The Pilgrims Progress

Ok, so my friend Clovergirl wrote this really beautiful post that really got me thinking about my own life and my own story. It’s a story of redemption, of love of forgiveness and most of all, of healing. I never realized I needed to be healed. In fact I never thought of myself as broken. It’s not that I didn’t think of myself, in fact, I though about myself all the time. Turns out that was part of the problem.

I heard a really beautiful story once: A teacher asked her young class of 30 kids a question-
“If you are looking after yourself, how many people do you have looking after you?”
“One.” Came the unanimous answer.
“Ok, so if all of you look after each other, how many people do you have looking after you?”
You could see the wheels turning and the little eyes widen in surprise as they did the math and realized that if they stopped worrying about themselves and started worrying about the people around them, suddenly the one turned to twenty-nine.

I never got that. Not really. With me, it was always number one first. I knew how to smile and what to say and how to act to make people think I was a nice person. I knew when to speak and when to shut up. I knew how to jump through hoops- if I would benefit from it. Now I’m not saying I was all bad, but I knew how to get what I wanted, and I used that to my benefit. I had lots of friends, but I dreaded letting anyone get really close to me. I didn’t want them to see that I was afraid, afraid that if they got close and saw me for what I was they would reject me. Even more, I was afraid that if I let them get close that I would start to care, and when you care, you can get hurt. When I was 15 my dad died in a motorcycle accident. I never learned how to deal with my grief, so I carried it with me wherever I went. It was the baggage that accompanied every one of my relationships. “Don’t let them in, then they can’t hurt you.” That became my philosophy. I closed my heart. I locked it and broke the key. I went from one relationship to the next, every time running a mile when I found out that someone started to care about me. I hurt many people in the way I feared being hurt and held no regard for their feelings, after all, if they wanted to feel, let them feel. I was on a one way downward spiral, and I didn’t like myself very much by that time. In fact I don’t think I like anyone very much, but I still knew how to ‘keep up appearances’. Nobody knew any better. The war inside me was pulling me to pieces and outside I was still smiling as sweetly as ever.

Then God happened.

Now let’s backtrack a little to about a month before my dad died. I was sort of involved in our school youth for Christ at the time, because some of my friends were there, so I went along. I figured I’d give it a try. I had been going to Sunday school since forever so decided that I would become a Christian. (note that this was all on MY terms, and according to MY convenience) I played the part and went along, I even tried prayer a few times. It didn’t do much for me, I didn’t FEEL anything. I always thought there should be more. Then the bomb dropped- “We’re sorry, your Dad was in an accident. He didn’t make it.”
WHAT? You’re kidding right? This a sick joke….right? No, turns out it’s real. Ever noticed how religion becomes really hollow in a situation like that? Where was God in all this? How could he let this happen to me? Blah Blah Blah. Me…me…me. I…I…I. Needless to say I got angry with God. I didn’t want much to do with him if he couldn’t look after me.

Back to ‘then God happened’. I was in London, had been there for a year and had been getting myself into al sort of situations I knew I shouldn’t be, but I didn’t really care. Then a friend invited me to church. In fact, she had invited me a few times, and I had excused myself every time. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want people to look at me and judge me. I didn’t want to look at my own life and somehow I knew that in church I would have to. But this time, she was staying at my place for the week-end, so I couldn’t really get myself out of it. I went. It was March the 7th 2004. She took me to Hillsong London, in the Mermaid Theatre at Blackfriars. I walked in and thought- ‘You’ve got to be kidding. This is NOT a church.’ But it was. There were people on the door to welcome us, there was a buzz in the foyer, a real excitement. I was blown away- people actually ENJOYED being there. People were happy to see me. The smiled and said hello (for anyone who has experienced London, you’ll know that this is an unusual occurance) and they seemed like pretty together people. There was a sign lit up as we walked in that said ‘Welcome Home’. I didn’t understand what I was feeling, a joy and a peace that I had never felt. I did feel welcome, it did feel like home, I felt like I ‘fit’. I enjoyed the service, the music was upbeat and lively, the people were singing along and dancing and no one in the congregation seemed over the age of thirty. At the end of the service there was an altar call. Oh boy. I hardly heard what was being said, my heart was racing, my blood was pumping, I felt cold all over, but I felt hot at the same time. My cheeks flushed. I didn’t know if I wanted to stand up or sit down or run outside or all of the above. Then came the question: If you would like to put your life right with God then raise your hand. And God said “You.” Me? “You, I want YOU.” What do you say when God says he wants you? I did the only thing I could think of- I put up my hand. Then I prayed the sinners’ prayer and that was it. I was a Christian. For real this time.

Contrary to popular belief it didn’t end there. My life wasn’t suddenly moonlight and roses and everything most certainly was not peachy. In fact, the next morning there seemed to be more wrong in my life than ever before, but this time the difference was that I wasn’t doing it alone anymore. I had to deal with many things and I’m still dealing with many things today. A few times I’ve wanted to throw in the ropes and say “That’s it, God. Let’s just call it quits.” But every time he has come through for me. He taught me how to love, first to love myself in order that I could love others. He showed me that nothing I do could make him love me more or less. He showed me that no matter what my past looks like, he has a future before me unlike anything I could ever imagine. But mostly he showed me that on my own I would only ever be crooked, at best, but with him I am complete.

I don’t deserve his love, his mercy or his forgiveness, yet he gives it freely to me every single day. He looks at me and sees Christ. He counts me as one of his children. These things are the miracle of God, a miracle I am thankful for every day. I pray he touches your life as profoundly as he continues to touch mine.

And so, the journey continues…

Back by Popular Demand (or, Part 2…)

Well, due to the huge success of Part 1 and numerous requests for more, this is Part 2 of the Saga. (fine, it was 2 requests, but humour me, ok?)

So much has happened since Part 1, I can’t even begin to tell you, so let me say this, I’m getting married…. (HAHAHAHAHA, just checking to see if you’re concentrating, I think I would be more surprised than you at this stage if that were true)

I went to Boulders beach with my mum last week, it is such a beautiful little place. It’s a penguin sanctuary, and basically, you have penguins that walk? waddle? (whatever) right past you while you sit there. If you’re brave enough to face the freezing cold water they swim right past you. They are the cutest! I got some really great photos, I think the one may have been posing for the camera… I’m not sure, but he certainly became VERY aware of me when the camera came out. In fact he seemed to be trying to get my attention. Hehehe, what do you know… Vanity Penguin!

On a less gooey note (is that how you spell gooey? Must be, Thesaurus has positively identified it as: sticky, viscous, thick… blah blah blah) Anyway, here in Cape Town all the workers for Checkers (that’s like Asda or Tesco) have been on strike for over a month. Now, in case you have no experience with South African style strikes, let me enlighten you: Partakers do not sit and discuss the matter quietly and come to an agreement (some try, not many succeed) they run amok. There is usually much vandalism, looting and general chaos. Well, on Tuesday the rioters came charging through the centre where I work. Yes, that’s right, they came right past my front door, in fact. It was rather surreal, I heard what sounded like gunshots outside, hastily ended my phone conversation and ran to lock the front door. As I got the door closed the first of the rioters came running past. Needless to say, I got out of sight as soon as possible. There were 50-60 men who threw bricks and rocks through the glass doors at the centre entrance, they ripped the doors off and charged into Checkers, where they also tore the doors down, broke open all the tills and emptied them, stole all the cigarettes and generally destroyed whatever they could get their hands on. Then they charged back out and had the police on their tails in a matter of minutes. Hectic. Full on reality check there. The next day we had ‘hired thugs’ protecting the centre. Guys in full riot gear with shields and clubs and the works, just in case the rioters decided to come back. What an experience! I tell you the amazing thing though, after my initial fright wore off, I was so calm and collected. I sat on the floor and prayed the word: ‘He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.’ And I had no fear. God was there, sitting on the floor next to me telling me that it was ok. It was fantastic.

Ok, enough of that, change the subject. I’m going to a Jazz festival tomorrow evening with my mum and a friend. Can’t wait, sounds like it’s gonna be brilliant! One thing though, I was sorting out what to wear since it will be a nice evening out and I have pretty much been living in my jeans since getting back when SHOCK, HORROR, I tried on my trousers and…yes, that’s right… THEY WON’T EVEN DO UP ANYMORE!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! It’s all the home cooking and mum feeding me every time she gets an opportunity, it has taken it’s toll, and now? My clothes don’t fit! So as of today I’m watching what I eat, and next week I’m starting cycling so I can shake off this weight that has firmly planted itself on my person without invitation. (why do I suddenly get a feeling of gloom hanging over me?)

Sigh, on that note I’m signing off Part 2. Please send news, or comments or whatever.

The Saga, Part 1 (this is a long one...)

Ok, so I have been as scarce as chicken teeth the last few weeks, I know that, but unfortunately that can’t be helped. Internet is no longer freely available, and dial up… well, you’ve heard me whinge and whine about that enough.

It certainly has been an interesting 5 weeks since leaving London, I assure you that! Other that enjoying the company of my family, I have now started work. I’m working in a vetshop selling specialist dog and cat food and all sorts of stuff. I’m also doing a course on animal nutrition as part of my job training, which is pretty cool! The hours are quite long, but the work is enjoyable and the people are really nice. It feels really odd to be in a stress free work environment, I can tell you that much!

Before I forget, it’s Clovergirl’s Birthday today, so let’s all wish her a VERY happy birthday together…
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR CLOVERGIRL,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.

HIP-HIP…. HOORAY!!!!!!!!
Now, blow out your imaginary candles and make a wish.
Love you stax girl, hope it was a great day!

Ok, so back to the last few weeks…

Church is good. It really is so different to Hills in so many ways, but yet, the heart is the same. In the evenings we sing loads of Hillsong songs and then I can almost make myself believe that I’m right there among all my friends, worshipping. Last night was an all-worship service that really went off, it was the first time I had seen the whole congregation get involved, they were jumping and going mad- felt just like home. I really love my cell-group leaders, they are beautiful people who have just decided to become full-time missionaries. All in all they are fabulous people who love God wholeheartedly and want to see the whole world come to know him as well.

God has been amazing as well (not that that ever changes) but he has been so patient and good to me. In spite of my (fairly regularly) stinking attitude and my little tantrums and pity parties, he is showing me increasingly how faithful he is. No matter how much I rage and beat my fists, he is there waiting. Patiently waiting for me to get over myself and look back up at him. How can you explain something like that? I am so thankful that his patience is greater than mine, ‘cause I would have given myself a good kick up the backside a few times. But he is love and we know that:

‘Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable and keeps no record of when it has been wronged. It is never glad about injustice, but rejoices whenever truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.’
(1 Cor 13:4-7)

Even though I miss London and my family there terribly, I can see why God needed me to be here for a season. My other family needs me now, and I am thankful that I have the opportunity to be here for them in whatever capacity I can be.

Now comes the part where I make all of you really jealous… the weather is getting so much nicer here. Days are getting long and the temperature is rising steadily. I have been to the beach a few times and just walked for hours in the soft sand. Every morning I wake up, walk outside and right in front of me are the most beautiful mountains stretching all the way around. No matter which way I go, there are mountains and flowers and blue skies… (I’m going to stop now… I can see all the green faces as you read this, and I really do want you to still speak to me after this.)

Right, well that will have to be PART 1 of my ‘being back’ Saga, I don’t want you to have to read for hours. I look forward to hearing all the news from the other side of the world, anything and everything from the biggest to the most mundane.

This is me signing off- Over and Out.