It’s not just realities suffered that affect abuse survivors

Some of the more powerful principles in life are very subtle.  The one I’m discussing here might not be obvious for everyone, but once you have experienced it personally you recognise how powerful this principle is.

The problem of abuse doesn’t just surround the realities of abuse that are actually suffered.  It is just as much (and oftentimes more) about the potential future suffering, the unknowns, that many survivors of abuse must deal with.  The weirdest things can trigger memory of previous trauma.  But besides this, the potential for worse acts lingers large on the palate of the survivor’s mind.

Acts of abuse are often horrendous, but it’s the frightening potential that overwhelms the sufferer even more.  Such thoughts leave the sufferer of the abuse, without assurance of safety, in the land of torment for what might flow on, given that they and/or others have often been groomed (and I mean gradually ‘seduced’ i.e., systematically and intentionally deceived) and brought along in such a way that the sufferer of abuse can detect a trajectory that rivals nightmare proportions.

For those who have never suffered abuse, and particularly the kind of abuse that is hidden from others, as a lot of abuse is, it can be hard to comprehend or even to convince you just how palpable the power is that sees anxiety in the survivor reach overwhelming proportions.  There are visceral and bodily responses that cannot be avoided.  There is the constant overwhelm in the mind of the survivor, as they can’t escape scenarios of greater harm.  There is a sense of hypervigilance not only in the presence of the offender, but also just about much more in their absence, because even through absence the thought of future offending/suffering breeds anxiety.  There are knowns with presence, and with absence the unknowns are often worse.

It’s not just the reality suffered that affects abuse survivors; it’s the potential harm that could occur at any time in the future, and not just the harm from the person who has harmed them, but other more generic forms of harm are feared.  Indeed, hypervigilance comes to be trained into the body, and the mind is so often very unaware.

The mere possibility of a threat is often enough to cause enough angst in a survivor that bleeds out into bodily responses borne of anxiety and mindful escapades of preoccupation which all equate to the resonance of pain.

This is something that the broader world needs to understand more about.  These are the untenable effects of trauma suffered by survivors of abuse, where the only way that the sufferer can be served is through careful attentiveness and listening; through abiding and believing, and through processes of unequivocal respect that build trust upon trust — safety in a word.

Through such a trusting process to respect the sufferer in believing them and just to walk alongside them is often enough for them to feel safe, because there is a burning desire within most if not all of us to want to be healed of our maladies.  And even if the person we journey with isn’t interested in healing, we must accept this reality, knowing the pain may be too enormous; by accepting them as they are, we cause the least harm.  It is enough to journey faithfully with them.

If it’s ourselves, if we can find people who we can trust, who can journey with us, who can help us to heal by letting us be, we may well find a door to healing open to us.

Photo by Bjhelyn Tanacio on Unsplash

The day my mind stopped, and my body said no

I recall it as vividly as yesterday, December 15, 2019, and yes of course it was before Covid, so I had no idea how good life really was back then, even if I was approaching a stretch of burnout, which felt stark compared with even previous experiences of such exhaustion.

It was a Sunday, and my son and I were at an international cricket game where he was due to make an appearance with a hundred other kids during the lunch break.  It was so hot, over 40°C, the third day of a heat wave, my brain was fried, and my body was listless.  I certainly wasn’t in good parent mode, and indeed there was nothing left in me really, other than a little energy left to hold an internal pity party.  Those who know me know I love my cricket, but I couldn’t stand to be at the cricket that day, and indeed I couldn’t have been happy anywhere.  I truly wanted to escape life, because I really had nothing left, and yet the needs and demands of me felt exorbitant.  I was trying to do everything.

The reality was — and this was what I couldn’t handle — I still had at least seven days of task after task to complete before I could clock off.  I remember by that stage I pined for the sanctuary of a national park for some precious quiet time, and yet by the start of this season, a mini Sabbath, I had this thumping headache that persisted for over a week, these sore feet that just ached whenever I was awake, and an existential crisis where my body just didn’t want to cooperate any more.  All this had seemingly descended overnight.  I just didn’t see it coming... or perhaps I just wasn’t listening.

Burnout for me is the odious reality that I have nothing left in the tank, much to the degree that my mind literally stops working; I can see people talking, I can see I’ve got emails, and I can see there are demands of me, but I simply cannot do a single thing.

Long ago I realised it was God saying, “I’m pulling the plug here!”  Long ago I realised that if I didn’t pull the plug, and institute boundaries, that God would.  In this, I know that God is reinforcing an age-old truth for any of us who would listen — we are not human doings, we are human beings!

The day my mind stopped, and my body said no, was not the end of life as I knew it, but it heralded an important beginning.  At the end of my strength was the beginning of God’s.  God will often bring something to an end that we have previously fought tooth and nail to keep going.  Only when God is desperate enough to get our attention will God pull the plug.

Initially, because the searing headaches wouldn’t abate, and the soreness wouldn’t disappear, even though I was resting, I began to panic.  I truly wondered if there was something permanently wrong with me.  This is just another way God was getting my attention.

The long and the short of it, of course, is that I got away into the bush, journalled, and read a crucial book, called Invitation to Retreat by Ruth Haley Barton.  I re-learned some golden truths that I otherwise have known for years yet had either forgotten or had stopped applying.  These are the truths that preserve our health.

Slowly but surely as I rested, my mind started to free up again, and my body began to respond, all because I was feeding on the hope in God’s Word, all connected to Barton’s principle of Sabbath and being secluded in the bush for a few morning’s rest.

None of us are beyond burnout.  It sneaks up real quick — especially when we betray the sensible rules of work-health balance.  We are all tempted to be human doings rather than human beings.  What if the world could survive without us?  Let it.  Try it.  It is freeing.

Image: my view in the National Park on Sabbath retreat.

When God seems distant and you may even feel abandoned

One of the commonest experiences in Christian faith is feeling that God is distant or has abandoned us.  The trouble is many people can feel that it’s their fault, or that it’s a reflection on their own faith, or that they mustn’t be good enough or that they are unworthy, or they’ve done something to displease or disappoint God.  It tends to be the enemy’s voice that contributes to this perception we may hold.  Of course, it can make it a lot worse if a Christian leader or someone we trust puts it back on us, and makes it our fault, oversimplifying the problem.

The last thing we need when we are feeling distant from God, or that we have felt abandoned, is to be gaslit, where the responsibility is put back to us to resolve.  This is a subtle form of abuse, i.e., it doesn’t help and often produces much hurt, and it tends to be quite common.

What people need most of all when they’re feeling that God is distant, or that they feel they’ve been abandoned by God, is gentleness and respect, because the problem is always very complex, and usually has very little to do with what the person is doing or has done.

First of all, we must realise that many of the saints, Biblical writers, and mothers and fathers of the faith felt these same things.  Indeed, it is much more likely, history will show us, to experience that God is distant or that we feel abandoned, if we have been a long time in the faith and have worked diligently on our relationship with God.

I think of Psalms 13:1-2, 22:1, 44:24, and 77:1-9 right off the bat, much of Job, Ecclesiastes, even some of Paul’s writings, e.g. 2 Corinthians 12:7, but there is so much of the Bible that speaks to God feeling distant and feelings of abandonment.  Abandonment is such a powerfully negative thing for so many people, and it springs back to experiences of abandonment when we were most vulnerable; when we had no other choice but to trust our most intimate caregiver who may have let us down, or worse, abused us.  It is therefore very understandable to have the deepest crisis possible when we feel abandoned by God.

Backing up the biblical witness of the veracity of feeling abandoned is someone like Saint John of the Cross, who wrote Dark Night of the Soul.  Indeed, many of the mystics, those ardent Christian writers and doctors of the church, many of whom lived in the dark ages, spoke of this most visceral suffering.  We actually are in very good company when we feel distant from God or feel abandoned by the Divine.

Rather than spend a lot of time on why this occurs, because this is a very complex subject, and entire volumes of books are written on it, can I propose a simple course of action to feel God more?

If we are simply able to discern a good or kind thing to do, the exercise of patience or compassion, and doing something that is right, we may begin to feel God’s pleasure — to feel we have pleased God.  Righteousness and peace are connected in the Bible — for instance, Psalm 85:10, Isaiah 9:7; 32:17, Hebrews 7:2; 12:11, and James 3:17-18.  Whenever we do something that is right, particularly when it involves sacrifice on our own part, peace usually results.  If the cause is doing what is right, peace is the effect.  To peace, hope and joy are connected.  All this from doing what is right.

The main thing to bear in mind is that distance from God and feeling abandoned are normal within the experience of faith.  They are nothing to feel ashamed or inadequate about.  Indeed, these feelings usually precede the maturing of faith, and we usually experience these feelings when we already have much maturity in the faith already.  In other words, afterwards we may find that God allowed us a little distance to strengthen the relationship, not weaken it.

Crises of faith usually precede massive revelations and awesome epiphanies if we don’t give up.

Photo by Billy Pasco on Unsplash

Prayer for when I don’t feel you close to me, God

God, if You are there (of course You’re there, but really I cannot feel You just now) can I please have a touch from Your Spirit, and would You please grace me with Your presence.  You have said that You would never leave me nor forsake me, and I have believed You with all my heart.  But right now, my mind is a flurry of doubt and my heart feels so frighteningly alone, much as it seems that I cannot comprehend how I could be in such a desolate place.  How could it be that it has come to this?

Could it be, Lord, that You have brought me to this place?  My mind is in backflips, and my heart is dizzy for comprehending it; the thought that You could’ve allowed this or even orchestrated this prayer from within me to reach out in desperation for Your presence.

You are a wholly good God, and there is no wickedness in You, so You cannot want me to suffer.  I get that.  And yet, here I am in my lament without You!  Could it be that You trust me to find my way back to You?  Or, could it be that You will break through any moment now, back into my life?  Maybe You trust me enough to do Your will without You constantly needing to show Yourself in being present here with me.  Perhaps as I do what is pleasing to You that You will show me that You are pleased.  Help me to trust that You are with me as I commit myself to doing only that which would please and honour Your Holy Name.

Lord, A wise friend of mine reminded me about the Footprints in the Sand poem.  Could it be that You are carrying me?  Might it be that through this period of my life You have never been more present than now — even though I cannot feel You?  I have so many questions, Lord, and yet my friend encouraged me when they shared that what I am feeling is normal—that they, themselves, have been there.  It is so hard to understand, and yet I feel there is a purpose in all of this, so please forgive my desperate desire to want to know; and, help me to accept that this present hardship is its very own pathway to peace.

It’s in Jesus’ incredible name I pray this, AMEN.

This is a model prayer for the one who doesn’t feel God, where I’m channelling a former version of myself as well as others I’ve known and worked with.  The ideal companion to this prayer is, of course, Psalm 77, a psalm that starts off in desperation for God’s presence and ends in remembering the holy and faithful character of God.

When this happens, you know you’re close to God and healing

We may hardly ever realise just how much we are pushing God out of our lives until we come to a point of accepting what God has always been saying to us.  There is always one thing or another that we want differently.  The key question for the genuine devotee is, “Where am I saying no?”

We hear God on a particular subject, and we just cannot go there, and we unconsciously say, “No; no God, not that way!  I can’t go there,” or “I won’t go there.”

I say this in a full recognition that I have been pushing a vision of what I have wanted, in the way and manner of serving God, and I have simultaneously been pushing God’s vision away.  I only saw this after God had changed my heart to accept what God wanted me to do (and be).  Suddenly I was curious as to why I was so open to this thing I was previously so closed off about.  Then, as God often does, I received a vision in the shower.

God says, “When you do this thing I want you to do, when you are the person I want you to be, I will open every doorway in your path.  And your paths shall be straight.  Indeed, you will know you will be doing my will when the doors begin to open.  I have been keeping certain doors closed for your own protection and to protect my will for you.  Thank you that you are beginning to trust me in this now.  Keep that up.”

But, of course, if our hearts have changed — and God did it, because we can’t do that on our own — and we can enter something we were previously stubbornly resistant about, walking in that way is pretty simple, because our hearts have changed.  So it is God’s timing, because until we are sick and tired of being sick and tired of insisting on our own way, we won’t be open to having our hearts changed.

It is the case that God can be honest with us when we are ready to hear God be honest.  So gentle and patient is the Spirit of God in this way, we don’t ever recognise that God was pushing the divine will our way, but when we are honest, we recognise it was always there.  If you can’t discern what God is patiently and gently pushing your way, listen to what the wise people in your life are gently and patiently saying.

When we have received from God that thing that he desperately wants us to do or be and we no longer reject it, this is when we are close to God and our healing.

And finally, I really do need to say, my concept of healing is a spiritual concept.  If we could call Paul ‘healed’ and he suffered a ‘thorn in his flesh’ (2 Corinthians 12:7) there is a presence of peace or of wholeness or shalom, acceptance is another word, that we carry about us, as we can imagine Paul did (Philippians 4:6-9; 12-13).  This is a ‘healing’ that superintends any bargaining for physical or tangible healing we might be tempted to engage in, and I see this as a healing that amalgamates joy within grief that acceptably laments the reality of life.  THIS is what I feel many people lack in life; to experience a joy beyond any circumstance; and that’s inherently biblical.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

How Christians approach conflict speaks a lot about their faith

“Some might argue that the Holy Spirit makes us good people who no longer get into conflicts.  The Biblical witness [on the other hand] recognises conflict as an integral part of what God uses to grow us up!” 
— Tim Otter

I’ve met Christians who have said they no longer sin; almost as if they’ve ‘healed’ in this way.  And although most Christians would ‘pfft’ that attitude, most if not all of us who follow Christ would like to think we’re beyond sin.  Sinning is never a comfortable state to be caught in — whether it’s us who detects it or, worse, someone else exposes it.

But actually, we do sin, and this is what separates Christians from those who are not — as Christians we accept we have a sinful nature.  It takes maturity, punctuated most in honest humility, to resolve the moment of having missed the mark; to receive humiliation of the flesh gracefully in order to ‘pour contempt on our pride’ as the old hymn, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross (Isaac Watts, 1707) puts it.

The Divine Role of Conflict in a Believer’s Life

Sin is especially borne out in our relationships through conflict.  God uses conflict in our lives to grow us up!  Conflict, in its briefest definition, is the frustration of our goals and desires.  Let’s face it, all of us have the potential to become riled up in a state of conflict in seconds in any number of relational situations.  Being human is the only prerequisite.  We hate being misunderstood, for just one instance.

Now God knows we can’t be helped if we can’t admit our frailties, failures and faults; that our only hope is to admit our brokenness point blank, straight up; that we get absolutely no practise at exercising humility without pursuing reconciliation in our relationships; and, that the gospel is inherently redemptive and that conflict has a central role in all our lives, just as God pursued reconciliation (and achieved it!) with us at the cross.

Many people would prefer that they were beyond getting into conflicts.  It saves us shame and humiliation, and it gives us a lot more control and makes us feel more powerful, because, let’s face it, the ardent desire to want to be beyond conflict is often more about the issue of control and of feeling powerful than it is about blessing others.  We are innately creatures who seek our own comfort to the detriment of others’ comfort.

The Various Choices in Conflict

People can avoid conflict, have their own way, and save face, all by pretending that there is no conflict, all the while maintaining control, feigning the power they pretend they have.  But, there is no truth in this, there are no brave conversations had, there is no faith shown, there is no speaking the truth in love, there is no forgiveness given and received, only the manufacture of a set of circumstances that any of us can procure in our own effort.

People can fight their way out of conflict, imagining that they’re right, or that their aggressive actions are justified.  They can lord it over others, misusing and abusing their personal power, or their positional power, by using a coercive power that insists on controlling others.  But there is only damage done to relationships via hostility.  There is nothing of God’s power in this kind of response.

But people who actively have God search their heart (Psalm 139:23-24) for their own contribution to conflict are much more than Christian by name alone; they follow Christ’s teaching through repentance.  Their life is no longer their own; it is Christ’s.  This is because they can face this humiliation of the flesh for the glory of God.

Where the Holy Spirit has been relegated, the divine effect is annulled.  There is none of God’s power in such a life.  God is relational and redemptive in nature.  Those who refuse to deal with the truth of their sinful desire do not do the work of repentance for reconciliation, and they refuse to abide by Christ’s final command: love one another.

Signs of a Pathological Belief

Self-righteous Christians are dangerous Christians, because they believe in a falsehood of power and control, and what often underpins this belief in a falsehood of power and control is that, deeper down, they think they’re better than others.

They therefore avoid conflicts, not out of doing the other person a favour, but out of face-saving, and projecting that they have power and control, which is all rooted in fear.  Their motive is not about the other person at all.  It’s actually very self-serving.  Their motive is to curate their image and manage impressions.  Their god is anything but God.  And yet, we all must face the fact that at times we’ve fallen for the sin of not acknowledging our sin.

If someone ever says, “I no longer sin,” or, “If there are any problems between us, you must be the one at fault,” and “If you have a problem, that’s your problem; it will never be mine,” we have a big problem.  Find yourself in such a situation and you quickly find the other person does not love to the extent that they’re prepared to work through the conflict.  They would as much abandon you than do the hard graft of collaborating with you in getting the relationship genuinely back on track.  Such relationships are unsustainable.

You may think this is fanciful, but there are very many Christians that live this way, based in such a belief that they have overcome their sin, and been healed summarily.  (And they may be so deceived as to think, “You may not be healed, but I am,” which projects superiority out of pride, not virtue.)  On the contrary, they have fallen for a massive lie.  And to the end of their relationships, they will only be a source of damage, betrayal and pain.

Sometimes we are led to think that these situations don’t actually occur; that there is no such thing as a Christian who thinks they know longer sin.  I think that can be a reflection of who we have come to associate with.  It may actually be a healthy affirmation that our social circle is full of Christians who are living an authentic, repentant faith.  We may quickly forget the Christians who think the sin problem has been addressed.

Think about it.  People who think they don’t have a sin problem create many problems for others and are basically impossible over the long run to relate with.  When, from the context of our relationships, the problems we have can only be ‘our’ problems, we can have no sustainable relationship with such people, because, let’s face it, it’s only a matter of time before any closely connected relationship faces some crisis of conflict — relationships must be a two-way street.

I guess the converse of this is a situation where you find yourself in conflict with a Christian and they absolutely cannot see their own contribution — even if it was only 10 percent of the fault.  When they say, “It’s all your fault/none of this was my fault” they are really saying they don’t sin.

When Christians approach conflict demonstrating the capacity to see their own contribution, and the other is capable too, the hope of Jesus’ gospel of peace is a living possibility, where even situations involving great pain between parties to the conflict can be reconciled.

Christians who live out the gospel in this way show that they’re, “blessed to be a peacemaker,” because they justify the tag, “child of God.”  (See Matthew 5:9)

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Prayer for help from the belly of sheer exhaustion

God, You know where I’m at!  I don’t need to convince You.  I won’t humour You with the boring details, but at the same time I feel I must share the things that antagonise me, that I just cannot seem to get free from.  Life has been a flux of change for so long now that I wonder if it will just continue to be that way, but I do hold out faith that peace and stability will come at the proper time.

Lord, can I just say — and I know that I can, so I will — please, take the edge off this pain, because I find it unbearable.  How could a pain like this be so excruciating?  There was a time when I had no idea, but I have too much of an idea now.  Part of me wants to go back to that ignorant place where I knew nothing about pain.

You know how exhausted I am, my God, and You know how easily triggered I am right now, so I pray Your protection and help in this my highest point of need, at my lowest ebb.  I pray for spiritual help, for Your presence to sweep through my life, and for practical help, so I don’t feel so guilty about burdening others with my problems.  Others say they want to help, but when I’m at my rock bottom point, I find it so hard to reach out.  Help me to take the risk I need to take when I most need help, Lord.  Help me to trust the people I know I can trust when I least want to trust.  Compel me to take that risk when everything inside me wants to hide.

People say that this will pass, and I have to believe them, even if they sound cliched, God.  Help me to not think bad thoughts about people who are only trying to help, when I think they have no idea about what I’m going through.  Impel me forward by the powers of Your grace, to endure these frightening moments right now.

Jesus, I know I can trust You, even though there are times when I don’t want to live, even though I cannot and will not end it.  You remind me, Lord, that there is far too much at stake to do something regrettable.  Help me in those moments when I feel most vulnerable to remember these things, when I have no will left in me to want to breathe any more.  Come beside me and comfort me when I’m tearful, ease the pain in my heart, and give sleep and rest to my eyes at times when being awake is too painful.

Lord, I don’t have much more to pray, or any more energy, but I do have faith enough to pray this prayer, in Jesus’ name.

AMEN.

This is a model prayer for the one who is exhausted, where I’m channelling a former version of myself as well as others I’ve known and worked with.

Image from Eugene Youngman on Unsplash

Run a mile from any Christian who says, ‘I no longer sin’

“Some might argue that the Holy Spirit makes us good people who no longer get into conflicts.  The Biblical witness [on the other hand] recognises conflict as an integral part of what God uses to grow us up!”
— Tim Otter

I’m not sure about you, but I can definitely say that I’ve met quite a few Christians who have said, and who believe, that they no longer sin; that they’re ‘healed’ in this way — indeed, the current president of the United States is on record for saying this very thing.  They ascribe far more to the Holy Spirit than is even in God’s interest to do for any of us — hence the second sentence in the above quote (God uses conflict in our lives to grow us up!).  God knows we are hopeless if we can’t admit our frailties, failures and faults; that our only hope is to admit our brokenness; that we get absolutely no practise at exercising humility without reconciling our relationships; and, that the gospel is inherently redemptive and that conflict has a central role in all our lives.

I know there are many people who would prefer that they were beyond getting into conflicts.  It would save them a lot of shame and humiliation, and it would give them a lot more control and make them feel more powerful, because, let’s face it, the ardent desire to want to be beyond conflict is often more about the issue of control and of feeling powerful than it is about blessing others.

People can avoid conflict, have their own way, and save face, all by pretending that there is no conflict, all the while maintaining control, feigning the power they think they have.  But, there is no truth in this, there are no brave conversations had, there is no faith shown, there is no speaking the truth in love, there is no forgiveness given and received, only the manufacture of a set of circumstances that any of us can procure in our own effort.

The paradox in this is, the Holy Spirit has been relegated, the divine effect annulled, even if people who refuse to wrangle with others in conflict claim that their lives, being so free of conflict, are evidence of the Holy Spirit’s power.  There is none of God’s power in such a life.  Again, God is relational and redemptive in nature.

Self-righteous Christians are dangerous Christians, because they believe in a falsehood of power and control, and what often underpins this belief in a falsehood of power and control is that, deeper down, they are better than others.  They therefore avoid conflicts, not out of doing the other person a favour, but out of face-saving, and projecting that they have power and control, which is all rooted in fear.  Their motive is not about the other person at all.  It’s actually very self-serving.  Their motive is to curate their image and manage impressions.

What someone is saying when they tell us, “I no longer sin,” is, “If there are any problems between us, they must be your fault,” and “If you have a problem, that’s your problem; it will never be mine.”  Find yourself in such a situation and you quickly find the other person does not love to the extent that they’re prepared to work through the conflict.  They would as much abandon you than do the hard graft of collaborating with you in getting the relationship genuinely back on track.

You may think this is fanciful, but there are very many Christians that live this way, based in such a belief that they have overcome their sin, and been healed summarily.  (And they may be so deceived as to think, “You may not be healed, but I am,” which projects superiority out of pride and not out of virtue.)  On the contrary, they have fallen for a massive lie.  And to the end of their relationships, they will only be a source of damage, betrayal and pain.

Sometimes we are led to think that these situations don’t actually occur; that there is no such thing as a Christian who thinks they know longer sin.  I think that can be a reflection of who we have come to associate with.  It may actually be a healthy affirmation that our social circle is full of Christians who are living an authentic, repentant faith.  We may quickly forget the Christians who think the sin problem has been addressed.

Think about it.  People who think they don’t have a sin problem create many problems for others and are basically impossible over the long run to relate with.  When the problems we have can only be ‘our’ problems, we can have no sustainable relationship with people, because, let’s face it, it’s only a matter of time before any closely connected relationship faces some crisis of conflict.

I guess the converse of this is a situation where you find yourself in conflict with a Christian and they absolutely cannot see their own contribution — even if it was only 10 percent of the fault.  When they say, “It’s all your fault/none of this was my fault” they are really saying they don’t sin.

Photo by Pablo Heimplatz on Unsplash

The miracle of ‘God finally makes sense’ after disaster’s struck

It’s a human default to get the cart before the horse, and though it’s never God’s way to make such an error, for us it’s a matter of course.  The only saving grace is that it’s common to humanity.

Here’s a stereotypical situation: you evangelise people ‘into the kingdom’, only for them, at times, to realise that it is nothing like what was promised.  It’s not all upside!  (More of human effort of bright lights and smoke machines than of the transforming Spirit of God revealed in a real time set of experiences.)  Suddenly life gets tougher than they ever imagined, and this person who was recently converted begins to think that God and our faith is fake.  “It doesn’t work!” is their response.

Little do they realise that, at this moment,
when life becomes insanely hard,
is where the tyres of our faith really hit the road.

If we live long enough and are open-minded enough, we will find that everything about life comes back to God.  Though many people despise this idea, there are just too many big issues in life that cannot be explained otherwise.  So it is a great thing to accept.  We, in our bodies, are here for only a little time and then we are gone.  Now is the time to discover that God is the answer; but we reach out curiously only when every other scaffold-of-reliance is ripped away from us.

I think God only makes sense in the more complete way when we face problems and issues that are far too big for us to rationalise, accept, or even process.  It is counterintuitive to contemplate that life must break us before most of us are ready to say, “Okay, God, enough of me; whatever you want from now on — that’s got to be infinitely better!”

It’s when we are confounded for response, and we lurch from one bad reaction to another, that we finally find we have no other way through but through the ways of God.

God is ever patient through this process, allowing our bumbling half-efforts of obedience.  We never feel judged by God in this process, and never are we condemned, even though we will judge and condemn ourselves, and if we aren’t watchful, we may be deceived to think our judging and condemning ourselves is God — it is not!

Just at the point in our lives when we cannot make sense of anything is when God begins to make the most sense to us.

We may read these words not having experienced any such a calamitous situation; perhaps we’ve never had that circumstance that we could not extract ourselves from.

Realising that this possibility is true, that calamity is possible for us too, yet in not having experienced it, we may fear the very idea of being crushed beyond our own strength to recover from.

But the fact is God is the safety net, if only we don’t despise God because of it, or run in any manner of denial away from God into the clutches of a million worldly distractions.

We must engage in the third way which is to make peace with ourselves and God knowing that God endeavours to make peace with us.  Indeed, finally we realise the depth and gravity that, in Jesus, God has made peace with us, and we’re just a little late getting to the party.

Hardly ever do we realise when our world has caved in and our hope has disappeared and all the purpose from our life has been sucked out of us, that this is the way to life, that God’s mercy has opened the narrow gateway to us, even though it feels like everything has closed down.

Never would we have ever considered that the worst thing that could happen to us in life could actually become the catalyst for the best thing ever — truer knowledge of the operational power of God in our suffering.  If only we respond the right way, which is faith, and time and time again, which is faithfulness.

The right response is actually easier than we could ever imagine, but it does require an enormous amount of humility, which is possible for any of us, one day at a time, to not endeavour to fight our way out of things, and to resist the temptation to flee.

The truer knowledge of the power of God — the experience of it as a real phenomenon working in our lives — comes only when all our own resources become futile and our strength has failed.  But it’s not just that; out of a required paucity of spirit, when we finally debunked our wilfulness, comes the wisdom to deploy the resources we had inside us all along, with power, through God.

Of course, there’s a process of time involved in all this, because God won’t/can’t lift us out of our circumstances, but God will certainly refine us through our calamities, as we learn new ways of responding through a dependence that is easier — for God is all we have left.

None of this is saying it’s easy to do.  It will be the hardest thing you ever do.  But not only is it possible, you will come to realise, you were born and made for a time like this.

Photo by Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz on Unsplash

Prayer for the deep reach of God’s hand in a most desperate struggle

A prayer you pray
for when you don’t sense God
but know by faith
He’s not far away...

O God at my depths, when and as I fall still in descent to the caverns of a most desperate spiritual plight, sensing You have abandoned me, show me more so, that You trust me to work my way back to You.

Even as my flesh battles with the Spirit in me, and I am tempted to run in the opposite direction away from You, make me to see that in seeing my flesh, I am seeing with the eyes of the Spirit.  Help me to dispel the condemning voice of the enemy and embrace the quietude of soul that can come only from You.

O unchanging and unfathomable God, remind me of the portent of your grace, that in not rescuing me from my most desperate circumstance, I could know that You trust me to rely on this truth: “For My grace is sufficient for you, and My power is made perfect in your weakness.”  That grace that was made right for the circumstances that threaten to overwhelm me, that only as I trust it, do I overcome.

How is it, O Lord, that you hem me in, and hold me, safe and protected it seems, within the painful truth, so much so that as I endure it, I grow?  Protect me from my flesh, Father of the heavenly lights, that I might both see the works of your Spirit as they endeavour to work deep within me to transform my licentiousness into purity that pleases You and not come to despise this process of becoming disciplined.

God of my creation and redemption, Author and Perfecter of the faith I have given my allegiance to, help me to see the deep and faithful reach of Your hand, as you work in me, and make me to not resist You.  Even if I languish, let it be known to me that my languishing is serving my present and future good, even as I look forward to entering the promised land You have provided for me.

As You hold me close to Yourself, even in situations that I in my flesh find diabolical, help me to continue to trust You, that in being humble in my weakness I can exemplify Your strength.  Help me to see this is the epitome of trust: to resist fighting and fleeing when the going gets tough, and to hold to Your goodness, even as the enemy tries to deceive me that it is darkness.  Hold me deep in this truth, that You mean me no harm and only good, all the days of my life.

I ask these things in the gracious and loving name of Jesus.

AMEN.

This prayer was written to channel a most dear but not so near client.  Of course, the travail expressed in this prayer is quite a common one and one I’ve regularly faced.  Just not what I’m experiencing now.  It is provided for the reader who needs it most today.

Photo by Dave Hoefler on Unsplash

COVID’s long tail and the unfolding mental health tsunami

I have read several articles recently that talk about the infamous COVID-19 long tail.  There are various accounts of people, having contracted the virus, who have had extended spells of convalescence — many aren’t out of the woods yet.  Prolonged fatigue is a common feature, a very heavy and felt achy body, as well as fever that can go on for weeks if not months.  Perhaps the scariest thing about COVID-19 is how little we still know about it — none of us had any idea really even six months ago.  With vaccines a year away at least, and with little confidence in their efficacious deployment (e.g. anti-vaxxers, non-availability in non-democratic regimes, among myriads of other issues) it can feel like a pretty hopeless situation.  More than ever, our global society desperately needs leadership.

There are many factors in this present season that are identifiable as tips of the iceberg, which just goes to suggest that there must be a plethora of issues that don’t see the light of day, including some of those things we’ll read about in years and decades to come.  We know how much of a concern mental health is in any day, and yet in this new day of COVID-19, we really do stare at the wall of water heading our way, which is the cusp of the unfolding mental health tsunami.  The frightening thing is none of us knows who and how we’ll be enveloped within it as it approaches with light speed — us, deer in headlights — to carry us with it away on a torrent that will continue rushing (as tsunamis do) seemingly indefinitely.  And it may be terrifying to not know where we will end up.  And the tsunami won’t discriminate to only those who are infected — that’s merely a tip of the iceberg issue.

This unfolding mental health tsunami is frighteningly obvious, and it is a calamitous warning for all who would hear.  I think of the words of wisdom in Proverbs 1:20–33.  Now is not the time to be complacent.  Now is not the time to deny the present health emergency that is nestled within the overall triple-whammy economic, social and medical emergency.  Now is the time to prepare to be armed with the knowledge of care that may be deployed for the self in the first instance, and then to our neighbour because they will need us.  If we have not first looked after ourselves, we will be useless, indeed a burden, in looking after others.

More true pastors will be needed than ever before.  Pastors not simply by name or title, but pastors by character to the sinews of their being.  Pastors, women and men, willing to serve their Lord in providing the safest pasture for anyone in the sheepfold that would call past for the sanctuary of care.  Pastors of an authentic Jesus ministry who will unequivocally commit themselves to the safety of every last one.  Pastors who will diligently give themselves over to God in the fashion of a care that covets self-health, as much as they can reasonably afford to procure it, much so they as Christian soldiers may be ready for action at the shortest notice.

Just as COVID-19 can have a long tail, in that it afflicts us only to linger for much longer than a normal flu would, this time of struggle in the first and second waves of the virus is merely a foretaste of what is to come in terms of whole society’s mental health burden.  Many people’s mental health is being shaped right now (especially those health and other frontline workers who are working to exhaustion), and there will be a latent lagging affect with spin-offs into addiction, depression, anxiety disorders, trauma, abuses, etc.  Cause can be indissoluble from effect.  Pastoral care in the heat of battle, and well beyond it, is essential.

Historically, certain seasonal aberrations have gone on to affect whole cohorts of people — for years and even decades.  What we have right now is a global aberration that will make an entire season look like a moment.  The proportions are absolutely incredible and were frighteningly unanticipated.  None of us would’ve picked this war, and yet this invisible enemy has picked us out.  And yet, as believers we must hold to the ideal that we’ve been brought to this situation for such a time as this.  Perhaps we even have a prophetic sense that this is our time to actually be the church.

I know the church globally is desperately seeking the Kingdom purpose in this hour.  What truly does Jesus desire from us or have for us to do in this present diabolical situation?  How are we to be the church when the rug of the church is being pulled from under us?  With this mental health tsunami looming, every pastor I know senses an opportunity to minister, and yet the opportunities seem too nebulous and too large to contemplate.  We are human capacitors ready to serve, fully charged and ready to go, and yet we don’t know how to tap into the opportunities right in front of us.  We may pray, “God use me/us in this situation, for Your glory, according to Your will,” but we may be more than a little confounded in not hearing the direction of the divine leading.

That is okay.  Our job right now is to prepare and to be ready for the unique calling God has for us as individual people, pastors and carers, willing to serve the struggling, to sit with the mourning, to hold the weary, to give practical assistance to those in need.

It’s okay if we feel out of our depth.  If we don’t feel out of our depth, we will be robbing those we serve by thinking we’re the power of Jesus ourselves.  No, it would be better to lead through bearing about in our bodies the lament that Jesus would have in ministering to the distressed, by relying on the Holy Spirit, not imagining we have the inside running on the will of God.  We cannot pretend that we know what is happening, but we can serve the best we can right now, and God blesses that very work of our hands.

Photo by Vladimir Fedotov on Unsplash