Tag: 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.

An eternal perspective

Photo by Edu Carvalho, from Pexels

These reflections on having an eternal perspective are based on 2 Corinthians 4:7–18.

‘Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.’ (v16)

This extract from 2 Corinthians reminds us of the frailty of our bodies (they are referred to as ‘jars of clay’). I think we can place too much emphasis on our physical bodies. The fact is, each day we are getting older and our bodies are decaying as they age. That is part of the fallen nature of our world and yet, sadly, our society doesn’t value older women. The marketing we see all around us tends to set up young, beautiful women as the ideal.

A DIFFERENT SET OF VALUES

The underlying message is that we should try to make ourselves look as young and beautiful as possible – outer beauty is what it is all about. But that simply isn’t the truth and this passage reminds us that we have a different set of values to live by. In a society that bombards us with the opposite, I think we really need to be reminded of this eternal perspective. We also have a promise to hold on to: ‘our citizenship is in heaven… the Lord Jesus Christ… will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body’ (Philippians 3:20–21).

ULTIMATE HOPE

Paul describes the trials and sufferings that he endured – but defiantly states: ‘We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed’ (vv8–9). He isn’t shying away from the reality, but he is stating where his ultimate hope is: ‘For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all’ (v17). Is that how we view our difficulties? Do we think in terms of eternity? Is our sense of self reflecting our eternal inheritance, or simply our immediate circumstances?

Prayer: Lord I thank You for this reminder that, while my physical body may be fragile, I have an eternal hope in You. Amen.

Jesus understands temptation and suffering

These reflections on temptation and suffering are based on Hebrews 4:12–16.

‘we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet he did not sin’ (v15).

In these devotions, we have been looking at how living our lives in step with the Spirit involves self-control and self-discipline. The first few verses of this Hebrews passage say nothing is hidden from God so we will have to give an account to Him of our lives. That is sobering; we certainly do need to take stock regularly and watch our thoughts and actions.

JESUS TRULY KNOWS HOW WE FEEL

The good news is that Jesus experienced life as a human so He knows what temptations and difficulties really feel like. Hebrews 2 also reveals He was fully human, which enabled Him to break us free from the grip of sin. Verses 17–18 summarise this:

For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. 18 Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

In the way that He lived His life, Jesus provided us with a template of how to stand up to temptation when it tries to lure us.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, just before His trial and execution, Jesus cried out to the Father for a way not to drink the cup of suffering. And yet… His final response was: ‘may your will be done’. He became the source of our salvation, but also faced the weight of temptation and suffering.

How incredible that we have one we can turn to who understands what we are going through. He is our strength: we are not expected to beat ourselves into submission. Rather, we look to the One who equips us to live lives that honour Him. We can be confident and draw close to Him. How freeing!

Optional further reading: Matthew 26:36–45, Hebrews 2:10–11;14–18

Prayer: Lord I thank You that You know what it feels like to face temptations and difficulties. Help me to remember that I can turn to You, speak honestly and also receive Your grace, mercy and strengthening. Amen.

Finding our secure place in the darkness

I have held off writing about the current coronavirus pandemic, mainly because I haven’t really had a chance to formulate my thoughts much before now. Working from home (which I usually do but now there’s an extra workload), as well as helping my kids navigate online schooling, there are precious few moments of quiet in any given day. I think it is important not to simply jump on the bandwagon of making a comment without having something to say. There have also been some incredibly helpful articles out there, that I have really appreciated (as well as some scaremongering that I’ve learned to ignore).

I also know that I’m in a process of grieving – for my mum, for my dad who has not only lost his wife, but has lost all sense of community since the lockdown and is so, so lonely. It breaks my heart every time I think of him alone, surrounded by the memories of mum but with no one there to process it with. I long for him to know his maker…But that is all mixed up with a general sense of grief and loss for what is happening right now, across the world. I know there are so many who didn’t get the chance to sit next to their dying relative, as we did, and I can’t quite imagine what they are going through now. And so many who are unable to attend a family member’s funeral – how difficult not to have that closure; it seems so cruel. My heart bleeds when I see the news (so much so that I made a conscious decision not to watch it every day anymore, as I sensed my stress levels rising). 

Our world has certainly been stopped in its tracks. And, while I don’t believe God has brought the virus as judgement upon us, because God sent Jesus not to judge the world but to save all those in the world who put their faith in him* (John 3:17–18), I do believe there are lessons we are meant to learn as Christians from this time. Of course, we are meant to learn at every other time too, but this certainly seems more urgent (but also more difficult for many of us – those working around the clock in hospitals, care homes, schools and supermarkets barely have time to rest their bodies let alone nourish their spirits. But God has grace for each one of us, in our specific situations too.)

Many people have commented that they don’t want to go back to normal once this is over – indeed it has been said so many times that some are getting tired of hearing that statement. For now, I think God is calling us back to him, calling us to repent of the ‘gods’ of materialism, busyness, individualism – and anything else we’ve allowed to take his place, even in small, subtle ways. He is a jealous God, but also a loving one, and, if we take time to listen, he is calling us back, calling us closer.

I sense a need for repentance in my own life, and collectively in the Church, but I also know God is wooing us with gentle tenderness, offering comfort and hope – so that we can offer the same to those around us by pointing them to Jesus. I keep being reminded of these verses:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. (2 Corinthians 1:3–5). 

I know that this is a bewildering, difficult, painful time for so many of us, punctuated with some unexpected moments of deep joy as we see the sacrifices people are making for one another, and the rise in a collective sense of community. Let us be those that draw close to God in order to receive the comfort that we need, which may mean giving ourselves permission to rant and rail when we need to, to sit and howl at the desperate plight of so many (perhaps ourselves if we are currently battling the virus in our family or friendship groups). But let’s also give ourselves time to be reminded of the ultimate, eternal hope that we have in Christ Jesus, who: ‘For the joy that was set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God’ (Hebrews 12:2). 

We might not understand what is going on right now, and we may have myriad questions for God about the situation, but we can be reassured that Jesus is on his eternal throne, and he will never be shaken from it. That is the secure place from which we can wrestle and allow ourselves to accept the difficulties and darkness of this time – and be open to the transformation and change God may have for us in it.

*I love this quote from Phil Moore’s excellent piece on what we can learn from the message of Revelation in the upcoming May issue of Premier Christianity magazine: ‘World history is not going to end with a deadly virus or a nuclear holocaust. God’s plan for humanity will not end with a funeral, but with a wedding.’ That is a sneak preview, as I’ve been helping out with the magazine – it is packed full of helpful articles about the virus and church in this time. You can request a free copy of the magazine – wait until Monday to ensure you are getting this issue, if you would like to, but then click here. You can, of course, also sign up for a subscription…

When things seem hopeless

Photo by mateen kazi from Pexels

Reflections based on Job 6:2–21.

‘What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient?’ (v.11)

I want to look at one more biblical character in our study on hope. I was drawn to Job, partly because I was surprised to see so many scriptures on hope within the book (although many are about the loss of hope). But it was mainly because, having looked at Hannah and David, I still had one more question. How do we keep hoping in God even when everything around us falls apart or is taken away?

Job was a righteous man that Satan said was only faithful because he hadn’t been tested. So God allowed him to take everything away from Job – his children, animals, servants – and afflicted him with painful sores. Even then he remained steadfast (see 2:10). It was when his friends started saying he must have sinned that Job began to question why he was suffering so much.

Job’s friends just didn’t seem to know how to cope with Job at this point. They believed he must need to repent and said that if he would put his trust back in God: ‘You will be secure, because there is hope; you will look about you and take your rest in safety.’ (11:18). How often do we judge our friends, thinking that perhaps the difficulties they are facing are the result of sin? While it is important to challenge each other when necessary, we need to be careful that we don’t make wrong assumptions.

Look again at 6:8–13. Have you ever been in a place of suffering that is so bad you just longed to be allowed to give up? I have watched my mother suffer such constant physical pain that I know death would be a relief – and yet still she clings to her hope in God. She is an inspiration to me, and has taught me so much about trusting God through difficulties.

For prayer and reflection: Help me Lord not to judge my friends unfairly, or to lose hope in You when things around me are becoming difficult.

Moulded by the maker

Reflections based on Romans 5:1–5.

We need to be honest – there are times when we all struggle, when thoughts about hope are simply beyond us because we are totally overwhelmed and frustrated by our circumstances. God knows that, and shows us great mercy in our struggles. But He also works through our testing times, our waiting times, the times when we are forced to give up on things we thought we were supposed to be doing, are suffering physically or are being treated unfairly by someone around us.

Some of the things we find ourselves up against are a result of human sin – of those around us or perhaps ourselves – but, whatever the reason, God can use it all to mould our character. As this Romans passage says, we can ‘boast in the hope of the glory of God’ – but also ‘glory in our sufferings’ because they produce in us a harvest of perseverance, character and, eventually, hope.

Knowing that God is doing something through the hard times, moulding us to be more like Jesus, can help us to understand why He doesn’t always deliver us from them. Rather than just praying for an end to the troubles, have you ever tried asking God what He is trying to teach you, or change in you, during a really testing time?

Mick Brooks, in his book Faith, Hope, Love and everything inbetween (CWR), says: ‘Even though we sometimes don’t realise it, don’t feel like it’s true and even, at times, don’t want it, God is committed to finishing what He has started. He takes imperfect people and works constantly to transform us, using everything we go through as the tools of His trade.’ (p17)

In my own life, it is certainly true that I can look back and see how God has changed me through the struggles — although I couldn’t see it at the time.

For prayer and reflection: Thank You Lord that You have a heavenly, eternal perspective. So often I want to be released from particular difficulties and yet You allow them because they mould me. 

Unmasked: The battle of the masks

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I am delighted to welcome Amanda to my guest blog slot ‘Unmasked: stories of authenticity’ this week. She bravely shares the reasons for her mask-wearing, and her battle to take them off.

We so often hear ‘I went through this’ stories, as people are often willing to get up on stage and talk about their suffering when it’s over. They’re happy to talk about what God taught them and how they can now see He was working.

I think suffering is a bit like childbirth, once it’s over we forget how bad it was. When we hear these stories people often don’t describe the depths of their despair. When I hear these stories I feel left out; I start to wonder why God hasn’t fixed me yet. I feel like I’ve failed for not having gotten through it yet.

I know that I am not the only one who feels like this, I have met many people in the Church that are continuing to struggle and find these stories hopeful and painful at the same time. Don’t get me wrong, we need these testimonies; they show God’s power and give us hope, but I do feel that churches want happy-ending stories. Why? Because nobody likes to suffer!

None of us want to face the reality that we will all suffer; we are frightened of it, which is natural. But when a church only has happy-ending stories it can cause members to put on a mask, because they feel they’re not valid or useful because they’re not better – or can’t say what God has shown them.

I have been sharing my stories with my friends and other people in church. As I have been doing this I’ve seen amazing things happen; other people have come to me with their stories, knowing I won’t judge them. Even though I’m not fixed and I’m fighting to get better, God is using me and my story. Groups that I have been part of have gone from being very academic to being very honest, life-sharing groups. I wanted to write this guest post today to encourage people that by removing their masks it allows others to take theirs off too.

HOW I STARTED WEARING MASKS

I have discovered that my personal masks are ‘I’m fine’ (along with ‘I can cope’) and ‘no one wants to know what goes on in my life’. These were backed up by an internal message early on, telling me that I couldn’t trust anyone.

I first started wearing these masks when I was 11. I had been raped as a child and blocked out the memories – until they were triggered when I was 11. I started having nightmares; I tried to tell my family, but they told me ‘not to be stupid, it didn’t happen’. I knew that it had, but I couldn’t tell anyone, as I didn’t want a big fall out, and I had forgiven the person. The person was young; they knew what they were doing, but they didn’t understand the consequences.

I knew if I talked about it at school, Child Protection would kick in, so I didn’t talk about it again until I was 18. Unfortunately, I had two more experiences where I was sexually assaulted as a young adult. This combination of events made it very hard for me to trust anyone. The first counsellor I saw told me I must have made it up, as it’s not possible for a child to be raped! Needless to say, I didn’t see her again.

As a child, I learned that people liked me when I was cheerful, so I always put on a brave face. And then people praised me for putting on a brave face during difficult things, so I decided this was a good thing to do. I did this to the point that I numbed out all negative feelings, in order to be the positive person everyone wanted me to be. Unfortunately, this took its toll; I started self-harming, developed severe panic attacks and became depressed.

While I was at university I did find some helpful friends and counsellors. Even though none of them made me better, each time I talked about what I had been through a symptom would fall away. So I learned that talking helped, even though it went against what I believed I should do.

LEARNING TO BE MORE OPEN

I desperately didn’t want people to think I was weak and couldn’t cope. I thought they wouldn’t want to know the negative stuff about me. Because when I did start to tell more friends, I had some horrible reactions – where friends walked away from me and said very hurtful things. But I also had some amazing reactions; people who showed me love and stuck by me despite what I’d told them. These people went a long way to challenging those deeply held internal beliefs of mine.

I am now at a point where I can talk about what I have been through more openly, and, when I do so, many people appreciate it and come back with their own stories. This is a huge privilege, because I know how hard it is to be honest and vulnerable.

I have recently been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which is really helpful in understanding my symptoms and enabling me to get the right help. I have an absolutely amazing, patient psychologist who has started Eye Movement Desensitisation Reprocessing (EMDR) with me. It is hard, but I can see how it works. I am making more and more links between the past and the present, which enables me to then question my deeply held beliefs.

For example, when I think ‘no one wants to know’, I can now ask myself, ‘is this true’? I have learned over time that people do want to know. I am beginning to understand that, while it will make them sad, it’s the event that makes them sad not me. People do know and are still standing by me.

CONTINUING MY JOURNEY

I have realised that my family didn’t want to know because they couldn’t handle it; it wasn’t that they couldn’t handle me. I still have a long way to go. When I’m with my psychologist, all of my masks have to come off. I still fight it, because it’s horrible being vulnerable, but equally I want people to see who I truly am and I know she can only help me if I’m open with her.

With friends I can take it a bit slower. I still often revert back to my ‘I can cope’ mask because I’m scared of losing respect, but actually I’ve found I get more respect when I’m honest. People ask me how I am and I say ‘I’m fine’ without realising it, including when I go to the doctor because I’m ill! I don’t know I’ve said it.

I am learning to be more honest with my friends, partly because I believe they will see God working in me as I go through suffering, rather than waiting to tell them about what happened afterwards. With my family I have to keep these masks on, as most of them don’t know what has happened to me. But now, when I go back and put these masks back on, they feel heavy – and I feel stressed, on edge and exhausted. I can’t wait to get back to my friends and husband, as I can be honest with them.

My masks protected me for a while, but then they made me ill. I’m still in the process of learning how to take off these masks, but I have a massive hope that I will overcome what I have been through. I believe I will recover and be stronger, and I also constantly pray that God will use my story, when and where appropriate. The simple message I have clung onto is that ‘God is with me’. He has whispered that into my ears so many times over the years.

 

What a week under par has taught me

This has been a very strange week for me. It all started with my daughter coming down with a very violent sickness bug that has been going round her school. She was up a lot one night being sick, spent the next day very listless but then bounced back. Then my husband and I both went down with it the same night – all night. The next day we were laid out completely, having to call on friends to do our two different school runs. But then he bounced back…and I didn’t. It’s taken me all week to be able to eat a full meal – and I’m still not eating plenty of items as the thought of them makes me feel super sick. I still feel slightly nauseous constantly.

I’ve had to force myself to eat to ensure I’m well enough to look after my kids – and earlier in the week we had the struggle of both kids playing up because our routine was disrupted due to our sickness. Just when we asked them if they could be extra helpful and good they did precisely the opposite – and we both felt too ill to deal with it. To be honest, I’ve been pretty short-fused with them all week. It’s just plain hard work to get on and do all the normal things a parent has to while I feel like this.

But I can also see that this week has done me a lot of good. Just slowing down so I only do the bare necessities has actually made me realise what a lot of rushing about I do – and made me wonder whether I need to do absolutely all of it. I’ve been really challenged recently about the fact that I feel I have my finger in so many pies, how many of them am I actually doing to the best of my ability? And what room is there in my life for those people that really need me to down tools and help them at a moment’s notice?

It has also given me a renewed admiration for people who cope with illness long-term. That is a subject on my heart at the moment, and I’m hoping to write about it soon. How do people who suffer with something day in day out keep their head above water, keep believing and trusting in God’s promises? People like my mum, who struggles with some horrible illnesses and has been suffering from terrible nausea for months and months that no expert seems to be able to get to the bottom of despite countless tests. I was talking on the phone to her after she had been away for a few days with my dad. I was saying how I’d been feeling and what a struggle it had been, and then she told me how she had had to come face to face with her limitations yet again while away. How hard that must be when you are on holiday, as you can’t ever take a holiday from your sickness…

This week has also made me grateful at times. When I first started feeling well enough to eat again I was grateful; when I first felt able to drive again too. When I felt well enough to tidy up a bit I was glad – as the state of the house was getting me down. And the sense of achievement of getting the bits of work done I needed to this week was much more intense than usual – because I’d had to battle through more than normal too. While I did struggle with resentment at times about some of the things I had to carry on and do even though I didn’t feel up to them, it has actually been really nice to hide away and spend most evenings at home on my own or with my husband just doing very little. I think we all need regular periods of time like that – perhaps my next one was so long overdue that God allowed this sickness to really knock me out so that I actually did slow down for a change!

I wonder whether your week has been ‘the same as usual’ or if you can look back and see something you’ve learned afresh. Do you regularly take the time to take stock and think about what your days have been filled with, and what God may have been trying to teach you through your everyday circumstances? I think I look for such things more regularly now that I am writing, but it is certainly a beneficial habit for us all to cultivate…

Truly ‘together on a mission’

This is the first time I’ve had a chance to sit down and reflect on what I learned at the Newfrontiers Together on a Mission conference last week (the reason for that will, in part, be the subject of another blog soon!) It truly was a privilege to be at the bulk of what was the last international conference of its kind. Right from the start there was a sense of expectancy, and God had specific things to say to us as a movement that came through time and time again, through various different speakers.

I always feel so blessed at these events because it reminds me of the wider Newfrontiers family we are part of. I am always struck by the humility of the leaders and speakers, particularly Terry. Indeed that was the main reason we were first attracted to Newfrontiers. And it is great to see how other guys have come through into maturity and authority and are now heading up works within the various continents, but there is still a sense of family across the board. I loved the mixture of both honouring our roots, and founders, but also pressing forward to take new ground.

I was both caught up with and slightly apprehensive of the way that we seemed to hit the ground running. Words came thick and fast about being courageous and having courage as a leader. The natural worrier in me started to wonder what is coming Lord?! But it is so true that as a movement the ‘boys have become men’ and I also felt that challenge me personally. Yes we have stepped up into leadership roles, and my husband has proved he is capable of pastoring the church. I am mentoring and meeting with various younger women… AND YET. Life is going at such a pace am I taking the time to feed myself spiritually? Am I looking after myself and allowing God to speak to me clearly and have that vital input in my life enough? He graciously seems to speak through me when I am ministering to people, but I wonder how much more effective I could be if I carved out a bit more just me and him time…

We were travelling up and down to Brighton each day so usually left at the end of the afternoon session – it meant we could see the kids before bedtime and not get overtired ourselves. But when we heard PJ was to speak on the wed eve we decided to say. And what a great decision that was! I have said in a previous entry that the whole issue of healing is one I can struggle with because of the way my mum suffers, but he gave one of the clearest messages I’ve ever heard on suffering, sickness and healing. Where does sickness come from and where does healing come from were two of the questions he pondered during his own battle in the last year. And God gave him great revelation. Hearing the simplicity with which he explained the relationship between the atonement and healing was refreshing. His talk gave me fresh vision and hope and went some way to lift off the frustration I can often feel when people look at my mum and make a judgement call as to why she hasn’t been healed yet. Definitely a recommendation I have already made to my mum to listen to!

There is so much more I could talk about here but I think there will be plenty more future posts as I manage to grab odd moments to dwell upon my notes.

A whirlwind week

It has been a little while since I’ve been on here – mainly because life has reached whirlwind proportions. And the thoughts spinning around my head also have me reeling from their speed. So I’m trying to catch a moment to slow down and take stock. The last week has certainly been a varied one: I had my birthday, found out my mum was incredibly ill, had a terrible conversation with a magazine editor that left me wondering if Christians really can be that judgemental, shot down to see my mum in hospital, enjoyed a fantastic international day at church and also made some great new contacts with book and magazine publishers.

Each night I have fallen into bed late, absolutely exhausted, only to be denied sleep by my 2 year old, who really doesn’t seem to understand that waking up at night does not equate to coming to say hello to mummy, daddy and his sister! Even with the gate firmly fixed on his door he is still finding a way of keeping us all up at night. I look at him tearing around during each day and wonder where on earth he gets his energy from – and whether I could borrow some of it! In amongst the busyness, and emotional turmoil at times, I worry that I am so focused on different things I am not parenting to the best of my ability. I guess as parents we always have that nagging feeling – could we be doing things better? Are we juggling too much? Our society seems to only accept survivors – supermums who can spin every plate highly successfully and look fantastic at the same time!

That’s not really the reason for this entry though. I could write a series of blogs on that subject – and on the fact that while I believe in a God who can heal today, and have seen miracles in front of my eyes, one of those dearest to me – my own mum – continues to suffer pain from a debilitating disease day after day, year after year. I know suffering and healing are subjects I’m never going to fully understand, but I do have lots of questions I’m waiting to ask God when I do see him face to face! God does seem to have a way of turning things upside down – I travelled to see my mum expecting her to be hardly able to lift her head from her hospital bed but I was greeted by a beaming face as she had just had a chance to talk to a daughter of a patient about her faith and offered to pray for her. Gone was the downcast soul who had had enough of struggling with each breath and here was someone excited and vitalised by her faith once more. She said herself that every time she is in hospital she has such ‘divine encounters’ and that being there had lifted her spirit from the depth of despair. She is still physically in severe pain, but her spirit is back in line with her God.

All of this has made my own spirit go up and down. A high point was definitely yesterday at church where we celebrated the diversity of nationalities within our church. Sam Amara from Nigeria visited us and preached and we feasted on a wonderful array of dishes from around the world afterwards.

Yes it has definitely been a pretty crazy week. And today has continued to be crazy. I’m on my own for a few hours, for which I’m exceedingly grateful to my husband, but busy organising work and what I need to do before heading off to Brighton for the last Newfrontiers International Leaders’ Conference, Together on a Mission. I am excited about what God will do when we are all together – I just hope I manage to stay awake! ;D