On 12 December, the UK headed to the polls for its general election, with the Conservative party securing 365 out of 650 seats in the parliament, giving Boris Johnson and his government the mandate to “get Brexit done”.
I had just come out of a season of serving as a worship leader and coordinator in my campus ministry. God moved powerfully and the students grew in their intimacy with Him, and in the knowledge of Him.
However, with great growth came great challenges—in the form of relational conflicts.
29 September, 2010. That was the day I realized I was burned out. As a young Christian undergraduate, I thought that I was immune to burnout. After all, wasn’t I doing everything “right” by serving in multiple church and campus ministries every week?
One moment I was standing in the middle of a room at church, and the next I was being half-carried out and sent home in a car. My right kneecap had suddenly felt too unstable to support me, as if it were about to be dislocated.
After that, I was unable to walk without crutches for about a month.
We hear self-motivating phrases like “You do you”, “Just be yourself”, and “Live authentically” all the time. I’ll be honest, I have probably said a few of them myself. As this whole authenticity/just-be-yourself idea has gained momentum, I have found myself reflecting . . . what if the “self” we’re told to be is broken?
Life is hard. We face broken relationships, disappointment, discouragement, ostracism, illnesses, and day-to-day things like the frustration of squeezing with the morning crowd, assignments and chores that won’t complete themselves, nights when we straddle between exhaustion and insomnia—the list is endless.
I began graduate school for counseling excited for a wonderful new life season. I’m glad I didn’t know what was actually coming. That winter, I became very sick with an illness that doctors couldn’t diagnose. While battling flu-like symptoms and intense dizziness, I ached for my old friends and family who were states away.
Even though I was following the Lord’s leading into this new routine, I felt insignificant. My behind-the-scene role in motherhood seemed less appealing to me. I felt that God was not using me much in His Kingdom anymore.
I was mid-conversation with my mom when she dropped the latest story on me.
I had thought we had passed the phase of accusations. I had thought that it’d been long enough that my grandmother would want to let go of whatever she was harboring against me.