God’s Faithfulness Gets Real

As a first entry into the world of blogging I guess I want to share a little of my story. I must be honest and say I put this up with a little trepidation as to what people might think of our course and me!

Despite my misgivings I hope this entry will provides a little insight into why we teach what we teach to our counseling students.

God’s Faithfulness Gets Real

It was my second night in hospital with serious and unexplained bleeding after the birth of our third child. I stared at my 3 month-old son who was being cradled by my husband while doctors and nurses buzzed around.

I didn’t realise it at the time but I was dying. My body was fighting hard, but was so weak. It turned out that I had a very rare but aggressive type of cancer called Choriocarcinoma .

Despite the odds being against his survival, my son had miraculously survived growing alongside a tumour in the womb. With further tests it was discovered that the tumour had rapidly progressed to my lungs. To beat the disease would require me to have many gruelling weekly treatments, with the good news being that this type of carcinoma was highly responsive to chemotherapy.

But worse than the gruelling treatment was the moment when I was told that I was to be transferred to another hospital, meaning I would have to hand over my son to be cared for by my husband and mum; Daniel and I had never been parted for more than a couple of hours. As I breast fed him for the last time I had no idea whether either of us would be ok. I had gone from being a strong carer and protector to being as weak and vulnerable as he.

The pain of loss I felt was unbearable, and the moment I handed him over was one of the hardest of my life. In some ways it would have been easier to tell me to tear out my heart, which is how it felt handing him over that night.

Sitting in the A&E of Charing Cross Hospital, which specialises in this kind of cancer, I felt stripped of everything I found comfort and security in, I was in immense pain, and mental torture. When eventually taken to my room, I curled up in the foetal position and cried out from the deepest part of my soul to know His Spirit was with me. Honestly, nothing happened. The room remained bare, cold, and dark, perfectly reflecting my State.

What followed from that point was what can only be described as the hardest journey of my life thus far. I went to places within myself and had experiences that there really are no earthly words for. As the chemo took its toll I felt at times as if I was in a kind of hell. And yet, at the same time, I have never experienced such a profound and glorious sense of God’s presence.

The time that stands out most is the night the hospital lost my chemo. I was in complete pain and turmoil about my situation, but as the night wore on I came to realise there was a lady in the last hours of her life in the bed next to me. I could hear her agony from behind the curtain and knew that it was an honour to be able to pray for her as we lay side by side in pain. It was then I saw how even in the darkest night His Spirit calls us to reach out, and I have never felt so sure of my calling to simply be His hands and feet whatever the circumstances.

I must also add that I saw His love through friends and family stepping in and filling the gaps made by my inability to care for our family and myself. I was often dumbfounded as people, Christian, Non-Christian, family, friends, strangers came and showed abundant love and grace to us.

You might think that as a counsellor it would be my skills as a therapist that would have come to the fore. But in that first dark night, and the ones that followed, what remained when I was stripped to my core was a deep profound belief, a sense of God’s sovereignty, and the pervasiveness of His Spirit.

Of course, I did (and still do) use my skills as a therapist to help deal with the trauma happening in my body, mind, emotions, and spirit. But what most impacted my experience of the diagnosis and treatment of cancer was what I believe about God and who I am in relation to Him. I also couldn’t deny the repeated experience of what I could only describe as ‘Spirit saturated’ times with hospital workers and others in treatment.

Unfortunately much of what happens in life does not come with an instruction manual, and yet we need to respond, somehow, to what we experience. What informs our responses seems, to me, to be vitally important. We need to know what we believe, and why, as this affects how we see the world and how we respond to it. Our minds need robust and vigorously thought-out views which make sense of and support the rigors of life – either to help us process events in our own lives, or when we spend time working with others.

For the Theology and Counselling course at the London School of Theology (LST) we teach that the most effective tool a counsellor takes into the counselling room is themselves. Therefore self-awareness - knowing what we think, believe, and why - is fundamental in the ability to walk in the sacred path of the care of others.

So there I was, with the words “We are fairly sure you have a rare carcinoma we don’t know much about” echoing around me. In that moment, when I was faced with the ultimate question which demanded an answer, in the face of possible death, of everything being stripped away: what stands?

I stared at my young son and felt shock and horror but amazingly, underneath it all, a profound clarity. I found that what I was experiencing was supported by the theology I had studied at LST. Themes such as: God’s sovereignty, my purpose even in the face of death, the pervasiveness and persona of the Holy Spirit, healing and what it means, the ecclesia, and the call to care for a broken world… I could go on, yet it would suffice to say, I experienced each of these in a new and profound way with thanks to the exceptional grounding I received as a student at LST.

Rather than feeling tossed around by my illness and all it entailed I experienced what I can only guess it might have been like when Jesus calmed the storm for his disciples. The trauma of my illness did not disappear, and yet there was a calling of order in a chaotic and scary world through my understanding of the nature of God. 

I love being a counsellor, and teaching counselling is a gift and privilege. I fervently believe in the body of Christ being an effective healer in the world. The tools of therapy we teach through the various counselling courses at LST are equipping people to be Christ’s hands and feet in a hurting world.

However, without knowing what we believe and why, I wonder how truly effective we are? I believe that it’s not what happens to us in life, but what we believe about what’s happening, that affects our experience of it. Our underpinning philosophies and beliefs will affect how we connect to God, others and ourselves. 

The Theology and Counselling team is passionate about training well-equipped and skilled counsellors, pastors, missionaries, youth workers and carers grounded in a profound understanding of God and His word. We are inspired by Christ’s words calling His followers to be ‘like a wise man who built his house on the rock’ (Matthew 7:24).

Some people I talk to question whether they can afford to do the LST Theology and Counselling course. My reply: Can you afford not to…?

This was first published in LST’s own magazine, Insight (Volume 2, Issue 3). Click the image below to read the original article and the other contributors to this super publication. 

If you want to hear more, you can listen to my recent preach in LST Chapel by clicking on the image below. As well as my sermon you can hear a rich variety of in-house and visiting speakers.

Kirsty Annable 

Lecturer in Counselling and part of the Student Pastoral Support Team at LST. 

Described by her colleagues as ‘Real, warm, caring, pastoral and funny, sometimes irreverent but having a deeply spiritual core.’