I’ve been through ‘the worst’. I’ve looked into the abyss, confronted my own smallness, nothingness. I’ve lost everything and felt like I was drowning. I wondered why God didn’t like me. Yet now I look back on those times with a sense of awe – because if I had not had faith, if I had not known God, I wouldn’t have made it at all. I’d be dead in a ditch somewhere, or I would have tried to blot out the world in other ways. I’m still going through stuff… PTSD doesn’t magically disappear. Flashbacks sweep over me sometimes like a tidal wave – though it’s not the great tsunami of pain that it once was. But the God of miracles didn’t rescue me from the storm; He stayed with me through it. And that makes me have a faith, I guess, and a sense of God that in the end is a miracle in itself. Suffering produces… I don’t know how to say it. But there is something beautiful, and hard won, and in a strange way I am blessed, because to truly get a glimpse of the light you have to have experienced the dark. It birthed in me a fierce compassion, and a deep empathy. I pray that God uses this for His will. In the end, as Ann Voskamp says, all is grace.
You can read more about my story here.
In recent posts I’ve been looking at questions around God’s leading and speaking, and God’s plans for our lives. But what happens when everything appears to have gone completely wrong, awry, off course? What are we to do when the very worst happens, when our plans lie in ruins and God’s good will for our lives appears to have been utterly derailed – perhaps even destroyed beyond repair?
There was a tragic story in our national news recently about a bright 16-year old boy with a promising future who died after being supplied class-A drugs at a rave.
Stories like this crop up every year, but the difference this time for me was that I know the family. Suddenly the news story becomes personal; no longer merely a sad statistic and an anonymous stranger’s face, but a real person. It hits home like a ten-tonne truck. The worst…
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