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Footprints in History, continued

But the need of being number one was also her gateway to depression. Inside, she knew her inadequacies. Constantly trapped between her need for success and fear of being exposed as a failure, she knew moments of darkness that bordered on despair. It was these dark times that, even as a child, finally forced her to look outward and upward.

"I needed Someone who was so big he could be bigger than me!" she would later write. "And so God came in-and I was confirmed [with the other 12-year-olds] . . .I am sure I didn't understand the real meaning or full significance of it . . . .[But] in a stumbling way, it was the conscious start of my search for Him . . . God knew-and accepted-and [leaned] towards me to draw me steadily nearer Himself." [1]

God's faithfulness in steadily drawing Helen would last a lifetime taking her through medical school and on to missionary work in the Congo. She would eventually pass through severe illness, destruction of all she had accomplished, five months as a political prisoner in rebel hands, beatings and multiple rapes, freedom, writing books, and going back to the Congo a second time to help them rebuild a nation. Along the way, she would fall in love, lose her love, adopt a Congolese child, struggle with other missionaries, struggle with the African government and struggle with Congolese church leaders as misunderstandings, illnesses, depression and exhaustion took their toll.

But, as one reads her autobiography it is easy to see the thing she struggled with most was herself. Even after being called as a missionary and giving herself to hours of Bible study each day, the old need of being first and fear of failure dogged her. At one point the very efforts she exerted to free herself of this need served only to bind her more tightly. As she redoubled her efforts to live free of self-absorption, she became more obsessed with measuring every mood and action to see if it were progress toward the mountain top of holiness or the valley of failure! At last she would write, "I readily grant that chronic introspection of this type can become very unhealthy, mentally as well as spiritually. As has often been said, a carrot cannot grow if it is continually dug up to see how it is getting on."

Once the new understanding settled in, it was with a lighter step and enjoying her first taste of spiritual freedom that Helen entered the Congo in 1953 and soon took over the work in Nebobongo.

Four years later, buildings had been built, staff had been organized, schools had been started and Helen was becoming comfortable with what she regarded as "her" hospital. Then, unexpectedly word came from the mission that she was to release Nebobongo to the control of a Dr. Harris and move on to other work. She faced another valley of loss.

After the initial shock and pain, Helen drew still closer to her Lord and was determined to present the work to the new director in tip-top condition. She had built the station from ruins. It was her joy . . . and it was her pride. It must be perfect and meet with the new director's admiration.

But the arrival of Dr. Harris was delayed. Twice she prepared elaborate celebrations only to be disappointed. Then at last, on May 16th, just as dusk was falling, "I was in the hospital with an emergency case-a man had been carried in with a horribly torn foot. As light was falling, and it was nearly supper-time, and I was tired (we can always make lots of excuses!), I hadn't lit the pressure lamps in the hospital, but was working in the half-light on the verandah outside, in the most unhygienic conditions and in the most unmedical manner. The first thing I knew of [his] arrival was when Dr Harris walked up behind me. I felt my pride fizzle out of me. I was caught doing everything just as one shouldn't do it." [2]

The results of this incident were pain and depression as Helen realized how much the hospital had become "her" work and how easily the Lord Jesus had been pushed into the role of junior partner. Once again, independence, pride and self-effort had driven her to be first and number one among her peers. It was a realization that broke her heart and she felt as though she were again facing a valley. This time, it was a valley of God's displeasure.

Although this brief sketch might be considered by some to be insignificant, Helen included it in her autobiography, because for her it was a turning point. She saw that valleys on our journey are not necessarily indicators of God's displeasure and their shadowed emotions need not mean His love has been eclipsed.

Years later, back home in England, Helen would reflect that no matter what the situation, going down into the valley is, "merely an initial moving forward towards the next higher ground. . . .[The] valley could provide a period of rest for working out the experiences previously [learned]; a time of refreshment preparatory for the next hard climb. Had I understood this meaning of the sunshine and the shadows in my life rather than interpreting my various experiences along life's way as "up" or "down," I might have saved myself many deep heartaches." [3]

I don't think I have ever know a Christian who enjoyed valley experiences. Although some are able to find contentment in valleys, it is the mountain top experiences and sunshine we usually seek, not shadows or loss. Yet, understanding that valleys are a necessary part of the path God has planned as he works our character into His likeness can go a long way toward helping us say with David, "Though I walk through the valley . . . I will not fear." The valley is not a sign of His displeasure, but the very essence of His care.
 
 
 
 [1] Roseveare, Helen, Give Me This Mountain. Scotland, Christian Focus Publications, 1966/2006. p. 17-20.
[2] ibid, p. 97.
[3] ibid, p. 10.

Footprints Today, continued

From age six until my junior year in high school, I was sexually abused by my dad. I remember crying every time Mom would leave the house but she would only say, "Stop crying. Your Dad is going to think you don't love him if you cry every time I'm gone!" I never told her about the abuse because Dad said if I didn't keep our secret Mom would be very, very hurt. It was a heavy burden for a little girl. I didn't know how to get out of the trap.

Finally, I told my best friend and she offered to go with me to the school counselor. The counselor and Mom believed me and Dad admitted it was all his fault. That made me feel better. The abuse stopped and Dad was removed from the house, but they made me attend counseling each week and in some ways that did more harm than good. It was horrible. I hated it.

I had gone to church all my life and perhaps should have realized that Jesus made it possible for the past to be behind me, but that was not what they told me in counseling. They said when I was grown I would either hate all men and want nothing to do with them, or I would want to be sexual with every guy I met. It was like I was trapped again and had to go either one way or the other. I still believed in God, but I was just mad at Him, too. I did not know why He would let this happen. So, I did not turn to Him for help and instead became promiscuous.

After high school, I moved to Oklahoma and was involved in a life of partying and drugs and alcohol. I thought I was having a blast, but inside I knew something was wrong. My relationships were shallow and I put myself in danger more than once. Some bad things were my own fault. Others were not. Twice I was raped. I would pray at night and ask God to send me a good man. I thought I could settle down if I had the right man, but I was wrong. The right man would help, but real change had to come from the inside.

I met my husband, John, at a bar. We had only known each other two weeks when he moved in and in another two weeks, he proposed. We were married five months later. Now, I had a "good" man, but things were still not right. Before long we didn't' even like each other very much. As a matter fact, we did not even know each other very much. But, thank God He kept our marriage together. Eventually we adopted a little girl, Carlie, and we started attending church regularly. I am very grateful that through many trials we have found both God and each other.

One trial was when I became very sick. I went to the emergency room but the doctor dismissed me saying it was nothing that couldn't wait. I was scheduled for some routine surgery the next week, but by that time I was really, really sick. When the surgeon cut me open he found that my appendix had been ruptured for nearly a week! They patched me up and I went home, but was back again in less than thirty-six hours. That time, infection was eating me deep inside. I was in the hospital for over a month and we thought I was going to die.

Unhappy with the medical care I was receiving, John transferred me to a different hospital and although it took another month of care, they saved my life. I slowly got better despite staph infection in my blood. This time with good care I was healing from the inside out. When I think about it, that is the way God heals, too. First, He works deep inside and then moves to the things people can see from the outside.

For me, part of that deep inner healing has been learning to trust and allow people to get close to me. I remember just last year sitting on the love seat talking to John about how I felt God was working on me. I felt that He was showing me that I used my past trauma as an excuse not to let people close. I told John I wanted God to work in me, but I thought I hindered Him because I was so scared of being hurt. It felt good when John understood. I soon found that God understood, too, and He cared deeply about my hurt and confusion.

The next week we had revival at our church and the pastor talked about how things from our past need not determine our future. He said we need to let the past be the past and let God work in us today. I totally fell apart. I was weeping uncontrollably. I knew God was talking directly to me. I knew I needed to let go of the past but I also knew I couldn't do this unless I forgave all those people who had hurt me.

Slowly, I am learning to let the past be behind me and even to forgive those that sinned against me. I see more clearly the difference between the sins I have done and the sins someone committed against me and know that God has solutions for both of these. God is bigger than my past and my future can be free.

 
Shonda is a wife and mother attending a small church in East Texas where she and John lead as youth workers.