Graham's story
I got mixed up with the occult in the 70s and was quite mixed up in many ways, having no direction in life by the time I met Alyson in 1978. Aly was already a Christian and had been since her childhood. We met through music and I worked as her pianist and arranger almost immediately. We both had had bad relationships in the past and decided that this was to be purely a working arrangement.
However Aly felt God prompting her to pray for her rebellious musical associate every day for over a year. I do remember changing over that year – I was less angry and I listened to Aly a lot. I had never met anyone like her before - she never preached at me and seemed to have limitless patience for me. The problem was that something inside me seemed to be kicking against all that was good and one day I exploded after a gig.
"Who is God anyway? How do I join this barmy club you call 'church'? Church is for losers!" etc. etc. etc... I have purposely left out the swear words!
She gave me the phone number of her pastor John at Seaford Baptist Church and said "When you've calmed down, phone this guy up – he might be able to help". She then left quietly and went to her house. I drove off in a fury (with the phone number in my pocket). I found out long afterwards that Aly had gone to her room and said to God "That's it – I don't want to see him ever again. I give him to you Lord".
The following day I was constantly drawn to this small piece of paper that Aly had given me. It was somehow demanding my attention and I couldn't tear it up. Eventually at 3.00 in the afternoon I picked up the phone and dialled the number.
To this day I don't remember what I said and all I can recall is that John said to me "See you at 6.30 at the car park entrance to the church – look forward to seeing you". I arrived promptly and was met by this small quiet man. I mumbled something to him thinking to myself that I was really going to sort these religious freaks out once and for all. I'd had quite enough of church and this non-existent God.
John took me to the youth lounge and gently asked how he could help me. Suddenly my mouth was clamped shut - I couldn't speak. John said "Excuse me a moment. I'll be right back". He left me on my own to struggle with opening my mouth and unbeknown to me went to the vestry where the deacons were meeting. "Listen, I've got to get straight back. There's something strange happening to the fellow I'm talking to. Pray. Pray. Pray now."
John returned and quietly said "I'm sorry about that", and put his hand over my head without touching me and said "in the name of Jesus Christ come out of him". I felt as if a giant cork was being pulled through my body and up and out of my head. As I fell to the ground I felt love pouring through my body and yet it was more than that. How can you feel love pouring over you... it didn't make sense and yet I knew that it was happening to me at that moment.
"Someone really big is pouring love over me." I fell to my knees and felt tears running down my cheeks. "That's the love of God. Jesus' love is setting you free Graham – would you like to know him better?" "Yes. Yes." I said without hesitation. John then led me through a prayer asking forgiveness for all my past life and asking Jesus into my life. Suddenly I felt so good, so happy. With tears running down my cheeks I was laughing - I couldn't remember ever feeling this good. These were all new feelings for me.
I met Alyson and poured out the whole story to her. Oddly she didn't seem surprised but just smiled a lot. Somehow God had taken this messed up unbeliever and simply turned him inside out! My new life had begun!
(For the full story of how I came to this stage in my life and the amazing things God allowed to happen afterwards including my meeting with our precious Lord Jesus and angelic involvement (the devil wasn't going to give up his hold on our family easily), and also how we cannot live all the time with mountain-top experiences - there are also the darkest depths of the deepest valleys where God always meets with us - read our complete story available to download from this site.)
Amy's story
I really feel God is telling me it's time for me to share my story. A massive part of the recovery for me starts with accepting the problem in the first place. So often we dismiss things in our life as 'just a phase'; something unimportant that will be overcome or outgrow and yet often there is much more to it.
For the last 2 years our family has been challenged immensely. It all started with Joel being rushed to hospital unconscious after his convulsion and lead up to Dad's massive heart surgery and beyond for, to this day, we struggle on. I can't speak for Mum, Dad and Kristian, but I know that each of us has battled immensely with our faith during this time. For me the battle came in the form of an illness and in July 2005 I was diagnosed with OCD (obsessional compulsive disorder) and anorexia nervosa. Looking back, it is now evident that these were aspects that I had battled with for a long time before the medical diagnosis, but it was only at the time of my AS exams (examinations taken at the age of 17) that the side effects of these 'mental illnesses' began to show their effects on my health.
I shan't bore you with the details, but I can tell you that I doubt I'll remember the 17th year of my life for little more than doctor's appointments, counselling, psychology sessions, hospital appointments and dietician reviews. My life was, and still very much is, swamped by the gripping hands of my eating disorder. I withdrew completely from all social activities in fear that they would either a) mess up the eating arrangements that I have to have precisely controlled or b) they'd involve having to eat in front of people, an aspect that I still struggle with today.
Waking up each day, swamped with controlling, compulsive thoughts is not only exhausting but also depressing. My psychologist was at his wits' end with what to do with me for I was neither one nor the other; although I wasn't at a weight dangerously low enough for hospitalisation, I was clearly damaging my body and was 'horrendously occupied with thoughts regarding the eating disorder'. He wrote: 'Amy is not really improving and rather trying to hold her weight stable as a compromise between her drive to eat as little as possible and her wish not to be admitted to hospital'. He hoped the anti-depressant medication prescribed by my doctor would tackle some of the obsessional thoughts and yet he increased my dosage again and again with little effect. Hospitalisation began to look more than likely and I had become resigned to the fact that that was where I was going.
Yet we battled on. Though I had given up the fight, my family hadn't and they continued to battle for me and slowly we began to succeed. There were good days when I saw light and hope at the end and there were bad days when I basically wanted out, an escape. My prayer life, previously very dedicated, became minimal and existed barely of cries out of 'help me God' when I was in despair. My bible was shoved to the back of the shelf and left there - the words seemed pointless and worthless to my situation. I was searching for the answer to my problems, yet all I could see was story after story, commandment after commandment, teaching after teaching and I just didn't 'get it'. At the few bible study sessions I did attend, all the youth seemed so much more spiritual than me; they knew the stories, teachings, everything off by heart. They sat there learning and developing physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually whilst I was left running in circles, unable to escape the bleak cycle of despair. In a group of close friends whom I shared the key basis of my life (my faith in God), I became the reject, the outcast: not because they made it that way, but because I didn't feel worthy of such friendships. Hate is such a strong word, and yet I would use it about myself daily. I was confused – who am I? Who's this God? And where is he? No doubt, at times, I truly felt God's presence and handling of the situation, yet other times it was as if I was left alone, God was silent, I was in despair. My family and others continued to support me in prayer and to this day I don't know where I would be now if they hadn't.
It's funny because there's some families that you just look at and think 'their life is so perfect, they've got no worries, no problems, they're happy – so why God does all the bad stuff fall on us?'. Of course this assumption about people isn't true. We, as a family, struggle with the way that people would 'paint roses around our doorway' and sing the Tuckers' praises when, once at home, we were broken. It's so easy in times of struggle to blame God. 'Why?' is a common question and yet there's rarely an answer. At the end of the day we have to accept that God is in control of our lives and, although we may fight it, his plans will shine through. Gradually I have come to understand this and have come to accept that in fact everyone has their own problems, hidden or evident – each is different but equally severe. I have also come to understand that all this has happened for a reason, a God-given reason. And someday maybe I or we as a family will be able to help someone else in a similar situation.
The hardest thing of this whole illness is the guilt that comes hand in hand. Not only the guilt about eating, but that of the effect and consequences my illness is having on my family. Sometimes our house is like a living hell. I'll be crying, Mum will be in despair, Dad will be pacing the garden and Kristian attempts to escape to his computer or guitar. Even Joel picks up on it and one of my greatest fears is the effect that it is having on him at such a young age. We have been told by so many that anorexia divides families, the stress attached to such a disorder often causes parental separation and other family disturbances. We are determined that will not happen to us. Yet there are times when we wonder 'Will I ever get better?' and 'Is there light at the end of the tunnel?' To this day I struggle immensely with prayer, even praying for others in need. It's as if I've lost the ability to, that connection with God is missing. Just last week I sat in church when the Holy Spirit was evidently moving through the congregation and yet I felt nothing. In fact it was like the opposite; I wanted to run as far away as I could. I sat there in tears of anger: 'Where are you God?' frustration: 'Why can't I feel you?' and sadness 'What have I done so wrong to deserve this?'. I don't understand and I guess maybe we're not meant to. Maybe, like Job, my faith is being tested to the limit. I only hope I don't fail.
Anorexia is an all-consuming disorder. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day is spent on it and at times I'm too tired and weak to go on. There are days when I feel like raising my hands up to God and saying 'I surrender, I give up'. Yet deep down I know he's there, routing for me like my family and although he may let me stumble, deep down I guess I know he won't let me fall.
I would think that people would look at me and think I was being naughty, a pain, a rebel, a nuisance, an attention seeker or whatever and yet I was drowning; drowning in the overwhelming power of a mental illness. People have questioned where the 'old Amy' is and I feel like screaming 'I'm still here, please don't forget me'. Sometimes I fear people will think that I have become this vain, selfish, controlling figure rather than being overcome by this evil disorder. There's a big stigma attached to mental illnesses, and perhaps an even bigger one attached to mentally ill Christians. Aren't we supposed to be carefree and happy? Yet here I stand with not only one, but two mental illnesses. Many scorn on anti-depressants. They're for 'the weak' and many brag of their 'immense strength' at deciding to end their treatments, and yet it's not as easy as that. It used to hurt so much when people discussed them as some type of addiction. It's easy for any old person to say these things but put in a position where you wake up each morning with that feeling of dread at the prospect of yet another day, these pills provide support. I know they're not the answer, but they have helped me through the times when I wasn't strong enough to fight myself.
So where am I now? Interesting question. This 'story', or what ever you choose to call it, is far from complete. This massive chapter in my life is far from closed. Unfortunately I cannot stand here and represent myself as a success case, a miracle, but I hope that through telling my story, others who are struggling and fighting their own battles will see that they are not alone. We, as Christians, like to make out that we're all fine and dandy (my favourite phrase is 'I'm fine thank you') but yet each of us at some point struggle; either we've been there, are there, or will go there. We're human beings living in a worldly world; daily challenges comes to be expected. But what I've learnt is that just because you're struggling, it doesn't mean you're weak, but rather that you're being strengthened. It's like my Dad's heart operation. Yes, immediately afterwards he was weak and fragile, but in the long run he will be stronger and far better off for having it. I'm not going to stand up here and say that everything's OK because eventually it will be worthwhile, because quite honestly I'd be a hypocrite. Often it is impossible to see an end. At the present it's impossible for me to imagine eating without careful thought, planning and organisation. There are times when I feel so lonely. Lonely beyond words. Yes I know that my family are there supporting me and loving me through it all, but often even they can't understand my random obsessions. They try, they truly do, to meet me halfway, but yet at the other end of my existence, the part that's beyond their reach, I feel like I'm drowning. The disorder singles you out and separates you from friends and family. In many senses I've missed out on a whole year of my teenage years. Whilst my friends are going out, having fun and enjoying themselves, I'm enclosed in my house controlling, controlling, controlling. And yet when I do push myself to go out with them, I find I have nothing in common with them. They're talking about the latest TV show or music group when all I want to talk about is calories and how many I have consumed that day. And I come home feeling inadequate, a reject, lonely. And usually I'll have to 'pay the price' for going out and when I return home my OCD takes off with a vengeance and I'm left broken. What's the point? There's no escape. God said 'I will never leave you, nor forsake you' and yet in the middle of the night when I'm sitting in the freezing garden, sobbing uncontrollably, alone, it's like 'well, where are you?'. The frustration when, at the age of 17, you rely on scales to decide correct portions of food and can't be trusted to eat lunch at school alone, is immense. And being stuck in a rut for well over a year, hope and realistic rationalisation of a bright future are far fetched. Yet looking back it's amazing to see how far I've come and the experiences that I have had and the wonderful people I've been blessed to meet. It's extraordinary. And I guess only God knows my future so I've just got to keep holding on in there, gripping life with my finger tips yet trusting God will be there to catch me and boost me back up if, or I should say when, I fall.
Feel free to contact us with any comments or queries regarding my testimony, we'd love to hear from you.
God bless, love Amy xxxxxxxxxxx