My therapist once said to me in full confidence, “You are going to be a strong, independent leader who is well educated and takes care of herself.” His encouragement stuck with me so much that I immediately wrote it down and tried to declare it over myself. In the moment, I was at a low in terms of self esteem and belief in what God was doing in my life. The counsellor’s assurance of the veracity of this statement was beautiful, but I struggled to see how that could be true when I could barely lift myself off the floor at times.
Strong, independent and well educated are things I know how to strive after. Our world seems to revolve around the pursuit of making ourselves known by these terms. But taking care of myself is a bit of a foreign concept for me.
For a long time, I thought that in order to be the Lord’s hands and feet, I had to completely sacrifice my own health and well-being for others. I’ve lived much of life with my mental and physical health being fairly compromised, so I thought in God’s kingdom, self-care just didn’t come into the equation, or in the very least we just have to suck it up.
I don’t think it’s entirely untrue that we have to lay down our own comfort to serve others, but there is obviously a point where this becomes unhealthy and detrimental to the Kingdom of God.
Throughout the trauma therapy process, I spend much of my mental energy thinking about the past. I think about what I could have done in the accident in Uganda, why I was spared when so many others passed, why God let such horrific things happen. Knowing that there is so much pain in life is something I have no problem dealing with personally, but when others experience it, my heart breaks. How could God let these things happen? How could He just stand by as death enveloped so many?
When I find myself digging myself deeper and deeper into these questions, I’m often reminded of my therapist’s word of encouragement. I have no doubt that God could use my experiences to make something of my tattered life, but take care of myself? How could I take care of myself when others didn’t get a second chance at life? When I get to move on and they lay wasting in the ground? Why do I get to take care of myself when so many others don’t even get the chance to survive? It feels disrespectful and belittling to not dwell on the faces of the people I watch die.
These questions never really leave my psyche, and frankly doubting is exhausting. But this is the conviction I have come to be able to articulate: doubting His plan and His providence is not the life that we were designed for. And that exhausting doubt certainly doesn’t fit into the God-prescribed self-care routine. Not trusting the glory that God is working erodes the relationship between Him and me. As I seek to hold onto all the images and pains of the past, I am reminded of what taking care of myself looks like. It doesn’t mean I can just drop the struggles of post-traumatic stress. Taking care of myself means choosing joy. It means looking to God instead of looking at my past. Taking care of myself looks like being overcome with gratitude instead of overcome with the thought of global pain and evil. With every evil thing I see and recall, it is my duty and pleasure to see the goodness that God brings. With all the darkness around and inside me, taking care of myself means dwelling on the evermore bountiful light.
It’s far too easy to get bogged down by the pain I’ve witnessed. The evil in the world. The suffering that pervades so many communities. The darkness around every corner. But with every panic attack and flashback, I’ve found it helpful to remember the various things I am equally able to witness. The cross-cultural, life-giving, community-connecting joys of the world, like food, coffee and chocolate. But also the beauty we see all around us. The immense glory that is every sunset and sunrise. The vast intensity of the ocean. The immeasurable beauty of every species of animal. The daunting concentration of the rainforest. The intriguing majesty of every mountain. Nature is more than just beautiful, it is mind-bogglingly incredible. What is even more incredible is the loveliness that is human connection. The bond of two neighbours, the pleasant interactions between strangers. Human ingenuity is astounding. Culture is astounding. Love is provoking.
Dwelling on these things puts my heart into a much different position. I’m poised to view things much differently. I’m not saying that looking at the world glass-half-full is inherently better, but it certainly makes my day to day life a whole lot more liveable.
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