Prayers for a Dying Hen

Before I met Christ, there was a time in my life when a woman of God was put in an awkward position to 'guide me'. In that season in my life, I considered myself a lost case. A living, breathing Jezebel. Murderous. (Yet even now, I do not own a villain's leather body-con suit, so sad).

After Sunday School, I often stay behind and do vain things like this.

I needed help. From church elders, prophets, pastors, committees of wise women and even the Three Wise Men, there was an international call for assistance. It was a desperate time, ugh. The ghetto.

One day during these guidance sessions in a café, she was scratching the dry ground for words to use. I could tell she was struggling to counsel me and I thought of buying her some cake for the trouble. She finally managed to ask what was going through my mind. I said, "You know, maybe God is causing me to turn around and seek His face in obedience. Maybe this situation is an opportunity for me to give God back His throne in my heart because I had placed my career and the idea of a perfect life as a god from the get-go."

The woman of God said that I was being overly spiritual and I should approach the matter practically. She gave answers that even she was not confident in. She did not carry hope in her. She did not seek to help me get to the root of my issues and only looked at the matter at hand. ('the matter', I came to process, was more than she could handle, quite frankly.)

I did not see her again. Mainly because she judged me in my confused state of mind just like everybody else. She saw me out of duty and not out of love. She did not help me reconcile my spirit-man and my natural state. She made me feel like I was crazy for pointing out what the Holy Spirit was convicting me of and reminding me about. She made it feel like I had to pause before inviting God into my desperate situation while scripture tells us that God NEVER leaves us nor forsakes us and that He is an EVER present help in our times of need. It ironically felt like I had to switch off one side of me when speaking with her.

A bit of Vogue, because, free country.

Now that I had ditched her, I had more time to pursue other avenues of healing and spiritual/practical life coaching. I started making friends with a therapist-and my Bible.

A lot of people were sent my way for prayers and deliverance. While this really helped stir the waters of inner healing for me, I also needed more. I needed deeper. The Holy Spirit was my counsellor but I also needed help to help fix my physical inadequacies.

So I told my mother to stop calling people into our home for prayers.

This is where my therapist came in. She was so kind. Our visits were so calm and casual, unlike those with woman of God. She did not judge me. My errors were not abominable. Not unforgiveable. She is a licensed therapist and she happens to be Christian as well. This was a request I made when I first booked her. I thought that she would understand the schism of staunch and ratchet that cut through my center, and she did!

She got me. She understood that I had many questions that needed answers. She understood that I was a child of God who also got curious and wanted loving answers. She was free with me.

On one occasion, she helped me see that it was okay for me to ask what God was doing through a situation and not rush to solve it first. She taught me breathing techniques, relaxing my mind and how to guard my boundaries. She taught me what healthy relationships look like and how to handle them as a practical Christian.

We talked about love, Jesus, friends and church folk. I told her about how church folk hurt me out of the church. She understood. She made me feel more human that the church guide ever did. I knew why.

They all tried to pray out what therapy and inner work could help manage. I needed prayer nights and a true friend. I needed more Bible time and needed to learn how to communicate. I needed to fast and to learn how to process childhood trauma. Although the church folk maybe meant well, they were praying for a dying hen.

Although the church folk maybe meant well, they were praying for a dying hen.

I am a Believer of Christ Jesus. Saved. Sanctified. Holy Spirit filled. But I believe in therapy. I believe that Jesus is Lord but He also provides grace to people who are then able to help others overcome things in their lives (ex. therapists, counsellors). God is not limited in how He works. He uses people to execute His divine will and purpose for us-for examples, please see the whole Bible.

In many ways, therapy and Jesus made a power team that saved me from myself. For the first time, I started to think good thoughts about myself. Happy ones. I started to practice things that made me start showing up as a healthier adult. Like setting boundaries-something I struggled with because of systematic trauma from countless encounters in my early childhood to teenage hood. The therapist helped me understand why I found it hard to tell people 'no'. She helped me see that I can love Jesus, pray and cast out demons but still not know how to show up as a friend-and how to change that wholesomely.

I had to do my own work, too. I had to marry Jesus and therapy and make a pretty baby who I can carry through to old age. I introspect a whole lot and so that came relatively easy. I am not where I want to be, but I am so much further than where I was 1 year ago. I have grown, I have grown so well.

I am not ashamed of my story or what it has birthed-because the lady who has come out of the furnace is a fine fine girl, smooth face, no pimple.

Prayer works, but so does therapy and intentional inner work.

PS: Do not get me wrong. Church leaders/your local church counsellors can advise you too. But I believe that you are not bound to them, even if you are made to believe you are. You can seek other godly avenues of help that feel comfortable to you (like seeking a Christian therapist). Comfort unlocks openness.

Does this post resonate with you?

Email me if you feel under the weather and would love to be connected to a reliable, Christian Kenyan therapist.