Category: Suffering

Where are you God?: Themes from The Stranger

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I am delighted to welcome Joy Margetts to my blog today, with a guest piece that looks at the themes of her latest book: The Stranger. Joy is a fantastic writer: do check out all of her books. She wrote about the themes in her first book, The Healing, and her journey to getting it published on my website back in 2021 so it is wonderful to welcome her here again.

I wonder if you have ever asked: Where are you God? If we are honest, we have all been in that place of not sensing God’s presence. Perhaps that has been combined with the other big question, ‘Why God?’

Life is not always easy. Bad things happen – loss, grief, trauma, pain and sickness are all real. Sometimes when we are in the middle of the worst experiences of our lives, when we really need to feel God’s closeness, to hear his comforting voice, to know his peace, suddenly he seems incredibly far away.

A lonely journey

The Stranger tackles those themes. At the beginning of the story we meet Brother Silas, a man broken by life’s circumstances. The great service for God that he had poured everything into lies in ashes at his feet. Once a man full of faith, now he feels God’s absence and questions everything. He runs – from his home, his vocation, his faith and from God. The journey Silas takes is a lonely one, but there are glimmers of hope along the way, as he meets people that he finds connection with, as he experiences miraculous happenings, and as he reunites with an old acquaintance. As his physical journey comes to an end, as one of my reviewers put it, Silas rediscovers that the faith he thought he had lost, he had never really lost at all.

Drawing on personal experience for The Stranger

As in all of my fiction, in writing The Stranger, I was writing from my own experience. There was a season in my own life where everything suddenly changed. A sudden illness became a chronic condition and it robbed me of many things: a ministry role that I was flourishing in, a job that I loved, the joy of travel and discovering new things, being the wife and parent I wanted to be. I couldn’t understand why God had allowed it, especially as it came at a time in my life when I was contented and looking forward to the future with excitement. I begged him for healing, believing wholeheartedly that he would answer me. My loved ones prayed with faith, too, but nothing changed. I started to question everything, and soon hopelessness and despair took over. God seemed a million miles away – if he were there at all.

I had been a follower of Jesus all of my life. I had seen God do miraculous things, change people’s lives radically. I had experienced sweet times of feeling his tangible closeness, heard his voice speak clearly and yet in the time when I needed him most, I could not find him. The temptation to run, from everything I had ever believed in, was real.

Finding hope again

I was able to write The Stranger recently, some years later, because actually it is a story of hope. I think there are many reasons why we can struggle to hear God or feel his closeness. Fear, doubt, disappointment, anger, sin – these things can all create a barrier between us and our Father. Has he really left us when we needed him most? I don’t believe so. He promises in his Word, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you’ (Hebrews 13:5, NKJV). My testimony is that of course he had not abandoned me. I could not trust my feelings, or my understanding during that traumatic time. I had to choose to believe his promises.

Like Brother Silas, God brought people into my life to demonstrate that he was real, and that he cared about me. He spoke through his Word, and eventually I began to hear the sweet whisper of his voice again, as I repented for building a case against him. In hindsight, I can look back at so many times when God was obviously there. 

My healing still hasn’t come fully. I still have some of the same struggles, but my God is faithful. He loves me, and he will work all things together for my good (Romans 8:28). I don’t have to understand what that looks like, I just have to trust him, and enjoy being loved by him.

In The Stranger I portray human brokenness, but I also write with understanding about a God who never leaves his beloved children. Even when they try to run, he will pursue them, gently and persistently, until they finally find themselves fully back in his embrace.

Joy Margetts loves writing and loves the Word of God. A retired nurse, mother and grandmother, she also has a lifelong interest in history. Her works of Christian historical fiction are inspired by her own faith journey, and set among the beautiful Welsh landscapes of her adoptive homeland.

Her books are available on her website , The Stranger can also be bought direct from the publisher  and all are widely available elsewhere online and through good bookshops.

A profound encounter with God

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I am thrilled to welcome Kate Nicholas back to my blog, as her new book releases. I had the privilege of reading an early version, endorsing it and also interviewing Kate at her launch event. This book is well worth getting hold of…

How do you write about an experience of God that goes beyond words? This is the challenge that I faced when writing my latest book To The Ocean Floor.

When I was first diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer in 2014, I was given a piece of scripture from Psalm 118:17, ‘I will not die, but live and declare the works of the Lord.’ And when, against all odds, I survived I dedicated to myself to this mission. During the following seven years of glorious remission, God opened amazing doors for me as an author, broadcaster and preacher, and I began to get used to the idea that I was going to live.

Then in 2021, in the midst of the pandemic, a routine mammogram revealed that the cancer had returned with a vengeance. Within weeks of starting chemotherapy I became desperately ill, and on one of the toughest days of that journey, I sank beneath the waves of consciousness – where I had a profound encounter with God.

Recapturing that deep connection

As I recovered, I was left with a powerful yearning for that connection and as I sought to recapture the intensity of what I call my ‘ocean floor’ experience. I began to explore a contemplative practice that dates back to the dawn of Christianity, which points towards a more intuitive connection with God – the kind of connection that I had experienced in the depths.

In this new book, I recount my exploration of a meditative tradition that goes all the way back to the Apostle Paul, Desert Fathers, Celtic Christians and Medieval mystics; a tradition that has been since been developed by modern monastic spiritual masters such as Bede Griffiths and John Main.

Never alone despite isolation

One of the things that I became acutely aware of on this journey was that God was all around me. Perhaps it was because I was so isolated for much of this time (Covid and chemo-induced lack of immunity are not a great combination) that every interaction with the staff and fellow patients at my local hospital seemed charged with meaning.

On the wards, I was astounded by the wonderful staff of the NHS whose compassion, professionalism and resilience never failed to amaze me. I knew that somehow Christ was in that place, in the healing hands and the patience but also the cries of pain and fear; unseen but all pervading.

Facing death – finding God

There’s no doubt about it, the road I travelled was not easy and it brought to the very verge of death. But it has also been a time of profound discovery; an inner journey into the mystery of God and what one reviewer called ‘the richness to the be found at the border of life’s journey’.

There is an innate paradox in writing a book about an experience of God that defies description. But when the poignancy of the moment seemed to outweigh my ability to express myself, I found that the Spirit took over and words began to arrange themselves in unexpected ways; prose sometimes morphing into poetry.

While I write openly about some quite difficult experiences as I went through cancer treatment, this is ultimately a book about hope. It’s about the fact that our reality is far more mysterious and exciting than we can ever imagine and reveals a deep and profound connection with our creator.

It’s my prayer that To The Ocean Floor will provide reassurance those who have wondered where God is in the face of challenges and inspire readers to go deeper in terms of their own intuitive connection; to be still and know in the deepest core of their being that He is God.

To find out more about Kate Nicholas’ books, TV series, courses and blog visit www.katenicholas.co.uk

How to be a valuable Christian

I am delighted to welcome Liz Carter onto my website today, with a guest post as part of the blog tour for her fantastic new book Valuable. I was thrilled to read an advance copy of it, and delighted to endorse it too. The book shares such a vital message to us all – I thoroughly recommend it to you.

I was really sick again. I’d been prayed for so many times through my life of illness, and I had not been healed. I was still in pain. Somebody in the group prayed for me with these words: ‘Father, please heal Liz so she can be useful again. So you can use her again.’

I felt like I was falling apart as those words churned in my mind. Useful again. Useful. Useful. It seemed to me that in order to be useful to God I must get better, and because I wasn’t getting better, I was useless. I was not valuable to God. I went out of that meeting with my head hung low and my heart heavy. Would I ever be of use to God? Even when people told me God could use me I couldn’t make those words mean good things for me. I couldn’t be used, because I wasn’t well enough. And did I want to be used, anyway? Was being used by someone a good thing?

Let’s look at the words we use

Language is so important, and as Christians we sometimes forget this and we use words and phrases that some might call ‘Christianese’; incomprehensible to the world around us. When we talk in terms of being useful to God, or of God using, people on the outside of faith may look on and raise their eyebrows at the idea that ‘God using’ is positive language. After all, when we talk about a guy using a woman, we don’t mean it in a positive way, do we? We mean he has used her for his own ends. So why do we talk about God like this?

It’s one of those things that we think must be in the Bible, but when we look into it it actually isn’t (a bit like unhelpful phrases like ‘God helps those who help themselves’). The verb ‘to use’ with us as objects and God as the user just doesn’t appear anywhere at all. There are some great pictures about us as honoured vessels, created by God for good purposes, but not to ‘be used’ by God. What if there is a different way of thinking about how God works in us and through us – a way that more accurately describes the love-relationship God longs for with us and has created us for?

What God values v what society does

God’s kingdom is an upside-down kingdom. While the world values productivity and usefulness, God values us for who we are: his beloved children. We do not have to earn God’s love, and we are not God’s tools, picked up and then discarded when the job is over with. Instead, God partners with us and joins with us (John 15) and is delighted in us (Zephaniah 3:17). In God’s economy, we are all loved and all equal (Galatians 3:28). The picture Paul shared of us all being equal parts of the body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12:27) was astoundingly radical and counter-cultural in a time where power was valued and the weak were thought of as lesser. It still speaks to us today in a society where ‘doing’ often seems to count more than ‘being’.

Even in church we can find this narrative has taken hold: we see how the useful, the strong, are valued above the weak, and so people who are weak can feel lesser. It plays into the way we talk about healing, too, as I said at the start: somehow we have come to believe that healing and ‘wholeness’ will make us more useful to (and used by) God. Somewhere along the line we have forgotten that God is not interested in how much we do, but in how much we love him and how much we respond to his transformative grace and power. For a disabled, chronically ill person like me, this is so liberating: I am found in Christ and freed in Christ, not for how much I do but for who I am created to be.

So when those kinds of prayers are prayed over me, I am free to say no, I do not need to be healed to be useful to God. I find God working in me and through me within my pain, and I do not have to always be trying harder, or getting better, or striving away to earn my place in God’s kingdom. I’m so grateful.

Knowing your value

My new book, Valuable: Why your worth is not defined by how useful you feel digs into these ideas and reflects on our stories in God, stories of his infinite love over us rather than stories of how useful we are to him and to those around us. It is my prayer that as you read it, you will find yourself set free from the narrative that you are not enough, and be assured that you are of more worth than precious gems.

That you are valuable.

Liz Carter is a writer and poet from Shropshire, UK. She is the author of Catching Contentment, Treasure in Dark Places and Valuable. You can find her on Twitter @LizCarterWriter, on Instagram, Facebook and TikTok @greatadventureliz, or at her website.

Lament in our everyday lives

Last week, we looked at how the Bible is full of lament and God invites us to lament in our everyday lives. The practice helps us to cling on to God and, as such, is a hope-filled action. We are now going to take a closer look at psalms of lament, and how we can utilise them in our own lives.

I don’t relish the experiences that have revealed how vital lament is to me, but I do cherish the renewed understanding that God has given us permission to vent all our anger, frustration, anguish, as well as our questions. I have come to view lament as part of my survival kit.

Lent is fast approaching: this is a time in the Church calendar where we traditionally wrestle with that ‘in-between’ time of confusion and bewilderment. The disciples watched all their hope seemingly die with Jesus on the cross and on that day and Easter Saturday there is often space held to consider our own despair, before the celebrations of Resurrection Sunday.

Psalms of lament

The pandemic has brought suffering to so many families, and this life is full of troubles (as well as joys). If you don’t regularly practise lament, perhaps you could take time this Lent to explore the subject more fully and think about the different ways you can utilise the practice in your own life.

To begin with, you could try finding a psalm that seems to echo the cry of your heart and turn it into a prayer – or write your own lament.

Let’s look more closely at a psalm of lament, to see the four stages that they often (but not always) work through:

Address: the psalmist speaks directly to God, often revealing a level of intimacy in the relationship.

Complaint: Laying out the questions and anguish in a raw, totally honest way.

Request: Putting a direct request to the One that they know can help.

Expression of trust: Often the psalmist remembers God’s past faithfulness and turns to worship, declaring their trust in God.

You can write your own psalm according to these stages, or try using them as a basis for prayer. We will look at ways of doing both here.

Example: Psalm 13

This short psalm shows the four stages very clearly.

Address: How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
Complaint [God far, enemies triumphing]:

How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
    How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Request [more personal ‘my God’]:

3 Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
4 and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

Statement of trust [and praise]: 5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
6 I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.

Psalm as a springboard for prayer

Here is an example of the way in which I use particular psalms as launchpads for my own prayers, utilising Psalm 13 again:

1 How long, Lord? Will you forget me for ever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?

God I can’t see you at work in this situation. It feels like I am having to cope on my own. I know you are there – please reveal yourself to me. Show me you haven’t forgotten us.
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?
    How long will my enemy triumph over me?

This all feels relentless, and it does feel like the devil is having a field day. I am finding it hard to keep batting away the discouragement, and my own depression. How long is this going to go on for Lord?

3 Look on me and answer, Lord my God.
    Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,
4 and my enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him,’
    and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

We need you to move – we need release! Come and act, move so that those around will know that you are God. And bring me your discernment and wisdom to know what to do – and your energy. I am so tired Lord…

5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
6 I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.

I do trust you Lord, however hard that is to say at times – and I do know that you are good and that your character cannot change. I also choose to worship you, singing songs of thanks, because I know they stir my heart and do me good. Thank you for the salvation you have brought me, thank you for the way you have led me in the past – and thank you for the way you have upheld my family. I know that you love them more than I do – and trust that you have a hope and a future for each one of us.

Writing your own lament

Here are some questions to help you if you would like to try writing your own lament psalm. Use the suggestions, if helpful, in order to be honest before God but also meditate on the fact that God is with you in all your troubles or simply begin to allow God to minister to the hurting parts of your soul.

• Start by thinking about what difficulty – circumstance, person etc – is causing you anguish/anger/ anxiety/pain. Write out a description, and also how you feel about it – try and name the emotions.

• Do you feel that God is with you in it, or do you feel that he is absent? Try and write out where you feel God is.

• To help you with the second half of your lament, brainstorm some characteristics of/truths about God that you know in your head (even if you don’t feel them in your heart currently).

• Remind yourself of some of the ways God has shown his faithfulness to you in the past.

Use the notes you have made as a starting point to write out an honest lament. Try and end the psalm with some positive statements of trust – even if you aren’t feeling them right now.

Choosing to be honest before God

There have been moments in recent years when the extraordinary depths of pain and grief have wracked my body and soul, and I have been unable to do anything but sob my heart out. But I have had to make the choice to either do that before God, or trying to hide from him. In all honesty, there have been moments of both – although I know he always sees us. But when I have come before him I have certainly felt less alone. It is lament that has helped me to do that. Ultimately, I know God is good and would never want to go through any of this without him – lament helps me to hang on to him. It is certainly a practice I wouldn’t want to be without in my everyday life now.

Spiritual practices for this year

I had a wonderful time sharing at a local women’s group this last weekend. We looked at some of the spiritual practices that have helped me hold on to God during a particularly difficult few years. In this mini series, I am going to share some of that material with you. I hope and pray that there is something that you would like to try out in your own life.

Why spiritual practices?

I don’t know how your year has begun, but I have to say for my family and I it was nothing like we expected! My husband is the pastor of our church and, while we had a quiet Christmas, we had a busy weekend of New Year’s celebrations planned – a church party New Year’s Eve followed by a café-style church brunch service the following day. When I started feeling ill towards the end of the previous week I didn’t think too much of it – until I got really quite poorly. I was shocked when my Covid test was positive – I hadn’t had it at all up until that point.

So I spent the whole weekend and beyond isolating. When a new year comes round, many people – myself included – take the opportunity to look back over the previous year (although it took me a few extra days before I could get started on this), to thank God for all the good things and let go of the bad, and also resolve to go deeper with him in the next year. Perhaps Bible reading has become lax or there are other ways we haven’t done as well as we could – and we ask for his help to do better. But while Paul does talk about training like an athlete in 1 Corinthians 9 I think we can falsely believe we need to do certain things in order for God to love us. That’s just not right. If you know you can fall into that mindset, take a moment now to simply be in God’s presence, and be aware of his love for you.

I do think we’ve all been affected by the pandemic and January is a good time to refresh our spiritual lives anyway, in terms of what we do regularly to keep ourselves spiritually fit. It can sometimes feel like a new year stretches out before us, full of unknowns, but spiritual practises help to ground us, and draw us closer into God’s presence. I’d like to share about some perhaps lesser known (or at least lesser spotlighted) spiritual practices, which have held me during a period when I simply couldn’t do much more than get through each day.

Introducing lament

The Bible is full of lament, and it is an important way of processing difficulties. Lament simply means crying out to God, presenting our requests to him and sharing with him our pain and anguish.

Each one of us will face disappointments (such as being let down by those we love, hurt by the church), bereavement, negative circumstances that may be the result of our own sin or someone else’s. And many of us will face intense suffering, such as physical pain and/or mental ill health. 

Jesus himself said: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33). So why do we find it so difficult to accept that? And why do we seem to be ill-equipped to deal with it in a healthy way? How do we take heart?

Life is hard – we do have the promise that one day: ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain’ (Rev 21:3-4) but, until then, God doesn’t expect us to hide our difficulties away. 

In fact he ensured that the songbook created for his people the Israelites contained plenty of examples of how to express the pain we feel in our difficulties. They actually sang laments together as a corporate body using these psalms. And we also have the books of Job and Lamentations.

Throughout the Bible we can see many examples of tears alongside prayers – including Jesus’ example in the Garden of Gethsemane – lament is very much a part of the biblical narrative. 

Our need to lament

God invites us to voice our struggles because he knows that if we don’t express our laments, we can become totally consumed and distracted by them – or ignore them, which can result in physical ailments as the emotional pain has no other way of being expressed and we are total, whole beings – our spiritual, physical, emotional beings all tied up and affecting one other.

I first connected with the psalms of lament in a time of intense pain and sin in my own life (which I talk about in my book Taking Off the Mask). When I read the words ‘My wounds fester and are loathsome because of my sinful folly. I am bowed down and brought very low; all day long I go about mourning…I am feeble and utterly crushed; I groan in anguish of heart’ (from Psalm 38:5–6,8) it was like the writer was describing exactly where I was at, and it helped me to reach out to God while I was in such turmoil.

Back then, it was a revelation of my own sinfulness and the resulting pain that caused me to lament. But in more recent years, it has been a cry from deep in my soul that has been almost unstoppable. It has become a way I have desperately tried to remain connected to God through circumstances that have threatened to engulf me or those I dearly love. Some days it can sometimes feel like all hope is lost – and yet lament is the bridge that helps me find my way back to God when he seems distant or hidden. Lament is, ultimately, hope-filled. It helps us to vocalise our determination that, despite circumstances that are totally bewildering, we refuse to turn away from our heavenly Father. We know he is good and has understanding way beyond ours. And so we can pour out our anguish and tears, alongside our praise, before him, knowing that he sees, hears, understands and is with us.

Next time we will look at how we can utilise psalms of lament in our everyday lives.

Unmasking Christmas: Find your way to hope through honesty, gentleness and joy

Photo by Tessa Rampersad on Unsplash

It is my absolute delight to welcome Abby Ball to my website today, as she shares how we can ‘unmask’ Christmas to find hope. This guest blog comes as she launches her latest book, Contemplating Christmas. I am thrilled to have endorsed it as it is such a refreshingly honest read that I would encourage you to get hold of for this Advent (I have included my endorsement at the bottom). So, over to Abby…

The Christmas adverts have been with us for weeks now, and they are very good at reminding us what Christmas is meant to look like. There’s supposed to be a happy family who loves spending time together in a beautifully decorated house. There’s meant to be a delicious feast, with an enormous pile of gifts under the tree. Everything is supposed to be sparkly and merry and fun. 

But what if it’s not? What if you’re facing difficult family issues? What if you’re living with grief and Christmas highlights your heartbreak and loss? What if you’re living with a chronic illness that won’t take a break for the holidays? What if you’re already overwhelmed, worn down and weary before the season has even fully begun? What might Christmas stories have to offer those of us who are hurting, exhausted and in despair?

I’d like to suggest three invitations, or practices, the Gospel stories offer us when things are hard, to help us find our way back to hope.

Be honest

With all the cultural expectations of happiness and fun that surround Christmas, it can be easy to pretend everything is OK, even when it isn’t. We can be tempted to put on a mask, fake our smile and act like we’ve got it all together. But the nativity stories of the Bible don’t do this. Luke’s Gospel opens with the painful story of Elizabeth and Zachariah’s long-term infertility. Then we hear about Joseph, who faces the heartbreak of thinking his fiancée has cheated on him. Still later in the story, we encounter the mothers of Bethlehem, whose babies have been murdered by the evil Herod. 

These are very personal, very painful stories and the Bible makes room for them. It doesn’t gloss over them or pretend they didn’t happen and God isn’t asking us to do that with our pain either. If you’re struggling this Christmas, you don’t have to pretend. Find a trusted person and tell them how you really are. Just saying those words “I’m not OK” can bring us a small measure of relief. 

Be gentle

This time of year we remember the way that Jesus, who was fully divine, fully God, came to earth and was born as a tiny baby. Jesus began his life on earth in exactly the same way we do. He was totally helpless and vulnerable, completely dependent on the care and kindness of his parents. This story of God-become-man helps us to understand that being vulnerable and having needs isn’t weakness, it’s just part of what it means to be human. Jesus had the same needs as we do: the need for food, shelter and warmth; the need for rest, safety and affection; the need for meaning, purpose and relationship with God. 

Of course, as we grow up, we take responsibility for meeting our own needs. But be very gentle with yourself, and remember that it’s OK to ask for help. It’s OK if you haven’t got it all together and can’t do it all on your own. It’s hard to be vulnerable and admit to our own needs sometimes, but having needs is part of what it means to be fully human. 

Find joy

Sometimes it feels like joy is beyond our grasp. We want to feel happy but we’re still waiting for our big breakthrough, or changed situation. And sometimes joy can even feel inappropriate in the midst of so much suffering and grief in the world. 

But I think joy is closer that it might seem. There are big celebratory moments in the Christmas stories, but there are quieter ones, too. I think about the quiet moments between Mary and Jesus. I think about the shepherds, contentedly tending to their sheep. I think about light shimmering from that bright star leading the wise men. 

Joy was never meant to invalidate, or erase, our sorrow, but it can help us carry it with more ease. It can help us to find delight, even in the midst of what’s hard. Joy dares to believe there are good, beautiful things worth celebrating, and that suffering isn’t the end of our story. Advent is a great time to lean into small joys because there are so many of them around! The taste of a mince pie, the sound of a favourite carol, the sparkle of fairy lights or the tiny glow of warmth from a lit candle. Use your senses and see what small delights the day might hold for you.

A genuine hope

We can find hope this Advent through being honest, being gentle with ourselves and finding small moments of joy. It’s a genuine hope that doesn’t ask us to pretend, and doesn’t leave us to struggle along on our own. At Christmas we remember that Jesus is Immanuel, God with us, and he can make all things new.

Abby Ball was a primary school teacher for many years and now works as a freelance writer. Her work has been published in Fathom Mag, The Mudroom and Teach Primary. She lives in the UK with her husband, Tim, and their cat, Otta. Find more of Abby’s work at abbyball.substack.com, or on social media @abbyballwrites

Here is my endorsement of Abby’s book: ‘Abby has a beautiful, poetic style of writing that draws the reader in immediately. She has also managed to create a refreshingly different Advent devotional that is honest about the struggles and difficulties of life, but also invites us to push past the consumerism and cultural expectations of the season to draw closer to Jesus – even in the midst of our questions and hurting. Her reflection questions are insightful, helping the reader to really think and apply what they have been reading about, and the breath prayers are wonderful, easy takeaways to use throughout the day. This is a rich resource that offers a gentle yet powerful accompaniment to Advent.’

I have a series of blogs on hope on this site. For a sample of one click here.

Mental Health Awareness Week

It is Mental Heath Awareness Week and I just couldn’t let the week go by without posting. I want to firstly acknowledge that I have struggled with my mental health in the past. And, due to a mixture of grief, stress and perimenopause, know I am again now. While there is much less stigma surrounding this issue, I am heartbroken to see how stretched the services trying to support people’s mental health are. I am particularly aware of how much the pandemic has affected the mental health of our young people.

Being community

The theme of this year’s Mental Health Awareness Week is loneliness. With a teenager about to embark on GCSEs, I understand how the isolation of being home-based, studying, can cause feelings of loneliness. Young people need our prayers for their mental, emotional and physical wellbeing during this season.

There are so many others who face loneliness on a daily basis. As my husband takes time today to make some pastoral visits, I am reminded of how vital it is that we are in community. I realise it is more difficult with the fragmented, busy lives so many of us live in 21st-century cities. But the benefits far outweigh the costs – for all involved. Let’s pray for those, like our pastors, street pastors, food shop volunteers and other community workers as they reach out to the lonely. Let’s also think about ways that we can too.

It’s OK to ask for help

I know that when you are struggling it is natural to want to hide. It takes huge courage to reach out – and yet it is as we do so that we make human connection, which is so good for our wellbeing. We need to make it as easy as possible in our communities and churches for people to share their needs. Let’s work hard to cultivate safe spaces where people understand it is OK not to be OK – where no one feels judged but rather heard and supported.

Useful links for mental health awareness week

There have been some really helpful articles and posts during Mental Health Awareness Week. Here are a few useful links:

https://www.facebook.com/mindandsouluk The Mind and Soul Foundation have been posting really helpful advice on their Facebook page this week.

https://www.eauk.org/news-and-views/what-could-a-mental-health-friendly-church-look-like?fbclid=IwAR2ONmQJHnuGcf-Z_QaRkzLRT0QP9QyMDMfHwamAe2Wz2dnEhziecEcr_68 Rachael Newham from brilliant mental health charity Kintsugi Hope on how churches can be more supportive.

https://www.facebook.com/KintsugiHope Kintsugi Hope have also been posting tips for loneliness. Also included is a video from founder Patrick Regan on his own struggles, how he felt such shame to begin with but has come to understand that people with anxiety are some of the most courageous and faith-filled.

You can also find some links to helpful books here.

He holds our tears in pain

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I know and trust Sarah Walton’s writing, as she has such integrity, living the truth of her words. I’ve also had the honour of her and her husband contributing to our book Grace-Filled Marriage. So I was delighted when she offered an edited extract of her new book, Tears and Tossings. It is longer than my usual posts, but well worth reading through. Sarah lives with chronic illness, as do her children and they have faced many other challenges as a family. Here, she focuses on finding hope within the pain.

I am no stranger to pain. As the years go by and chronic pain is a constant, I long for relief. This body often feels more like my enemy than my ally. Of all the difficulties and trials that I’ve faced, physical pain is often the most relentless and debilitating.

I’ll be the first to admit that physical pain can quickly bring us to the end of ourselves. At first, we may persevere with the hope and confidence that answers and healing are just around the corner, just waiting to resume life as normal. But when they aren’t, and we watch the life, abilities, and enjoyments we once had fade into the distance, disappointment, grief, despair, hopelessness, and bitterness can quickly seep into our veins. The questions are often not far behind: what did I do to deserve this? What purpose is there in a life consumed by pain? Is God punishing me for something? What hope do I have if this is the rest of my life?

There are certainly no simple answers or quick fixes, but over time, I’ve learned that there is hope to be found even in this place.

One true remedy

If you’ve dealt with any form of chronic pain or illness for very long, I’m sure you could share countless experiences of those who have shared dos and don’ts, treatments options, or bullet-proof solutions that healed their Uncle Bob or friend Judy. Although most people have good intentions, without fail those comments always come across as “you just haven’t done enough,” or “if you just do what I did, things will improve.” While we do need to be open and teachable to the wisdom and experiences of others, these solutions are never a guarantee and they always fall short of true comfort. There is only One who knows exactly what we need, when we need it, and how to provide it—God himself.

We can and should seek help when and where possible, but our hope can’t be in a doctor or treatment—because they’re never a guarantee. Our hope can’t be in “better days” ahead of us— because that may or may not come in our lifetime. And our hope can’t be in our own strength, resources, or wisdom—because we’re limited in our understanding and abilities.

But there is a remedy that never fails.

We can bring our pain to the One who created us and knows us better than we know ourselves. And if he created us, certainly he wants what’s best for us.

Clay pots

It helps me to think of it this way: in the Bible, God is described as the Potter and we as the clay. The Bible tells us that God carefully and lovingly creates and shapes each of us into form, with unique looks, talents, personalities, and purposes. Whether we know it or not, we all belong to him, the Potter. But after God created the world and us, we rejected him and rebelled against his good plan for us. Since that day, the cracks of sin, pain, suffering, and weakness have entered our lives. We try to mend those cracks with anything we can find, but the defect still remains. 

I’ve experienced the cracks made by my sinful choices, but I’ve also felt the painful cracks of illness and suffering of various kinds, simply from living in this sinful world. I can try to ignore that the cracks are there, or do what I can to fix them, but the reality is that I’m the pot—I simply can’t fix myself. Instead, I need to humble myself, admit that I’m broken and cracked, and return to God, my Potter, to be restored as he intended me to be.

As painful and frustrating (perhaps even debilitating) as these cracks may be, we are not hopeless because we still have access to the One who created us and wants to heal us. That doesn’t mean he will remove the crack of pain in this life, but when we’re restored back to the Potter, he promises full healing will one day come. In the meantime, he also assures us that those cracks won’t be wasted and pointless.

There’s a man in the Bible named Paul, who experienced countless forms of pain. Even after all of his suffering, he confidently wrote, “We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” (2 Corinthians 4:7-9)

Centuries ago, people would use clay pots for many daily purposes, but when a pot would break, they wouldn’t throw it away as we might. Strangely enough, they’d use it to hold their most treasured possessions. That way, if thieves broke in, they’d likely ignore the broken and seemingly useless pot, missing the treasure it held inside.

What we see as irreversible weakness and pain, and cracks that render us purposeless, God sees as an opportunity to fill us with his power and strength to shine through those cracks. He gives us not just the privilege of having Jesus’ strength in us, but the treasure of his presence to shine through us to others.

Practical care in our pain

There are days when even though I believe God loves me and will not waste this pain in my life, the pain screams louder. I admit, there have even been days when life felt too bleak to go on.

But in these moments, I’ve also seen how practical and close God is to me. He doesn’t tell me to toughen up and deal with it; he meets me in practical ways that show he cares about my pain—giving me what I need to endure it.

There have been seasons when I felt beaten down and discouraged, only to have someone show up at my door, unannounced, with a lavish dinner that made us feel spoiled. At a time when I felt isolated and convinced no one could see my pain, a friend called just to say they were thinking of me and asked if they could visit to see how I was. And there have even been times when I felt crippled by pain, unsure of how I was going to fulfill a commitment, but then was miraculously pain free for the exact amount of time I needed to accomplish it—with the pain returning shortly after. Then again, at other times, I’ve still felt the pain, but somehow had the strength to endure it—a strength that was beyond myself.

There’s no sugarcoating how life-altering chronic pain can be. And we should always use whatever means God gives us to improve our situation. But whether we find physical relief or not, this truth and hope about God’s compassion and provision remains the same.

We may have cracks running through our lives—even some that threaten to break us completely. But these cracks are not meant to destroy us and render us useless. Rather, they are meant to lead us to the One who created us and is the only One who can fully heal, restore, and provide for what we need.

Your painful cracks don’t have to have the last word. Bring them to the Potter. For that’s where you will find healing for eternity, and strength and rest for today.

Tears and Tossings is available now, published by 10ofthose. Sarah’s other books are Hope When it Hurts and Together Through the Storms.

On the cross

On Good Friday, we remember what Jesus went through on the cross. Reading through the start of John 19:17–37, I am struck afresh by the continued humiliation: he had to carry his own cross, was mocked with the sign ‘King of the Jews’, other gospel accounts say he had a crown of thorns placed on him, he had insults thrown at him while he was on the cross – and the soldiers took his clothing as ‘spoil’.

Fulfilling prophecy on the cross

We see in the details of what happened that Jesus’ death fulfils earlier prophecies (see vv24 and 28). Just allow that truth to sink in deeper: God had foretold what was going to happen through Old Testament prophets (see Isaiah 53). Jesus was fulfilling history through humbly submitting to such a horrific ordeal. His body literally broken for us; the agony both physically and then spiritually as his Father turns away (see Mark 15:33). He must have gone through such anguish – and remember: he did that for you.

Reaching out to family

There is such a poignant moment in this passage, which reveals Jesus’ compassion for his family (of which we are now a part). In verse 25 we are told of a small group of women close to him who are watching. Just think about the desperate agony they must have been going through too. Seeing her son’s body hanging there must have broken his mother’s heart into a thousand pieces. But what he does next is incredible. Even when he is suffering beyond our comprehension (crucifixion is one of the most barbaric, hideously slow ways to die), Jesus reaches out to his mother – and to his close friend John. He understands what they are feeling, and asks them to care for one another. That is what he asks us to do today too (John 14:34–35 and 17:20–24). Knowing that Jesus suffered so much for us, but also comes alongside us when we are in pain, can be such a comfort for those who are grieving or suffering in other ways this Good Friday. May we draw on that truth – and reach out to others with love and care too.

Reflection

Spend some time reading through Isaiah 53, and then turn to worship and prayers of thanks to Jesus for being willing, firstly, to come to Earth in human form, and then to be our sacrificial lamb. You might also want to utilise this meditation of thankfulness for the cross too.

Jesus shows us how to handle difficulties

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Photo by Stacey Franco on Unsplash

I am very aware that I haven’t managed to post my weekly Bible studies in recent months – I am sorry. Hoping to rectify that, as best I can, I decided to post today. There will be some Easter reflections starting on Palm Sunday. For now, I felt that what Jesus shows us about how to handle difficulties in the Garden of Gethsemane is so pertinent for today, when we can be overcome with grief, shock, bewilderment and pain at the state of our world. I will be reflecting on Matthew 26:36–56. For another reflection on the Garden, please click here.

Honesty and wrestling before his Father

Jesus goes to the Garden of Gethsemane, keeping his closest friends with him. When he is with just them, he is able to share freely the anguish he is going through (v38). He asks for his friends to simply be there for him while he goes and wrestles with his Father. What a powerful passage this is: we see Jesus’ humanity, but also his absolute determination to follow through with the plan of salvation. But how hard must it have been to carry the weight of that, then look to his closest friends for a bit of support … only to find they have fallen asleep. I wonder, do we ask for help when we need it? And are we faithful friends to others when they ask for help from us?

A model for us all

Jesus provides a really helpful model to us here on how to handle difficulties: pour all the emotion out to God, spend time waiting in prayer, then submit to him afresh. Too often we can try and work out the answers to our problems and difficulties without looking to God for his advice and direction. But, even before that, we need to take the time to be honest about how we are feeling, and process our raw emotions before God. It is too easy to either allow ourselves to be overwhelmed or dictated to by them, or to squash them down and hope they will go away. But God knows that we need time for processing – especially when we face the most excruciating of circumstances. Jesus’ actions in the Garden of Gethsemane provide a powerful guide on how to do that.

Prayer

Lord Jesus, thank you for your honesty, and for wrestling so openly with your Father. I take comfort from knowing that you too needed to be vulnerable in that way before God – and your friends. I pray that you will help me to bring before God those things that are troubling me today. Help me also to ask for support where I truly need it. Amen.