Disclaimer: It speaks on spirituality. I’m not looking to debate or offend or preach or anything. I’m simply looking to give testament to where I am at and some of the process that got me here. My beliefs are part of who I am, all I ask is you accept it as that.
Breakforth Canada was this last weekend. Already there some of you might be scratching your head wondering what Breakforth is. With several thousand people in attendance and it is pretty much like having 4 massive church services in a weekend, alongside of 5 breakout sessions with renowned speakers and authors on a vast number of topics. While it is somewhat designed to be a weekend of spiritual growth and renewal for members of the Christian community, it is (as far as I know) non denominational and not only for believers. It is open to all and like I said, covers a vast number of topics. It was my third time attending and I still absolutely love it. Already when people ask me how my weekend went, I struggle in knowing what to say because I honestly find myself unable to appropriately sum it up in a few words and explain it sufficiently. The simplest way is to say that I think I now have peace where I didn’t know there was turmoil. That I think I have found prayer again and with that I so hope I have found my relationship with Jesus again as I truly believe that prayer is one of the keys to a relationship with my Lord.
I suppose to fully explain what this weekend was for me I do have to go back a little ways- and I should warn you that it might not really make sense to you how it all fits together but this is how it worked for me.
I’ve been struggling with my faith. I know it happens, that we’ve ups and downs in our walk with Christ, and it so happens that my current down has been a long one. Ever since Mike died I’ve had a lot of anger in me at God (which I felt guilty about at first, until I was reminded that anger is ok because it is an honest emotion and God wants us to have honest emotions in our relationship with him. Look at the Psalms! David is angry in them, but that doesn’t lessen the Lord’s love for him) and have had serious trouble connecting to Him. I still believed, that He loved me, that He died for me and rose for me, that my sins are washed away because of His love for me. That I have never questioned. But there was anger and a loss of intimacy that is such a valuable part of being a Christian.
In my social work program, one of the big things they talk about is how important it is for us to be ok with our own issues before we begin to deal with other peoples issues. If my parents were divorced when I was 8 and I’m not over that yet, how can I help someone deal with their own divorce or their parents divorce? Well because of this, most social work students have almost a hyper self awareness, we sit very in tune with our emotions. I heard something in one of my classes that was a kick in the butt for me and after struggling for a few days I called our youth pastor and set up a time to go in and chat with him.
Two days before our meeting I decided to attend a young adults service at a church in the south side that I’ve been going on and off to since the 11th grade (which is like 8 years ago!!!). I had been avoiding it as Mike and I used to go together. That service he spoke of atrophy and the importance of doing things even after we sometimes feel like we don’t want to be doing it any longer. Two days later I sat in front of my youth pastor and told him that I had fully intended to quit doing youth following the upcoming retreat but realized at that service that I needed to see out the year at least. He asked why and I explained to him my lack of a relationship with God and my lack of prayer life. I admitted that over the last 6 months I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’d prayed, and one of those was because on the last retreat we had to pray with the kids from our car. I told him that I didn’t think I was a good example because how can I set an example when I can’t even boast of a strong relationship with Christ. I then opened up and explained that it was more than just my faith, that I didn’t think I could boast of a strong relationship anywhere, that I felt distant from everything and didn’t know what to do. As I talked, he listened and then did what I was unable to do. He labelled it. He summed up my feelings into one word. Disconnected. It was the perfect word. Disconnected from God. Disconnected from my friends. Disconnected from my family. I simply had pulled in and stopped allowing myself to make connections to others.
As soon as the word was on it, it was like I had already turned around. I liken it to the first step in an addiction, admitting the addiction. I put a word on it and realized what I’d been doing. Good friends I had before Mike’s death had been shut out. I would make new friends, hang out and get to know them, but as soon as they really started to matter, I would simply stop contacting them so that they wouldn’t get past that wall I was beginning to build. I realized that I had made some major mistakes in my friendships and to be honest am still not sure I can repair them all. I realized I needed to change how I approached my family life. And most importantly, I had to get reconnected to God. He then told me that the coming weekend I would have to pray with my cabin, just in case I wanted the heads up- and I so appreciated it. He explained that sometimes the most important thing we can do when we are struggling with our faith is to be honest about it to others. I left our meeting with much to think about.
I did pray that weekend. But what is even more amazing is I felt somewhat comfortable doing it. I’ve never been great at prayer, especially aloud, then lost it almost completely within a short time after the burial. Yet somehow, at the retreat, I was comfortable praying with my cabin. I attributed it to having 5 days to think about it, but it stuck. Since then (early Nov ’10?), things have gotten a bit better, I honestly would almost call that a turning point for me. I’ve been happier. I’ve begun singing again. I’m attending the church on the southside more regularly. And while I can’t claim I’m praying daily or reading my bible consistently, I have prayed and for me that is a mountain climbed.
Then this weekend happened. I don’t know if I can explain it very well but I’ll try. It started with a fantastic speaker and some great worship on Fri night, but it was a struggle for me because of memories and I felt claustrophobic in the midst of a section. So Sat morning I joined some other friends sitting in an area no so central. Morning session was great again, speaker and worship. Then it was off to break outs. Now the breakout sessions are picked when we register in like October, so I can’t remember at all what I’m headed into anymore. Turns out my first two are same guy. Interesting. At the first session he spoke of the importance of making the time to meet with Jesus. He explained that prayer is a conversation, not a lecture (a phrase I’ve heard before but no less powerful to be reminded of it). Then he explained a method of meeting Jesus at our own personal place of prayer so that we can sit with him and talk. I was highly intrigued (I took some serious notes on the prayer steps, ask me about it if you want!). Second session, after lunch, he tells us that he is going to break down the two things that cause us pain. The first is the lies that we believe. After speaking about it for a bit he invites us to pray with him, and to go to our meeting place and ask Jesus what lie we’ve been believing about ourselves. He tells us to take this lie, to take it to the cross, to lay it at the foot of the cross and ask Jesus to help us be rid of it at its roots, the roots going to whatever event planted the lie in the first place. As he wraps up the prayer, looks up, sees a woman in tears and straight out begins to talk to her. He asks her if she is ok, if she found her lie and if she was able to bring it to the cross. She says no and starts to cry harder. He then walks her through the steps again, him on stage, her in her seat in the middle of the room, and asks her if she has put it at the foot of the cross. Yes, she has she says. Can she see the banner of what God has to say to you? No she answers, she can’t see anything. Moments later, another attendee raises their hand and states that they can see this woman’s banner (meaning a message from God) and asks if they can say it. Well over the next number of minutes, more than 30 people piped up and told this woman what God had written on her banner, all of them falling into a few specific themes so there was no doubt that they were being used as messengers to get it across to her. Finally the speaker looks at his watch and states, well, I was supposed to talk about the other cause of pain, but God has hijacked this session again so I guess we’ll leave it there. It was a powerful prayer moment.
I went to half of my next session, met up with the other youth leaders for dinner then a girlfriend and I joined my other friends (a couple of guys I met at my first Breakforth actually) again for the after dinner session and concert. After the session (which I loved the worship but didn’t like the speaker at all. Scare tactics are not ok in my book), I turned to my girlfriend and said to her, I really feel like you should be prayed for, can we go down to the prayer room. I’ve known her for years and have never said something like that to her before. She looks at me and says, I don’t really like being prayed over, but as long as you come with me ok. So we went downstairs, sat down with a prayer volunteer and she was prayed for. However as we left the room I really felt it wasn’t enough yet so I bit the bullet and said to her “I don’t know if that was what you were looking for, and I’m not comfortable really doing it and I know you aren’t comfortable getting it done, but can I pray for you as well? I really feel like there is more that needs to be said”. Somehow she agreed and we sat down, and after a bit of awkwardness on my part, I did just that. By the end of it, I had a certain peace that had been growing in me all day. It just felt good. So we went upstairs, enjoyed the concert (so good- Paul Baloche, Brian Doerksen, and a couple others that were great too!) and called it a night.
Then today (almost done I promise) I go to my first session of the day and am uncomfortable as soon as I walk into the room. The session hasn’t started yet, but there are about half a dozen people around the room standing there praying. I nearly turned around but made myself sit, there had to be a reason I picked it so I had to give it at least 5-10 mins. Well when it starts he explains that the session is about taking some time with Jesus and if we need to write while we do it, or draw then we should. Well imagine my intrigue at the thought of writing my prayer. Not so comfortable with prayer. Really comfortable with writing (as you can see), well lets try it... I can honestly say that by the end of that hour, I felt more peace than I have felt in a year and a half, likely longer. I felt like I had sat and bared myself to my Lord and it was an amazing feeling. I left the session feeling like the weight that had started to shift in November and start to shake yesterday, it had finally fallen. I felt like I had found prayer. Like I had found my relationship with God again. And with that, like I had begun to rediscover a contentment I had forgotten. Like I had taken a step towards being comfortable with who I am again. Like I had just taken a major leap towards becoming the person that I want to be. The last breakout was pretty good, and the final main session a reminder that the rough times in our lives build us up to be better people, led into by some amazing worship again.
So how was my weekend? Well, like I said above, I found peace where I didn’t realize there was turmoil. I found prayer when I had nearly given up on it. I found contentment I had forgotten existed. I found friendships that I’ve taken for granted, and realized others that, to be honest, I’ve likely wasted time on trying. I found Laura and have begun to bring her back. I dare say, my weekend, was great. It was a gift.
