Times of adversity call for an audacious faith

With news of climate catastrophe, imminent economic peril, the threat of another pandemic, and impending global conflict, among other cataclysmic issues that would elevate our anxiety, we have the trouble and dysfunction in our normal everyday lives, then crises within our own existential being that can easily prove overwhelming.

We are living in difficult days, and it is only those with their head in the sand who might disagree.  It is paradoxical that we live in one of the most decadent ages.  Yet, the rich have never been richer and the poorer have never been so poor.  We might suspect that society hides these facts from our eyes.

Never more important is it to live with faith 
that sees us through the worst of our times.

Times of adversity call for an audacious faith.  A faith where we look adversity in its face and have the audacity to live with joy, an impenetrable hope, and a comprehensive peace.  

Never pretending that the difficulties of life don’t exist, 
we overcome then through faith that says, “Let’s go!”

Such a faith refuses to believe in a reality that seems on all levels of reckoning to be overwhelming, preferring to borrow forth a future-state-perception of eventual victory, and in that, a way to keep moving forward through hell via an indefatigable faith. 

Borrowing forth a future-state-perception 
is recognising the hope foisted before us.

This is the hope we all need to survive, 
that gives us belief we can thrive.

With a head buried in the concerns of the day, juggling many impossibilities that seem relentless, our hearts are easily discouraged as we face the perils of burnout and disconsolation. 

A mindset dogged by irrepressible cognitions of ultimate doom might seem far-fetched, but so many people actually experience this inner reality.  We don’t hear this very often because those who suffer these irrepressible cognitions usually feel too alone to realise there could be others out there who suffer just like they do.

If you’re enduring adversity right now, you are not alone!

First it’s about acknowledging at truth just how hard the present circumstances are.  There is no drink or drug that can bring us happiness.  The only happiness possible may be a way ahead.  The way there is through faith.  And it is hope for a better future that keeps us stepping by faith.

Audacious faith fuelled by hope negotiates adversity.

Audacious faith refuses to give up, it keeps going.

~

“Do not grow weary in doing good, 
for at the proper time you will reap 
a harvest of blessing if you do not give up.”
GALATIANS 6:9

~

The image shown below/above is what I saw on the evening of September 22, 2003—and I was utterly broken, and it was only the commencement of my personal, private hell.  This photo was taken 10 years later when my life was better, but I was literally only halfway through my personal, private hell.  20 years later I stand vindicated by my audacious faith through many years of adversity.  Think of your faith journey.  If you’re not all the way through your personal hell, keep going.  Heaven awaits.  And audacious faith is the way there.

What helps when we are NOT okay?

In Australia, at least, it is RUOK? Day today.  The whole principle behind the day and all it stands for is that it is okay to not be okay.  It is a wonderful theory, and so much good comes from it, but the ultimate test is does it work in real life? 

When the rubber hits the road in conflict especially, or when the paralysing reality of loss strikes, when there are no words, or there’s no understanding, or when trauma triggers are destructive, it’s very hard to reserve judgement and not become frustrated or overwhelmed by those around us in their struggles. 

Sometimes our ‘care’ has a use-by date, and because we are all human, we all enter some form of overwhelm, and the carers overwhelm is they can feel like they exist simply to care, and they may miss out on the same care they give.  In fact, that is sadly very often the case.

We ought to be thankful for 
carers of all kinds in our lives.

These are the persons who ‘show up’ consistently and faithfully, delivering a trustworthy care.  How often might one of these be asked, are you really okay?  And how often do they feel they have the space to be really honest?  A lot of the time it depends on who’s asking, but if you’re a carer, chances are the person who is asking is less of a carer, and the carer doesn’t trust themselves into an inferior care—they might simply crack on.

I would hazard a guess and say that if you’re reading this, you’re probably the carer.  And you might lament the fact that whilst your care is very much appreciated, it doesn’t always make up for the fact that you can’t access the care that you would love.  But, of course, this is where a good psychologist or counsellor or psychotherapist fits in.  Indeed, a good psychologist or counsellor or psychotherapist is worth more than their weight in gold.  Then think of the supreme value of a good listening friend!

The biggest issue in this life is the overwhelm we experience just trying to keep up.  And it’s far too simplistic to criticise people for approaching or entering burnout. 

Whilst we typically feel alone in our burnout, 
we suffer in a community of sufferers.

Avoiding burnout isn’t as simple as saying ‘no’ more.  Avoiding burnout isn’t as simple as not pleasing people, because the demands of the modern life are often beyond our seeking of approval from others. 

I know hundreds of fire and emergency services volunteers and these people don’t volunteer to people-please.  They have a community that needs them.  They have answered that call.  And I know so many who have devoted their working lives to being professionals in the area notwithstanding the significant risks they are exposed to as they undertake their work.  They have a community that needs them.  They have answered that call. 

The real test of RUOK? Day is whether 
we are allowed to NOT be okay.

The truth is, community heals us, 
and more often than not it’s all we need.

I can tell you in just the last few weeks, there was a moment when a colleague reached out and gave me a teary hug oozing with empathy.  It was all I needed in the overwhelm of the moment.  Her teary hug softened my anxious heart.  It connected me back to my humanity. 

Another time, it was another colleague, simply speaking in a calmer voice.  I got to reflect over my anxiety, and went back to thank that colleague.  Another colleague has simply looked me in the eye and said are you okay?  I had to admit that I wasn’t.  Half an hour later, when the pressure had died down, I reached out and thanked him for his courage to ask sincerely, for he had shown love.  “No worries, mate, I’ll hit you up next time!” he said with a wink.  And just now our chaplain, a person I’m so blessed to support as his manager has reached out, and in his normal way, a few texts later, I feel revived. 

The community will heal us if we will let it, if we will let it in, if we will let our colleagues, those caring ones, in by dropping our guard.  

We need each other, 
but we must trust each other.

That very first AA meeting 20 years ago

24-hours after I first learned my first marriage was possibly ending (a month later it was gone), I was at my first AA meeting.  It was September 23, 2003.  This time 20 years ago as I track back in my diary, I had no idea the twist my life was about to take.

That first AA meeting was at the end of a day of firsts.  Moving out of my family home and into my mother and father’s house, I’ll never forget hooking the trailer up and putting a few little things in it and driving off, a fair bit confused, trying to be stoic, and more than a little overwhelmed by it all. 

I really did not have a clue what the next few days, weeks, and months would require of me—no idea at all.  Definitely a case of ignorance is bliss. 

Parking and walking through the doors of St Teresa’s Hall in Coolbellup was not daunting because my ex-wife had already summonsed my heart to attention—I was ready to quit the drink.  So ready, years ready.

I remember meeting Graham, an older, wiser, sensible gentleman with much rectitude.  He ushered me over to some little books and I bought one on the spot for $5.  I was introduced to the guy who was running the meeting that night, talked for a bit, then sat down with the other 40 or so people there and then the meeting started.

My mind flittered between being focused on what this was all about and wondering what on earth my life had become—in 24-hours.  The previous night, having received the blunt direction that I was required to move out, I drove aimlessly around for nearly three hours blubbering tears of sheer blindsiding shock and numb grief.  

I didn’t sleep much that night and sleep in that season was a premium.  In fact, the lack of sleep meant my mental health spiralled acutely and the thread of deeper grief caused many nights of cataclysmic anguish.

That first night I was asked if I wanted to share.  I’d heard a number of people share before I was asked.  It seemed that you had the floor for 5-10 minutes so I opened up about my past 24-hours.  I talked about how I’d planned to give up drinking for months.  I was going to do it ‘my way’ but when my marriage seemed to be ending, push came to shove.  I was at the meeting because I had no choice.  I had to act now.  Everyone listened intently.  

There’s no judgement at AA meetings, and there’s also little sympathy, the encouragement is to simply be honest.  I was ready to be honest and, in following others’ lead, I took responsibility for what my life had become.  Little did I know it at the time, but my taking responsibility was going to be a pivotal link to the freedom that lay before me over the days, weeks, months, and years to come.

Driving home from that meeting at around 9:15pm that night there was a mix of relief that I’d achieved something with a mix of a dawning reality of what lay before me.

20-years ago now, I reflect on a time that seems a long time ago but that also seems a close memory.  I want to go back to that version of myself and pat my former self on the back for the work I was only just then embarking on.  

I would need to be strong in my weakness, 
and as it happened, I was.

There are perhaps moments like this in all our lives.  It’s good to go back in our minds and reflect on what we endured and what has made us who we are today.

What does it mean to encourage someone?

 

To encourage, we literally put courage IN another person.  Encouragement puts strength IN to other people.  It is the ultimate act of kindness.  It sees the person and validates them by words and deeds. 

To encourage is to acknowledge, appreciate, recognise, value a person.

Breaking down the word “encourage,” we find that the prefix EN comes from other languages, because commonly the prefix EN means “in” within other languages.  To “en-courage” literally means to put courage in.

When we have been encouraged, we have received courage from others, particularly in the form of HOPE that they instil in us for moving forward in the day, hour, or even minute ahead. 

Sometimes life is like that, isn’t it?  We need the hope of encouragement.  We are easily overwhelmed.  

And then when life blindsides us through loss and grief that comes like a thief in the night, we are backwashed into a corner of emotional and spiritual overwhelm.  Usually for a time, a season, as a new normal is ushered forth against our will.

There are many times in life when we need a person to put courage into us through encouragement.  Hope is the fuel of life and joy and peace.  Hope becomes tangible through encouragement; through putting courage in.  

Think of it this way.  Think back to a time where you were betwixt and between.  You resembled the epitome of liminal space.  You were beside yourself.  You struggled to make sense of your reality.  In this place, you were invited into your truth, but perhaps your truth was too stark.  Your reality was too raw for you to handle.  

There are realities in life that ARE too hard, and yet, when those realities linger, and we cannot escape them, month after month, we can gradually learn to face the all-too-real reality our life has become.  

This is because we are in a grief process, 
and grief isn’t linear.

We don’t go through the five or seven stages of grief, one after another, but we go through the stages spasmodically, as if the stages occur chaotically, intermingled in the grief experience, even on a daily basis.  It isn’t uncommon to experience two, or three, or four phases of grief in the one day or week.

I’ve had days in deep grief where I started out in the land of acceptance, only to finish the day in the panicking fear of denial, bargaining, anger and depression.  

One of the hardest realities in grief is being in a state of acceptance, knowing that the sadder stages will inevitably return.  The acceptance stage doesn’t last until we inevitably arrive there months or even years later when the emotions are no longer hijacked on a whim.

At times like these, those who are withstanding intense periods of loss and grief will often find themselves bereft of the resources to continue on, and what they need is courage to be put back into them.  In essence, they need encouragement.

Suffering teaches us our need of encouragement.  Those who are suffering do not need advice, they need encouragement, and the best way of encouraging a person is opening space to listen to them, and to validate their experience. 

We commonly think encouragement requires words; 
NO.  Encouragement requires ears.  
Encouragement requires presence.

Only the person who has suffered, and who has received the encouragement of another—encouragement as stated immediately above—has even the slightest comprehension of how to heal in a way that they will be a helper to another once they have been healed.

To be encouraged, is the gift received from another, who has put courage into us.