Carest Thou Not That We Perish?

When I was a missionary, I experienced some anxiety.  Not just some anxiety, the worst anxiety of my life.  It got to the point where I was crying multiple times a day, terrified to leave the house where I was staying.  Through this time, I had an amazing companion who held me when I cried and reminded me how to breathe.  Her support was amazing, but I never got better.  I was just looking over a hymn I contemplated during that time, "Master the Tempest Is Raging."  Then and now I can relate to lot of the feelings attributed to the disciples of Jesus as they were tossed in the storm.  The tempest of covid, the rising wave, growing bigger, coming closer, "Carest thou not [Jason Kenney] that we perish? How canst thou lie asleep When each moment so madly is threat'ning A grave in the angry deep?" The song calls out, to some powerful other, to act, to change the situation, to speak and be obeyed.  The song trusts that the will of the almighty is peace and stillness.  And yet, the disciple, I, continue to cry out as if not heard over the raging storm.  "Master with anguish of spirit I bow in my grief today. The depths of my sad heart are troubled. Oh, waken and save I pray!  Torrents of sin and of anguish Sweep o'er my sinking soul, And I perish! I perish! dear Master. Oh hasten and take control!"  While  the song continues to a place of rest on a blissful shore, no matter how much I cried out, that promised shore remained a frail hope.  The third verse of the song too quickly turned positive that I couldn't quite believe it possible.  Though I wish now that those in charge would take stronger actions to prevent the third wave from rising ever higher and crashing down on us, I am left feeling insignificant.  Nobody is listening to me.  The peace and calm of a post covid world are beyond my grasp and past a daunting third wave.  I see only the wave.  It blocks both the sun and any hope from my view.  How long must I wait?  How much longer?  I thought 2021 was the year. 

As a missionary, I too waited for the end to come.  Then, after I'd been a missionary for about a year, my anxiety began to go away.  Never completely, but the impending doom was lifted, and the sunshine no longer obscured.  There were some situational changes that were beyond my control, but those weren't the reason I could see the sun.  At some point I realised that happiness was a choice, it was a mood I could choose, and I didn't have to wait for God to change the circumstances.  I didn't have to wait until I went home.  I could find happiness where I was.  It worked.  My attitude changed because I decided it would change.  I sang.  I sang happy songs, not song about some distant hope nor pie in the sky, but songs about goodness on earth, now.  I sang:

"In a world where sorrow

Ever will be known,

Where are found the needy

And the sad and lone,

How much joy and comfort

You can all bestow,

If you scatter sunshine

Ev’rywhere you go."

 Rather than waiting for happiness to find me, rather than trusting some other being to rid me of anxiety, I took that decision into my own hands.  I wonder if I can't do that today.  Sometimes I feel that I have a right be be upset.  I have a right to be anxious as I am often in close contact with others at work.  I have a right to blame to government for letting people die, for keeping my workplace open.  I have a right to worry about the health of those I love.  I have the right to be grumpy when I start work early.  I have the right to be miserable.  So, maybe I do, but what good does any of that do me, or those around me?  I may have a right to be anxious, but what if I can choose to be happy?  I know it isn't easy, but I've done it before, so I trust that it is possible.  With some counselling, with constant little choices to see good in the world around me, with a smile on my face and thanksgiving in my heart, it is possible.

"When the days are gloomy,

Sing some happy song;

Meet the world’s repining

With a courage strong.

Go with faith undaunted

Thru the ills of life;

Scatter smiles and sunshine

O’er its toil and strife."

* Master the Tempest Is Raging: Text: Mary Ann Baker

** Scatter Sunshine: Text: Lanta Wilson Smith 

Calgary's Proposed Ban on Conversion Therapy

These are the thoughts I sent in regarding Calgary's proposed bylaw to ban conversion therapy:

I was denied conversion therapy.

I wanted to change, and while I thought I might always be a lesbian, I was yet determined to marry a man and have kids, the traditional family. Whether or not this possibility had been explicitly taught in my faith, I had learned it, and I believed in it. I chose a counsellor of my faith, convinced he could help me to this end. Bearing fear and shame, I approached him. I read to him the goals I’d written and asked him, if not to change my orientation, to help me date boys and to lessen my attraction to women. He listened without judgment, sought to better understand me, confirmed my wishes and began by helping me realize my anxieties. I learned a lot of useful strategies, but got impatient, wondering when he would teach me how to like boys. At some point I had to realize that he didn’t believe in the outdated practice of conversion therapy. He refused to give me hope that I could happily marry a boy. He wouldn’t lead me where it was impossible to go. I stopped seeing him when I moved away. My money spent on counselling didn’t lead to a single date with a boy. But, the time I spent in counselling gave me courage to face the fear of accepting myself. I learned to deal with social anxiety. While I don’t know my counsellors personal beliefs, he followed the guidelines of counselling communities and years of research. I’m grateful that he didn’t hinder my personal development, but let me begin to explore my sexual nature in a non-judgmental environment of faith.

I support the bylaw to ban conversion therapy.