My Psalm 116: Resurrection Psalm

Psalm 116 :5-9

The Lord is gracious and righteous, 

our God is full of compassion.

The Lord protects the simple-hearted.

When I was in great need, He saved me.

Be at rest once more, oh my soul, 

for the Lord has been good to you.

For You, O Lord have delivered my soul from death;

my eyes from tears,

my feet from stumbling,

that I may walk before the Lord in the land of the living. 

Hi. It's been a while.
Almost six months to be exact...
And to be honest, I hadn't meant to take so much time to figure out how to say what I needed to, but as the weeks turned into months, I realized that I needed to find some answers for myself, and for even just a little while, they needed to be all mine.
But I'm here now, and if you're reading this, so are you.
And I am so thankful.
I am ever grateful for all the people who have called me, messaged me, texted me just so I would know that I was not alone. I will never be able to encompass all the gratitude I feel for your patience and understanding as I figured out how to put myself back together. 

Because this year nearly killed me.

God brought me to the end of myself. He brought me to the end of everything I knew and seemingly tossed me into the abyss of the unknown. I lost all of my joy and my hope in an ocean of sorrow that I seemed to sink deeper and deeper into, and by the time I realized it, I was too weak and fragile to find my way to the surface.
I struggled under the weight of crippling anxiety.
I started to believe that I would never be able to return to Thailand because I was so broken, so incredibly heartbroken.
I didn't know who I was anymore, because I couldn't be who I was before the abuse happened, but I also couldn't be this mess of a person, this shell of a woman who would burst into tears over the smallest thing.


But slowly, so very slowly I began to remember.
I began to remember the promises of God.
I began to remember how incredibly faithful He is.
I began to remember how deep His love is.
And that even in my dark and lonely pit of depression, He would find me.
He would rescue me, and He would restore me.
And I would be a new creation again.
If only I could find the strength to look up...


I thought this year would kill me.
But it didn't. And I can say I am that much stronger for it, even if I sometimes feel so fragile still. I was so tempted to give up on God, to give up on Thailand and the plans He has for me there. I was so tempted to give up because I was tired of having to wrestle with myself, with my family, with God, with my friends, with my thoughts, with every lie spoken by the enemy. I was so very tired.
I could see January looming before me and realized there was no way I could get to Thailand. I started to feel comfortable here in Calgary with a good job, the most precious niece in the world, and the few friends who stood by my side in my darkest night. I always knew I would get there eventually, but I came to accept the fact that it might not be anytime soon.
I released myself of my own expectations and I decided to stay in Calgary for a while.


But God asked me if I would trust Him again,
and I said I would.

He asked me if I was ready to go back,
and I said I was...n't, but if He said I was I would believe Him.

He asked me if I believed He would provide,
and I said maybe...

He asked me if I would book a flight,
and I said yes, but I have no money...

So He gave me some money.
And today, with trembling fingers,
 I booked a flight.



On February 8th, 2016 I will be on a one way flight to Bangkok.
I don't have any plans,
I don't have any money,
I don't have anything figured out.
But I do know without any doubt in my heart that it is time.
It's time to remember what it's like to feel alive again.
It's time to remember how to be free again.
It's time for my heart to get some closure.
It's time for me to go home.



I hope that you will join me in prayer for my time there and for what God has in store for me.
Pray for my heart as I prepare to leave Calgary, because even though I know it's time, I am scared to walk forward into another season of so many unknowns.
Pray for my family as they have to say goodbye to me once again, and don't understand why I am going when I don't have anything figured out.
Pray for finances, and provision, and open doors, and favor.
But most of all, pray for peace that surpasses all understanding.

Becoming Caleb

"With the wind at our backs, and in the strength of the Lord,

We will rise on the wings of the dawn. 

We're gonna take back all the enemy has stolen."

Emotional abuse. 

One definition of such is this:

"Any act including confinement, isolation, verbal assault, humiliation, intimidation, infantilization, or any other treatment which many diminish the sense of identity, dignity, and self worth."

For the last year I've looked up that definition more times than I could count. I didn't even need to look it up now to recite it, I had it memorized so that I could speak it out loud every time I questioned whether or not that is what really happened to me. 

One year ago today, exactly at this moment, I was suspended high above the Pacific ocean flying from Seoul, South Korea to Vancouver, BC where I would make a connecting flight to Calgary. 

The tidal waves of sorrow seemed to keep coming the farther I flew from my home in Phuket, Thailand. The end of an incredibly difficult season, and the beginning of one that would turn out even more difficult.  

The end of the dreams I had thought were coming true.

The end of myself as I knew it.

The fact that it has been a year since I left my home in Thailand seems absolutely ludicrous. 

How on earth does life move so incredibly fast? 

When I think back on all I've walked through this year, 

there are so many details lost in the fog of this season. 

I was so numb to everything around me. 

I don't even remember getting off the plane in Calgary.

What I do remember though, 

are moments of the deepest sorrow my heart has known, 

and moments where I felt a fear unlike anything I've ever experienced. 

And I remember joy. 

Joy finding it's way through the cracks like a stubborn, sunny dandelion poking it's way through the cement of my heartbreak. 

A joy that refused to let me go even when I was ready to give up on Jesus. 

I remember sitting on a porch in BC watching the sun disappear behind strong mountains with tears in my eyes. 

I remember trying to tell my mother why I needed time and space away from Calgary, and instead, finding myself erupting into uncontrollable sobs and her holding me, crying with me.

I remember hands running through carpet as I swore into the 4am darkness, so angry at God for not protecting me. 

I remember raindrops on my windshield, countless sleepless hours, and I remember hysterical laughter with my best friend while we were supposed to be listening to a sermon at church. 

And in-between all of those moments are the grey areas. 

The moments where I was face down in my own sadness, to exhausted to look up. 

I stayed comatose. 

Numb, not feeling joy or pain.

Not letting myself remember, not letting myself even think of Thailand for fear of the crashing waves of grief. 

Face down on the ground, I only thought about breathing in and out. 

Keeping myself alive. 

Surviving. 

When I finally decided to look up, 8 months had passed and I hadn't moved from the place I fell the moment I touched down in Calgary. 

I realized I would have to get up and move myself if I were ever going to move on from that place of brokenness. 

The thing is, 

abuse changes everything. 

It changes how you think about yourself and everyone around you. 

It changes your perspective on situations and it changes how you react to those situations. 

It changes you. 

And that's where I want to land with this blog. 

The change that I've undergone and who I am going forward. 

I was so mad at God for so long.

But what I didn't realize as I stewed in my anger was that God was orchestrating something bigger than I ever imagined for myself. 

In the bible, Joshua is known as one of the heroes of the Old Testament. 

As the assistant of Moses, he would go with him to be with the Lord in the tent of meeting. 

The bible says that after Moses finished speaking with God, Joshua would remain in the Presence of the Lord. 

From his youth he was primed to take over the leadership of the Israelites. 

When the Israelites came to the borders of the Promised Land, it really was a no-brainer that Moses included Joshua in the 12 he sent to spy out the land and the people who lived there. 

However, quite often we skip over Joshua's right hand man, Caleb.

There are few verses about him in the bible, but what is said greatly defines his character. 

25 After exploring the land for forty days, the men returned 26 to Moses, Aaron, and the whole community of Israel at Kadesh in the wilderness of Paran. They reported to the whole community what they had seen and showed them the fruit they had taken from the land. 27 This was their report to Moses: “We entered the land you sent us to explore, and it is indeed a bountiful country—a land flowing with milk and honey. Here is the kind of fruit it produces. 28 But the people living there are powerful, and their towns are large and fortified. We even saw giants there, the descendants of Anak! 29 The Amalekites live in the Negev, and the Hittites, Jebusites, and Amorites live in the hill country. The Canaanites live along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea and along the Jordan Valley.” 30 But Caleb tried to quiet the people as they stood before Moses. “Let’s go at once to take the land,” he said. “We can certainly conquer it!”

Numbers 13:25-30

20 Then the Lord said, “I will pardon them as you have requested. 21 But as surely as I live, and as surely as the earth is filled with the Lord’s glory, 22 not one of these people will ever enter that land. They have all seen my glorious presence and the miraculous signs I performed both in Egypt and in the wilderness, but again and again they have tested me by refusing to listen to my voice. 23 They will never even see the land I swore to give their ancestors. None of those who have treated me with contempt will ever see it. 24 But my servant Caleb has a different attitude than the others have. He has remained loyal to me, so I will bring him into the land he explored. His descendants will possess their full share of that land. 25 Now turn around, and don’t go on toward the land where the Amalekites and Canaanites live. Tomorrow you must set out for the wilderness in the direction of the Red Sea.”

Numbers 14:20-25

Caleb was a man of truth. 

He was a man who stood up for what he believed in, and he was a man who trusted God. 

He trusted God enough to go against what everyone else was saying and risk his life for the promise laid before him. 

He was a bold man. 

A man who had seen God show up and knew without a doubt, He would do it again. 

Caleb was a man who believed God is who He says He is. 

My friend Ashley, who did the World Race with me and also lived with me at SHE, returned to Thailand back in September. She spent some time traveling around before she started language learning in Bangkok. 

During her travels, she went to Pattaya to visit the Tamar Centre. 

The leaders and some of the staff were praying for her and told her that they saw her as Joshua. 

Someone fierce enough to lead people into the promise laid before them, and someone with faith enough to march around Jericho as many times as needed. 

But she couldn't do it alone. 

She needed to be praying for someone to come alongside her and be her Caleb. 

She told me this during a Skype call about a month ago, after I told her how much I felt called to Thailand 

and that I didn't know why, but I felt an extremely large part of that calling was to just come and be by her side and support her. 

Jesus is so faithful. 

So. 

I am going back to Thailand. 

I will be leaving in January with the intent to be there until Jesus says otherwise.

I had a friend who told me when I first got back that at the end of all this, 

on the other side of this season, 

my faith would be deeper, my joy would be deeper, my intimacy with God would be deeper, 

and that I would be able go deeper with God than I ever had before. 

And I can say without a doubt that that is what God has been building in me this last year.

I always said I wanted to be someone who believed God no matter what the circumstances were,

 and I've been in situations where God had to be my cloud by day and my fire by night. 

Though I have been wandering through this wilderness for the past year, 

God was with me. 

He never left me, even when I doubted. 

And I see now the perseverance He was building. 

I had a choice to make when I got home.

I could decide to give up on Thailand and move on to something else, 

like school or pray into missions elsewhere. 

Or.

I could choose to pick myself up off the floor and with a new fire, and a new passion, press on toward what I know is my calling. 

Thailand is my home. 

And I've come to the realization that the best things are always worth fighting for. 

So that's what I'm going to do. 

I am going to fight for my dream of seeing Bangla road shut down permanently. 

I'm going to pursue my dream of seeing Thailand be the first nation completely set free. 

I'm going to fight for freedom until my last breath. 

And just like Caleb, 

I'm going to believe that God is who He says He is. 

Out of Hiding.

"And oh, as you run, what hindered love will only become part of the story."

I used to be a story teller. I used to believe in telling my story. I used to think that that was my calling. I think somewhere deep down I really still believe those things. But I've been paralyzed by fear.

It's snowing tonight. The kind of snow that floats to the ground in big sticky clumps and melts on the pavement. It seems to dance as it falls, tricking even those whose hearts are set on abhorring winter into thinking it's beautiful. And here I am, trying to figure out how to push myself into the most uncomfortable territory. Writing for me used to be therapeutic. It used to heal wounds I didn't know I had until I sat down and wrote them out of my soul. But now, now writing is so full of fear.

Because I've been hiding. I've been intentionally hiding from intimacy, from community, from my whole life and everything that used to make my heart pound with joy or excitement. And for a time that's what I needed. For a time, I needed to hide my heart away so that no one could touch it, not even those closest to me. I needed to be in a space all my own where I could make my own decisions and my own plans, and have not a single person give me input or their opinion. Not because I don't care about those people or think they don't give sound advice, but because I couldn't be told what to do or how to be or how to heal. After prolonged verbal, emotional, and spiritual abuse, I couldn't have anyone speak into my life because I suddenly didn't know how to trust anyone around me. Survival mode. Fight or flight. And I was so very tired of fighting.

The thought of using this space as a place to process my season or to write my heart out in words seems absolutely terrifying. But I've been feeling a call to come out of hiding lately. Although it is paralyzing and full of fear, I know that this is just another layer, another part of finding who I am again.

I am still devastated by what happened in Thailand. I am still so heartsick that even the mention of Thailand from an unknowing person sends a sharp knife of grief through my heart. And most days I still fight to remember who my Father is, and who I am in His Kingdom. There are so many days that I feel swallowed by my humanity and just want to (and often do) swear at God for not keeping me safe, for not protecting me from those who set out to crush my heart. But sometimes, the clouds part and I laugh in spite of it all.

I am finding snippets of joy in the midst of the immense heartbreak. I am also finding the snippets of joy that I stumble upon are not always found where I think they ought to be, and that they are much deeper caverns than I could have imagined. Joy doesn't always look like happiness, or laughter. Joy sometimes looks like ugly crying on the floor of my shower until I hear the One voice that can drown out the rest, and just knowing that He loves me. That He knows what He's doing. That He's still in control and that maybe He doesn't need me to understand my whole situation right now. Sometimes joy looks like me worshipping and singing songs of His faithfulness when I don't believe that He truly is faithful. Sometimes joy looks like me struggling to be content with not knowing any of the answers, and choosing to believe that He sees my tears and hears my heartbreak.

Sometimes joy is found in scraping up the tiniest bit of courage and sitting down to write after months of being in self assigned solitary confinement.

I know I've been distant. I've been unavailable, and closed off. I've been on lockdown. And I am sorry if that has left you wondering if I care. I do. I am all too aware of my intense need for community and to figure out how to trust those in my life again. I am asking you, giving you permission to pursue me. Text me a thousand times until I reply. Call me, harass me, make me respond to your friendship. Because I so value you. I SO value your friendship. And I want to be there. Now is the time. I am going to try to push myself into being more vulnerable. And I will try my very best to come out of hiding and meet you in the daylight.

One Year

One year.

365 days. 

Oh, how much can change in so little time. 

I didn't sleep much the night before. 

I was so hopeful, so ready to step into my dreams. 

I remember lying awake, staring at the ceiling that lay beyond the dark of the room, 

a perma-smile on my face just thinking about how close I was. 

Flight after flight, hour after hour, 

and as the plane descended into Phuket International Airport, 

I wept with joy. 

There were some miscommunications and so there was no one there to pick me up at the airport, 

but nothing could touch my joy. 

I was home. 

Finally. 

The hours turned to days, and the days into months

and I fell more in love with the nation beneath my feet. 

But as my heart grew to love more, 

there was a darkness that pushed back hard. 

It didn't take long for me to recognize the signs...

Not three months before I arrived in Thailand, I had ended an abusive relationship

and I knew the darkness creeping in all too well. 

They knew how to throw words like knives. 

They knew how to manipulate my heart. 

I could see it all happening, but I felt powerless to stop it. 

I decided to forgive. 

I decided to have grace and patience and love for them. 

I could see the pain they were going through. 

I could see how hard it was for them.

So I took bullet after bullet until I found myself all alone one night, 

weeping on the cement floor of my shared house.

I let the full realization of the situation wash over me. 

I sank into my heartbreak and I prayed what I hadn't dared to pray. 

I asked God to get me out. 

I begged Him to rescue me. 

I cried and I cried. 

I couldn't believe what I had gotten myself into. 

Didn't I know better?

Did I not just rip myself from a relationship just like this?

Shame on me.

Shame on me for believing them, for trusting them.

I didn't know how to separate the lies from the truth anymore. 

I forgot who I was because I let them define me.

And even at the end, 

I prayed for ways to honour them. 

I prayed God would give me an open door, but that it would truly honour them. 

Even at the end I wanted to do the most loving thing for them. 

And I will never, ever regret that. 

When I first got home, 

I didn't eat.

I didn't sleep.

I didn't feel.  

I was comatose. 

And every moment since then has been a struggle as I try to remember who I am and what makes me good. 

I have tried to block out their words about me, about God, about life, 

but when someone who was supposed to protect you and cover you decides to abuse you instead, 

it's hard to come back from.

And that's scary for me to put out there because I've purposely kept rather quiet about what really happened in Thailand, and even more silent about how I'm dealing with it.  

I'm better than I was...

I see with more clarity than I did.

But I feel like I've only just begun the long road to emotional and spiritual healing... 

Now, one year later, this is where I'm at.

One year from the day I stepped into what would become the hardest season of my Christian life.

Instead of being on a beach celebrating the first anniversary of my move to Thailand,

I am sitting on a hard Starbucks chair watching a blizzard rage around me.

Sometimes I regret leaving.

I couldn't ever truly express how it broke me to get on a plane and leave a place that holds so much of my heart.

Sometimes I feel like I bailed too soon. 

Like maybe if I had just stuck it out one more week, one more month... 

But the reality of that would have killed me. 

I was already barely alive as I stumbled through airports and into my bed that I had left just six short months before. 

As I was watching the snow fall today,

I couldn't help but think of how clean everything around me looked. 

How present the silence is when you walk out your door and into the snow. 

It deafens the chaos. 

It is heavy, and causes you to move a lot slower, 

but in the end, 

it makes way for new life. 

And I suppose that's what I'm waiting for... 

To remember what it feels like to be alive again. 

Those moments that take your breath away, 

the moments where you have to stop and take a mental note of everything and everyone around you so you never forget that feeling. 

The moments where you truly feel alive....

One year from the day that I left for Thailand, 

I can barely remember who that woman was. 

The woman that was so full of hope and promise and joy. 

And most days I'm not sure where to go from here. 

But I know that eventually, 

even if it feels a million years away at this point, 

I will be okay.

If nothing else, 

I have to believe that this too shall pass. 

And that everything - even a hot mess like me - will be okay again...