Category: difficulties

Getting Down and Dirty

by Julie Anne Fidler, BB Weekly Contributor

I have a confession to make: I used to avoid church. It wasn’t because the overhead lighting gave me migraines (even though it did.) It wasn’t because my lazy cat had more pep than the worship team, or because I always managed to find a pew filled with screaming children throwing Goldfish crackers. In reality, I have been a member of two churches over the past ten years and both of them were great, Bible-believing churches.

It’s just that everyone in church is so darn perfect, you know? Look around you. Everyone has it all together. Sure, those kids may be throwing crackers, but they’re destined to become evangelists. The women have great hair and impeccable fashion taste and are obviously dream wives. The men never struggle with lust and have never been guilty of spending too many hours at the office.

Right.

But this has been my impression of church for as long as I can remember. The older I get, the more I realize how crazy that is, but I do battle with the concept even now. Church is supposed to be the one place where we get really honest with God, others, and ourselves.  It’s the place where you are supposed to show up with your dirt and your bruises. We are supposed to reach out and say, “Life is hard; help me.” Too often, however, we wear our best, not just on the outside, but on the inside. We want to blend in, look content, and seem overjoyed with the life we are leading.

Even if I never had a mental illness, I would struggle. The fact that I do have one makes it that much harder because I know that a couple of pills mean the difference between being OK and all my engines completely shutting down.  I know that being obedient to Christ becomes a million times harder when I’m sick. I also know that if I shared this part of my life with everyone in that sanctuary, I’d be met with suspicion and disappointment – not by everyone, but by some.

1 John 4:18 says, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” Oh, but I definitely struggle with fear. I know I shouldn’t. I know there’s no good reason to, but I do. I fear the reaction of others. I fear I cannot measure up to the standards of others. I fear looking like a fool.

I deal with these fears by facing them. Don’t get the wrong idea – I’m not trying to frame myself as a martyr.  Some people willingly jump out of airplanes. Some people get as high as the clouds, freak out, and have to be coaxed out the door. I have to be coaxed, but the more I do it, the easier it gets.  I want to be the real me when I walk through those church doors, when I go to a small group, when I sit down with a Christian friend for coffee. Jesus went to the dark places. He knelt down in the gutters. He got dirty. I don’t want to spend my life wearing a lily white uniform.

I want the Church to understand mental illness. As it stands, I think the Church is afraid of it. Of course you are going to be afraid of something you don’t understand. If I want the Church to understand mental illness and effectively reach out to “the least of these” who are suffering with it, I have to introduce them to it. I have to get dirty. I have to be honest about my own time in the gutter, my own days of wandering, if I want them to understand and respond in love.

I may run into resistance and fear, but even if I educate one person in the process, that’s one more voice speaking the truth and cracking the façade. I take a point away from the enemy, who is the creator of fear. Don’t be silent about who you are and what you battle. Trade in your spotless uniform for some dirty rags. Let’s get the Church a little dirty. Let’s love them into loving those who are lost and alone.

Julie Anne Fidler is a contributing writer for Brokenbelievers.com.  She comes with a humble and understanding heart for those with a mental illness.  Her writing gift is valued greatly.  Look for her post weekly, on this blog.   She keeps a personal ministry blog at www.mymentalhealthday.blogspot.com.  Read more there.

Close Encounters of the God Kind

by Julie Anne Fidler, Contributor to BB

As odd as it may sound, being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder was one of the highlights of my life. I got good and excited about it in the same way one might get good and excited about discovering they were pregnant. But at 24 years old, I had lost jobs, lost friends, my young marriage was on the brink of divorce, and my faith was in tatters. I sought help when there was nothing left to lose. A diagnosis meant that all the craziness in my life had a real name and that craziness could be treated.

With three suicide attempts and a history of poor decision-making under my belt, I believed that my main problem was a basic lack of faith. I spent a huge chunk of my life seeking spiritual guidance and counseling and always felt like if I could just “make a go” of my walk with God, all of my problems would subside. Except that I couldn’t make a go of it. My faith followed the same pattern as the rest of my life – for a few days or weeks I was on fire for the Lord, followed by a period of deep despair and doubt, eventually leading to apathy. I tried to be a good Christian girl but over and over again, the same pattern emerged.

Hoping and believing that treatment for my BP would help me get this part of my life on track, I eagerly told my friends, family, and other church members of the recent development. I was not surprised when my parents didn’t share my elation. They are from a different era. You simply didn’t discuss things like that. I was, however, hurt and angered to get the same reaction from other believers.

Yes, everyone meant well. They asked me if I was spending time in prayer, reading the Word faithfully, and fellowshipping and much as possible. Those are not at all bad or wrong questions to ask. They are the questions we are supposed to be asking our brothers and sisters in Christ on a regular basis, under the most normal circumstances. But with many of these people, their tone and incessant questioning made it clear that they didn’t believe in mental illness, only spiritual deficit. A few even came right out and said so.

While my quality time with Jesus improved and deepened, I began to find myself consistently held back by one thing: anger. I was angry at the church. I was angry that people accepted that I needed insulin for my diabetes, but they didn’t want to accept that I needed medication for BP. I found myself backing away from these people and for a time I even stopped attending church. I even shut out the people who had been understanding and supportive, fearing they were only telling me what I wanted to hear. When people offered to pray that God would release me from the grip of my illness, I became offended. I wanted these people to understand that I had not erected some sort of spiritual wall that kept me locked into depression or mania.

Months went by before I returned to church. I only went because my niece was with me and I wanted to be a pseudo-role model to her. The sermon that morning was about healing, and though I can’t recall all the details of what Pastor Barry said, I can tell you the message I heard loud and clear: I HAD, indeed, erected a spiritual wall between God and I.

In my anger and defensiveness, I’d pushed aside the omnipotence of God. I had forgotten that He is still holy, that He is still in control, that He is still the great physician. I had placed all of my faith in the medications I took every day, and in the human physicians who prescribed them to me. If God had healed a blind man right in front of me, I would have missed it because I was too angry to stop and watch Him work. I also began to realize that if God can reach out and heal it, then it must be a spiritual issue. Isn’t everything? I wanted acceptance and understanding for my condition, but I became a Pharisee in the process, dismissing the faith of others who believed that by merely touching the hem of Jesus’ robe, healing was possible.

There is no doubt that the church needs to be educated on mental illness. There is no doubt that mental illness (I believe “brain illness” is a more accurate term) exists and is a true, medical condition. There is also no doubt that the Enemy is using mental illness to divide and conquer, and shred the hopes of people like me, who just want to be as normal a person as possible. Once the fog of my anger cleared, God showed me that I was to be a part of the solution to this… but it could never happen until I was willing to be sympathetic towards those who don’t understand, instead of bitter.

If you’re reading this, you’re a part of the grand plan, too. It’s a tough road, but you should feel honored. There is nothing more satisfying or powerful than turning one of Satan’s own weapons against him.

Julie Anne Fidler is now a contributing writer for Brokenbelievers.com.  She comes with a humble and understanding heart for those with a mental illness.  Her writing gift is valued greatly.  Look for her post weekly, on this blog.

She keeps a personal ministry blog at mymentalhealthday.blogspot.com.  Read more there.

What is Your Shelf Life?

There is a time for everything,
   and a season for every activity under the heavens:

  a time to be born and a time to die,
   a time to plant and a time to uproot…

Eccl. chapter 3

 

They also serve who only stand and wait.– John Milton 

 

Our spiritual lives are cyclical, or seasonal.  We move in and out of seasons that take us through various experiences and different theologies and thinking.  There have been times when all I could think was about ‘evangelism’. Than I went through a period when ‘teaching’ was everything.  Morning, noon and night. Teach, teach, teach.  I have walked through seasons of prayer; and parenthood or work issues.

There are many dozens of these spiritual excursions.  Each season brings us something neat.  And demanding.  There will be unique concerns around each place you visit.  Jesus, who is in charge of turning us into disciples, has itineraries and dossiers on each one of us.  He knows the lessons we have already undertaken.  He is going to teach us our next unit.

Sometimes what it is, is a lot of scariness, anxiety and work.  I’ve heard it said, more then once that Jesus is more concerned with our character than our comfort.  His followers have had to traverse some nasty terrain.  They’ve had some ugly falls, and blisters and ‘charley horses’.  He did not ‘issue’ them shoes with wings.

Let’s be honest–I am currently in a season of illness and pain.  It’s funny, I have been in ministry over 20 years.  I sit in this classroom and it is the hardest thing I have ever done.  Remember, staring at the clock, using your secret powers in order to make the bell to ring sooner?  That’s me, right now.

When we live in spiritual seasons, we are amazed how quickly they change from one to another.  Very little remains the same.  And, if you’re dealing with mental illness things are usually more fragmented.  My Bipolar turns me into a liquid.  I float over there and then over here.  From moment-to-moment I can be anywhere. I am unstable.  This makes things problematic, but not impossible.

This particular season I have been put on the shelf.  For the most part, I’m in the dark, I’m on the bottom, pushed to the back and I wait.  I know He hasn’t forgotten me.  Over the years, I have observed this and I do have a general idea of ‘how it works’.  But God is faithful, if not patient.  That blesses me, and infuriates me, at the same time.

I came across a quote by John Milton, and it has been solace for me for months.  “They also serve who only stand and wait.”  I am assured that I have not escaped my Master’s heart. 

 Below are the lyrics from Larry Norman (and an CCM artist by the name of Honeytree). Look for them, or this song on YouTube.

I Am a Servant

I am a servant, I am listening for my name,
I sit here waiting, I’ve been looking at the game
That I’ve been playing, and I’ve been staying much the same
When you are lonely, you’re the only one to blame.

I am a servant, I am waiting for the call,
I’ve been unfaithful, so I sit here in the hall.
How can you use me when I’ve never given all,
How can you choose me when you know I’d quickly fall.

So you feed my soul and you make me grow,
And you let me know you love me.
And I’m worthless now, but I’ve made a vow,
I will humbly bow before thee.
O please use me, I am lonely.

I am a servant getting ready for my part,
There’s been a change, a rearrangement in my heart.
At last I’m learning, there’s no returning once I start.
To live’s a privilege, to love is such an art
But I need your help to start,
O please purify my heart, I am your servant.

 

And I can’t say anything else.  B 

Photo: How We Learn to Love

There are times when we are driven to a most desperate place.  We can go no lower.  Jesus meets us, He does not forsake us.  He stands up and intercedes for our souls.  He bends over to pick us up, speaking wonderful things to our confused and misguided hearts.  He loves us, and the purpose of our trials teach us that critical truth.  We learn it in no other way.