This past month was very hard for me. What made this particular month so hard was a combination of being very far out of my comfort zone, intense spiritual warfare, communication issues, differences in opinions, physical ailments, and dealing with past memories attached to strong emotions. It was hard, messy, painful, and at times ugly. I felt like I had taken several giant steps in the wrong direction; maybe even slid down the whole mountain. Currently, I’m in a place where I trust that fruit will come but the hurt is still too raw for me to see how at the moment.
Butterflies remind me of God’s love. So when one of the first things I saw In Jakarta’s airport was a projection of a butterfly flying on a random wall, I got super excited. When we walked out of the airport in Bali several hours later, we followed a path of buttterfly shapes in the sidewalk to the parking. We got to our accommodations and I was pleasantly surprised. We hadn’t heard the best things about it so I was prepared for much worse. As we listened to our host talk about the month, I quickly realized that this month was going to be very stretching for me but I was still pretty excited.
Then came the first Sunday and a close call with a panic attack while at church. Originally, I thought the butterflies were a sign that this month was going to be amazing but it quickly became obvious that it was because I would need that reminder of His love quite often. From then on the fact that I was greeted in the airports with butterflies became a reminder that not only is God with me when everything’s going well but He walks with me in the hardest moments.
That Friday, I was unable to help with ministry because of a severe migraine. I was disappointed because I had been hoping to share a dance especially since they were performing some traditional dances for us.
The next day was a rest day. Since I was feeling better, I went into a touristy part of town with other teammates. We did a little bit of exploring and a lot of hanging out. One of the others got a tattoo. We were offered a discount if more than one of us wanted to get one. I decided to get one I have wanted for several years but told myself I couldn’t get until I had a car and had paid off school loans. I’m thankful I did because God knew how much I would need a visual reminder.
Church came again. While I didn’t have a full out panic attack, it was pretty close and I broke down. I spent the entire service hiding and trying to process what was going on. My teammates prayed with me. After the singing, one came and sat with me. As I talked with her, she was able to speak life into me. Several painful memories came up and I felt safe enough to share them with her. It was messy and painful but I trust that it was another step towards healing. I kept looking at the tattoo and realizing that it’s all the moments like this that gave it meaning to me.
Tuesday, we went over to a church member’s house for a sleepover. Early the next morning, I woke up very sick. I ended up going to the hospital the following day. There they gave me anti-nausea medicine intravenously because they didn’t think I’d be able to keep it in long enough to make a difference. They were probably right. They monitored me for a while before releasing me with meds for nausea and diarrhea. It was 5 days before I was completely better and even then I did not have much energy. This also meant I again missed an opportunity to use dance in ministry.
Sunday came again and with it the beginning stages of yet another panic attack. Instead of just getting mad at myself this time, I also got mad at the enemy who was trying to make my month so miserable. I decided to fight back by sharing a dance with the church. I was still recovering from being sick and wasn’t sure I had the energy to complete the dance but I began to feel a strength that was not my own. In that moment, my dance became a sacrifice and declaration of praise to God that no matter my circumstances, He still loved me and He was still worthy of all.
Other than no more sickness, the rest of the month wasn’t necessarily easier. In fact, one of the messiest moments was yet to come. But my outlook had changed. I chose to look for the more; that which revealed beauty, grace, and overcoming love.
A semicolon indicates that there is more to the story; the story doesn’t end here. The cross was the darkest, most ugly moment in history. If that was the end, there wouldn’t be a story worth telling. But it isn’t the end. There is more and it’s the more that makes life worth living. Brokenness sharpens our desire for beauty and an encounter with the Divine. It’s those hard, painful, ugly moments that make God’s grace so amazing and His love so astounding.
