A little back update and my first vlog in absolutely ages…
apologies for slightly rubbish sound in places, it was windy!
A little back update and my first vlog in absolutely ages…
apologies for slightly rubbish sound in places, it was windy!
It’s great to be asked to review this book as Simon was my biblical studies tutor at college during my ministerial training. I am a big fan of the Psalms, but I also recognise that they are a bit like marmite, with some people choosing to read them as infrequently as possible. But I would say, don’t let that put you off, this might just be the book that helps you combat that!
Songs for Suffering is a wonderful guide for those in a season of struggling or as Stocks notes ‘for anyone who is going through tough times, whatever form that takes’. And it really is for anyone, written simply and not full of theological jargon, making it hugely accessible, but with a depth of knowledge evident from Stocks’ own academic experience.
Focussing on psalms of lament, the book takes us on a journey. Using personal reflections and stories from peoples lives, the author encourages the reader to deal with questions in their own lives, from personal failure, to issues of identity, and deeper still to despair, grief and personal suffering.
Each chapter guides us though a particular theme, asking questions for the reader to consider and pointing us to specific psalms for individual needs or circumstances. It is written in a very practical way, addressing how we can personally use the words of the psalms to deepen our own prayer life and each chapter finishes with some suggestions for what to do next.
However this is not just a practical guide, but a book filled with the authors own experience of life and pastoral ministry, written with compassion and a deep understanding of what it is to encounter personally, and come alongside those who suffer.
Stocks doesn’t shy away from difficult themes like shame, doubt and anger, but on the contrary embraces them with confidence, bringing a sense of assurance for the reader, encouraging them to engage with the themes for themselves.
Although my sense is that this is a book to work through from start to finish, it could also be something to dip into in particular times of trouble, or in supporting others facing difficult times, and in fact a helpful index at the end points to specific psalms for different circumstances.
Stocks reminds us afresh that The Psalms are a wonderful resource, passed down through the ages and used as the bedrock of Christian prayer for centuries, that are just as useful today, giving us the tools to pray in ‘just about any situation imaginable’ keeping us in touch with God even when pressures threaten to stop us.
The author notes: ‘may you find deeper connection to God, as you do so, even in the toughest of times…’ and this truly is a book that will help you do that.
Songs for Suffering will be published by Hendrickson Publishers Inc in April 2017. and can be pre-ordered at most good book stores online including Eden (priced £12.99) and Amazon (priced £11.99). There is also a website that goes alongside the book and will host other resources linked to lament at: www.cryhard.org
The Rev’d Dr Simon Stocks teaches Biblical Studies at St Augustine’s College of Theology, England (formerly known as SEITE). He is Chair of the Theological Educators’ Network and also ministers in the Anglican parish of Christ Church, Purley. After a career in civil engineering, he trained for ministry and worked in parish ministry in the Diocese of Southwark, before undertaking doctoral studies. His research interests include the interactions between poetic form and interpretation in Hebrew poetry, and the theology of lament.
This time last year I began a journey seeking ‘joy’ as I chose that as my one word to focus on for the year ahead. It was a really helpful tool rather than choosing New Year’s Resolutions, to just let joy be a bigger part of my life, and not to let it be robbed away. I also have some wonderful guest bloggers to thank for helping me on my joy journey too, it was great to get different perspectives along the way, thank you all for sharing!
However as I reflected before Christmas on what my word for 2017 might be I realised that whilst I was thinking more about joy and trying to focus on it, the things that were robbing me of joy were still there: ongoing back pain, tiredness, not enough time to rest – they were still constants in my life. So, the challenge for 2017 is how to overcome those, or at least how to live with them in a more balanced way?
One thing I’ve started to do more of is really think about what I am eating and I’ll share more on that as the year goes on, but a word that has stuck with me out of that is ‘nourish’. How do I nourish myself? do I in fact? intentionally? Nourishment is all about sustenance, making sure we are fed with substances necessary for growth, health and good condition so the dictionary says. Feeding ourselves well – and not just with good food, but the dictionary definition also includes, holding a belief for a long time. We need to be nourished spiritually as well as physically.
It’s interesting that a passage I focussed on a lot last year was Jesus’ command to love your neighbour as yourself. But it really stuck me recently: AS YOURSELF. What does that even mean I began to wonder? I often rail against the cultural trend that seems to scream at us from every advert, window or poster that says we can all be perfect, we deserve it after all, focus on you, you, you; but here it is in holy print, love yourself. Not something I am all that good at as I am sure many of us aren’t, my recent post on feeling guilty at being a working mother was a testimony to that.
So I began to pray into that and explore it and I was struck by this passage from 2 Peter 1 –
3 His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 4 Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.
So, He has given us everything we need for a Godly life. How often do we whole heartedly accept that? or live that out? That line alone struck me like a shot of Tequila… And then. It goes on…
5 For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; 6 and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; 7 and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. 8 For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Might have been written for me in this moment, it’s all about being intentional – make every effort to add to your faith…
9 But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.
10 Therefore, my brothers and sisters, make every effort to confirm your calling and election. For if you do these things, you will never stumble, 11 and you will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
I have to say I regularly question my calling to ministry, I mean I know it in as much as I know I have red hair, but at the same time I question how I am supposed to do it, how can I balance life, motherhood, being a wife? – which are equally callings on my life. All of this felt like a challenge to me. If I am going to be able to continue with these callings, keeping them in rhythm with each other and not falling apart, then I have to focus on me a bit more, and more importantly on me and God. As I reflected I realised that my joy is robbed away when I am not looking after myself, when I am in pain, when I don’t spend enough time with God. And in fact that last one should go first, because when I am completely focussed on God, then the pain is not as significant, my time is more balanced, and I am less grumpy! I don’t mean focussed on me in a selfish way, I mean that as a wife, Mum and minister most of my time is given over to others, but that’s the point, that it’s ok to make some time for ourselves too.
So what will ‘nourish’ look like? Well I’m not sure yet but there are definitely three strands to it: to be nourished physically, mentally and spiritually. And not just for me, but for my family too. I’m not setting myself any real goals, as I think this is going to be a journey over the whole year, seeking to live in a more nourished way, but I’m sure there will be plenty for me to post on here!
Talk from our annual ‘Service of Remembrance’, for those who have lost loved ones, at TRINITY Southover, 4th Dec, based on Psalm 46:1-7
I expect many of you have read or seen the movie of ‘The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe’, by CS Lewis?
In it, Narnia is in permanent winter, with no sign of Christmas or Spring. The cold is ever present, snow all around, lakes frozen, and with it much joy has been sucked from their world.
I sometimes wonder if winter isn’t a good analogy for pain and grief…
I mean I wonder if you have noticed the trees lately? it was just a few weeks ago I wrote a talk whilst gazing out my window and admiring the glorious autumn colours on the large Sycamore tree outside. Now it stands rather stark and bare with all that wonderful colour blown away.
Winter can be very stark. The trees are bare, looking like a shell of what they can be.
The air is often cold and crisp – on really cold mornings even breathing in can make us wince. The nights are longer, our afternoons fading into early darkness and we tend to find ourselves more often at home, wrapped up, shut in away from the cold.
There is something in the pain of losing a loved one that I think provokes those sort of feelings and reactions in us. We are stripped bare, we are not what we once were. Things can change so dramatically in such a short space of time. There may be mornings when we wake and find that drawing breath is such an effort.
We may want to hibernate, to shut ourselves away, as if we can hide from the awful reality that has hit us.
Grief brings with it such great uncertainty. The world as we knew it, will never be quite the same and how can we face the world with our new darker view of it?
At times like these finding some truth that we can hold on to, can be really helpful, a foundation for us to stand on when we need.
Perhaps that might be in a particular memory of our loved ones that we can cherish – nothing can take that away.
Or in something we do regularly just to have a moment of control, of certainty.
And for many of us, we find certainty by looking to the truth of God.
The Psalm we heard, Psalm 46, starts with these words:
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
3 truths for us to hold on to:
God is a refuge.
God is a strength.
God is an ever-present help. Words of comfort and certainty and – because of those – our Psalm goes on:
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging
We may well feel that the earth is giving way under the weight of our grief.
We may feel surrounded by the swirling of roaring waters as our emotions rage out of control. BUT there is still that point of truth around which we can turn and perhaps sometimes it is all we can do to cling on to it.
Do you need that refuge – somewhere to hide?
Let him be that refuge.
Seek solace in him.
Psalm 91 is another that talks of God as our refuge, and verse 4 says:
He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge…
What a wonderful picture – like a mother bird, drawing her young to her, protecting them, bringing them to the warmth of her own body, shielding them in their vulnerability from the outside world.
Perhaps that is where you need to be right now – just being, just being protected, being shielded form the world outside. Perhaps it is helpful to imagine yourself in that picture, under his wings…?
God is our refuge…
God is our strength too…
Or do you find yourself lacking strength to get though each day?
Pain, suffering, sorrow and loss are exhausting. Even the simplest of tasks can seem like mountains to be climbed.
Philippians 4:13 tells us
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
We need his help…
In our times of pain and weakness, God can be our strength. He longs to help us. In the Old Testament we can read of Moses, where he is facing a battle and at one point Joshua and Aaron come and hold up his arms when his strength is failing. All the while they are holding up his arms, they are winning the battle. And God can hold your arms up too.
I imagine for some of you, just coming here today might have been a huge step. If you are facing something that seems too huge, that you just don’t have the strength for, ask God for his strength – ask him to hold your arms up for you.
Jesus can be your strength.
And our third truth – Do you find yourself searching for that ever present God?
God is ever present? Sometimes that might seem laughable.
We may find ourselves questioning… wondering… not understanding
‘How could he let this happen?’
‘I don’t understand God…?’
And there may be no answers to those questions, there may never be, but he is always present – within what we are facing and what we are living with, of that we can be sure.
In Narnia, in the perpetual winter, there were rumours of Aslan’s return – Aslan, the lion, the king, who promised a hope for the future. ‘Aslan is on the move’ people would say. Fleeting glances were seen, snatched conversations were had amongst those who dared to hope even when they couldn’t be sure, when they couldn’t see him.
This is from the book after Aslan is mentioned…
And now a very curious thing happened… the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different…. At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music has just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.
Just as the children experienced in the story, they didn’t see Aslan nor could they be sure that he would return, and sometimes God is like that for us. Sometimes we can feel that we just don’t know where God is, we are in that roaring water the Psalm talked of, or a stark swirling snowstorm, stuck in that perpetual winter with no Spring in sight. But perhaps, just perhaps we might see a fleeting glimpse, we might sense him with us, we might just feel a glimmer of Hope, or recognise a truth we can cling to within that.
Perhaps in a passing sense of him truly being our refuge, a feeing of safety. Or maybe an unfathomable strength in a moment we thought we couldn’t face.
Psalm 56:8 notes:
You keep track of all my sorrows
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.
I know for myself, there is nothing God is afraid of, nothing he can’t face with us. He has been with me through illness, through pain and suffering, through dark times and sometimes his presence, fleeting as it might have been, has been the one thing that gave me the strength to keep going.
He is there in our joy and celebration, and he is there in our grief too. He knows our pain and walks with us in it.
God is an ever-present help in trouble
And my prayer is that you will recognize his presence with you as you walk through your own journey.
I’ve just read ‘Still Emily’ in one sitting, on holiday surrounded by people, and have had to stem the tears pricking my eyes on more than one occasion. Emily’s story touched my heart, not with tears of sympathy but of love, of admiration, and in some sense, of understanding.
Emily began life healthily and despite what could now be seen as warnings, the shock of an NF2 diagnosis at the age of 17 was huge. This condition would go on to rob Emily of her hearing, her balance, ability to walk and more, yet she has refused to give in to the condition, not willing to be defined by it, and continued in her walk with God, perhaps closer than ever might have been.
(Neurofibromatosis Type 2 (NF2) is a disorder that causes tumours to grow on the body and throughout the nervous system. Depending on where they grow they can cause conditions like deafness, severe balance problems, facial nerve paralysis, spinal cord compression and swallowing difficulties.)
‘Still Emily’ is a movingly honest memoir of Emily’s journey with NF2. Of the highs and lows – of which there are many, including the moment at age 17 when Emily’s family said goodbye to her as she lay in a coma, not expected to wake up. Like the times when she has been robbed of her sight for a period as well as hearing, in order to allow her eyes to rest and recover as they work harder than ever. I’m not sure I can begin to image the isolation and fear that must induce.
It is also a story of a family thrown into turmoil, but choosing to respond in love. Choosing to support, choosing to demonstrate the love of God in the face of adversity, united in their faith. Christian faith is of course a theme than runs through the book, not in an ‘in your face’ way, but in a gentle undercurrent, God’s presence and faithfulness the foundation in this inspiring story.
As anyone with a long term condition will know, it can be hard to remain always positive, even with God at your side, and Emily is honest about this, but also reminding herself, and us the readers, to focus on the bit that can be done, not the bit that can’t, as she recalls learning to sit again, able to do 20 mins at first but not the half hour she hoped for. The subtitle to ‘Still Emily’ is ‘seeing rainbows in the silence’ a choice that Emily has made – to always seek the moments of joy: ‘I choose rainbows. Every time. Even when they are invisible, I carry on looking…’
One of the things I love about this book is the truth that we are all worthy, no matter what we can or can’t do. A simple reminder that came to Emily when all she could do to help a fellow patient in hospital was press the ‘call nurse’ button, but in that moment, that was what was needed. This was something I too learned when recovering from back surgery last year, even in the tough times, in suffering and in the moments when we feel useless, helpless and alone, that to God we are perfect and he can use us all, whatever the circumstance.
This is a book about endurance, the faithfulness of God and above all, hope. In endless operations, physio and appointments, in pain, in disappointment, there is still hope.
‘Still Emily’ is available now from Malcolm Down Publishing, priced £7.99.
It’s now just over one year since I suffered a ruptured disk in my back and had surgery to correct it.
Recovery is ongoing.
They told me it would be at least a year and they were right. It has been so up and down throughout the entire year and yet hitting the 12 month mark did seem to bring a realisation that actually it is basically ok. The ups and downs are less violent and the swinging fear of it happening again, and euphoria over new things I can now do again are less pronounced.
I still carry a cocktail of painkillers with me wherever I go, along with my trusty back chair or roll cushion. I have to plan long journeys carefully and take time out from sitting for long periods, often choosing to work at home from the floor of my study, propped up by cushions laying in front of the laptop.
As I write a lone runner zooms past, red, sweaty and clearly enjoying herself. A momentary pang of despair hits me. We are on holiday at Spring Harvest in France. Last time I was here I was doing the same, taking time out of each day to run along the river soaking up the sun and enjoying a new route that hasn’t bored me yet. Last time we were supposed to be here I was actually at home in the post surgery phase. Hard to believe that that was now over a year ago.
There are still things I can’t do, or more perhaps, won’t risk doing. There’s talk of going canoeing this week and whilst I am desperate to go the truth is I just don’t think it’s worth the risk. To get to where I am now, I’ve seen physios regularly, faithfully done my exercises twice, if not three times a day, attended Pilates classes, sat correctly and not done anything stupid, and it still seems any kind of full recovery is a way off. Why would I risk it now? And yet I also don’t want to live in fear, don’t want to be defined by my health. Don’t want to be the boring mum who can’t play football in the garden with the kids, can’t actually change the beds for fear of tweaking something, can’t push a trolley full of food round the supermarket (thank goodness for online ordering). It’s all so boring. People still ask me regularly how is your back? I’d love to say yes it’s fantastic, never better, but the truth is and my stock answer is ‘it’s ok, bit up and down but I’m fine’. It’s actually nice, having moved churches for curacy to be somewhere where many people don’t know I had the op, so I can escape the questions.
But as this is an update, for those that want to know… I am still doing physio twice a day (at home, I have a set of exercises to do), I walk every day, 3 miles if I can, to keep my back mobile and from seizing up, it’s also the only exercise I get. I am allowed to cycle too but I’m not a cycling fan to be honest so walking it is. Clinical pilates is once a week and boy do I notice it if I miss one. The pain is up and down, I still get nerve pain in both legs and numbness in one foot occasionally. It’s varied and changes from day to day. Sitting for long periods produces latent pain (ie: it appears after the event -usually the next morning), and I know when I’ve pushed it too much like lifting something I shouldn’t, or twisting awkwardly and usually the results last for a few days or longer. Paracetamol and Nurofen are my best friends and I don’t go anywhere without them, but I am thankful that the super strength pain killers, which I also carry with me in case of a relapse, have not been used for months now.
However. It’s all ok. Yes it can be frustrating at times and I hate carrying my back chair or cushion with me like some old lady, but it’s all manageable and I still say I wouldn’t change it for the world. Earlier this year I found myself focussing on the pain too much and I made a choice to remember the blessing of it all every time I felt weighed down by the pain. After all the pain is a reminder of a time which I doubt will be repeated. A time with God that was a gift. Such a special time, unable to do much at all except rest in his presence, read his word, pray. It was like being soaked in him for weeks on end. Oh how I miss that.
So now every time I feel the pain I remind myself of the blessing. And a blessing it was. Is even. It has changed my life, my faith, altered my view on so many things, given me more empathy and understanding and I hope helped me to be a better minister.
So for now I focus on that gift, that blessing and move forward…
So, I’m just emerging from the cocoon of life that has been no wifi for over a week. I know, total #FirstWorldProblem but I think we’d all agree that life without the internet is actually quite difficult…
So hence, the blog has been quiet for a few weeks which has frustrated me as so much has gone on that I want to write about, but actually I’ve really needed that time to just focus on family and home, as we have moved house, I’ve finished my training and left my job and as a family left the church we have been part of for the last 6 years.
As part of the series of posts for ‘The Curate’s Journey’ I wanted to write about the emotions of this time and how you might expect to feel but that’s actually really hard as I’m not really sure what I’m feeling. It’s fair to say there have been a lot of tears in the past few weeks but there have also been highs and joys, moments of just sheer exhaustion, and now, well now all the endings are done and it’s just a period of waiting in which I feel a bit numb really, not sure what to feel.
The hardest part is what you’d probably expect – leaving behind close friends. At home this has meant friends we have made over 10 years living in the village we loved, some very good friends in our neighbours who we shall miss dearly, and for the younger kids, leaving behind friends they have known since they were babies and on whose door they could knock for a quick kick about, chat or play without pre-organisation. That village home had a lot of freedom for them as it was a safe bubble in which they knew themselves and were known. For the oldest of course she is at uni, but I think she was yearning for the stability of a home to return to that she knew would be there for her wherever she went, and now that has all changed.
There is much learning to do for all of us.
And at church? well I don’t know where to start really. It is a place that has become home, a family to us, that has embraced us and loved us (as I spoke about in my preach last week) nurtured us, tended to us and prepared us to be sent out. It has been a truly wonderful place to be part of and of course the friends there too are those that I think we’ve found a new level of friendship with, as we have learned to pray and support one another spiritually. Again we are all leaving behind dear friends with whom we have shared huge amounts of our lives.
At college too, I find myself realising that I have grown to love those I’ve spent the last 3 years with. An eclectic bunch as we are, we have bonded over mutual learning, community forming and of course in the bar. I love to learn but I will really miss the company and conversations of fellow learners, as we debate and bounce thoughts and ideas off each other.
But in all that it has been a wonderful season of reflection too as we recognise the amazing things God has done in and through us in the last 6 years, the true friendship we have known and the journey we have been on. The blessings God has given us in that time are too numerous to list and it is with those ringing in our hearts that we step into a new future.
And as we reflect (currently over unpacking boxes – I am sure this could be a spiritual exercise as memories are unearthed, treasures found and in some cases rejected!) we look to the next step. Here too are blessings as we have a gorgeous new home, and an exciting town to explore. The South Downs within 10 mins walk one way and the shops 10 mins the other. The joy of finding a corner shop open all hours within 3 mins walk is an immediate and simple pleasure of town living, and even better a lovely local just down the road (with a menu of 50 craft beers, husband is well pleased with that one). And what’s more whilst new friends are being made the ones we know, and love, and rely on are actually only 20 minutes away.
I know we are meant to be here and whilst the differences remain and the heartache is still there, the boxes stacked up, huge amounts of house admin yet to be done, no gas or wifi, there is a wonderful peace upon us. God has brought us here and he will sustain us. For a short while it feels like we need to huddle as a family, share in the pains and sadness that only we know, and find our new ways together.
I first came across Mara Measor last year when I was getting into prayer doodling. I loved the simplicity of her drawings, yet expressing something quite deep, so I was delighted to be asked to review her book ‘Naked Prayers’ recently (and note to all, do not google ‘naked prayers’ under images as I just did…).
Measor started to doodle her prayers some years ago when in Ethiopia and whilst feeling isolated, her relationship with God, as she notes, ‘blossomed’. Written in diary form with short entries, ‘Naked Prayers’ is easy to navigate through, or just dip into, however it is not an easy read – the book itself came later and grew out of a difficult period in her life. It is in fact a heartfelt journey through Measor’s faith and a severe bout of depression. Reading it feels like being allowed a glimpse into someone’s own personal struggle, and the battles that she has faced with herself and with God.
Having come alongside people with depression I can recognise some of her thoughts in others experiences, but for me too, some of her words just resonate, times when I don’t know what to pray, or what to do, she expresses some of what it means to just be human.
I’m scared right now.
I’m scared of not knowing what I’m doing. Scared of going
for the wrong things. Scared I’m all wrong.
Restore me, Oh God.
Similarities have been drawn with the book of Psalms and indeed some of the words she pours out bear the same expressiveness of David, the pain and hurt, as well as the celebration and joy. Measor’s strength of faith is evident throughout the book and there are lots of scriptural links too. Her honesty amidst pain and turmoil, is sure to help many people as they struggle with their own battles and journey of faith.
The similarity with Psalms also follows as Measor is also a musician and some of the entries in the book have songs to go alongside which can be accessed online via spotify or you can download the album via iTunes. The songs really do add to the book, just taking her thoughts and prayers to another level, but in the same intimate way. Do give them a listen if you can.
Lord, I am a bit sad today.
But I love you with all my ability.
And lack of ability.
Naked Prayers is published by SPCK and is available now, priced at £7.99.
This is the next instalment in a year of guest posts on Joy as part of my year of focussing on joy (my word for the year). This month we have an anonymous post but you can find out more at the author’s blog here. I am so grateful to her for sharing some of her story, and for her absolute honesty and inspiring faith.
**trigger warning, this post contains some of the author’s story of abuse**
Roughly 2 years ago somebody approached me who’s now a very dear friend of mine and suggested I could find my joy in the Lord and that nothing was impossible in him, well at that time I just wanted to tell her where to get off, and what she could do with the Lord’s joy!
Now the reason I reacted like this was because all I could see in my life was utter hopelessness and I felt worthless in the world so there was no room for feeling joyful in my eyes.
The fact that I was severely depressed, had daily suicidal thoughts and rarely even got dressed out my pyjamas to even attempt a new day was a big problem to start with for me.
These problems started from birth as I was brought up in an abusive and violent home and as a young lady I was subject to sexual abuse and horrific rape so how on earth could I even contemplate joy or even know what it was?
The past two years have been a big turn around for me as my dear friend never gave up on me and kept gently dropping little things in about her Lord and saviour and I could see it beaming from her.
I started to find out about Jesus for myself, dared to trust, have faith and began the process of breaking my walls down and letting the Lord into my life in a big way.
I have learnt what joy is and my joy comes from Jesus every day
My Joy comes from looking at how I have been healed in magnificent ways and that the horrors of past don’t define who I am anymore.
My Joy comes from seeing and helping others find Jesus for the first time and being set free from what’s holding them back.
My Joy comes from knowing that I’m a daughter of a king who lavishes his love over me.
My Joy comes from knowing I’m protected and can seek refuge in Jesus.
My Joy comes from seeing how I’ve changed so much and know it’s only because I have Jesus and have put my total dependency in him.
My Joy comes from knowing I have been saved from my tormenting thoughts of suicide and I now know I’m of worth.
I’ve learnt in a very big way that when you put your trust and dependency in Jesus there is so much to hope for, to be joyful about and most of all I can now smile…
So I made this a few weeks ago. I had a rough few weeks dealing with the reality of leaving our church as I think I’d been keeping a lid on it for a while and then it just got me when I was least expecting it. I finished in my job this week so seems like an appropriate time to publish it as I continue to deal with the emotions whilst planning the move on to new pastures…