beauty for ashes

Yesterday, I rediscovered a talk I wrote around Christmas time. I remember being on a family car journey and sitting in the back window-gazing, daydreaming and listening to worship then having a sudden realisation: 'wow. we expect God to give us the beauty without us giving Him our ashes...'

I knew there was a verse about ashes being replaced with a beautiful crown that I loved, so had a dig around my Bible and, with the help of google (oh modern Christian life), realised I was thinking of Isaiah 61:3,

"to all who are mourning in Israel, He will give beauty for ashes, joy instead of mourning, praise instead of despair. For the Lord has planted them like strong and graceful oaks for His own glory..."

I started to mull and scribble, and Bible verses were flying around my head like they do when I'm 'in the zone' with talk-writing (a rare but lovely and special occurrence). I love to sit and dig deep in that situation; to challenge myself intellectually while learning from and about God .

I wanted to know how, in a practical sense, we can receive these promised blessings...

1) "beauty for ashes"

it sounds obvious - but in order to get the beauty, we have to give God the ashes - we have to surrender our lives; our mess. It's one of the hardest things to do; it has to be a daily (or even multiple times daily) decision. We have to live out Romans 12:1 by becoming living sacrifices - and while we are in this world, that requires us to sacrifice ourselves, all of the time. Of course we fail, but His grace is sufficient - we just have to surrender all that we can. We have to pray the prayer of Psalm 31:5: 'I entrust my spirit into your hand. Rescue me, Lord, for You  are a faithful God.'  We have to trust that God won't reject our brokenness.

2 Corinthians 4:8 'we are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed and broken...'. There is always hope; we are never too broken to be useful. We need to recognise that we are worth saving - for God's purposes. We have a future. Ezekiel 37 talks about the valley of dry bones that God brings to life. Those are the ashes that we need to commit to Him, over and over again.
By nature, ashes are done. Finished. I know that we can feel like that too. But that doesn't mean we're too broken; it doesn't mean that we're beyond help or not worth saving. It just means that it really is time to surrender the ashes.

When we feel broken; prayer is hard. But the Holy Spirit is already constantly advocating for us (Romans 8:26); we just have to join in, in any we can, with what is already going on on our behalf. It helps to start small; a morning prayer of 'Lord I want to glorify You today. Help me to give You all that I can. Help me to be honest with You and let You work in me and through me in this day you've blessed me with. Amen.' Then just at little intervals, check in with God. 'Lord I'm struggling. Thank you that You are all-sufficient. Please could you help me now. Amen'. God knows our hearts; we don't need to explain all the details of the situations all the time: we just need to acknowledge that He is Lord and He loves us.

2) Similarly (this talk definitely didn't end up brief - it became a full-on sermon! - so I'll summarise the other two points on this blog), to receive "joy instead of mourning", we need to acknowledge the hurt and recognise that there is a season for everything (Ecclesiastes 3:4). We can't run away from any season so we need to be real with God about where we are and allow Him to help us in that.

3) for "praise instead of despair" we need to look up. When we truly open our eyes to who God is, we can't help but praise! Despair is being desperate. 2 Samuel 24:14 "this is a desperate situation...but let us fall into the hands of the Lord, for His mercy is great". When we take our eyes off of the despair in the situation we might be in, and fix our gaze on Him; when we replace 'I can't do this' with a recognition of who God is and that He is -by definition- able to do anything, we will be changed.

Today, I hope to live out some of what I've written; not all of it - and not perfectly. But today, I will do all that I can to surrender my own ashes...

enough is enough

I remember the first time I ever hit rock bottom. 12thAugust 2011. I remember thinking I didn’t want to live anymore; that I was just done and exhausted with life. It was so scary, and that experience initiated small but certain changes – opening up to God; admitting I wasn’t okay.

I seem to have those situations far more frequently lately. The lovely wedding where I simply couldn’t cope with the people and pressure and buffet at the reception so left in tears in the early evening.  Last night when I sat crying on my kitchen floor because I was too dizzy not to eat but too terrified to even open the fridge then, after a while, couldn’t cope with being trapped inside and lay on the beach at midnight and prayed again that I couldn’t do this - I just couldn’t.

It scares me that these moments should all be a turning point. Each time, I try to make them so.
  But the next morning I wake up still trapped and go on as I had the day before. I desperately need a genuinely turning point but, equally, I’m learning that maybe it just doesn’t work that way.  I wonder what it would take to make me finally say 'enough is enough' with a certainty and strength stronger than what keeps me stuck. I need it to happen, but equally I just don't know how.

Instead, I am trying to improve my perspective in the small things: in trying to be more present in my daily life moments that contain so much beauty. Beautiful views of Torquay where I spent a week with my lovely Ellie and her family; celebrating the wedding of one of my closest home friends (yay Mary!) and the return of Mads to civilisation and phone signal! I've missed her hilarity (and everything else about her!) so much...

 I’m now fully settled into my new house, and delighting in the way that the sunshine streams through my bedroom window to land on the bed in the late afternoon – optimum situation for a 4pm nap.  

I have a GP appt. tomorrow that I cannot find words to express how much I'm dreading. But it's necessary. If not for me; then for the people who love me who I'm hurting by hurting myself. I need desperately to make changes and I think I've reached the end of my ability to do so. 

 

 Yet again, I'm trying to surrender this to the One who knows far more than I do. He is beautiful and whole and I love Him.

Soul '13

I've recently returned from Soul Survivor week B '13!

It was honestly so amazing to see my young people again! They truly are an incredible group, and spending time with them makes me into a better version of myself. I forgot how positively I feed off their energy: how happy it makes me when the lads rugby tackle me and throw me up in the air or the girls ask to go for a coffee and a pray. It was really special this week to be able to reawaken that ‘youth work’ side of myself that I’ve missed while I’ve been at uni.

In terms of the sessions etc, I found it all very hard.

In the worship, I was able to fully connect and worship during the ‘looking up’ sections – singing about God’s beauty and majesty; but as soon as songs or lyrics about freedom and how we’re now living in fullness etc came on, the guilt started taking over. We did communion on the final morning and I was lost in a horrible mental cycle of ‘bread and wine argh…did I really just think about calories when remembering how Jesus went through the ultimate in pain and separation from God for me?!...I’m an awful Christian, selfish, disgusting…I’m fat…argh calories in bread and wine *cycle begins again*’. Guilt acrobatics are never nice. 

I’m very thankful to my lovely Laura, who is just completely and utterly wonderful. She was at Soul Survivor on first aid team and we managed to get some time together on her breaks/through me sneaking to the first aid post in the big top to have a hug. I texted her in communion like ‘argh what do I do?!’ and she told me to come to her, got stood down and prayed and cried with me. That’s real friendship…

I didn’t have a ‘breakthrough moment’ in the standard Christian festival respond-to-a-call-and-go-up-for-prayer-and-cry-and-shake-and-pass-out-in-the-Holy-Spirit way, and actually I’m pleased about that. That, more than anything, shows me that God knows my heart. He knows that I approach His throne best in the quiet stillness of an empty room; He’s gentle and tender and loving. One afternoon, I took the opportunity of most of the young people being at seminars to sneak off to one of the on-site coffee shops. I had picked up and bought a book, ‘God on mute’ by Pete Grieg (which I’ve been meaning to read for years but is particularly appropriate now) so took my book and my notepad/Bible, and curled up by my phone charger with a diet coke. One chapter talked about how a woman had written a brutally honest letter to God after miscarrying her twin boys, which inspired me to try to be honest myself.

 I wrote my own letter, admitting I was scared and lost and would really quite like God to intervene in this situation. I expressed my frustration, doubts and hopelessness and asked Him again for His presence.

It was ridiculous how much difference just trying to articulate to God what I was feeling made – as opposed to running away. I felt more able to worship afterwards and even found myself starting to automatically pray for people and situations again…it was like my connection to Him had opened up a little and I’m very thankful for that.

‘God on mute’ has really challenged me this week - and I've not even finished it yet! I hope I can continue to learn from it and, as I move into a more convincing acceptance of this season I'm in, continue to engage the silence...

feelings vs. knowledge

"The greatest battle is between what you feel and what you know"

I had a really rough few hours last night. In the last two years or so it's happened a few times - nights when I'm hurting and broken and desperate; when I'm hoping that I don't wake up the next morning.
Yesterday, I lay face down on my bedroom floor again and begged God for His presence. I cried and cried and tried to listen to music but cried too much and felt utterly lost. I begged God for a few hours until I finally managed to fall asleep... What I felt last night wasn't pleasant: Abandoned; unloved; worthless; hopeless.

But the truth is something that, deep down, I do know. When I'm able to logically look at my thoughts and feelings, I can refute most untrue aspects by looking at my own past experiences and reflecting on truths - like Bible verses- that I know from memory.

Personal reminders
one of my favourite-books-in-the-world-ever-ever (Plan B by Pete Wilson) has a section about remembering God's past faithfulness - placing 'life signposts', in the way that Abraham builds an altar in the Bible, so that when you're in a new difficult situation, those reminders are still present. It is so easy to forget, in the midst of struggle, how faithful God has been in the past so it's so important to have these things.

Some of my 'altars':

getting baptised, July '10 (hello cheesy grin)

having the privilege of being a temporary mother to THE most incredible children in South Africa

the fact that I ended up in this city...

the 'accidental internship' that changed and shaped me (these young people's passion makes my heart soar)

2011: the fact that my hands looked like this after EVERY meal and snack that I was forced to eat and, however hard things are sometimes, they never look *this* bad any more

some recent pictures of incredible people who I love, and who love me back. The fact that I've only met many of them this year!


also memories of incredible experiences of God: worship moments; moments of learning to trust; moments of things clicking into place. The fact my mum survived highly intrusive breast cancer; the fact that I am as healthy as I am....so so many more...

Words of truth

I feel abandoned, but I've known Deuteronomy 31:8 off by heart since the Summer I was sixteen...

'Do not be afraid or discouraged for the Lord your God goes before you. He will be with you; He will neither fail you nor forsake you'

I feel like God doesn't care about me any more, yet I know that His thoughts for me outnumber the grains of sand on the earth, and that He knows how many hairs are on my head (Psalm 139)

I feel like God doesn't hear my desperation, but I have spent years clinging to the fact that in our weakness - when we don't even have the words to pray, the Holy Spirit intercedes for us in groans too deep for words (Romans 8:26)

I think that God has given up on me; that I don't have a future anymore, but I even have a tattoo of the reminder that God makes ALL things work together for the good of those who love Him, and are called according to His purpose for them.

I've been singing the bridge of this song all day: in fact, I woke up with it in my head this morning.

''all of my life -in every season - You are still God: I have a reason to sing. I have a reason to worship"

Whatever I feel, I know that God is good. I know that He knows exactly what He's doing with me right now, and I know above all, that He is worthy of my praise. So praise Him I will.

an anchor

this evening, having begun to reread an incredible book, I decided to catch up on the author's blog that I hadn't read in a while. one of the posts, entitled 'anchorman', spoke to me.
if I could cry at the moment, I probably would have. It resounded so deeply...

"1. Friends are wonderful, whatever their experience.  But there’s something in talking to someone who has experienced the same struggle, that brings special comfort. They get it – and they’re still here. Before everyone else; this is true of Jesus. Whatever you’re going through.  Depression, singleness, addiction, bereavement, joblessness, infertility.  He has walked this path before you. Just before He goes to the Cross, he doesn’t say, ‘Lord – thanks for this opportunity to suffer and glorify you.’ He says ‘is there any other way?’ And when God says ‘no’, even though everything in Him is in agony, He accepts that this is the only way. He trusts that His Father knows what He’s doing, even when the world is ending. You can trust Him and you can trust what He says. He’s got you and when you’re in the furnace, He’s right there with you.

2.It’s okay not to feel it.  It’s okay to cry out and to doubt and to question and to hit things and to be broken.  Think about a toddler that’s having the mother of all melt-downs.  Wailing like the world is ending.  and raining blows on your chest with their tiny fists. What do you do with this child? And what does God do with us? You look at them and you love them. You hold them. Tight.  You absorb the anger and pain of a little body that has no idea what life is about or what they need most. You take the force of their pain. And you pull them close. Wherever you are now: whatever you’ve done. God is holding you in the midst of the pain. You are safe. And He will not let you go.

3.Some things can’t be fast-forwarded. This is hard. Sometimes unbearable. But it will get better.There will come a day when you will want to live again.  For now,  be kind.  Give yourself space and time. There’s no deadline.  There’s nowhere you need to be.Nothing is so important that it can’t wait.  You are loved – but you’re not indispensable.  And you’re safe – even in the mess.  The Lord doesn’t want your service right now.  He can do it without you.  So let Him.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain,  where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.
Hebrews 6:19-20"

- Emma Scrivener at A New Name

 incidentally, my phone background for the last few weeks has mostly been this:

 I don't know where I am with God at the moment. I don't even know where I am with myself. But I'm clinging onto the truth that a boat doesn't always see its anchor. It doesn't feel it a lot of the time. But that doesn't mean it isn't there - or that it isn't just as firm and secure.

I'm thankful for the part of me that wholeheartedly still hopes and believes in the promise of that anchor. Even in the midst of this mess of diet coke and sugar free jelly and filling my basket with low calorie groceries that aren't quite low calorie enough; and putting them all back; in nearly crying because I can't tell if sugar snap peas or green beans are 'more allowed' and in hating myself for buying food and hating myself for not buying food. In feeling hopeless and selfish and messy. In hurting people who care about me - because they care about me. I might not see it or feel it or even be able to fathom it but the anchor is there

 I have the hope of God's promises as my soul's anchor and, thankfully, it is firm and secure regardless of where I am.

topsy-turvy

Things have been a little topsy-turvy around here recently.

My end of term exam ended up going really horrendously: it was almost on a par with GCSE additional maths (which set 1 got casually entered for with no teaching of the material on it, resulting in my E as a reward for the 3 hours' worth of rewording questions in answer boxes). I forgot even the most basic of anatomy; hopelessly muddled the positions of every ion channel in the kidney and left entire pages blank before tearfully guessing the multiple choice questions without even properly reading them and leaving halfway through. Then isolating and realizing I'd have to cancel my whole Summer for the inevitable resit. Deciding I didn't even want to resit because I was a failure at my degree so there was no point. Wondering where on earth my life was going.

It was downhill from there really. My mind grabbed the piece of 'logic' that my exam performance (and therefore life's worth of course - because that's what matters (?!)) is inversely proportional to my weight. Because obviously, my weight determines my exam performance and therefore my self worth...  It's true that my exam performance has steadily deterriorated over the course of the year, as my weight has increased. But, as my angry-stressed-triggered-post exam mind forgot, correlational evidence cannot establish causal relationships - there's just no way to prove a link like that. So many other factors have played a part, and my weight is logically probably one of the last things to influence it - aside from the opposite effect of being healthier and therefore having more concentration now...

I've been struggling a little with my faith lately as well. Not my faith, so much, but a different aspect that's harder to explain. I still wholeheartedly love God and want to follow Him. I still worship Him; do my best to trust Him; KNOW that He works all things for good and see Him in my circumstances. It's the relational aspect that's a little more absent recently - the whole 'presence' thing. I miss it horribly; everything just seems a little empty, but I'm trying to recognise that there are seasons and times when God retreats to allow us to grow and to change. But that's on a good day. On a bad day, I'm lost and vulnerable and scared. I feel abandoned and decide it's because I'm huge and worthless, and lie begging God for His presence, feel nothing and slide back into 'abandoned-and-huge-and-worthless'.

These factors combined have led to a bit of a downward spiral. I've lost weight and I don't even know if I want to gain it back or keep sliding. I'm in a tangle because if I go back to Brighton clinic now, they'll make me maintain at a higher weight than before because of our deal, so I'm having to avoid them for the near future. I don't really know what to do.

In the meantime, I had a lovely holiday in France with Jacob, spent some time with my mum in Suffolk, caught up with Brighton and other Southern folks and went to a psychiatry summer school at King's!

 Ironically, I got my results last week and it turned out I'd actually passed the exam by some miracle (hello there 'I still feel God working in my circumstances'). That's a huge blessing because it means I can still go to Soul Survivor. I'm a little scared because I'm very 'walls-up' with God at the moment, but I'm going as a leader and it'll be so amazing to spend time with my incredible IMPACT! youth again, and see how they've developed. 

My aim for the next few days is to reevaluate everything. I need to decide what I actually want and I need to somehow spin things back around so I can think more clearly. 

Over and out.

 

sunset chasing moments

I had a little moment tonight - a moment of 'this is why I choose recovery'.

...because life is beautiful and fleeting, and I want to be well and whole so I can go and grab hold of the little wisps of beauty and opportunity that come my way...so that when I see that sunset reflection in my window I have the energy to run to my bedroom and grab my guitar, and the stamina to run up onto the South Downs before the sky's colours fade.

I want to have the freedom to not have to be accompanied on my sunset-chasing missions. I want to be trusted enough to make decisions and to keep them spontaneous. I want to be able to go up on the hill and sing worship to my God at the top of my voice and not care if I look a bit crazy, or I'm sitting surrounded by thistles wearing flipflops...or there's a herd of cows worrying nearby...

I may have 'wasted' some revision time tonight - time I can ill-afford to sacrifice. I'm SO behind. But actually, sunset chasing is worth it (she says, boiling the kettle for coffee to continue studying at 11pm...)

Life is beautiful and fleeting. Spontaneous sunset chasing guitar moments make my heart soar. Over and out.