When I was 18, I didn’t want to get a summer job. So, I spent the whole summer in the slums of India with a group of strangers. We ate together, served our neighbors together, prayed together, laughed together, and just did life together.
When you don’t have air conditioning, wifi, or consistent electricity in the 110+ heat, you get to know people really quickly. I think by the end of the summer, we only had 12 spoons for all 18 of us to share as we ate cereal every morning before leaving for our ministry sites. You would just be given the spoon someone had just used…clearly this was before the global pandemic that changed all of our lives.
All of that to say, Christ centered community is unique, beautiful, and life changing. Let me keep it real with you though. It is also incredibly hard, exhausting, and ALOT. Every part of you is challenged.
Picture it: 13 college aged girls, 5 college aged boys, a married couple from Canada, and our other two leaders who were only slightly older than us, all living together under one roof. As I mentioned before, we didn’t have air conditioning, wifi, or consistent electricity. Homes in India are open to the elements due to the extreme heat. When it rained, our hallways would become giant slip and slides, which was so much fun. However, that also meant that we took turns sweeping out the dust from our common living spaces each morning. When it was hot, the heat would just sit on your chest like a brick. We were constantly dirty and often hungry. It wasn’t always, but it was beautiful too.
Several times a week after dinner, we would all gather in the largest room that doubled as our living room. We didn’t have furniture, it just had mattresses we would sit on. All of us would take up all the space on the outside with little room to spare. Sometimes we would just share stories of the day. Sometimes we played games. Unanimously, the nights of worship were a favorite. We would sing together and pray. We would pray for the people at our ministry sites, our neighbors, our hosts, and each other. Most of the time our electricity shortages would be at night, so often these nights were by candle light.
I was the youngest of the team and I was sometimes treated like that. I am also the youngest of my family though, so it didn’t bother me. Very quickly into our time, I felt like I was such an imposter. I felt like a david among so many giants in faith. I felt like the worst missionary/christian ever.
My friends all had huge wonderful stories about leading people to faith, and overcoming great things, and being called to be pastors or missionaries one day. I didn’t have that. I was just an 18 year old ball of anxiety from Iowa that played soccer.
One night, okay one early morning around 3am, I was sitting on the roof with three of us “younger girls” and most of the guys. Because it was cooler on the roof after the sun went down, we often would hang out on the roof at night. This night was no different. All of the responsible kids had gone to bed much earlier in the night. I don’t even remember how it came up, but it was that night with that smaller group of people, that I finally opened up about my struggle with anxiety. I told them how my brain spins the truth and how I am constantly thinking and over thinking. Through my tears, I told them everything.
After I was done, it was quiet. Then, breaking the silence, one of the guys asked me, “have you ever prayed to be healed.” It sounds like an insensitive or evangelicalese (yes I made that up) but it wasn’t.
All summer up into this point, a common topic was about praying big things. Not only praying big things, but believing that God could make those big things happen. But, so far that summer, we had prayed for big things and big things happened. We witnessed things that could only be explained by God’s hand. I have already gotten too wordy, so I’ll save this part for another blog. Asking that question was completely normal at that moment. I answered honestly…no, I had never prayed for my anxiety to be healed. I had only recently been able to identify how I felt was anxiety, so praying for it to be healed had never even crossed my mind.
Right there, on a dark night in Dwarka Sector 8, in New Dehli India, my friends circled me and we prayed and prayed and believed that I would be healed. We all believed with everything that I would be healed. It was intense and hard and good.
Guess what. I woke up the next day and immediately was throwing up…one of my typical reactions to my most significant anxiousness. Ugh. I felt like such a failure. I felt so defeated. I felt like I let all my friends down. We all prayed and believed I would be healed, but I wasn’t. In fact, the next week after that was significantly harder. What was wrong with me? Did I not pray “good enough.” I didn’t want this. Did we do something wrong?
No, we didn’t. The beautiful but sometimes difficult thing about our heavenly father is that he’s in control and his plans are better than ours. He loves us and cares for us and sometimes that means not answering our prayers when we want him too. Sometimes it is hard to remember that he can see the epilogue when we can only see the first sentence of chapter two. I learned to accept that truth and still know that God was good and I was still his beloved. I was still chosen.
A few weeks later, on a night our entire team was gathered, we were well past praying for my anxiety to be healed. It had not come up in conversation for weeks and we were deep in the latter part of our summer that was so full of hard things. One of the guys was playing his guitar quietly, while the rest of us either sat quietly reflecting about our day and some sat quietly singing along to the song and some were praying alone.
That same fake-brother that had asked me that pointed question weeks earlier, got up and came to sit by me. This guy was wise beyond his years. He was well versed in scripture and as an adult it has been really awesome to see him plant many churches and bring many people to faith. He was still just a college kid at the time, but even then, he was one that frequently led our scripture and prayer time.
He sat down next to me and was quiet for a few minutes. Then he said that he felt like he needed to share something with me that had come to him while praying. He looked at me and said, “God loves you more than you can ever imagine and he is a good father. But, Kourt, I think that he made you exactly the way you are for a reason and it wasn’t a mistake. You are going to be okay even if you don’t always feel like it. You are going to go through hard things, but he will carry you through. He made you perfectly in his image, and you are going to do good, and one day everything will make sense.”
I will never forget that night.
Fast forward 16 years.
I have still not been healed from anxiety. I have grown and learned so much on how to cope, but It’s still there most days. I am in some ways, more anxious now. It comes in waves that are mostly unpredictable. Sometimes it comes because I’m in a large group of people. Sometimes it comes when I’m home alone. Sometimes it comes in the middle of a project at work. Sometimes it comes in the middle of coaching soccer. It can come in the morning, or wake me up at night. Honestly, it isn’t selective or picky when it comes.
God did not heal me that night or any night since.
I remember the words my friend spoke to me that night. I know they were not words he came up with. I know where they come from. I had those words written on the front cover of my bible for over a decade.
Sometimes, it is hard to live with such an anxious mind. It’s hard to be in my tight knit circles in seasons that are especially hard for me. It’s hard to be authentic with people and admit how much I struggle sometimes. While my anxiety is not sin, it has lead me to do things and say things I’m not proud of. I’ve hurt people and been hurt as a direct result of my anxious mind. Sometimes, it’s hard to see how that could ever be God’s plan.
I don’t have big answers or justification. I don’t have something incredible to say that will wrap this all up with a bow and have it make sense. I haven’t experienced healing yet. One thing I sometimes forget, are those words spoken that night in India. One day it will make sense. That “one day” may not be in this home. It might be when I get to heaven, which sometimes is hard. But, I cling to the truth that I was made perfectly in his hand. Some days that’s harder than others, but I do believe to my core that I was chosen to have anxiety by my heavenly father and one day, everything will make sense.
That goes for you too, friend. Whether you struggle with anxiety, or depression, or something else. Even though sometimes those things are caused by hard things, God is still in control and he still made you perfectly, for exactly who you are, for a reason and purpose.
One day, it will all make sense.
KM
