very much and love being with him.

I have been married before. I don't talk a lot about what I went through then for a variety of reasons. The first and foremost is that it is too hard most of the time. The second is that my ex isn't around to ogive his side of the story and I feel it is unfair to talk about what went on without his side of it to balance it out. So as you read this please remember that these are my views only and it needs to be remembered that my side of the story doesn't include what was going on for him. Give him the benefit of the doubt, everyone is messed up.

My first marriage was messed up. I wasn't allowed a key to our front door so I couldn't leave the house when he was at work otherwise it was unsafe. The number of tampons and toilet paper squares I was allowed to use were counted out when necessary. I was used to play games on his friends without my knowledge or consent. I had nude pictures of me left on a computer that was given to a friend. I remember sitting outside our bedroom door and screaming and crying because he wouldn't open the door and talk to me and tell me what was wrong.

I lived in a state of anxiety and fear, partly because of him and because of my mental illness. It all came to a head when I came home from a two week stay in the psych ward and had my next door neighbour tell me that his current girlfriend (yes there was more than one and yes I knew about them) had been living at my house while I had been ill.

I left not long after.

Why am I telling you this? Why now?

Because I have finally come to the realisation that I cannot outrun these memories.

The last few days I have spent feeling angry and down and I wasn't sure why. I felt myself drawing away from Luke and not wanting to let myself tell him what was going on. So I did the opposite. I told him how I was feeling and we have spent a few evenings trying to figure out what is going on.

Today, I finally figured it out.

My first marriage left me with a sense of abandonment that stuck with me for a very long time. I was angry at him, but more than that I was destroyed that he didn't come looking for me. I was unwanted, unloved and I lost any self esteem I had left when that happened. I spent the next two years between separating and divorce trying to move on from the damage that had been done. I tried to outrun my pain.

When I got divorced I was terrified that I was now going to have to put myself on the shelf, that being divorced meant I couldn't get married again. When I met Luke it took months before I was brave enough to even go out with him because I was afraid that I was doing the wrong thing. The fear arose again when we got engaged. Since then I have been pretty ok.

We celebrated one year a few weeks ago. At that point my subconscious kicked in and all the fear I had of getting married again came up. Because I am afraid of the punishment.

Now bear with me, I know that God isn't vindictive and angry like that, but my heart hasn't clicked on to that fact yet. I am terrified of losing Luke and that, if I do, it was my fault for marrying him in the first place.

I am terrified of him leaving me, or him dying, or something hideous happening. My life doesn't get this good without something bad happening and so I am waiting for the proverbial to hit the fan. My old counsellor would call it PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), I would call it learning from my history.

And so when we turned one together all my fear started to resurface. Then he went away to parachute for 4 days and it was like I was being left all over again. I started to draw away to protect myself from being hurt. I didn't want to tell him what I was feeling in case he laughed at me.

Instead I told him. I then I spent the day with Jesus, listening to music, writing every thought in a journal and being honest with my words about what is actually going on with me.

The reason I write this here is because there are so many people who have been left and abandoned in their lives. Those fears go with you even when you think you have outrun them. The past makes us who we are and we can't blank out our minds to what has happened to us.

But there is hope.

It starts by being honest. By going against your instincts to run away and to take a leap of faith and trust someone who has proved trustworthy. If you don't know someone like that then go to see a professional.

Be honest with yourself too. You can't do anything until you acknowledge how deep the hurt goes. With me it is in so deep it took four days to come to light. Sit with it, even though it is uncomfortable, and figure it out. It's then that you can work it out.

Be honest to God. God is the only one who knows how hurt you really are and there can be peace that can really help you get through it.

But is our perceptions of God that can really mess up our issues. When I am scared my image of God seems to move from one of a loving benevolent father who wants to love me to one of wanting to punish and hurt me. And I am not sure how to overcome that yet. But I am going to try. Because once I can figure that out then maybe it won't be so damn hard to pray when I am freaking out.

And maybe then I won't blame myself when things go wrong. 

You KNOW you wanted more...

So I was trawling through other blogs the other day, as you do, and I found this fun one where you get to learn more about the author.

I thought "hey, why not? More of me can't be a bad thing right?"

So here you go;

THINGS YOU NEVER NECESSARILY WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT ME!!!

1. I have three major fears; getting burned to death in a fire, clowns and escalators. I am not joking, I am actually terrified of all three but the last one I have learned to manage as it is kind of unavoidable. They all scare the bejeezus outta me and I am not really sure why!

2. If I could tell my 16 year old self anything it would be that she is beautiful and worth loving. That and stop worrying about food! You are as skinny as a freaking rake!

3. 5 things that make me most happy right now; Luke meeting me at the bus stop every night after work, getting to talk to Luke about deep and meaningful stuff just before we sleep, playing Kinnect with my friend Melissa, reading a good book, listening to good music.

4. My dream job is one where I could meld helping people, particularly messed up teenagers, with preaching and lecturing and some counselling and mental health work...wait, I want to be a pastor!

5. 10 people who have influenced me through out my life are as follows:

Jesus - his life is one I want that inspires anyone!

Mother Theresa - actually wanted to be her as a child.

Jenny Shipley - for being the first woman PM in NZ

Nelson Mandela - for his forgiveness and love in a place of anger

Christine Sorenson - a family friend who was a missionary in Pakistan for years.

My Great Aunt Eileen - an amazing woman who was always happy and positive.

Rod Thompson - Principal of Laidlaw and my friend and mentor

Will Taylor - a youth pastor and nurse who helped me get sober

My 7th Form History teacher, Mr Milton - pushed me to excel and saw my potential

My Mother - for better or worse, a girl's greatest influence is always her mum.

6. 10 things that really grind my gears:

People using 'aks' instead of 'ask'

Using 'pacific' instead of 'specific'

Using 'preformance' instead of 'performance'

Really any incorrect use of the English language!

Luke pulling all the blankets off me when I am trying to sleep!

People asking for advice, ignoring it, then three days later saying it was their idea.

My computer freezing...I mean come on!

Stupid, idiotic, circular arguments that go nowhere.

Tights ripping when you are out somewhere and can't change them.

People who talk only about themselves (haha funny for a blog writer to say :P)

7. 5 weaknesses of mine are:

I am proud and don't like to be proved wrong.

I am overly sensitive to criticism.

I give criticism too quickly.

I can be too direct to the point of being brutal.

I over think and over analyse everything!

8. 5 strengths I think I have are:

I am compassionate and loving to everyone.

I will drop everything in a heartbeat for someone who needs my help.

I am generous with everything I own.

I am strong in my faith and my defense of it.

I love with all I am even when I have been hurt.

9. I think people most misunderstand my intentions when I am trying to tell them something. Because I am so direct when I say things it can come across as me being harsh or saying something mean when I am actually really wanting to help and love the person. It kills me when I think people have misunderstood my intentions and think that I am angry at them or upset with them when 99.9% of the time I am trying really hard to love them.

10. 10 things I hope I am remembered for:

My love for others

My faith

My defense of my faith

My strong ethical stances.

My hope in God.

My ability to forgive what has happened in my life.

My wacky sense of humour

My laugh

My friendship with everyone

My loving marriage with Luke.

Check this out. Old school video I did a few years ago about a ministry I was involved in. Gotta love the nappy pin in the ear!!!!

My Story (part 2)

After sharing my story on this blog the other month I have been overwhelmed by the comments that I have received here, on facebook and in person. Thank you for your kind words, your stories and your expressed pride in me.

One question that I find repeated again and again is "how are you so happy after everything you have been through?"

I find this question difficult to answer.

In some ways it feels like my life before is a dream or a story I read. It doesn't hit me a lot of the time what I have survived and so it doesn't impact me. I think in some ways that this is a blessing and a coping mechanism; to feel all of it all the time would defeat the purpose of God freeing me from it in the first place.

It is also such a complex multi-layered thing that it is hard to pinpoint exactly what it is that made me happy.

Let me just say that two years ago I was still angry and miserable and wondering when I would feel joy.

Now I am not and I do.

All I can say is that the peace of God surpasses all understanding.

Even in the last year I have faced major struggles within my family and have spent a lot of time crying out to God for wisdom, for comfort and for healing in a situation that I can't control.

But even that hasn't broken me.

God gives you the strength that you need to face what you need to. My struggles are no more difficult than yours; the things that you are going through are just as painful, just as changing as these things were for me. God meets us where we are at and gives us what we need to get through, including the people around us who help us stand.

There is also the fact that my shame is gone.

I may feel shame when I recount some of the things I have done, but I do not carry it with me. I am free! Freed by the death that Jesus died for our guilt and shame. Carrying around my sins like a penance is pointless when they are already forgiven. Who am I to continually remind myself of what I have done when not even God does that to me?!

If you do not know God then this is what he offers. No strings attached. Freedom is a wonderful thing, a beautiful, amazing, life changing thing that lets you breathe and sing in a world that does all it can to crush you.

There is no other reason for my joy. It is all I have as an answer.

I hope one day you may experience it too.

First Hurdle

By now most people I know are aware of the fact that I am trying desperately to lose weight. I have a goal weight and time frame and I am making the lifestyle changes to match.

Before I go on to tell you how I am doing on this front, I thought I would give you a little insight into how I got to the place where my weight was an issue at all. Perhaps talking about it will overcome some of the insecurities I (and others) feel about losing weight.

(me as a bubba..awwwwwww....)

Weight for me has been an issue in my mind for as long as I can remember. As I child I LOVED sweet foods (still do as a matter of fact) and my parents became concerned about it and so stopped giving any of us children dessert. Talk about guilt! It was my fault that my siblings were missing out too.

(me age 2)

My first day of school started by me, a very happy and outgoing child, walking up to a young boy and saying hello. He looked at me and said "you're fat". I found out many years later he was new in the country and they were only two of the handful of words he knew, but for my sensitive wee heart they cut like a knife.

It got worse at school. Confusion over an incident with a friend's sandwich ended up with me being branded a food thief. And then at age 12 my late grandmother told me that I was fat because my parents didn't love me enough and would  put me in the highchair as a baby with bread to eat to make me shut up. My mother cried when she heard that I had been told this and swears it wasn't true.

At age 16 I was sexually violated by a young man and was called all sorts of names at school because of it. My life was spinning out of control so I began to control the only thing I could. Namely, my food. I would binge of food and then force myself to vomit it all up again. In one week I dropped two dresses sizes and my father was so proud that I was getting skinny. I learnt that it was better to be skinny than to be healthy and I continued to binge and purge for years.

(me age 16)

At around the same age I went for a trip to England (where the photo above was taken) and discovered over there my first stretch marks. I was mortified and believed that I was hideously fat. My parents responded by saying that I had put on weight and so they bought me a gym pass so I could work it off. I became addicted to exercise and worked myself into the ground. By the end of the 7th form year I looked like this:

(me age 17/18)

A couple of years later I was married to a man who kept me locked in the house with nothing to do all day except eat and smoke. I ballooned from 65kg to near 200kg in three years. I knew my ex wouldn't come near me if I was fat and unattractive and so I didn't try to lose the weight. When he cheated my father told him (and me) that it was understandable because I was an embarrasment to take out. 

The lowest point in my life was when I was left outside I movie theatre where my ex was watching a movie because I didn't fit in the seats.

(me age 23)

Ever since then I have been battling the bulge. Part of me didn't want to lose it because it kept me safe from leering men. And yet I have always wanted to regain a body that I could be proud of. It is hard to do when the only memories you have of being skinny are dark and depressing.

I have been going strong for three weeks and encountered my first hurdle. I felt so discouraged that all my effort to eat healthy and exercise hadn't shown immediate results. Call me naieve if you wish but I kinda expected it to fall off me. And it's not. But the love and support I have received from people has been overwhelming and I want to take this moment to say thank you. It is because of you that this journey is free of pain and depression. You are forming good memories for me and you are making this something I want to do and am enjoying doing.

Words cannot express how much it means to me. Each small comment of support has helped heal my heart around this issue and I love you for it.

I want to say to anyone who has weight issues and has faced any of the stuff that I have that you are not in this alone. You do not have to do this alone. Even if you tell one or two trusted people who will love you it is so good for your heart to have them support you. YOU CAN do this!!

And for anyone who has stories that would like to share of weight loss and/or overcoming obstacles in their life, please share, it helps more than you know.