My heart stopped me from writing for quite a while, and I think, the Holy Spirit guided me to break from it. God has given gifts to all people, but there are times when He is wise to reign us in. As has often been the way for me, circumstances in life reveal my sin patterns, idolatry, and wrong views of God. I must pull back and sort out the pieces, taking the logs out of my own eye before I imagine I can help others take specs out of theirs.

I would join Paul in saying-

“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you. Only let us hold true to what we have attained (Philippians 3:12-16).”

God is so gracious to keep growing, searching, and maturing us. Even when we act like fools, He doesn’t cast us away; He keeps giving us strength to press on. I praise God for that.

Time goes fast, and now that I look back I realize it has been almost an entire year that could maybe be defined by the word “humbling.” So what has all happened? In my last New Year’s update, I shared about some medical surprises that threw me off for a while. I thought I was fine, but I went through a season where whenever I had a medical appointment, I would find myself having a panic attack beforehand. People often think panic attacks are what happen when you sit around and worry yourself to death and get worked into a frenzy. And that can happen. But more often, at least for me, a panic attack is what happens when you have been avoiding and suppressing issues in your life that are unpleasant or disturbing. Then suddenly a “trigger” pops up; Something happens that forcefully brings the issues your avoiding to the surface, (in my case appointments, doctor’s phone calls, or mail from the cancer center) and the panic closes in as you desperately attempt to smother the flames. You try to think a rational thought, but your efforts are futile. Your brain seems to close in on itself, and you can only think of trying to breathe. You can’t remember what you’re doing, or where you’re going, but the pain keeps rushing over you and you try to get up under it.

Christians shouldn’t make fun of panic attacks, or the word “trigger” as they often do. Yes, the world can get silly about these words, entitled, trying to pacify struggling people by an allusion of creating a safe place. This world isn’t safe, and we need to grow up and learn how to stand in it. Nevertheless, we ought to be sensitive to all types of people, with all types of struggles.

But I digress. God brought me through that and helped me. Things were “normal” for a short, little while.

I don’t really know how to explain what happened next. How can I express how a crucial piece of my life, a person so dear to my heart, had their life, and my life clinging to it, implode? It was like flying downhill in a car with no breaks. It was like hiding in a storm cellar while a tornado ripped everything apart up above. It was crying out her name to God in the middle of the night, begging Him that somehow, I could storm the gates of hell and fight whatever demons I had to if I could get her back. It was throwing out life buoys to a person no longer fighting the current.

I begged, I pleaded, I was confused, and I was afraid. In the end, I lost my closest friend. God’s grace was so amazing and sustaining in those months of turmoil. He put people in my life to help uphold me and grew my faith in many ways.

But as is always the case, when the hurricane settles, you have to come up from the storm cellar. You must stand in the wreckage and see how some things are damaged, some destroyed, and some taken away forever. After the storm is usually when it gets the hardest. The adrenaline wears off, dust settles, and life keeps moving. You come back to the simplest questions. Who am I? Who is God? What does He want for my life, and how do I move on from here?

Stress manifests in many ways, but for me it often results in physical pain. All the stress from that time seemed to accumulate in my jaw, and that was unfamiliar territory for me. The pain was quite severe for at least a month, and I had great difficulty with talking and eating, mostly living off soup and smoothies. It took a full four months and physiotherapy to fully resolve, praise the Lord, because I could not imagine living with that forever.

The jaw pain shed an awful layer of confusion and discouragement over everything else. I knew that what I needed at that time was to surround myself with supportive people, and to be able to talk, and yet this was the area I was being restricted in. It seemed exorbitant, and worse than useless. It was a great, unanswerable “Why God?” question, flashing before my eyes, and I did not feel I had the spiritual stamina left to wrestle with it. I was falling into a deep depression, which terrified me. I have been there before, and that kind of emotional pain is something I have tried very hard to stay away from. Deep, disabling depression is to me more frightening than physical pain its self, or even serious illness. That despairing of heart can take you to more dangerous places than disease (on its own) ever could.

Amid this lengthy episode with jaw pain, I began to feel that I could not continue living. The thought of remaining in this life felt like an impossibility. I began telling my husband that I felt like if God didn’t take away my jaw pain, I would not be able to stay on this planet. That scared me. And that scared him.

Yet, though the feeling of wanting to leave this life behind was strong, I also knew it was not an option. That type of desire must be refused, must be extinguished by all means possible. God gave me my life, and He gave me children, and people who love me. Though all the world might seem to have been pressing me out of it, I knew I could not forsake my God; I would not surrender, and willfully sin against God, others and myself this way.

So we did what had to be done. First, tell my parents about my struggle. Second, seek spiritual help from others, by way of friendship, prayer, and biblical counselling. And third, seek medical help through my family doctor.

God pressed me into a place where I would finally do the one thing I have always neglected to do- seek out help. Not just practical help, which I am more apt to do, but emotional and spiritual help. He humbled me. “He brought me out into the open; He rescued me because He delighted in me (Psalm 18:19).”

He laid it all bare, not because He scorned me, but for love. He paved my way, He guarded my path, and He led me to a place of brokenness so that I could be mended by His hand. Jesus is a good shepherd. He doesn’t lose any of His sheep. He won’t lose me. Though I would run after so many foreign gods, though I would lap up dirty water from every broken cistern; Though I would decry myself deserted, blind to the ten million times He has been faithful, yet He says “I will never leave you or forsake you (Hebrews 13:5).”

I have said before, there are no greater dangers, toils, and snares, than the ones we concoct in our own minds. I had to take time to work my way through those snares and do some untangling. I found my way back to the Word of God, and enjoying it again. Physically, right now I feel the best I have in many years, and I am so grateful. I am back in a place of trusting God again, and renewing my thoughts towards Him, so I think I am in a better place to try my hand at writing again.

My greatest lesson this year is that God truly desires His children to “Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, rejoice (Philippians 4:4).” For a long time, I didn’t know how to believe that. If that was God’s will, I thought, He certainly wasn’t helping me to walk in it. But I have come to see that God Himself is a God of rejoicing (Isaiah 62:5), a fountain of delight, and His Son is the joy of all nations and people. God has not desired to break my joy, but rather to be my joy, and if He wills me to rejoice always, then I can pray and trust He will provide the way to help me to do.  

God is the source of all true joy, yet He is not a God who forbids me from other joys, and this has perhaps been the most significant thing I have learned. I can enjoy God when I enjoy my kids, my husband, beautiful music, chocolate cake, a walk by the river, or the heat of the sun on my face. I can thank Him for these things, and enjoy Him through them. Having my eyes opened to the happiness of God Himself, has helped me to see the multitude of blessings He pours out for me to enjoy each day. He is not a joy-killer, but rather a joy-giver. My heart has needed healing, and my eyes opening, to be able to see that again.

I find now that most often, I am expecting to see the goodness of God throughout my day, where as in my worst depression I seemed to always find evidence of His displeasure. So I am thankful to God as I enter this new year- the God who will complete the good work He started in me, the God who never fails me or forsakes me.

I want to say in closing, that there is no shame in struggling with your mental/emotional health, or in seeking practical help, emotional support, counselling, or medicine that might help you regain clarity, sanity, and to find footing again. God is often glorified by weak people, and I don’t think He is afraid to be glorified by people who need medication to help them on their way to wholeness. If we believe God would shame those, then we make the gospel far too small. Part of why I share my story from this year is to bring awareness towards Christians who need help with their mental health, and to encourage any who struggle to reach out for help.

2 Corinthians 12:9 “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

For those wanting to read further, I wanted to share part of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem “Cowper’s Grave.” I have written several times about William Cowper’s impact on me, through his life and hymns. He struggled profoundly with depression, and sadly attempted suicide several times, but the Lord would not allow him to take his life. Anyways, I love this poem Browning wrote in meditation at William Cowper’s Grave, and it means so much to me. In it she relates Cowper’s awaking in heaven to a fevered child who has turned wildly, searching for his mother, unable to see her tending to him all night, until the fever breaks and he at last sees her where she has been all along.

“And though, in blindness, he remained
unconscious of that guiding,
And things provided came without the
sweet sense of providing,
He testified this solemn truth, while frenzy
desolated,
Nor man nor nature satisfies whom only
God created.

Like a sick child that knoweth not his
mother while she blesses
And drops upon his burning brow the
coolness of her kisses-
That turns his fevered eyes around- “My
mother! Where’s my mother?”-
As if such tender words and deeds could
come from any other!

The fever gone, with leaps of heart he sees
her bending o’er him,
Her face all pale from watchful love, the
unweary love she bore him!
Thus woke the poet from the dream his
life’s long fever gave him,
Beneath those deep pathetic Eyes which
closed in death to save him.

Thus? Oh, not thus! No type of earth can
image that awaking,
Wherein he scarcely heard the chant of
seraphs, round him breaking,
Or felt the new immortal throb of soul
from body parted,
But felt those eyes alone, and knew- “My
Savior! Not deserted!”

Deserted! Who hath dreamt that when
the cross in darkness rested,
Upon the Victim’s hidden face no love was
manifested?
What frantic hands outstretched have e’er
the atoning drops averted?
What tears have washed them from the
soul, that one should be deserted?

Deserted! God could separate from his
own essence rather;
And Adam’s sins have swept between the
righteous Son and Father:
Yea, once, Immanuel’s orphaned cry his
universe hath shaken-
It went up single, echoless, ‘My God I am
forsaken!”

It went up from the Holy’s lips amid his
lost creation,
That, of the lost, no son should use those
words of desolation!

That Earth’s worst frenzies, marring
hope, should not mar hope’s fruition,
And I, on Cowper’s grave, should see his
rapture in a vision.”