‘SHOULD I GO OR SHOULD I STAY???” (part 1)

After more than ten years of Officership in varied appointments, that I have to be honest brought more joy than pain, I found myself struggling in a way that I had never previously experienced. Yes, there had been times of struggle and a very strong feeling when we were in one particular appointment, of thinking, if this was an outside job I would be looking for a new one. But now things were worse than I had ever experienced before. We were in a place we had never been to before, in an area where we never really felt accepted by some because we were ‘foreigners’ … foreigners … that’s a joke it was only a colloquial thing, but nevertheless it was very real. And now, I was seriously considering ‘could I take any more’?

I had reached the point of thinking; ‘If I could give blood it would be the wrong type’
It seemed as if nothing was right, nothing was good enough. But if I am honest, it was only with a few, but those few had an unbelievable way of making me loose sight of the hundred or more others. I was tired, I was hurting, I was grieving the death of two very close relatives and I was living with cancer in the family. I had reached the point where I really felt I couldn’t take anymore and if I am honest, going to the Corps and leading worship on a Sunday was nothing more than working on automatic pilot. I hadn’t lost my faith but my senses and relationship with God at the time was certainly deadened. It really was a ‘dark night of the soul’ experience.

I was hurting, hurting like mad. Even to step out the house seemed to take enormous effort. To walk down the street was something I really had to push myself to do. I was frightened of smiling because it seemed to knock my muscles off balance and simply make me cry silently, painfully. I was screaming on the inside and couldn’t understand how others couldn’t hear or see it. Or if they could, why were they not doing something to help?

It got to the point where I dreaded leaving my quarters in uniform for fear strangers would approach me for assistance or worse yet, asking me to pray with them. I prayed God wouldn't place a needy soul or a person in need in front of me because I knew I had nothing to give.

Yes, my leaders knew the external painful situations that I was experiencing. I would even have called them 'friends' at the time, having worked with them in a previous appointment. They sent beautiful cards assuring me of their thoughts and prayers at the appropriate times, (the time of the deaths, the diagnosis of cancer) but they never came near, they never picked up the phone for six months, and eventually when they did visit they still didn’t ask me how I was and prayed the most innocuous prayer at the end of the visit. It was almost as if they didn’t know what to say; were frightened of asking me how I was in case I told them the truth, and then what would they do or say? And so I suffered alone and in silence.

Someone once said ‘You only discover Jesus is all you need, when Jesus is all you have got’ I had reached that point. Of course I had other things, other people, but nothing or no one quite reached or were able to give me what I needed.
I was the strong one … I was the rock … or so they thought … but at this time I was anything but and was desperate for someone to be strong for me. It didn’t happen and in hindsight ‘Jesus was all that I needed’.

One Sunday morning after having absolutely forced myself to go and lead the Holiness Meeting things came to a head... I learned that after the meeting two local officers had to literally hold another back from wanting to hit me because of something I had said in the meeting and had been saying in a series of meetings. The man who had wanted to hit me came up to me after the evening meeting and told me how he felt. He and those worshiping at the corps had been challenged by me to ‘be like Jesus’; holiness preaching. He sensed that I was speaking out of place; saying things I had no right to say, and placing responsibility at their feet and not mine.

I was due to go home for a week’s furlough the next day and he asked me to take with me my last six sermons and give serious thought to what I was trying to say to the Corps! I took his request seriously and responded as he wanted. (on reading the sermons, reflection and prayer I knew there was no reason to alter my direction or utter an apology) I went home with a very heavy heart, filled with despair and a wounded spirit. My very real questions were: 'Should I go or should I stay?' Should I ask for a change of appointment?' Who needs this aggravation and did I want it for the rest of my life?' I had poured my life, my very being into my calling, is this all I could expect in return?

Active, hurting and disillusioned
Europe