He Shouts In Our Pain: Maggie McAdams
“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pain; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” - C.S. Lewis
There’s a danger that comes in being raised as a minister’s kid. It becomes even more prevalent when your personality is one that leans towards perfectionism. When the eyes of hundreds are upon you and watching your steps as you grow, you become someone who craves seeming as though you have everything together, especially in your spiritual life. If you can be the one who knows it all, no one will ever doubt that you may feel nothing inside.
From a young age, I knew that I loved Jesus because that’s what I was supposed to know. At age 13, I got baptized because that’s what I was supposed to do. I was following all of the rules. I had no desire to drink or act out, no craving to explore a life outside of the bounds of what I was told was acceptable. I cried at the emotional devotionals to encourage others to feel open, and I stood by them, praying over them if they asked.
Yet I felt so little of the faith I claimed to own. Felt so little of anything.
Going away to college is the craziest whirlwind. You leave behind a life and a reputation you had so perfectly spent 18 years cultivating and are thrown into a place that knows nothing about you. For a while, my old act worked. I kept up that facade of being the good girl who cared about never missing a Sunday morning. I found a church that allowed me to be surface level and only seen just enough. But there comes a point where everything is going to break. No one can feel nothing forever.
The emotions will come. And when they come, they’ll come full force, ready to make up for the years you’d spent suppressing them.
So, how do you deal with it when emotions suddenly become overwhelming and risk exposing you for the fraud you are? You find other ways to numb those emotions. Ways that are dangerous both to your body and to your heart. You push away the people who see the truth of what’s happening and surround yourself with people who don’t care enough to look at the pain. Because if no one sees the pain, you can pretend it’s not there, and maybe then, the good girl facade can remain intact.
But that pain has a purpose. God shouts to us in it and refuses to let us ignore Him.
I returned to Tech in my fourth year after spending six months working at an engineering internship in New Orleans. In one of the darkest headspaces I’d ever been in, I was fighting a mental health battle and a growing alcohol dependency I was trying to hide from others. More alone than ever, I was counting down the days until I was done in Ruston, convinced nothing was going to get better.
In my first couple of months back at Tech, I was led into the Wesley. Originally drawn in by an invite to the Yule Ball and Race Talks by a boy I thought was cute, I stayed because something felt different. After a few regular attendings, I couldn’t talk my way out of hangouts with a couple of the interns. It was at these hangouts that I started understanding what was different. I was suddenly seen.
The pain I’d so fervently fought to hide from others was seen and asked about by people all of a sudden. They didn’t know me and had no reason to know that something was wrong. I was scared and horrified that everything would fall apart. If they all knew, I had no chance of pretending to be a good girl who had it all together. But something was different here...and I couldn’t hold back the pain anymore.
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” - Galatians 6:2
I was heard and held as I shared every feeling I’d held in for so long. God led me to people who were so willing to help the pain and help me see the love that had surrounded me all along, even when I avoided seeing it. I felt none of the judgement I had feared would come if I ever let the facade slip. I no longer felt the overwhelming loneliness.
I have a soft spot for 90’s Christian music due to being raised by a Youth Minister as a father. There’s a certain verse written by the late Rich Mullins that fits so perfectly into describing what soon became to be known as my Wesley experience:
“Now I've seen no band of angels
But I've heard the soldiers' songs
Love hangs over them like a banner
Love within them leads them on
To the battle on the journey
And it's never gonna stop
Ever widening their mercies
And the fury of His love”
- “The Love of God” by Rich Mullins
Growing up, I so often sang songs about the soldiers of God. The ones He blessed to fight for His kingdom and for His children who were unable to fight for themselves. He sends them in when your pain is the loudest to show you His unrelenting love. It is at the Wesley that I found His army.
This army helped me learn the beauty of emotions and expressing them with others, and later through worship. The tears I shed within the walls of the Wesley held none of the ulterior motives of the ones of my youth. And they were embraced and loved. I was able to overcome so many negative coping mechanisms I’d developed because I was no longer coping alone. I had soldiers fighting and carrying my burdens.
Because I was no longer hiding, I could actually begin to develop the faith I’d claimed to have for so long. I didn’t have to pretend to be the one who had the answers and could ask the questions I actually had. I could develop an independent faith that I felt no judgement for.
While I still struggle at times with emotions and old habits, I have a community that continues to check on my pain and help fight my battles, even two years out from college. My faith grows daily because of their encouragement and insights into the Word. That is the fury of God’s love, and my goodness, is it overwhelming.
Maggie is a joyful Christian and all around great person! She graduated from LA Tech with a degree in Chemical Engineering in 2019, and currently works as an engineer in Texas. Since coming to the Wesley and even after her physical departure, she continues to bless our community and be a light of Christ to those around her.