Whoops!

Have you ever had that thought at the end of the day where you think, " I didn't handle that well.", or "I should not have responded that way" or even, "I missed an opportunity to talk about Jesus".

I'm sure you have as I certainly have. Now imagine you've been living and following Jesus for 3 years as one of his disciples. Over the 3 years you have become close friends with him. He spends a lot of extra time with you, and you love being with him. You'd do anything he asked to show your love. But at the toughest, most challenging time of Jesus' life when HE needed YOU to stand up for him, to be known as one of his closest friends you lie. Not just once, but 3 times! Your fear of being caught out and your own self preservation is a bigger driver than your love. Jesus had even told this was going to happen. Had he given you the heads up in order to prepare you? It seems he was right. Even though you could have been bold, you feel flat on your face. Imagine how overwhelming your feelings of failure would be at the end of THAT day!

Peter. The man who was called by Jesus "The Rock", turned out on this occasion to be a little pebble. I'm so grateful for Peter. For his passion and conviction, but he is like one of us. He failed. In a monumental spectacular fashion. No-one else really knows about my failures unless I share them. Peter's however, are recorded in all 4 Gospel accounts for all of us to read again and again.

Now, imagine you're Peter who then sees Jesus after the resurrection. You're thrilled, overjoyed and excited. Then you remember what you did. That awkward, embarrassed feeling rises. You may not be able to quite look Jesus in the eye. If you do, you find yourself looking away.

You find yourself alone with Jesus and you're looking down at your feet ignoring his gaze and he asks you if you love him. You note he's reverted back to calling you Simon. It's like you're back to square one. No longer  Peter "The Rock". You get a little frustrated, but through this short chat you tell Jesus you really do love him.

Nowhere is it recorded that Peter says sorry to Jesus for what happens, bit rude, but if you go back to the account of Peter's denial it says that after his lies he goes and weeps bitterly. There we see him repenting, asking for forgiveness and in light of Jesus death and resurrection Peter can meet his teacher and friend as his saviour as well.

At the end Peter's chat, he is recommissioned to follow Jesus and is given a prophetic word again, this time for the toughest time in his own life. Church tradition has it that Peter was crucified, but as he felt unworthy to die the same way as Jesus he asked that he be killed upside down. Peter really did finish well!

Jesus and Peter - what a story that not just talks about God's love, mercy and faithfulness it shouts it out from the tallest tower and it's echoes and sound waves give us hope and a way to find our relationships restored. Our failures and mistakes never causes the Father to turn us away. The cross of Jesus and the love of the Father means our repentance leads Jesus to turns to us with a smile on his face and says "Come on then, follow me!"

A harvest of Joy!

Today I was reading a post online about season's of sewing and reaping. As I read prayerfully I was reminded of God's promise.

"Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy" Psalm 126:5

The important ingredient is faith, without which it is impossible to please God. To have faith that God is faithful. In the days, months and years of choosing to trust that God will fulfil His promises to us is tough. It is a choice where we say, or sometimes just whisper, "Even though I can't see it, you have said it, you ARE good, so I'm going to wait expectantly for you to come through".

Now don't get me wrong. This isn't something that I find easy. Far from it! I have many times when my natural eyes and circumstances scream louder that nothing is going to change. It doesn't look like it will ever change and I stay there for a bit. I have not got this one sorted. However, I don't stay there. I take my frustrations to the Father and He is so kind and merciful. He is not uncaring and dismissive. After a while, (sometimes it's a bit longer than is helpful!) I am able to come back to the place of faith.

How? Sometimes it's choosing to worship. Sometimes it's choosing to give thanks. At other times I read a blog from a Christian writer. It can be through sharing my pain with a close friend, but I do come back to a place of faith. I remember who God is, and not focus on my circumstances.

The verse I quoted earlier is from Psalm 126, which is a Psalm of Ascent. These were said by the people as they travelled up to Jerusalem to celebrate one of the Jewish Festivals. It is also believed that Priests recounted these Psalms as they climbed the steps to the Temple.

This Psalm celebrates God's faithfulness to His people, how He restored their land and their position of God's chosen people. After years of slavery, exile and living under the rule of ungodly leaders their song was to give thanks and praise for God's faithfulness. To honour Him for His provision and a was a testament to His character.

Those who choose to sew, even though it is costly, will reap an abundance from Him.

Taste And See that the Lord is good!

8 Years ago I spent an incredible 3 months in Australia. I look back and it is amazing to recollect how it all came together!

I was coming to the end of my time at Youth For Christ in Gloucester and was wondering what next. I felt like I wanted a break, do something completely different for a bit. Hmmm, how about Australia?
Was it a passing thought or a pipe dream? At that point it certainly felt like a Mission Impossible!

As I began to think and pray about this I found that I was being bombarded by things to do with Australia. I'd turn on the TV and an Australian was talking, I'd read the news and Australia was mentioned I oftern spend time in coffee shops on my own with my Bible and journal to help me take some time out with the Father. I recall one afternoon where a pair of young lads were sat close to me and were talking very loudly. I couldn't help but catch wind of their conversation and when they mentioned Australia I said to the Father, "This is becoming ridiculous,OK, OK, I get the hint!"

I contacted the National Centre of British Youth For Christ to begin enquiring if there was the opportunity to volunteer in Australia. Over a number of months conversations were had and it was agreed that I would be the first person from British YFC to go and volunteer with Australia YFC.

I then had to focus on fundraising. I needed money for flights, for my board and food and then some spending money. By the time I was ready to go God had provided £1000 more than my minimum figure. Just incredible. So not only was I able to bless those I was with I had plenty of money to be able to enjoy my 3 months.




As with any mission trip there were challenges, but what an adventure I had. How privileged to work alongside people who were passionate about seeing young people in Australia come to know Jesus and grow in their relationship with God. I was welcomed as part of the family and visited some truly beautiful places. I fell in love with the Australia. Can you blame me?

18 months ago I went back to test and explore options to be able to move there for a longer period. It didn't work out as I hoped. But the Father's words to me then were taste and see that the Lord is good and His words today give me hope for my future:

"I know it didn't work out how you thought - but it's not finished yet. There are more trips ahead and so many more adventures. My travelling Angels are waiting for the time set aside for these adventures.

There are new people, new places, new memories. And you will bring my name and Kingdom with you!"

Well, the only way I'll be there will be God working things out. Here's to my next Australian Mission Impossible Papa!

20 days on the Father's Faithfulness.

From tomorrow our church are starting our annual 40 days of fasting, split over two 20 day periods. The first 20 days are particularly for areas where we are seeking breakthrough, change and alignment in areas of our lives, for ourselves and others in church.

We're linking with the Hebraic Calendar being the year '5779', and as this is the last year of the decade focused on seeing there's a definite slant and emphasis on vision. 20/20 vision!

I spent time journalling asking the Father how I should spend the first 20 days, was there a verse, promise or theme I should focus on? I felt Him ask me to spend some time remembering His steadfast love and faithfulness and then blog on His revelation.

"Remember the stories of my faithfulness, 

In my word, in your life and the lives of others. 

Find them and share them!" 

Collect them and re-collect them."

A few weeks ago I shared in my homegroup that I was struggling with feelings of failure during this season of preparation, frustration in the time of waiting on God's intervention, wondering how things were ever going to change. The following morning on the way to work I saw a van that said, 'Mission Impossible' on and knew it was God grabbing my attention to encourage me. God doesn't just dabble in the Impossible He delights in demonstrating His love by doing the Impossible again and again.

On Sunday morning someone shared a prophetic word of encouragement. That God sees our heart, and our struggles. But to remember that He is the God of the impossible and I remembered the van from a few weeks. So I don't know all the stories that the Holy Spirit will direct me to over the next 20 days, but I'm sure many will have looked like a...

  

Tenx9

There is much about the night of 10 May 2012 that I have never shared. The night when my next door neighbour's home exploded and I had to run from my home for fear of being killed as my home disintegrated around me.

So what better time to share this than at Greenbelt, in a marquee in front of over 100 strangers? A group from Belfast called Tenx9, were running an evening. The premise is nine people have up to ten minutes to share a true story from their life. The theme for Saturday night was Change. With the encouragement and support from a few friends I decided to share some of my story.

Writing about the event meant remembering, walking through the night and the subsequent weeks. I remembered aspects that I had forgotten. It stirred up incredibly painful memories and emotions. To write around 1400 words took approximately 12-15 hours, around half a packet of tissues and a few more hours digging through some of the few belongings that had been returned to me. It has poked at another layer that I need to bring to Jesus and has encouraged me to write more about some of the emotions and issues I worked through, and am continuing to.

On the Saturday evening I began to feel nervous and anxious around an hour and half before the session. I took myself off and spent time in praise and prayer. This was one of the toughest talks I have undertaken yet. Every time I had practised my story I had wept. A lot! I am so incredibly thankful to Jesus for His peace, presence and words of encouragement. As I worshipped Jesus, He told me to ,'Take Courage, go in the strength you have.' 

I was incredibly nervous as I waited for the evening to begin, and searching for my friends to come and sit with me. As the evening began I realised who I would be speaking after, Ian Mobsy and Nadia Bolz-Webber. Authors and regular speakers at various events. Great, not much to follow. 

Without further ramblings, here is what I shared that Saturday night at Greenbelt. 

I heard a loud bang and looked up to locate its origin. What I saw was the top right hand corner of my lounge wall collapsing and I could see out onto the road. I thought the house was going to fall on top of me. My ‘flight’ response kicked in as I dashed out my front door praying, ‘God just let me get out of the house!’

I ran out onto the street. My next door neighbour’s house had been reduced to rubble. Those pictures you’ve seen from war-torn Countries where homes have been decimated by bombs? That is what I saw before me. I wanted to go back into the house to get some things whilst I could. But a neighbour said no-one should go into either of the houses that were next to the house that was no rubble. There was a girl standing on the rubble. I don’t know how she got there. The joining wall of my neighbour’s house had disappeared and I could see inside. All three floors were exposed. It felt like an intrusion into their privacy. I couldn’t look back at the damage of my home. Something stopped me. Like if I didn’t look at it, it hadn’t happened.

People from the street came out to see what was going on. In a daze I walked past inquisitive neighbours who were trying to find the cause of the loud bang, that shattered the peace at 6:40 on a Thursday evening. I sat on a wall at the end of the road. A stranger asked what happened. ‘My next door neighbour’s house collapsed- it’s just a pile of rubble’

I had run out of the house with nothing but thankfully I was wearing boots and a coat as I had been planning to leave to see some friends. The stranger asked if I wanted to borrow a phone to call for some help. The only phone number I could remember was my parents, who live over 100 miles away and at the time were on holiday overseas! He took me into his home so I could contact friends online.

Through Facebook I explained to my friend Paul what had happened and asked him to come and pick me up. As I waited for him to arrive the emergency services appeared. I spoke with a fireman and asked if he knew if I could get back into the house. He didn’t know, but said he’d ask. He never returned with an answer. Someone offered me a can of beer. I drank a few sips and left the can on the floor and walked away.

I don’t know how long it was until Paul picked me up. A policeman asked if I wanted to talk with the local press. I spouted something out, the Policeman clearly thought I must be in shock. I stated adamantly that God had saved us pointing to the sky recalling a rainbow I’d seen. He probably thought, ‘poor lass’, he told Paul to take me home and give me a sugary tea. ‘I don’t like tea!’ I exclaimed and stormed off.

Paul drove me back to his family home where his wife Nia greeted me with a hug. She fed me then took me shopping. All I had were the clothes on my back. The shock numbed any interest in shopping. My need overtook the luxury of choice. I didn’t care what it looked like. I just needed some clothes, a toothbrush, underwear, pyjamas, deodorant and socks.

The next few days were clouded in shock and denial. I felt numb and couldn’t take it in. Even after seeing photos of the explosion in the local and national press. And there was my dress, hanging in the spare bedroom for all to see as the back wall of the house was no longer there. The authorities reported that it was an explosion from a gas leak. A year later the investigation was closed – they never found the source of the leak. I’d contacted lots of people and explained to them what had happened. I spoke to my parents and they were coming down to see me. I asked them to give me a few days first.

 I spent time imagining where I’d go to collect belongings once I was allowed back into the house. The items that were precious to me. I knew exactly where they were, what I’d collect if they just gave me 5 minutes.  Paul took me back to the house and a structural engineer went in to collect my car keys. But he couldn’t tell me if I could go back in yet. Come back tomorrow. They could tell me more then. The following day when I returned to the house my hopes were destroyed like my neighbours home. It wasn’t safe for me to go in to retrieve anything. The house was standing up on 3 breeze blocks and it could collapse at any time. No, no, no this can’t be happening. The emotions overwhelmed me as I realised it had all gone. I’d lost everything. I walked away and felt pain. Just pain. I had never felt so much pain. I did not know what to do with it. I didn’t know how to show it, I wanted to let it out but did not know how.

I’d been out of work for 6 weeks. Benefits did not cover all my outgoings so at this point I had no contents insurance. I was renting the house but the majority of its contents were mine. I cut outgoings to pay my bills. I didn’t factor in the possibility of my next door neighbour’s house exploding. So what now?

I spent a month living with Paul’s family. They provided me with shelter, food and a safe place to rest. It was a distraction to help deal with some of the practical things. I had time with friends and family. But so many were wondering how to help me. People reflected their own fears back to me. They wanted to fix it. They wanted to help. They wondered how on earth they would deal with it if it happened to them. But I didn’t know how to deal with it. Besides, they didn’t have to deal with it. I did.

There was an occasion where Paul suggested one evening we watch a film, ‘Nanny McPhee and the Big Bang?’ he enquired. I laughed and said why not. I was able to laugh but had not yet really been able to cry.

 After a month living with Paul’s family I moved into a small furnished flat and began to grieve. I had to do this on my own. It was so raw, too raw to share. So much of what we think life should look like was not where I found myself. I knew I shouldn’t compare my life to others, but given the circumstances… I had no job, no family here, no insurance and no partner to comfort me. I didn’t really know where to start. How do you begin to live again after nearly dying and losing everything as well? I had no framework to work with. Where do you begin? Wondering how to rebuild life. Did I even want to rebuild? What was the point in rebuilding, it could all go tomorrow? There were times when the pain was paralysing. Would it ever stop hurting? People said, At least you’re alive’ I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be in the rubble. I imagined being back in the house and not running. Damn my flight response! If this was life I didn’t want it. I was just surviving. Just get through the day. Rebuilding would come later.

The house was demolished a few days after the explosion and workmen sifted through the rubble and collected some items for me to retrieve. Some people wonder about how much God is involved in the details of our lives, but as I picked up some of the cd’s that had been retrieved I laughed and cried as I saw some of the titles. One by Lynden David Hall, entitled, ‘Medicine for my pain’ Another by Blur entitled, ‘Modern Life is rubbish’ And the debut album by Shed Seven called, ‘Change Giver’ The explosion is not all of my story, but I’d forgotten how big an event it was, sharing this here has reminded me that it has changed me. I am not the same. It sometimes it feels like I’m talking about someone else, did that really happen to me? I’ve shared details I have never shared before and it has helped me to own it, this did happen, it is awful and my life changed with a big bang.

Walking but not sure where to.

Over recent weeks I have been asked, 'What do you want to do?' or 'What is your dream job?' These are questions that I have not had an answer for. Well probably not an answer that most people want to hear!

There are, however, some things I do know.

I go back to when I was 14 years old, I went to an Oasis tour event called, 'Dirty Hands'. This subtle title was a National Tour encouraging and challenging the Church to stop watching and get involved in building God's Kingdom. At the end of this meeting I stood and made a commitment to God. To share His love and build His Kingdom. I was known as a Christian at School and found it easy to talk about my faith. I thought this was normal! I couldn't understand why others wouldn't want to, or were shy?

Not quite 10 years later I attended Mission Training College where I was given the opportunity to try lots of different things. One was Schools work. I fell in love with it and spent over ten years being involved in youth work. After finishing at The Rock I was already in a place where I felt I should be moving on from focusing on youth work. A few ideas were brewing. And then; the explosion.

I now recognise that so much more went than just my belongings. I realise I'd experienced an intrusion where dreams had been stolen and I can do something about it. I understand that when we suffer an injustice where the enemy has intruded, we can present our case before God. We can point towards the enemy and give an account of what has been taken in complete confidence that we will receive justice AND compensation. And that is where I'm at over my dreams.

As I look back, I am beginning to remember why I stood as a 14 year old. Why I went to Mission College and why I went into youth evangelism and youth work in Churches. Jesus. His love and how he transforms life. Is there anything else worth giving your life too? And after all I've experienced I can say with more certainty that nothing else will do. What else can I give my life too?What else lasts? What else can bring hope amidst rubble? Can replace beauty for ashes? It's still a heart's burden. To share and show Jesus love and to support others as they follow Jesus. Perhaps I needed to look back and remember before I could look forward.

So my answer to the question, 'What is your dream job?' I want to be involved in Building God's Kingdom. Seeing many come to Jesus. Receive healing, freedom and experience the spiritual life we were all designed for.

I don't know any other details, but God has declared He knows the plans He has for me. Plans to prosper and not to harm me. Plans to give me a hope and a future. So if you want to know the rest of the answer, ask God. That's what I'm doing!

Does My Story Matter?

During my weekend at Greenbelt I found that I talked about what had happened to me during the last 16 months to many people. Mostly because I saw people who I hadn't seen for a while. During the weekend I recalled aspects of my recent past that I had not thought about for some time. I remembered points on the journey and saw the enormity of all that I had experienced. It has been intense and painful. I came away from Greenbelt with a burden to begin to write about it. I've been prompted about it for a while, but have been unwilling to allow these prompts to compel me into taking action.

I have much to cover, circumstances of my birth, surviving meningitis, my adoption, family life and the argument at the age of 23 when I was told about my adoption. (Yes, really!) This is before I get to the events of the last 16 months. But it has been these months during which everything has been stripped away forcing me to examine these deep roots. It has pierced emotions and raised questions, doubts and uncertainties. God has shone his light on lies I believed about myself, fears and wrong beliefs.

There are 2 reasons why I didn't want to write about my story. Firstly, it would mean examining some areas that are still very raw. I didn't want to write about them, think about them and tear at the scars. The second is more complex. Was I ready to make myself this vulnerable, to share some of this stuff, because it could fall on deaf ears, does my story matter, and this is the biggest hurdle for me, what if at my most vulnerable I am again rejected or ignored?

But this is the litmus paper of the last 16 months. To see and know deep in my spirit that no matter who may come or go in my life, from the moment of my conception I have been loved. That fears of rejection are based on lies and I refuse to let them back in. To shout from the rooftops that every step of my life I have been accompanied and accepted. That Jesus has never abandoned me.  So no matter who does or does not read about my story,(and actually I know at least a few people will read it!)  Jesus will read it. Jesus will sit with me as I write it. And he never gets bored of me sharing it. He says, Michelle your story matters.

Best Laid Plans...

I had intended to blog about my time following 40 Acts during Lent. I had intended to focus on other things. But life got in the way. Life sometimes hurts. A lot!

During Lent I had volunteered to help with a gathering of Streams Teachers at my church on a Saturday. http://www.streamstrainingcentre.co.uk/ I was going to be looking after the teachers by making sure they were 'fed and watered' throughout the day. No problems. But during this day I was 'whacked' with my stuff. My emotions were smashed around and I finished the day having a good old cry with one of the teachers sitting with me. There was nothing she could say to change the situation. It's those questions for which the answers have yet to arrive. During the day I had heard how some of my questions had been answered for other people. God had answered them. He hadn't answered me. And it hurt. A lot!

I gathered myself together taking the many tissues that lay beside me to the bin, and with a deep breath turned my attention to cleaning up the kitchen. Just to get things tidy and get out of there. With the help of other people this was done in good time. I put my coat on to leave and then I noticed it was gone. One of my rings.

With the help of Tony and Dwee we searched around the kitchen and emptied the bin to try and find my ring, but it was nowhere to be found. The only pieces of jewellery I had after the house explosion was my 2 silver rings. Not expensive. They weren't presents or family heirlooms, I had bought them myself. 30 minutes earlier I had sat on the sofa weeping besides a kind lady, looking intently at the ring that was no longer on my finger. The ring had markings on it that resembled rough waves. I had sat there reflecting on how my life was like that ring. Choppy, rough, overwhelming. Because my emotions had been stirred up, a storm was raging inside me. And now that ring was lost overboard.

I went home with wearing my last piece of pre explosion jewellery. And like the bang from my next door neighbour's house last May something went bang inside me. All the intense emotions I experienced came flooding back. Firstly numbness, then shock. My ring had been on finger 30 minutes earlier and then it was gone. Heart wrenching grief. Such pain, such deep, deep pain. I wept and wept. I had lost so much last year and losing my ring had ripped open the wound to expose soft emotional tissue that needed to see the light. I cannot explain it. In life I have not experienced much loss so have little to compare it too. I had no words. Just floods of tears that was closer to wailing. No sound came. Only pain.

The following day at Church, I could not contain the pain. I simply wept. I could do no

Days 2 - 3

Day 2 - Valentines Day

The Act today was focused on sharing love with people. I had already prepared a Valentines playlist on Spotify, which I shared with single friends. This seemed to go down well with quite a few people. A simple but thoughtful gesture on a day that us singles can sometimes find pretty tough.The rest of my attempts to demonstrate love and friendship were not so smooth! I discovered the potential pitfalls when you attempt to to do something on the a spur of the moment. I had an idea of driving to a friend's to surprise them and catch up. I decided on making a quick phone call, as they live around an hour away, and after offering to come and see them.They weren't too bothered, and would happily see me in a couple of weeks. Ah! Ok...

Then a light bulb moment. I could surprise a teenager from Church! Moulin Rouge was being shown at our local cinema. I could arrange with her parents to pick her up and treat her for Valentines. It's something I would have loved someone to do for me. But the light bulb blew. She already had plans... So what to do?

I ended up treating myself. A pair of shoes I'd seen a few months ago and tried on, but couldn't justify the money as I didn't really need them, but today I saw they were reduced to £10. So I did the 'love your neighbour as yourself!'



Day 3 - Being Thankful

We were encouraged to consider different ways that we could say thank you to people. I often meet with a friend who isn't a Christian but over the years has been a constant and grown into a close and valued friend. So during one of our regular coffee and chats I made a point of explaining what I was doing and said that I wanted to say thank you for their friendship. Thank you. It's such a simple word but I wondered when the last time I had specifically thanked this friend for being in my life.

From there I went to see another friend who knows what I doing for Lent. When they asked me how I was finding it and what I was doing today I was able to respond, 'I'm loving it! And you're part of my act today! We were encouraged to say thank you. So this is me saying thank you. Thank you for making me part of the family, for your friendship, encouragement and for all you bring to our Church
community at The Bridge!'

In some ways these two days sit nicely alongside each other. I love and am immensely thankful for the people I share my life with. In all probability, if you're reading this now, that includes you. So with that in mind...

40 Acts For Lent

I wondered what to give up for Lent this year. I toyed with TV, Twitter and even coffee before I decided on joining in with the 40 Acts for Lent. It’s run in association with Stewardship UK. Each day you are given ideas as to how to bless the people and to be generous to others. Check the website out here:

http://www.40acts.org.uk/

I have decided that to continue to live out my faith that God will provide for my needs, and not to be overcome by fear I am going to be generous during Lent. I don’t have loads of money at my disposal but I will be following the suggestions each day and we'll see what God does!

Day One: Generosity Kit Prep

Today we were challenged to put together a ‘kit’ of things we could carry around to be able to bless others. I really didn't know what to put in as at the moment my contact with people on a day-to-day basis can be fairly limited. So using the inspiration of others I chose some tissues, some pens, and some mints to carry in my bag. 

Towards the end of the day I had an appointment and ended up having to wait about 15 minutes to be seen. As I was waiting someone else came in. As they sat down in the waiting area I picked up on them sniffing. I offered them a tissue and ended up giving them the pack. She’d had a cold for a couple of days and I had bought the tissues with menthol so these were perfect for someone struggling with a cold! What a great start, God can use my little pack of tissues to be a blessing to others.