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When my counselor, “Jane,” looked at me and said she thought that God was giving me a gift in the midst of all of the pain I was experiencing I thought, Hmmm…this lady might be a little bats! But she seemed so sincere that I figured I would hear her out anyway.
As we talked, she ferreted out the memory of a prayer that I had prayed several years back; one in which I asked to know God better. She looked at me and said, “This is it. This is your chance. He’s taking you up on that prayer.”
Now I had a decision to make.
Was I interested in knowing God better anymore? Because, at this point, I had pretty much decided that he couldn’t possibly be good, with everything that I’d seen and everything that was happening in my own life. And if he wasn’t good, then I didn’t want anything to do with him…
But something about the idea that God was giving me a chance to know him better was appealing. I couldn’t escape the urge to find out what he was trying to show me.
During this initial evaluation with Jane, she took me to a new doctor, one that took some time to talk with me and really listened to what I had to say. I came away from that appointment with a different diagnosis than the one I received in Bangkok. Anxiety and PTSD. I thought PTSD was for combat veterans and people who had endured extreme violence–and I didn’t have any physical scars or visible injuries. What I didn’t realize was that my environment had been warring with my mind and emotions and, so far, I had been on the losing end.
Jane also encouraged me to read. So I started reading…a lot. Disappointment with God, The Ragamuffin Gospel, to name a few of the best ones. As I read, and found some rest from the mental assault that had been taking place in India, my mind began to make room for something besides mere survival, and I was finally willing to reopen the communication lines between me and God…