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.

How far is too far?

It seems like every time I write a blog post there is something new and exciting happening in the world of Christine and hubby. This month's instalment is that I have started my own business (Check out The Admin Company on FB or go over and look at www.theadmincompany.co.nz).

I have been loving this process. I am excited by the prospect of working for myself, of doing something I enjoy, of picking my own work etc. It has been a ride opening the business, making a logo, getting the company registered, and promoting myself.

But there is a really hard side to this that, though I knew about it, I didn't think it would be as hard as it is.

It takes time.

It takes time to build your brand reputation.

It takes time to get a customer base.

It takes time to get the word out there.

And time is money. It really is in this case. Because I work for myself now if I don't make money then my bills don't get paid.

This has meant that hubby and I are down to the wire with our money for rent and food. I can't get a business loan as I have nothing to secure it against. I don't want a loan shark loan. I am trying to raise funds on a funding website (check that out here) and I have looked into any help that can be offered by the government, but all to no avail.

This means that I am still looking (never really stopped) for any type of employment, even if it means I have to run my business in the evenings or weekends until it is economically viable.

But from a faith point of view this whole thing has been a roller coaster.

When my contract job finished 3 weeks ago, Luke and I both felt very strongly that God was telling us we would be ok. But job application after job application kept getting rejected. 

As I started my business I felt God very much behind it. But so far nothing has happened with it.

Luke did look at work, but we both were overwhelmed by God telling us that Luke needed to focus on his music, a career that has no income at the moment. This seems like pure madness to us but we both feel so strong that this is the right path for Luke, and we can't ignore it.

And now we have 1 week of money left and then we are really up the proverbial river with out a paddle.

Stress has now kicked in. I can be reduced to tears in a heart beat because I feel so overwhelmed. Though I keep telling myself that today we are ok, today we have a house and food, I still panic about the future.

And yet, the question "How far do you trust Jesus?" keeps resonating in both our heads.

Do we trust Jesus only until life gets hard and then give up?

Do we trust what we know God is saying to us, until we can't handle the stress and then do the opposite?

Do we trust God to provide as promised, until we don't want to lose our house and then do it our way?

Or do we keep trusting, even if we lose the house, even if we end up with no job, no home, and no way of paying for food?

Do we trust God even though it is hard and we don't like it?

Even though this situation is hard and frankly a lot of what we feel God is saying doesn't make sense to us on a financial scale, we both feel an underlying peace with what we have chosen. We both know it makes no sense to others around us, or even ourselves, but there is this sense of peace that somehow we will be ok. 

Our instinct is to do it our way, to run the show and to ignore what we feel to be right. 

But how far is too far when it comes to trusting Jesus?

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.

Enter Shikari, Exit Hope

Something strange has happened in my life.

I have always loved music, but have tended to favour artists such as Adele, Florence and the Machine, Il Divo, and perhaps a little Creed. 

Since marrying my husband however, this has changed radically. His metal music has influenced my musical tastes and now I say, without a shadow of a doubt, that my favourite album of all time is 'A Flash Flood of Colour' by the band Enter Shikari.

I LOVE THIS ALBUM!

I love the hard hitting lyrics, the breakdowns, the vocals, the musicianship...everything really. Below is a sample of their lyrics. It is from my fav song of theirs, 'Ghandi Mate, Ghandi'. It contains swearwords (WARNING) but speaks so much truth about the evils of society today.

"Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think the primary purpose of your life, of my life and the entirety of the human race's is just to blindingly consume to support a failing economy and a faulty system. Forever and ever until we run out of every resource and have to resort to blowing each other up to ensure our own survival. I don't think we're supposed to sit by either while we continue to use a long outdated system that produces war, poverty, collusion, corruption, ruins our environment and threatens every aspect of our health and does nothing but divide and segregate us. I don't think how much military equipment we are selling to other countries, how many hydrocarbons we're burning, how much money is being printed and exchanged, is a good measure of how healthy our society is but I do think I can speak for everyone when I say, we're sick of this shit."

Time to mobilize
Time to open eyes.
We are not a quiet pocket of resistance
This is real, but we cannot afford to fail
Act with, act with persistence
This is real, but we cannot afford to fail
Army, establish order
Respect me and fear me
Fuck you! We have no respect
And when tomorrow comes
We're gonna step on your head
Woah, woah
Calm down, (calm down mate), calm the fuck down
Gandhi mate, remember Gandhi 
Alright, alright I'm fine

See if we keep them silent then they'll resort to violence
And that's how we criminalize change

Awww, yabba dabba do one, son
We don't want your rules
Who you fooling son, we've got all the tools
We need to build a whole new system
To correct these flaws

(You know what?)
I've already listed them
You're a communist
You're a fucking utopianist
Ah here come, the immersive labels
For their attempt, it fails

Cause man, we're so far out your comfort zone

We stop, think, begin to revive
We stop, think, begin to revive
We stop, we think, we begin to revive
We begin to revive

Put the call out to the frontline
Get the message out to the contact squad
Transmit emergency frequencies
Put the call out to the frontline
Get the message out to the contact squad
Put the call out, put the call out, put-the-call-ohhhhh

Oh and the jigsaw starts to build
Oh and the jigsaw starts to build

Piece by piece

Open their minds
Transmit emergency frequencies
Open their minds

Transmit emergency frequencies
Emergency frequencies
Emergency frequencies
Emergency frequencies
Emergency frequencies

While I love this song, and all their songs, I find that they leave something lacking. They speak of what is wrong, but they never offer any solutions. 

I have written the following as a poetic response to Enter Shikari. Remember, even though I seem to slam them, I really love this band and what they offer. I just think they stop short...

Enter Shikari, Exit Hope

Now I don't know about you,

But it seems the primary purpose of your life,

Is to spout anger and vitriol towards society

Without ever asking

What is the alternative to reality?

Your lyrics offer nothing

Except a prolonged mastication of verbal diarrhoea

That spurts forth with no direction

Covering everything and adding to the problem.

I don't think that we are suppose to sit

And blindly absorb the anger of someone else

Without asking the question that you never verbalise

Of "yeah, but what the hell do we do about it?"

When noise on airwaves

Takes up precious minutes of my day

I don't think we are meant to hear our own voices echoed at us

But rather an alternative solution

Yet what can you offer?

You see the problems and have no answer

Except to rant at the machine 

Created to serve us, which we now serve

Which holds you in servitude too

With no Saviour to help you.

By rejecting everything

You have rejected EVERYTHING

And by doing so ensured your slavery forever

Without any hope for relief.

Anger is your cry

Yet it is hollow and empty without any grounding.

You have sold out by raging against the sell outs

You have become a label that has nothing to sell

Other than pointless words of fury

Against the very people who buy your albums

Putting food on your tables.

So what is your answer?

What do you have to say to that?

Your assessment of society is sound, yet flawed

Due to the fact that you are flawed

And none of you see the truth.

For you missed it while staring at the faces around you

Missed the one who died to save them

Who raged against it all until death

And offered his own life to put it at an end.

You offer no Saviour

You offer nothing but empty sound bites.

He offers eternity, he offers life.

Enter Jesus, humanity learns to cope.

Enter Shikari, exit hope.

Temptation and Weakness (or Reverting Back to my 16 year old Self)

Something happened to me last night. It hasn't happened for a long time. It happened in front of a couple of friends. It shocked and worried my husband. It left me broken and disgusted with myself, and embarrassed that I had sunk so low so fast.

What could possibly have happened I hear you ask?

I binged.

I gorged, overate, over-indulged, ate myself sick.

I at pizza and a really yummy dessert and I went totally overboard. And then, after I had gone to bed, I lay there thinking about the left overs in the fridge. So in the morning, for breakfast, I did it again.

I haven't done this is so long that is scared my husband. He was immediately asking me what was wrong, why I was doing this to myself. I ate my concoction of chocolate chips, cream, and flake chocolate and told him that nothing was wrong. I then I felt sick. And my first thought was to purge, something I haven't done in many many years. 

And then I started to think that maybe hubby was seeing something I wasn't, that maybe something was really wrong and I was missing it. 

Food is a drug to me. It has been for as long as I can remember. I have learned to control it somewhat. I no longer binge like I use to (save the last 24 hours) and I eat to maintain my body rather than to find solace or comfort. And so when something like this happens it is like an alcoholic picking up a glass of beer and sculling it. It means that something is very wrong and I really need to start analysing my behaviour.

In the past an episode like that would have spun me out of control. 24 hours would have moved into a week or a month or eating badly and too much. My shame and disgust with myself would feed my addiction and I would have turned to food to cover what my eating had caused. I would have used it as an excuse to continue eating without thought for my health.

This time I did something radically different.

I sat with hubby and talked it out. We discovered that I have been feeling exhausted and stressed. We have moved house this week also and so all our good routines went out the window the last 7 days. We also have taken in a teenager and that change in life has meant many other things have taken a back seat. All of these issues subconsciously triggered a binge of epic proportions that could have undone all my good work in losing weight if I had listened to those around me, namely my husband, telling me I was acting abnormally.

So instead of eating more, or mentally beating myself up, or 101 other destructive things I could have done, I went and had a sleep, then cleaned my fish tank, and ran some errands. I started a weekly menu board for dinners so I am more prepared and more organised in life to bring some routine back into it. And after I have finished this I am going to go for a walk and get some good endorphins flowing.

Life is hard and we slip up.

I wanted to write this to show that I am human, that I fall off the wagon, but it is what we do afterward, how we react to our mistakes, that defines us.

I had a moment. A bad moment. But not a moment that will destroy me or continue any longer. I will listen to those that care about me, take steps to put things in place to stop me falling down again, and move on.

I know I have readers that struggle with their weight, and I know that many of them will relate to this post. What I want you to take away from this is that there is hope, but only in community. There is strength, but only if you first rely and rest on others. There is continuation, but only if you first stop and take stock.

I may have lost this small skirmish, but it will in no way affect the outcome of the war.

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.

Family, Brokenness, and Acceptance

Wow, I just checked out my blog stats and I am nearly on 8000 views of this blog! A MASSIVE thank you to you, yes YOU, who is reading this and who keeps me writing. I am honoured by your presence here and the fact that you find me interesting enough to keep reading.

If you are new here I recommend reading my blog post 'My Story' in order to understand where I am coming from on various issues. I make a lot more sense with a little background knowledge going on. 

I have been pretty slack at these blog posts recently as I am currently writing my Masters thesis and that tends to take up a lot of my time. As well as that I run a small group for young adults (hence the various blogs with flowcharts) so the planning for that can (or should) take up some of my time too. But enough excuses, let's get on with the show.

I have up until today refrained from talking at length about my relationship with my family. This has been for several reasons.

1) I have felt that it is unfair to share my issues without them having a proper chance to respond.

2) Talking to a bunch of strangers (no offence guys) is perhaps not the best way to deal with some issues.

Yesterday however, I watched a Dr. Phil show that really hit a nerve. It was portraying a family of three children who were desperate to make contact with their dad but he kept making excuses. Though they all proclaimed love for their father they were furious at him and he couldn't understand why they kept yelling at him if they wanted a relationship.

That's not what struck me.

There was a young girl, 17yo, who said that if she could have anything it would be to be able to call her dad, talk about her problems, do fun things with him, and have him as her confidant. 

It was a heartfelt plea.

It was also a major cause of the problem.

I say this because I truly believe that the world has told us what a 'perfect' family should look like. I am not talking about a mum, a dad, and 2.5 kids. What I am talking about is the 'Simpsons' idea. 

Family is dysfunctional, the Simpsons tells us, but ultimately everyone will get along. By the end of the half hour dad will have realised his mistake and apologised, mum would've realised she loves the silly man after all, the kids will realise they are being little terrors and stop, and everyone will live happily ever after...well at least until the next episode. 

This is pretty much how every family works on TV sitcoms. It is what I grew up on, what most of my generation grew up on, and it has, I believe, warped our understanding of the nature of humanity.

See, people can suck. I mean really suck. The number of solo parent families out there would suggest that mum and dad, or partner, or whatever, don't always figure it out. The number of abused kids would suggest that parents don't always like their children. The number of runaways would suggest that kids don't always like their parents.

Because we are broken. Though we all yearn for the love of our family, we live a world where people are broken, where we are broken, and it isn't so easy to reconcile our differences. 

I love my family. Not a day goes by when I don't think about my parents. But I haven't seen or talked to them for two years. We have issues. My brokenness has affected them and their brokenness has affected me. My parents weren't perfect, but neither were they awful and neglectful. We just found that some of our difficulties were too big for us to be able to work through in a way that we both agreed on.

It breaks my heart that things ended up this way between us. I can't tell you how much I would love to pick up the phone and have a nice, happy conversation with my dad.

But that isn't our reality.

Our reality is that things are broken. There are no credits that will role after a family hug. There is no canned laughter that will play when we all realise that we misunderstood each other. There is no being able to run into each others arms in slow motion when we see each other again.

There is love, but it is a love tainted by our issues.

And that is what hit me about the young girls story on Dr. Phil. She had in her head this idea of what she believed was the perfect father-daughter relationship. But it was clear from the program that the father had no intention, or ability, to be this father. She wanted a fantasy instead of accepting the reality, no matter how painful that might be.

My mother-in-law once told me that relationships only work when we lower our expectations of people. We need to stop imagining what we want in someone and accept the reality of what our relationship with them really is. Sometimes it means walking away and letting the relationship go. Sometimes it means having to work damn hard at ourselves and at a relationship, but this is only possible if both parties are willing to try and work at it. And sometimes, in those wonderful moments, it means accepting what is and living in the love that is offered and accepted.

But let me get one thing straight: acceptance and forgiveness are NOT the same as reconciliation. We can accept the reality of a broken relationship. We can even learn to forgive the hurts and the pain that are caused within that relationship. But that does not mean that reconciliation will, or can, happen.

I have forgiven my parents for any hurt, real or imagined, that they caused me. I know this because I am not angry at them any more. For years I was. I was bitter and twisted about every little thing that I remembered them doing (or not doing). It ate me up inside. I would rant and rage against them for hours at a time. We would have screaming matches and things were said that I regret. Things were heard that I have now let go of. I learnt to forgive them and love them as human beings who did their very best to love me as they knew how. I pray for the all the time and hold them very dear in my heart.

But we do not have a relationship. The reasons for that I am choosing not to go into in this forum but I will say that it is because we have been unable to agree upon a 'safe zone' for us to work out our issues. Sometimes relationships need outside help, sometimes it is not emotionally (or even physically) safe to step back into the same situation without boundaries and safety being established first. Sometimes reconciliation doesn't happen. And that is ok.

Forgiveness does also not demand forgetting. The old adage 'forgive and forget' has done so much harm to people in relationships that are toxic. We CANNOT forget. It is impossible to forget. So what we are told to do is sweep our issues under the carpet and pretend they never happened. This leads to cycles of destruction in relationships. Ever wonder why an abused woman goes back to her abuser? Because she chose to ignore past behavior instead of letting it help her determine what will happen in the future. Sometimes the only way to find healing is to leave the environment that perpetuates old behaviors. And sometimes forgiveness cannot happen until we choose to NOT forget what has happened before and instead face it, address it, and, if need be, walk away from it until it changes.

It is ok to learn to forgive and not be reconciled. In a perfect world we could do that, but this isn't a perfect world and we are far from perfect people. We do what we can, we try as hard as possible, and then we have to learn to accept what is. And sometimes what exists is a relationship broken beyond repair. Or one that needs more time to heal.

You can forgive and learn to love without relationship being reestablished.

If you have a difficult relationship with your family members, you are not alone! There are so many of us out there who are longing for the love of parent/sibling/spouse/child. There are so many of us who weep for what we dreamed could have been and for the reality of what is.

We understand. You are not alone. 

My prayers are with all families. They are with every broken person who prays for a miracle and yet despairs that it will never come. They are with every person who misses someone they love because of the brokenness of their relationship.

May God give you peace and may you know God as your parent who loves you and comforts you. May you know Joy.

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.