I am a fighter.

Sometimes I feel like I've been given too much. I pile every up that's going on around me and it overwhelms me.

But I have lost sight of something so crucial; something God told me when I first became a Christian. That I am a FIGHTER. I was built to fight the good fight. I was created by God to be a fighter.

From the first moment I became a Christian I was forced to fight. I didn't understand it back then, I thought that it was normal what I was going through; nightmares, voices and visions. I thought my struggles were something that everyone went through. God's way of teaching me to rely on Him completely. I only knew to trust Him with my childlike faith. I didn't realize how He was making me a fighter.

It was then in Thailand that I learnt that the fight was worth it. I learned that I truly did have a destiny and a passion that God had placed inside of me. That the joy I got serving Him made those sleepless nights, all those things that terrified me daily seem so small compared to this new found joy. It made me want to actually fight, the fight wasn't just for my own survival it was for these children I met and the many more around the world that needed me.

Then later TREK came along. It was going to be a time of refreshment for me. A time when God was going to intervene and I wasn't going to have to fight so hard. Where He'd truly teach me His ways and I'd mature enough in my faith that fighting would become easy. I thought that the knowledge that I would gain during TREK would mean that the fighting was done by God, and all I'd have to do is sit back and allow Him to do it. That wasn't the case. I fought harder than I've ever fought in my life. There was a war for my soul, that was in the height of battle. I fought harder than I ever thought possible and even through that, I was no where near winning. All the fighting that I had done and I was no where near thriving; I was simply surviving.

After TREK training I moved to the downtown Eastside. I thought that the fight would lessen. I was exhausted from the year before. It had been exactly a year since becoming a Christian and in all honestly I was weak. The battle had drained me. But I found life. I found the joy of the Lord in the streets of Vancouver. It gave me drive. It gave me that push that I needed to say YES Lord, you are WORTHY. Yes Lord, I want to remain fighting this battle and I want more than anything to continue serving you in Brasil.

Then it had seemed like I lost the ultimate battle in the war. My team flew off to Brasil without me. I wasn't strong enough to fight after this one. I spent the next weeks in tears. I had fought as hard as I could. There wasn't even an ounce of fight left in me. I had given absolutely everything, I had done exactly what God had asked of me. I surrendered and swallowed my pride and asked for help from others. I did exactly what my leaders asked. I poured my heart and soul into reading His word, memorizing it, declaring it, letting it soak into my heart. And that hadn't been enough. I told God I quit. The fight was over.

My body had quit on me. Exhausted from a year of no sleep and a year filled with such terror that the lines between nightmares and reality are so blurred I can't remember what was a dream and what was real. But my heart beat on. My heart had fallen so passionately in love with God that it wouldn't let my body quit, not when my calling was so great. My heart told me that I needed to move on. That, that destiny that I learnt about in Thailand was real that that passion that I felt on the streets of Vancouver wasn't about to go away anytime soon.

So I fought on. I picked myself up, lifted up my head and raised my banner high. I let my passion lead me. I fought against my family's wishes and applied to YWAM. I fought through many friend's questions if this was really God's timing. I fought my own doubts, anxieties, fears, hesitations and uncertainty. But God told me to keep fighting for Him, to keep fighting for what I was passionate about, to keep fighting for my destiny. I fought up until the moment I landed in Belize.

Finally, it was going to be THIS time: where the fight would cease, and my faith would be simpler. I knew what intense faith training like this entailed, I knew the things that God was going to teach me this time, I knew the struggles I would face so I was more than prepared for this period of easiness in my life. I deserved it and it was finally here. The storm finally was going to be calm. And it couldn't have came at a better time. I had seriously used that last oomph that I had fighting my way to Belize.

But of course, simply said: God has called me to be a fighter. DTS was so much different than TREK training. I was more open, more vulnerable. I let my guard down and surrendered once again. Looking back now it seems that every time I surrendered Satan wanted nothing to do with it and the fight became more intense. My nightmares and voices peaked. But I kept fighting. I knew that it was God's plan, I knew that there could be no other way. I was trapped on this little boat and God had called me to fight.

Then something happened. It was beyond traumatizing, my darkest hour. Had it been my fault? And if it wasn't, then how could a loving God allow this to happen? Especially since I had been fighting so incredibly hard. After that I couldn't fight on, it was debilitating. The shock, the sting, the grief overwhelmed me, and still does to this very day. It wasn't fair. I had been fighting SO hard, I had been making progress, I was on a mission under His name. It just wasn't fair. How could I fight when this had been done to me?The ground that I had conquered in my fight was lost, I was once again brought to the beginning of the battle. I lost faith and gave up the fight once again.

I didn't recover for a long time, I didn't believe that I was meant to fight. Maybe God had called me to fight for a time, but surely there was no way that He could expect me to fight after what happened. I was defeated. But outreach came along. I knew that I was going to have to fight, I'd have no choice. I was no longer in the safety of the bubble of the boats. I prepared myself, not that I really knew what I was doing, but I prepared myself for battle once again. I was built to be a fighter.

Outreach was indeed a fight; filled with tears, heartbreak, loss, exhilaration, passion and joy. Once again the reason behind the fight was revealed. God was my true source and if He asked me to fight, that's exactly what I would do, no questions asked. He asked me to trust Him, I'd simply do it. Things that seemed to difficult to grasp during lecture phase came so easily. The characteristics of God became knowledge in my heart, not just my mind. He encouraged me to keep fighting the good fight.

Outreach was followed by a time of waiting, waiting for His perfect timing. As much as you'd think that this was another time of calm in the storm that I had much needed, it was difficult. Everyone told me to get going, questioned the reasoning behind me still being here. I had to fight for what I knew, I knew that God was in control. So I fought mine and everyone else's doubts and got to India.

The fight was once again heightened during my time in India. I fought thoughts of loneliness and isolation. This was supposed to be like all my times of serving God. Where the passion came easily and the willingness to fight was abundant. It didn't come. It was a conscience decision to get up every single day and fight to stay connected to God so that I could simply face the daily tasks that I was supposed to perform during my time there. I had to learn to fight even when I knew I was in the centre of God's will and it was supposed to be easy.

My time in India came to a close and I craved a time of rest. A moment of peace between battles. I knew that I'd have to fight hard to actually get myself to Africa and once I was there there fight wouldn't cease but just increase. So the war waged on and the fighting continued.

Then the accident happened: I fell off a cliff. It was yet another life changing moment. I faced the type of battle that I hadn't fought before: chronic pain. I felt helpless. There wasn't anything I could do, in that moment I couldn't even move my own body, how did God expect me to fight through this one? But I knew one thing for sure, my life should have been taken that afternoon, but God's mighty hand saved me from death. I would have to fight, I couldn't give up on Him, not after what He just did. Not after He declared that my life absolutely meant something to Him. So I decided that I was going to fight. I was going to fight through the pain. I didn't know how I'd do it. The pain was overwhelming; every single bruise, cut and muscle in my body ached and burned. But my heart felt the burning of God's love for me. So I declared to Him that I would be a fighter.

The following year, of course, I was forced to fight. Fight to simply get up in the morning and fight to fall asleep at night knowing that I'd have to face the pain all over again the next morning. The fight became wearing, it became all encompassing. I had to learn to fight for every single little thing, because it seemed that every little thing that I did was difficult. The fight slowly became more and more draining until I was completely drained. Unable to fight past the constant pain and unable to find a reason to keep fighting. The days dragged on and nothing seemed to change. I decided I didn't want to fight anymore. Maybe I wasn't a fighter.

And yet another year came. I was forced to renounce my title as a fighter. I hadn't done anything special. I was simply surviving. But I remember so clearly, one defeated day, God whispered to me: 'Nikita, I have created you to fight the good fight. I am so proud of you for what you have done so far. But now, I need you to lift up your chin, take My hand and let's continue fighting.' And in an instant I was once again a fighter.

The war has now brought me to Mexico: running away from the draining fight of similar unproductive days that dragged on day after day. God called me to fight here in Mexico. Fight for my identity, fight for my purity, fight to stand for what I believe in.

As I spent my day today thinking of the journey that God has brought me on I can't even deny a little bit that I am not only a fighter, but a conquerer in Christ. I have fought my way through battles that at the moment I thought I couldn't even begin to imagine that I'd get out of. Why is what I am facing today any different?

I am a fighter, so I am going to stand in Christ and fight.