Send in the choir

Sometimes there are formidable opponents, and sometimes there’s a choir.

As I stand on the precipice of a dawning new year, I’m taking some time to reflect on the year just gone. It has been fraught with highs and deep lows, furrows and mountains, such is the pattern of life, and seeing the blessing of God even in murky waters and curve-balls coming out of nowhere. Learning to praise God, when it seemed like the strangest thing to do. .

When 2024 dawned, I could not have imagined that the Post natal depression I had with my first son would rear its murky head. I could not have imagined the feeling of utter helplessness as I stumbled through darkness I never wished to revisit.

Around 3 months after our sweet boy’s birth, I had to face the fact that I was stuck. Not coping. The truth was I had not been coping for a long time, I just got good at hiding it. It was confronting. I knew there were aspects of trauma I had not resolved. I knew there was fatigue and exhaustion and emotional burnout. But I didn’t know how to articulate it, how to ask for help.

Through Bible study and prayer, I felt God urging me to deal with some of my trauma that had held me captive for a long time. I was woken consistently, with terrifying dreams which involved seriously hurting myself. I had intrusive thoughts during the day which were both terrifying and devastating. I felt like I was OCD, hypervigilant on safety- eradicating button batteries from our house, terrified to use a knife, afraid at any moment I might throw myself in front of a bus. I felt trapped in a pit, with no way of climbing out. Each week felt harder to get through than the previous week. And it was mentally and emotionally scary. I began to develop sleep anxiety, fearful to sleep because of the terrifying dreams. I would wake screaming or crying or shaking. My body would break into a cold sweat anticipating those terrible dreams. I went to my doctor telling her “I’m not even sure what I’ll do when I leave this room.” She quickly referred me to a Mother and Baby unit. I spent a night in ED, unable to sleep from the noise, holding my baby close and watching the shadows pass my blue curtain, with bleary eyes, and a broken heart.

“Why have you forsaken me, Lord. Have I not trusted you? Have I not taught my children of your greatness and love? Why?” my heart cried in repeat. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, Lord. This I my 3rd child. This was the gift you gave us. Remember how I surrendered to you, believing you would provide strength for this parenting journey? Where are you now, Lord?”

It felt like God was silent. I had sought counsel from a pastor, a counsellor, a trauma specialist. I was no closer to this being over.

I did not ever imagine that I would end up admitted to a Mental health facility, holding my baby boy tightly and crying into his shirt as my husband and children left us behind. Those first few moments alone, in the unfamiliar room, the hard bed and the hideous blue curtain, were the hardest of my life. I had beseeched God for a place in the Mother and Baby unit. And yet right in that moment, I wanted to run out the doors and never come back.

It felt like I had been shattered in to a thousand pieces. This wasn’t supposed to happen, Lord? Look at me, I’m a working mum, homeschooling mum, University lecturer, I wrote a book….why, Lord? And yet, strangely there were tiny nigglings of something I couldn’t put my finger on. Was it Hope?

As I adjusted to life away from my family, with just baby and me, I had to learn to ask for help, and be my own advocate. I had to journal and pray and most of all worship the Lord. And what seems like the hardest steps to take, slowly became steps of courage, of faith, of a growing awareness that God was making all things new. I would spend my days, tending to baby, going on walks while I listened to worship music, singing quietly in my room, attending appointments, chatting with other mums who were going through the same thing, and praying that God would carry me through this. There were nights I was so exhausted I had to carry my baby to the nursery and walk away, crying the entire walk back to my room, so I could sleep. Nights I spent tossing and turning because I was not used to sleeping alone and I could hear my baby crying down the hallway because he was teething. Other nights I had to have him in my room because I couldn’t bear to be away from him, yet restricted by their rules that wouldn’t allow him in my bed. To say it was easy would be very wrong. I raged. I hated being there. I felt like a teenager with all of the ‘safety restrictions’, having to ask for a key just to get a towel out of the linen cupboard or having to go to the office to have my phone charged, because I wasn’t allowed cables in my room. The bed was hard and I didn’t have much help with baby. I was lonely. I felt so mixed up inside.

Yet, despite my discomfort and anger, I felt a sense of safety and courage creeping up on me. Every day I walked. I prayed. In the sunshine. In the rain. In the wind. I didn’t care. I walked. If I need a moment outside, but it was too late in the day to walk or I had an appointment I was waiting for, I walked in the courtyard, pushing bubs in the pram from one side to the other, watching the clouds and the shadows. My husband and kids would visit, I would attend appointments with the doctors, the psychologists, the OT, the lactation consultants, the allied health professionals. I would sit and crochet, while baby slept on me or next to me on the bed. I found myself, studying Ephesians and reading God’s promises of who I am in Christ and who God is. I found comfort in those small silent moments, tucked away in a tiny room, with a view of a brick wall. I found small moments of God- like the nurse that said she was a Christian and sat on the bed as I cried and told me ‘Our God is Able.’ Or the Nurse that told me I was an inspiration. Yet others who said I was doing great and ‘You can fight this.’

As 1 week turned into 2, and then 2 turned into 2.5 I both dreaded and anticipated going home.

Getting home was both surreal and difficult. The MBU had become a solace. a mental break. and place to share and rage and surrender and rest. I had gone from hating it to not wanting to leave. Yet, I knew deep down I had to be brave and stand on HIs promises.

The first months adjusting back were hard. things felt the same, but different at the same time. I found my anxiety increasing, and then some days feeling normal again. It was a rollercoaster ride.

I still have days that are hard, but with OT support and Psychologist appointments I’ve been pushing through. God has brought me this far when I thought at one point I wouldn’t even make it to the end of a week.

All that to say, I was reading 2 Chronicles 20 today. It’s a really amazing passage that will give you hope and perhaps a little chuckle.

King Jehoshaphat and God’s People are facing a formidable army, such that they haven’t seen before. Understandably, the fear runs deep. In the passage it is described as a vast army. You can imagine how terrifying that would be for Israel.

But instead of running, the people assemble to pray, and Jehoshaphat leads them in prayer.

Listen to some of the lines of their prayer: “For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” This really connected with me. I remember praying the same thing in my distress. “Lord, I am powerless to stop this, Only you can do this. Please help me.”

It’s important to note that the entire prayer began with praise to God. and that is a big theme of this passage. But How does God respond?

“Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s. ¹⁶ Tomorrow march down against them. They will be climbing up by the Pass of Ziz, and you will find them at the end of the gorge in the Desert of Jeruel. ¹⁷ You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you.’” (v15-17)

Don’t be afraid. The battle is not not yours, it belongs to God. Stand firm on HIs promises. Watch Him Deliver his people. Face the foe. God will be with you.

Wait, What? Face the enemy, but don’t be afraid.

Are you kidding? An army that size?

Jehoshaphat Obeys. That is the critical part of this story. Everything in him probably wants to run right now, there is no way his small army can win. But he knows where his help is coming from and he stands on God’s promises. He bows down and worships the Lord.

I was not expecting that. He worships God. That is not my natural inclination. I would probably rage or question God. I didn’t always bow down and worship God, I questioned. I cried. ‘This isn’t making any sense.”

And here’s the best bit.

The next morning they are riding up to face this vast army. Jehoshaphat’s faith is so inspiring- he tells the people “Have faith in the Lord your God and you will be upheld; have faith in his prophets and you will be successful.” Nothing like a pep talk to get them ready for battle.

But Jehoshaphat doesn’t send in his soldiers.

He sends in a choir.

WHAT?!

Yep. He sends in men to go ahead of them and sing praises to God.

The biggest army they are about to face and the king sends in a choir. It’s almost comical.

And the Vast Army? It implodes, In the face of Praise and worship of the Lord, they implode. They destroy each other.

Jehoshaphat and his army arrive and what do they see? The army is destroyed, not just destroyed, obliterated. Completely wiped out.

And his army was blessed with the plunder of the enemy, more than they had imagined.

“ Then, led by Jehoshaphat, all the men of Judah and Jerusalem returned joyfully to Jerusalem, for the Lord had given them cause to rejoice over their enemies.” (v27)

And word spread about this so that nations could see it was dangerous to fight those who have God on their side!

They praised God, before the battle, in the midst of the battle, and after the battle had been won. This really convicted me. Was I obedient? Was I praising God? Praising God was both Serving and Obeying God.

Matthew Henry puts it like this “The remembrance of this work of wonder was hereby perpetuated, for the encouragement of succeeding generations to trust in God….Praising God must not be the work of a day only; but our praises, when we have received mercy, must be often repeated, as our prayers were when we were in the pursuit of it. Every day we must bless God; as long as we live, and while we have any being, we must praise him, spending our time in that work in which we hope to spend our eternity. Public mercies call for public acknowledgments in the courts of the Lord’s house,Ps. 116:19“.

Friends, I felt like I was up against a formidable opponent, quaking in my boots, thinking there was no way I could survive this. But It took me a long time to see, that the battle was not mine. I was making it mine, carrying burdens I didn’t need to carry. But it was God’s. The battle was His. He alone would fight this battle and secure the victory.

And in Christ that Battle is won. We already have the victory.

So as I step into a new year, and kneel at the foot of the cross, boldly coming before His throne of grace, I can come to Him knowing that no matter how big an army, how bleak the darkness, how deep the ocean, we can always, always ‘send in the choir’.

Code words for: Praise him.

Watch Him Fight your battles for you.