The One With Joy

Alternative title: The One Where I'm Candid in Canada, (not that I haven't been being honest before now and this has now become an obscenely long title so I should think of another one). Glad I went with the new title, eh? Anyway, for those who have been following this blog from the beginning, which I think is mainly my mother and my friend Sarah, you may have noticed that some of my pre-Canada posts have disappeared, and that the ones which have remained, have a twinge of doubt and melancholy. I made the decision to delete a selection of posts because reading them back made me profoundly uncomfortable about a time when I was really struggling both spiritually and emotionally. Then, I rocked up in Canada. A combination of brilliant sunshine, prayer, discovering my corageous streak and making a bunch of epic friends all meant that my time in Canada has been overwhelmingly wonderful and, I'm going to say it, perfect. In fact, with the exception of some events from earlier this week and a time back in September when I cried in the middle of LobLaws, I've felt happy my entire time of being here.

Bus banter.

But, I do have some regrets. Namely, I regret the sheer number of times when I have prioritised banal things over church and God. It means I've missed opportunities to get to know God better and to get to know His Canadian Kingdom-builders better. Fortunately, because God is gracious and never gives up on me, He has blessed me with the friendship and occasional racial bullying of the wonderful Christina. Therefore, I've had fantastic exposure to a life lived with grace and love at its core, someone who is so kick-ass when it comes to the Gospel - it is my privilege to call her friend.

I am very good at pushing Christians away; church scares me and intimidates me, I doubt my "Godly Credentials" when compared with other Christians and let myself become defensive when discussing faith and related issues with my Christian friends, driving a wedge between them and me. But, when I was at my absolute lowest, I still relied on God. How could I not? I couldn't function without him! I spent every waking moment of the day crying out to Him, sometimes in my head, as my eyes glazed over to the real world I was supposed to be in; more often than not, literally crying and wailing and screaming for hours on end.

Moving to Canada filled with fear and relief in equal measure. Fear because, what's calming about country-hopping? Relief because, I wanted to distance myself from what had been a rubbish year.The fear was the biggest emotion, so I stuffed close to fifty Bible-passage cards in my suitcase and they were the first thing I unpacked upon arrival. And they're everywhere in my room. To the untrained eye, they've been blutacked liberally around my room. But to me, they're just at the right eye-level and angle to act as a sort of divine smack around the head. I found a church that showed me extraordinary kindess and love. And I was happy. So so very happy.

I didn't doubt my happiness or take it for granted, but I was accutely aware that I wasn't growing in my Christian life. I stopped reading my Bible, my prayers were sporadic, and it took being attacked in a demonic dream pulling me to a place of rock-bottom in the early hours of one morning to make me re-realise just how much I needed God. I don't claim to be a good Christian - I never have and I never will. Things burst out of my mouth or my fingertips; I don't show enough kindness or patience; for a Theology student and a Christian, my Bible knowledge is appalling; and when I make to-do lists, God doesn't often come top.

This evening, Christina took me to her church's Healing Clinic. Ominous name, but it's a wonderful thing. It is what it says on the tin: a walk-in clinic where you receive prayer for healing; physical, spiritual and emotional.

Nine years ago yesterday, I became a Christian. I'd gone to some random Christian event run by an organisation I had never heard of. The event was called Soul Sista, run by Soul Survivor. I was with a group of girls all older than me, all at a different church to me, and I didn't know any of them at all well. It came to final meeting of the day and the speaker, Beth Redman, had just preached up a storm. Ironically, I can't remember a word she said! Sorry, Beth! It then came to a ministry time. There I was, sat cross-legged on the Watford warehouse floor, when I suddenly felt the most phenomenal all-consuming love and massive presence. My youth leader came over to me and I realised I was crying.

"What's the matter, Hannah?"

"I think I've found Him."

"Who?"

"God."

She smiled.

"That is the most amazing and brilliant thing I have heard you say all day!"

I didn't find God, He found me.

When I look back at the nine years that have followed, they have been some terrible times and some glorious glorious times. God is good, all the time.

Back to the Healing Clinic. I walked in to the room with my designated pray-ers, and I immediately felt the Spirit of God resting in the room. I was given a word by the lead guy, Jacques, which was Colossians 1:26. To paraphrase it: Christ, who is in me, is the hope of glory.

Christ is in me and He is the hope of glory glory glory! And after that time of soaking in God's word, being reminded of how God's promises to me are "amen" and "yes" and how much he has totally lavishly adorned me as His daughter; and I just can't stop smiling. And, more importantly, I feel joy. Pure, total, underadulterated, God-given joy.

Because it's not about how much I pray or how I often I go to church or how many Bible passages I can recite, it's about knowing and living in the love of God.

And joy is increased by the craziness of Zak's Diner dinner with Christina and Josh. Even if they do both lie to me, like psychopaths...

Being bullied with brownie sauce.

P.S. Canadian keyboards have the " and @ keys the opposite way round to British keyboards. My brain has now learnt the Canadian way so that typing on my British laptop leads to much cursing. Christian cursing...