Explaining the story of my struggle with self- injury, whether it's one sentence or that entire portion of my life, is never easy. For a good amount of time I spent years just building walls around that portion of my story- it was a habit, a coping mechanism that I could control whenever I chose to. Self injury became the piece in my life where I could cope with the loss of Michael, and to supposedly feel relief from the pain that I had felt in losing him. I'll remember that year, that Thursday night, for the rest of my life. I'll remember the months that followed when this dangerous and somehow wonderful addiction began. It's never been something I've been keen to talk about.
Until about two weeks ago in creating my testimony.
Until one week ago in front of a church of 15 people in Quebec.
It might have only been two sentences in explaining my journey toward God's grace, but I still can't seem to fathom that the words came easily and freely from my mouth. I've always been one to want to hear the stories of others, to walk alongside them, but not really one to sit down and share my own. In the past week? I've done more of that than I have ever thought I would or could. It's nights like tonight, when I take some time to reflect and digest, that I can begin to realize the distinction between the bones of the story that exist in the present with me, but the words that are given to God.
Truth be told? About 3 minutes before I stood up last Sunday? I wasn't going to identify myself as a cutter. It's not the easiest thing for someone to do. But in those three minutes I just felt this pull from God to share that portion of my story. It's almost as though God was just saying, "That's who you are. It's who you are. Why hide it?" More importantly, "Why hide him?" And so, I thoroughly believe that Michael was in that small church with us last weekend. God whispered to him because he knows how nervous i can get, and God provided me with the language. 3 minutes later I was telling a community of 15 that I used to cut myself. Out loud. Honest and raw.
I'm coming up on almost 3 years free and I think that piece was the final step. God knew the heart, knows the occasion and the meaning, and so empowered me to take the leap and start explaining some of that past. Everyday I work through the temptation, I mull over the waves that come to me in times of defeat, but that's a part of my past. Not my present. Do the scars still hang around? Sure. Are they all because of Michael's death? No, there's more there, but that's not the point. The point is that God allowed me to feel confident and well equipped to share that side of my story with people here at Arcadia and abroad.
This week in Quebec and last night in Montreal have really been an eye opening experience for me. Each chance that I am given emits something new for me to feel, or a new thought for me to consider. The community of believers that exist in Quebec might be little, but their heart and determination is something that has truly astonished me. Their drive and compassion is just something to be seen, and God can be felt for miles in the hearts and homes of those people.
It was a beautiful opportunity to serve with them and be part of a greater movement. It's beautiful to be able to provide the word and truth of God with other people who GET IT. That's not something I get to experience here at home and so I greatly appreciated that chance. As broken as much of Canada may be, it was beautiful to come, to serve, and to pray for restoration and rescue in a country that needs God's hand. It was wonderful to hear the stories of other individuals, of personal ministries, and just to feel God is working in the hearts of those believers across towns. It's through those small steps and conversations that God's kingdom is further spread.
This week pushed a lot of us out of our comfortable space, beyond our norms, but I think it brought each of us that much closer to understanding Jesus. We were given this opportunity to spread the Kingdom of God. While steps were taken to provide for the town of Lachute, I trust that the kingdom has been spread in each of us as well.
I'm still processing this weekend. Still processing the truth and feelings that God has stirred within me, but I'm compelled to be courageous in moving forward. Each of us saw the broken on a different level and in a different light this week, but the broken exist. The broken exist and we're all part of that population, at some point, we're all broken. Broken because God has even more restoration to provide us with. The trick to being broken is acknowledge the truth, see the pain and the fallen, but to rise above with faith in Christ.
Sitting in front of someone I trust and explaining a battle with self- harm, or standing in front of a small congregation identifying that same story, is never going to be easy. It's only now after 3 years that I'm beginning to see the reason for my brokeness. It's not about me. It never was and never will be, but the words and the scars might speak somewhere else, to someone else's heart. And that's the beauty of God's power. Courage to recognize how we've been equipped by God, is exactly the courage we need to share the story and aid in restoration.
I've been broken, but I'm all in.
Reclaim. Restore. Rise Above.
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