Dipped in Shame

“All day long my disgrace is before me, and shame has covered my face.” Psalm 44:15

Some of us truly understand shame. It’s like we have been dipped in it, we have wallowed in it and things are sticking to us. We live out our lives in disgrace and in the sense of nasty embarrassment which we can’t truly resolve. And it affects all that we do, even in those rare moments we are not aware of it.

I honestly wish I was “teflon.” I would love to have a ‘non-stick’ heart. There is however, a constant sense of being totally insufficient as a person. It is a very deep awareness of being defective and unworthy. Many of us feel this way all the time. It is welded to us, and we keep trying to figure how to break that dark bond that’s on our hearts and minds.

Mental illness lives on that blackness. Depression feeds on that stuff, it seems to cycle through us. Our pasts become its nourishment, and at certain times it flourishes. Sometimes it explodes in our minds, just like when you give your roses a dose of “Miracle Grow” (but in a bad way.)

I read recently, that chemists are trying very hard to develop a drug that would erase bad memories. The thinking is that people suffering from PTSD will find freedom from very ugly events. Many of us, at certain points in our lives, truly absorb the evil. Some of us end up in prison, others are addicted, and a few go ahead and commit suicide. Shame when its at its best can completely incapacitate and destroy a person.

Most end up with a mental illness, and because we are so complex, it is difficult to view it as a simple ’cause and effect.’ It really is much more complicated than that. Mental illness has many layers. But if we look at our issues from a different view point we can see things we might never see.

Shame is a monster that is constantly tracking us. At times we can put some distance between us. But occasionally it leaps up on our backs and drags us down. We are humiliated with our guilt. That is precisely when we should scream out for help.

There are pastors and psychiatrists, therapists and friends who are most helpful. Practicing prayer and soaking in worship can drive the monster away. Meds can very often provide a respite. All of these have helped me. But in all of this, we must be patient.

We are dealing with guilt, and there are spiritual issues that trump everything else. Human beings were never created to bear guilt, we don’t know what to do. Shame is vigorously parasitical and consuming. If it runs amok through your life it can and will destroy you.

“You know my reproach, and my shame and my dishonor; my foes are all known to you.” Psalm 69:19

“…in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” Col. 1:14

“To the Lord our God belong mercy and forgiveness, for we have rebelled against him.” Daniel 9:9

God has made an incredible provision for your guilt. Your sin, though it is crimson red in its intensity and very obvious, it can become as white as snow. Your shame and guilt can be erased.

“Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed; Neither be disgraced, for you will not be put to shame; For you will forget the shame of your youth, And will not remember the reproach of your widowhood anymore.” Isa. 54:4

It was Mark Twain, who once said, “Man is the only animal that blushes, and the only animal that needs to.”  We are ashamed, are we not, of things we’ve done in the past? Nobody is free who is unforgiven. Instead of being able to look God in the face or to look one another in the face, we want to run away and hide when our conscience troubles us.

 

Depression and Diabetes

For some reason lately I’ve been thinking about the similarities between diabetes and depression. I know that depression can be one of the complications of diabetes, but that is something I learned only when I did a little research about diabetes and isn’t what I want to share about these two diseases.

Caveat: I am not a doctor and this post is not intended as medical advice. It simply an observation that has been on my mind lately and is helpful for me in understanding my own challenges to keep depression at bay.

I do not have diabetes, but I do know people who do. Diabetes is a disease for which there is no “cure,” though there are treatments that can minimize the symptoms and complications that can arise from this disease. Some people with diabetes do a great job of taking such good care of themselves and following their doctor’s orders that they are virtually symptom free. You would never know they had diabetes unless they told you. I’ve known other diabetics who don’t follow doctor’s orders, and the outcome was terrible.

Dealing with diabetes is not an easy road. For people with Type 2 diabetes, a strict diet and exercise are a must, and monitoring blood sugar levels is essential. For people with Type 1 diabetes, insulin injections are also necessary because their bodies do not produce any of this necessary hormone. It is a lifelong affliction, the potential effects of which can be minimized but never forgotten or ignored.

I believe that for some people depression is similar to diabetes in that it is never cured. These people are prone to depression, and may have suffered through one or more episodes of major depression in their lives. From a statistical standpoint, a person who has had more than two major depressive episodes is highly likely to have another in their lifetime. But it isn’t inevitable that they will. Just as the symptoms of diabetes can be prevented or minimized with careful management, so the symptoms of depression can be prevented or minimized with proper care.

There are some people who, like the person with Type 1 diabetes, need medication to help keep them stable and to prevent major depression from setting in. (Though this may be a small percentage, just as Type 1 diabetes is much rarer than Type 2.)  But everyone who struggles with depression can help prevent or minimize the effects of a relapse by taking steps to truly care of themselves. Diet and exercise can be part of this self-care, but for the person who lives with the knowledge of depression there is a mental and spiritual component of their self-care that goes beyond what is required of the diabetic.

Many years ago the doctor I was seeing told me I would be on antidepressants for the rest of my life. Having now been off them for 13 years and not suffered another major depressive episode in all that time, I think I can safely say she was wrong. But in the last few years I have come to understand that I am one of those people who cannot take for granted that depression is strictly a part of my past. It is forever a part of who I am and I must never forget the misery it has caused me and could cause me again if I do not take care of my mental and spiritual health.

For me, warding off a relapse of depression requires that I choose to engage in regular prayer time; to listen to music that is encouraging and uplifting, and avoid music that is depressing; to talk to a Christian friend if something is bothering me; to take a periodic inventory of my own actions and attitudes, and correct any that are negative; and to trust in the Holy Spirit to guide my thoughts, putting on the whole armor of God. When I do these things, I can live in such a way that others would never know that depression is a part of my life. But if I neglect these things for too long, I will soon detect the specter of depression looming in my heart and in my mind, and the outcome will be terrible.

Just as the diabetic can never forget that they have diabetes and neglect their diet and health regimen, I can never forget that depression is ever a part of me and neglect my mental and spiritual regimen. I must be ever vigilant and cling to Jesus as my Rock, trusting in His promises, and following His commands and precepts to love, forgive, and be content.

Joy is Not Optional

The test of Christian character should be that a man is a joy-bearing agent to the world.   –Henry Ward Beecher

The last ten days have been quite difficult.  I have lived in a separated state with the Lord and that is not anything that I can tolerate or endure.  I have gone into this period of self-hatred with eyes wide shut and quite angry with my own stupidity.  I am not a saint, I am a sinner, through and through.

I have come to see Nehemiah‘s ministry was only superficially building up the walls of JerusalemRebuilding the walls was just a pretext to rebuilding a people.  They were defeated and overwhelmed.  Then Nehemiah the governor, Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who were instructing the people said to them all, “This day is sacred to the LORD your God. Do not mourn or weep.” For all the people had been weeping as they listened to the words of the Law. Nehemiah said, “Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is sacred to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength. [Neh. 8]

What the Bible Says About Joy:

  • Jesus’ aim in all He taught was the joy of His people (Jn. 15:11).
  • Joy is what God fills us with when we trust in Christ (Rom. 15:13).
  • The kingdom of God is joy (Rom. 14:17).
  • Joy is the fruit of God’s Spirit within us (Gal. 5:22).
  • Joy is the aim of everything the apostles did and wrote (2 Cor. 1:24).
  • Becoming a Christian is finding a joy that makes you willing to forsake everything (Mat. 13:44).
  • Joy is nourished and sustained by the word of God in the Bible (Psm. 19:8).
  • Joy will overtake all sorrow for those who trust Christ (Psm. 126:5; 30:5)
  • God Himself is our joy (Psm. 43:4; 16:11). Joy in God outstrips all earthly joy (Psm. 4:7)
  • If your joy is in God, no one can take your joy from you (Jn. 16:22).
  • God calls all nations and peoples to join in the joy He offers to all who believe. No racism. No ethnocentrism (Psm. 67:4; Psm. 66:1).
  •  The whole Christian message from beginning to end is good news of great joy (Lk. 2:10; Isa. 51:11).
  • When we meet Christ at His second coming we will enter into his indestructible joy (Mt. 25:23).

 –John Piper

 

I believe that joy should mark a person of spiritual health.  Joy should be embedded into our character for all to see.  Without joy we no longer can rebuild our walls, and we toss aside our tools.  The work of restoration is intense, and unless we take joy in the Lord we will falter and fail.

Dreaming of Forgiveness

This article was originally posted on my blog, Linda Kruschke’s Blog, here. When Pr. Bryan asked me to contribute to Broken Believers, I knew this was one post I wanted to share here.

Important caveat: In this article I am not suggesting that unforgiveness or other unrepentant sin is the root of all depression. There are many causes of severe depression. Sometimes the depression of a person can have multiple causes and exacerbating factors. This is just my story, and I believe I’m not alone in the root of my struggle. I write this for those who, like me, have been hurt and have hung onto the bitterness that such wrongs can cause.

As I write this, I’m sitting in the Portland, Oregon airport waiting to board my flight to Boston with a layover in Houston. It’s 10:47 p.m. and I’ll soon (I hope) be on the red eye, trying to get some sleep. I doubt it will be the kind of deep sleep that leads to dreaming.

For the past couple of days a blog post idea has been flitting around in my head that has to do with dreaming. Or more accurately, it has to do with a specific dream. I decided this was the perfect opportunity to write that post.

This is a true story of a dream I had 13 years ago, but it is as vivid in my memory today as it was the moment I awoke from it. But before I get to the dream, a little background (some of which those who have read much of my blog will already know, some of which I’ve only shared one-on-one with people I know).

I had been struggling with major clinical depression for almost 7 years. There had been some good days, weeks, maybe even a month here and there, during that 7 years. But never any lasting relief. Even before that I had dealt with low grade depression for a long as I could remember. Through it all I blamed one person for all my misery. I’d been blaming him for almost 20 years. I was sure what he had done was the reason for my depression and that there was nothing I could do about it. I had become convinced that I would always be miserable. My regular mantra was that he had ruined my life.

So you might be wondering what he did that was so terrible. I’ve thought a lot about whether I would include that piece of information here. I’ve shared it with friends, but I’ve decided not to do so in my blog. I believe that this post will have a greater impact if I don’t because the principles I learned through this story aren’t dependent on the wrong that was done to me. Just as we don’t know what the thorn was in Paul’s side that he asked the Lord to remove (2 Corinthians 12:7-10), so that his story has a universal message that Jesus’ grace is sufficient for any suffering, I think my story will have more universal appeal if the reader can fill in the blanks with whatever wrong has been done to them.

You might also be wondering if my life really was miserable during this time so as to warrant being depressed. I assure you it was not. I was (and still am) married to a wonderful man who loves me and would do anything for me. We lived in a nice house. I had graduated from law school cum laude and had a pretty good job. My sweet, loveable son was also born during this time. I actually had, as George Bailey would say, “a wonderful life.”

Still, I was in utter despair and medication was not helping. I mentioned in a previous post about my friend June who invited me to my first Bible study, which happened towards the end of my 7 years of major depression. It was while I was attending this Bible study on a weekly basis that I had the dream.

Okay, now to the dream. It started out with me standing at the checkout counter at the grocery story. I paid for my groceries and turned to leave. There he was, on his knees, asking me to forgive him. But I walked away. Suddenly I was at the post office mailing some letters. I finished my business with the postal clerk and turned to leave. There he was again, on his knees, asking me to forgive him. But I walked away. This scenario was repeated at the bank, the library, and several other of the regular places one goes in life.

He was everywhere in my life in this dream, but not trying to ruin it. He was always asking for forgiveness. I awoke from the dream and knew immediately what I needed to do. God had been trying to tell me this very thing in various ways for quite some time, but I hadn’t listened. I couldn’t ignore this clear message of forgiveness.

So that is what I did. It wasn’t easy, and I had to pray for God to help me, but I forgave him. Suddenly a flood of names came to my mind. People who had “trespassed against me” in some way or another over the years; people I was holding a grudge against. All the bitterness I had been holding in my heart came pouring out and I began to cry. I asked God for forgiveness for my failure to forgive for so long.

The effect on my depression was not immediate, but it didn’t take very long compared to how long I had been struggling. Within just a few months I was off antidepressants and have not had to take them since. There are still days, sometimes weeks, when the darkness returns (though not as deeply as it had consumed me for those 7 years). For me, I can usually trace the lurking threat of depression to someone I’m angry with, someone I need to forgive. I’m reminded of the lesson of dreaming of forgiveness.

Much Sin, Much Love: A Law of the Spirit

 

 “Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”    

I have been a disciple of Jesus for almost 30 years.  But it seems that I really  haven’t  been a desperate lover of Jesus until recently.    

I have seen a lot of stuff, made a quick list–

  • the charismatic movement
  • the Imperials
  • New Wine Magazine
  • “I Found It”
  • Larry Lea‘s Prayer Program
  • the PTL Club
  • the Shack
  • Jesus’ festivals
  • Derek Prince
  • Chick tracts
  • Evie and Honeytree 
  • the Lord’s Land in Mendocino
  • Promise Keepers
  •  Anita Bryant
  • the Living Bible
  • YWAM teams
  • Four Spiritual Laws
  • ’88 Reasons Why
  • “Honk if You Love Jesus”
  • street preaching in Haight Ashbury, SF
  • Don Francisco
  • carrying the cross
  • the Hiding Place
  • Watchman Nee

I’ve been exposed to a lot of winds blowing through, and moving on.  You learn to separate the chaff from the grain.  Much of my life has been spent winnowing out to get to the good stuff.  God, through his word describes a coming “trial by fire” over each person’s works.  Romans 14:12 says, “Yes, each of us will give a personal account to God.”    

One time I walked as a backslidden Christian. I remember waking up from a drunken stupor with my t-shirt soaked in blood that was not mine.  I sobered up really quick.  There was this shadowy awareness of beating someone to the point of death.  I still catch myself wondering what exactly happened.  There is so much stuff that will be revealed and I have done many despicable things.    

The judgment seat of Christ, therefore, involves believers giving an account of their lives to Christ. The judgment seat of Christ does not determine salvation; that was determined by Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf and our faith in Him. All of our sins are forgiven, and we will never be condemned for them. We should not look at the judgment seat of Christ as God judging our sins, but rather as God rewarding us for our lives. Yes, as the Bible says, we will have to give an account of ourselves. Part of this is surely answering for the sins we committed.    

The word used is “bema seat”, it was where the judge sat during athletic contests.  Think of the high chair on which a court official sits during a tennis match.  His word is not to be debated or ignored.  Jesus fully intends to judge us.  The issue will not be our salvation, but our faithfulness.    

Loving Jesus must become your critical objective for the rest of your days, 1 Peter 4:8, “Love covers a multitude of sins.”  We also read of the sinful woman who washed Jesus feet, “therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” (Luke 7:47)    

My dear one, practice loving him– starting today.  Many are the doers, few be the lovers.  The weight of evangelism and world missions has quadrupled in the last 10 years.  Now is our time!  We love much!  Time is shortening.

A Day in the Life of a Mentally Ill Patient

6:30 am. ”Rise and shine,” but you simply just live and walk , in this kind of a desperate fog,  Simply put, ‘there will be no sunshine for you today.’  But, which only just seems to really matter to us,  who have no hope.  You exchange brief greetings with your roommate, which only just seems proper, even at this level.  We are given “ratty” old surgical scrubs to wear through out the day.

We head down en mass to the cafeteria.  I see the servers on the line, I notice that they avert their eyes from us as we form a hungry queue.  Sometimes, they will give us  choices: “bacon or sausage?“  To a mental patient, this can be a Gordian Knot of complexity.  So the line moves slowly, as we try to sort out this conunderum.

There is no coffee for us, as patients.  It has been two weeks for me, and I dream of a cup of hot coffee, with cream.  Some of the attendants drink Pepsi, although it is done hiddenly, but we all know it.  We resent their liberty, especially when we have none.  There is a question of equity, with us, which has been violated.

8:40 am.  We are all race to be the first in line for our morning meds.  It almost seems we are afraid they are suddenly going to run out.  I get my Seroquil, my lithium, my Zoloft.  Additionally, because I am post op brain tumor, I am given a mild stimulant called Provigil to help me think clearly.  I have no idea if it works, or not.

We then gather into a day room full of clunky and ugly furniture.  It is big, and the chairs encircle a grimy tile floor to make a large open space.  This is not an orderly place, as people are wandering about, some stare at the wall or at a fake plant in the corner.  It is noisy, some even shout.  Others just “rock” back and forth to a song that only they can hear.  A few of us lie in “fetal position” of hiddeness, just wanting to disappear.

The thought occurred to me one day, of a ‘giant aquarium.’  It was constantly moving, swirling about.  If you stopped moving, it meant that you were dead.  Everyone was moving, and oblivious to the others who were also moving.  This seems to explain much.  You will need to accept the aquarium if you really want to process the moment.

On one of my stays, weeks went by before I realized that this particular meeting actually existed, but I was very confused and seriously beyond any correction.  I was really struggling with clinical depression and beside meals and meds that was really could manage.  When I finally figured this out, I quickly joined the fish bowl.  It was both good and bad.  But mostly good.

11:00 am.  One thing you do notice is a lot of disjointed conversations.  You would speak to someone and 10 minutes later they would answer.  And for the most part, conversations would be muted, whispered to people.  As if there was a conspiracy involved, and a certain appropriateness must be taken.

Sometimes an attendant would turn the TV.  I can remember watching cartoons and just maybe I would think that they where communicating to me in code.  We did have a VCR for movies, but because one guy urinated into the machine, it shorted it out.  So, no more movies.

During one stay, and there were several, I was suicidal.  The staff watched me like a hawk, sitting at my door out in the hallway. But I was desperate to cut my wrists, I got up in a chair.  I wrapped up the clock in a blanket, to muffle the sound of breaking glass.  I managed to slash my wrists deeply and often, before the nurse came in my room.  For a moment, I brought an excitement to the staff.  And perhaps a certain meaning to me.

When you’re in a psych ward your days are very tedious.  One day is like the next.  The psychiatrist comes to see you and it is a high point of your day.  You discover that explanations are seldom given to you except by the doctor.  That is one of the first cardinal rules on the Ward.  Ask a nurse or an aide, and they invariably dodge.  But the psychiatrist “rules the roost.” Everyone follows his decision.

1:00 pm.   Suddenly a young teen girl with schizophrenia, screaming and pounding her head against the wall who becomes the focus.  Every couple of days this happens, and obviously punctuates the drabness of the day.  She is artfully restrained by the staff and taken to “the padded cell.”  It is for her own protection,  but we as patients, we all rally behind her fight.  When she makes a break from the nurses we all cheer her effort and want her to escape.

The second cardinal rule of the floor is that you don’t “stick out” in any way. Creating an issue is never tolerated, whatsoever.  Demanding more TV time, or coffee, or a newspaper will hardly ever go over well.  Just before Thanksgiving, 2003, I timed my meeting with the pdoc to raise an issue of a fresh cup of coffee.  There was a nurse present at our meeting, and she had to respond to the doctors order that I was to be given coffee on Thanksgiving morning.  The next morning the coffee was delivered, but the nurse insisted that she would set in a chair next to me until I finished.  Nevertheless, it was a glorious moment.

3:00 pm.  I soon developed auditory hallucinations.  First, I kept hearing a CB radio, squawking constantly.  A few days later, I started to hear a telegraph, “dit dot dash.”  They both were very loud and insisting that I pay attention.  Also, I would have 3 or 4 moments of seeing black and hairy spiders climbing at me.  They were so real, and even volitionally know they were not real, but make believe.

4:30 pm.  They’re other issues as well.  I basically hated phone calls from family.  When they did come they always seemed intrusive and seemed to work against the thinking on the Ward.  When friends did visit, I would be abrasive and rude.  Wishing they hadn’t made the effort.  I imagined their hearts processing me and my decision to be there, and it disturbed me.  Since I lived about 300 miles from the hospital, it took effort on their part to try to see me.  Looking back though, I wish I had been nicer.

8:48  pm.  Getting ready for bed.  It seems that is what I have waited for this all day.  These are moments I have started to live for.  Sleep = oblivion.  I fade to black, and life is paused.  There isn’t any issues for me to figure out.  For eight hours, I find peace,  Sleep is a deep mercy, a gift given to us from the Father.  Those of us, who struggle hard against the dark, understand the “gift” of grace in the form of sleep.  Depressives very often long for sleep. We often want to hide into sleep, as if it would solve our problems and issues.

I want to sleep, to close my eyes and to be gone.  I suppose that is true, for all of us who want to “commit suicide by sleep.”  We seek oblivion, and long for the moment when we can “check out.”  We want to be forgotten and overlooked.  Simply, we want to be forgotten, and disregarded.  We deeply want to be erased, and move directly into forgottenness.

But I have been assured, by those who have gone ahead of us.  We have gone through so much.  Things will become more complicated, and as we keep up with these extrapolations, we will become tired.  Things will often seem far away, but in reality be very close to us.

When we have been committed to the Ward, we will be shaken to our core.  Our insertion into a floor of mental illness, will certainly introduce us to a deep desperation.  There is a darkness that is pursing us far beyond what seems is right.  We must call out to Him who can save us.