Brokenness
20 years ago, on July 28th my older brother Scott killed himself in my parent’s home in Florida. I was pulling into the parking lot at the mental health clinic where I worked as a therapist when my Dad called to tell me had happened. I knew instinctively that life as I knew was over. Thinking back to those days and weeks after Scott first died is, even now, painful. I remember feeling lost and utterly terrified. The stable and consistent faith I had in God was reduced to ashes. My entire family dynamic was upended. Friends disappeared. The profession I spent years preparing for became a source of confusion, fear and pain. In a journal from those early days, I wrote:
“It’s like my life was a mirror. It reflected who I was, what I knew about myself and the world around me. Then it was taken out of my hands, raised high in the air and violently smashed on the ground. I had no choice in this action. Mirrors can’t be mended. You can try and fix them but there will always be pieces missing. I will never be whole again. I will now walk through this life a broken version of the person I was supposed to be”.
Drifting
For the next several years I drifted literally and spiritually. I moved to a remote island in Alaska and then briefly to Kodiak. I rarely went to church, read my Bible or prayed. If I did go to church, it was only because I wanted some social interaction. I still believed deeply in Jesus and his sacrifice for my sins, but God…now that was different story. I couldn’t reconcile how God could have allowed Scott to die. I was a faithful Christian. I went to Bible College, tithed, sang on the worship team, helped in kids church – Why didn’t God step in and save Scott? I had always been taught that God had great plans for me and those plans wouldn’t bring me harm. Why didn’t God help him? If not for Scott’s sake, then mine. I was in this unrelenting dark place with no way out. One day while sitting on the beach looking out over the North Pacific, I remember thinking to myself, “God did this. He was the one who destroyed my life.”
Hope
I moved to Eagle River in January of 2011 to work for the Army. I was still adrift, lonely, and so very sad. I wanted to set down roots and be someplace where I could call home. The first Sunday I was in Eagle River, I came to ACF. I wanted friends and I did love Jesus, so I figured I would give it a try. I decided to try out a Life Group (I showed up for the first time on the wrong night, but that’s a story for another time). I was invited to serve on First Impressions. I hung out with the new friends from my Life Group, and I started to feel more settled. One Sunday, Rod, who was our pastor then, challenged us to be honest about our struggles with the people in our lives over the next week. He said this was how true healing happens. I had told my friends the basics about my life before moving here. They knew the tip of the iceberg, but not the depth of the pain and definitely not my anger with God. I was tired of my relationship with God being distant. It was terrifying, but once I started talking to my friends, it got easier to share more. They loved me where I was, held me when I cried and pushed me to deal with my anger towards God. My faulty beliefs about the nature of God were challenged, and I came to understand that Scott’s death wasn’t what God wanted for either one of us, that it deeply grieved Him. More than anything, I wanted my brother back. Knowing that was not possible, I made the choice to take a step forward. I came to realize, the very thing that broke me was also bringing about the rich and fulfilling life I was presently living. Something beautiful was coming out of all that pain.
Restoration
Restoration takes time. It doesn’t follow a straight line. It’s messy, painful, and hard. Restoration is the ongoing beautiful work God does within in us. It is most clearly seen when we look back and recognize how He has led us step by step, even when we don’t know it. I was right when, on the day Scott died, I thought my life would never be the same. That woman didn’t know the depth of pain that would come, and I wonder what my life could have been if Scott was still alive. I’m sad that I will not be able to meet that version of myself, but I no longer see myself as broken. God demonstrated his unfailing faithfulness, grace, mercy, and understanding when I was angry and pushed him away. Knowing what was to come, He put people in front of me who love me in ways I cannot fathom. People who point me to the truth and walk alongside me as I walk the path of healing. Notice, I use present tense, because restoration is ongoing.
My restoration story was and is about a hard-fought struggle, where I’ve had to learn to hold in tension the fact that this beautiful life I now live is because my brother made a horrifically tragic choice to end his. Years ago, God brought me to Lamentations 3:19-33 in The Message, and I still return to it often. These verses so beautifully capture the tension of sorrow and hope that has marked my journey:
“I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed. I remember it all—oh, how well I remember – the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there’s one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope: God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left. God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks. It’s a good thing to quietly hope, quietly hope for help from God. It’s a good thing when you’re young to stick it out through the hard times. When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself. Enter the silence. Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions: Wait for hope to appear. Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face. The “worst” is never the worst. Why? Because the Master won’t ever walk out and fail to return. If he works severely, he also works tenderly. His stockpiles of loyal love are immense. He takes no pleasure in making life hard, in throwing roadblocks in the way.” (emphasis mine)
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Brokenness
20 years ago, on July 28th my older brother Scott killed himself in my parent’s home in Florida. I was pulling into the parking lot at the mental health clinic where I worked as a therapist when my Dad called to tell me had happened. I knew instinctively that life as I knew was over. Thinking back to those days and weeks after Scott first died is, even now, painful. I remember feeling lost and utterly terrified. The stable and consistent faith I had in God was reduced to ashes. My entire family dynamic was upended. Friends disappeared. The profession I spent years preparing for became a source of confusion, fear and pain. In a journal from those early days, I wrote:
“It’s like my life was a mirror. It reflected who I was, what I knew about myself and the world around me. Then it was taken out of my hands, raised high in the air and violently smashed on the ground. I had no choice in this action. Mirrors can’t be mended. You can try and fix them but there will always be pieces missing. I will never be whole again. I will now walk through this life a broken version of the person I was supposed to be”.
Drifting
For the next several years I drifted literally and spiritually. I moved to a remote island in Alaska and then briefly to Kodiak. I rarely went to church, read my Bible or prayed. If I did go to church, it was only because I wanted some social interaction. I still believed deeply in Jesus and his sacrifice for my sins, but God…now that was different story. I couldn’t reconcile how God could have allowed Scott to die. I was a faithful Christian. I went to Bible College, tithed, sang on the worship team, helped in kids church – Why didn’t God step in and save Scott? I had always been taught that God had great plans for me and those plans wouldn’t bring me harm. Why didn’t God help him? If not for Scott’s sake, then mine. I was in this unrelenting dark place with no way out. One day while sitting on the beach looking out over the North Pacific, I remember thinking to myself, “God did this. He was the one who destroyed my life.”
Hope
I moved to Eagle River in January of 2011 to work for the Army. I was still adrift, lonely, and so very sad. I wanted to set down roots and be someplace where I could call home. The first Sunday I was in Eagle River, I came to ACF. I wanted friends and I did love Jesus, so I figured I would give it a try. I decided to try out a Life Group (I showed up for the first time on the wrong night, but that’s a story for another time). I was invited to serve on First Impressions. I hung out with the new friends from my Life Group, and I started to feel more settled. One Sunday, Rod, who was our pastor then, challenged us to be honest about our struggles with the people in our lives over the next week. He said this was how true healing happens. I had told my friends the basics about my life before moving here. They knew the tip of the iceberg, but not the depth of the pain and definitely not my anger with God. I was tired of my relationship with God being distant. It was terrifying, but once I started talking to my friends, it got easier to share more. They loved me where I was, held me when I cried and pushed me to deal with my anger towards God. My faulty beliefs about the nature of God were challenged, and I came to understand that Scott’s death wasn’t what God wanted for either one of us, that it deeply grieved Him. More than anything, I wanted my brother back. Knowing that was not possible, I made the choice to take a step forward. I came to realize, the very thing that broke me was also bringing about the rich and fulfilling life I was presently living. Something beautiful was coming out of all that pain.
Restoration
Restoration takes time. It doesn’t follow a straight line. It’s messy, painful, and hard. Restoration is the ongoing beautiful work God does within in us. It is most clearly seen when we look back and recognize how He has led us step by step, even when we don’t know it. I was right when, on the day Scott died, I thought my life would never be the same. That woman didn’t know the depth of pain that would come, and I wonder what my life could have been if Scott was still alive. I’m sad that I will not be able to meet that version of myself, but I no longer see myself as broken. God demonstrated his unfailing faithfulness, grace, mercy, and understanding when I was angry and pushed him away. Knowing what was to come, He put people in front of me who love me in ways I cannot fathom. People who point me to the truth and walk alongside me as I walk the path of healing. Notice, I use present tense, because restoration is ongoing.
My restoration story was and is about a hard-fought struggle, where I’ve had to learn to hold in tension the fact that this beautiful life I now live is because my brother made a horrifically tragic choice to end his. Years ago, God brought me to Lamentations 3:19-33 in The Message, and I still return to it often. These verses so beautifully capture the tension of sorrow and hope that has marked my journey:
“I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed. I remember it all—oh, how well I remember – the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there’s one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope: God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left. God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks. It’s a good thing to quietly hope, quietly hope for help from God. It’s a good thing when you’re young to stick it out through the hard times. When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself. Enter the silence. Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions: Wait for hope to appear. Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face. The “worst” is never the worst. Why? Because the Master won’t ever walk out and fail to return. If he works severely, he also works tenderly. His stockpiles of loyal love are immense. He takes no pleasure in making life hard, in throwing roadblocks in the way.” (emphasis mine)
Written by
Hope to Alaska Director
Eagle River Campus
16620 Brooks Loop
Eagle River, AK 99577
NE Anchorage Campus
Regal Tikahtnu
1102 N Muldoon Rd B
Anchorage, AK 99504
