I grew up
obeying rules and secretly (secret from myself, that is) thinking I was better
than other people. At nineteen, as I was beginning a slide into
depression but didn't know it, I was "called" into my bedroom by what
I was hoping/afraid might be God. I told Him I wanted to be like the
Christians in the Bible. God told me through the Bible that those who are
forgiven little, love little. But, those who are forgiven much, love
much. I thought I had little to be forgiven of so I told God I wanted to
be forgiven of much and I thought it might be fun to sin. God impressed
on my spirit, "You're a sinner!" He wasn't talking about your
everyday church-going sinner that we all are. He meant I was vile, evil
and depraved. I replied, "No, I'm not!" He said again,
"You're a sinner!" I said again, "No, I'm not!"
Then God did the kindest, most loving thing He could do for
me: He "blessed" me with mental illness (that would not be
correctly treated for ten years). The mental illness caused indescribable
psychic pain, anguish, regret, and shame. My emotions left me (but I
didn't know it) causing me to feel like I hadn't really talked to anyone for
ten years; I literally felt alone for all of those years. And, my Pride
was assaulted: I was in and out of mental hospitals, I was humiliated
because I lost many jobs, I could not do some of the simplest of things (like
count money), and I despised being labeled mentally ill and a failure.
Why did I call it God's "blessing?" because that
was the only way for my Pride to fall. I came to realize I was vile, evil
and depraved; just like God had told me. God called me again after ten
years and I grudgingly accepted Him. And God began the continuous work of
changing me so that eventually I will have the beautiful loving character of
His Only Begotten Son, Jesus.
But bringing me to Jesus wasn't the only value of the pain.
God allowed that pain to go deep within to allow me
to care deeply about the hurts of others; to be able to empathize
with others, and let others in pain know I that have hurt deeply as well.
I use the pain God gave me every day in my job, as I walk alongside those
dealing with mental illness. (And, I also use the pain to understand others
who have experienced pain, such as my children, who were traumatized before we
adopted them).
I wouldn't wish mental illness on anyone. I wish I
could have learned without the pain. But God used the pain to win me to
Himself and change me; and help me to care about, and be willing and able to
serve, others.
And for that I will forever be grateful.
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