18 May 2017

I have a mental illness. It is controlled by 10 different prescribed pills, two are considered controlled substance. The medication regime works, and I am grateful for a wonderful therapist and a full of life psychologist. My lovely wife, Christel, reminds me to take the meds and lets me know if I am acting according to the illness or not.

I had some people whom I love invite me to lunch, I thought to talk about what the ministry has done for their people and just get to know each other better. At the end of the lunch I asked, "Was there something specific you wanted to meet about?" They said yes and he left to get something out of the car. When he came back he gave me a 8 page photocopy of an introduction to a book that saying my mental illness caused by lack of faith, giving in to the evil one's lies, and finally I have turned away from God.

Enough about me. I love being at a place where, when there is inappropriate behavior, instead of just sending them home, unless they are a threat to themselves or others, I get to spend some time building trust enough to be able to get them away from the idea that they are sitting in the principal's office, but they are with Jesus. (Note: I am not saying I am the Jesus incarnate, I do not have that mental illness, but I do believe that I follow the way and truth and life of my Savior, and want to love others like He did and still does.)

I feel I am the most honored and humbled when someone would open the private, sealed off room, where the wounds are tender and still not healing, to expose them to me. Being a disciple of Jesus, calls me to not judge, but understand and love.  There are no formulas or tricks or techniques to get someone to trust someone else.

Well... actually I am wrong there, there is a way. Die to self... no more than that, die.

Lean not on your understanding.

No formula, technique, tricks, education, or whatever. But simply let the Spirit lead and allow you to hear Jesus' voices. No judgement, love. When we die to ourselves and listen to the still, small Voice, we see the child as He sees them. Beloved. God is fond of them. It is up to us to be transformed before we can speak His truth.

My problem, my mental illness, is that I don't listen to the still small Voice, I listen to the past voices of declarations shouting in my mind, flesh, in fact the whole structure of who I am, my skeleton, my soul, spirit... I want to listen, my spirit yearns for freedom, and my mental state restricts to the loud shouting and placards of the crowd, who's power is based on me listening to them. IT causes my very chemical make up to become depleted.

Last week, I died. It was messy and full of broken bones and sliced off flesh, all the way down to the seed of who I was created to be. No longer did fear rule me. I notice that it didn't go away, I needed to that thought captive and speak the truth. No power. No ownership. It keeps trying, but each time gets easier.

I am grateful to a couple of "new friends" who responded to the still small Voice to come here to stand in prayer for me. I had to die, they stood by without saying a word, but praying, with goofy grins of knowing what I am going through because they had to. I am not a member of a club of any kind other than born again into the kingdom of heaven, here on earth.

Oh, I am still taking my medicine, seeing my therapist, and my for the rest of my life. It is not a sign of unbelief, or rejection of Christ's work, or possess by the evil one. It is in His time. It is wholistic and right now my body needs the supplement.

Thanks for taking time hang out.