Category: mental illness

God Keeps Your Tears in a Bottle

by Linda L. Kruschke

I have cried many tears in my life.

If you have never cried, you can stop reading right now. But if you have shed tears for yourself or for others, or if like me you have shed some without even knowing why or where they came from, take heart. God knows the tears you have shed. Psalm 56:8 says so. Here are several translations of that wonderful verse:

Record my lament;
       list my tears on your scroll —
       are they not in your record? (NIV)

You have taken account of my wanderings;
         Put my tears in Your bottle
         Are they not in Your book? (NASB)

You keep track of all my sorrows.
      You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
      You have recorded each one in your book. (NLT)

Write down my poem of sadness.
      List my tears on your scroll.
      Aren’t you making a record of them? (NIRV)

I love the image of God keeping all my tears in a bottle. I can envision shelves filled with bottles in Heaven, each with a name on it, and an accompanying scroll documenting every tear and lament. Or maybe it is just one huge bottle with all of our tears mingled together.

Today tears are being shed in dark rooms where children are being held as sex slaves, in Africa as people remain homeless and without food and water, in the United States as many remain jobless, in hospitals and on the streets where the mentally ill are forgotten, in homes around the world where people are spiritually lost and have no hope.

We live in a fallen and painful world.

Tragedies happen and humans are not always kind to one another. And so tears are shed. It is hard to fathom God collecting every single one, but He does. He notices and He records each tear and each lament.

The more I think about it, I like the idea that God has mingled all our tears together. The Psalm does refer to God’s “bottle” in the singular. And if He has collected every tear in that bottle, then mingled with our own are the tears of Jesus. In John 11, the apostle records this event: “Jesus wept.” (John 11:35.)

In this passage, Jesus weeps when He learns of the death of Lazarus.

When they see Him weeping, the people say “See how he loved him!” John 11:36. But I don’t think Jesus was weeping because Lazarus was dead – He knew He was going to raise Lazarus from the dead. Rather, I think He wept because of the compassion He felt for humanity as we weep over our own tragedies and losses. It is us that He loved so much that it brought Him to tears.

So if you weep today, remember that God is collecting your tears in His bottle, and mixing them with the tears of our dear Savior. Not only that, but God will deliver you from the final trial that lead to tears by redeeming your soul.

“For you, O LORD, have delivered 
   my soul from death,
   my eyes from tears,
   my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the LORD
   in the land of the living.“

Psalm 116:8-9 (NIV).

Linda’s blog is at anotherfearlessyear.net  Please check out all she has to say and listen to her heart.
You may copy and use or distribute this post freely in its entirety please.
We’re a member.

p

Messed Up People

Elijah was suicidal. Job wished he had never been born. David understood deep depression. Moses was anxious. Hannah was barren. Jonah was angry. Paul was all alone in a prison cell.

And actually, this is only a brief list. The Bible is loaded with flawed people who stumbled trying to be faithful. God uses imperfect people, because there really isn’t any other kind to be found. And there were others.

Noah got spectacularly drunk. Abraham lied. Jacob repeatedly deceived others. Rahab was a whore. Samson lusted. David committed adultery and was a murderer. Peter denied Christ.

Why does God favor and love people who are so disturbed? Honestly, none of us measure up. It seems He uses the weak to carry out a plan and a purpose of redeeming others, and establishing a Kingdom. He takes messes and gives them His message.

He is Love– 100% of the time, and He loves you, and He loves me, He loves the world. (John 3:16.)

Messed up people of faith become instruments and vessels of grace to other messed up people. We carry a treasure that is not ours. Sometimes it takes years to see this. I hope you can understand this. I hope it doesn’t take long.

And nothing is ever really wasted. Our mistakes (sins) become useful things to Him. For example, David’s sin would be transformed into Psalm 51 and 32. Yes, his disobedience had consequences, I won’t dispute that, but something wonderful also came when he repented.

David paid an awful price for his sin. That disobedience almost destroyed him. Not only did it separate him from God, but his family felt the effects of his evil actions.

Yes, you need to repent. But when sin is destroying you, it does seem you need to turn from it, and leave it now.

The first two verses of Psalm 51 can bring tears when we finally understand their profound beauty, for they came out of David’s personal evil:

Have mercy on me, O God,
    according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
    blot out my transgressions.
2 Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
    and cleanse me from my sin!

Psalm 53:1-2, ESV

For thousands of years people of real faith have come and drawn beauty and grace from this song. David knew his sin was real, and incredible pain emerged from that, but the Psalm did also.

Please do not try to hide or excuse your sin, it always has the most awful consequences.

Broken people can be forgiven, redeemed and used. Sometimes I think God gets special enjoyment out of picking the worst and patiently loving us to wholeness. If you really know Him, and know your flaws, you’re well on your way of usefulness in His kingdom.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”

2 Corinthians 4:7

How to Die Well

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
   I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
   your rod and your staff,
 they comfort me.”

Psalm 23:4, ESV

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”

Psalm 116:15, ESV

 

“Death is like my car. It takes me where I want to go.” 

Pastor John Piper

Our generation simply doesn’t know how to die well.  There are so many conflicting messages and attitudes which have steered us away from the reality of dying.  Much of it is the natural development of unbelief.  Our pop culture develops this and gives it momentum.  We are trying to convince ourselves that “death is impossible, my life will not end.’  But we’re escaping into a delusion.  We are running from what is real.

There is a Latin phrase,  Ars moriendi  (“The Art of Dying”) which the Church practiced in past generations.  In past time, Christians would be buried as close as possible to the Church building.  Many would be interred within the very walls of the Church.  The understanding was that the dead were part of the congregation.  That there was only a thin veil that stood between the living and the dead.  The dead didn’t just vanish.  They are with us.

My generation is confused.  We have forced death to wear a mask.  We insist on a significant camouflage to hide the reality of sickness and death.  No one really ever talks about it, and so no instructions are given on how to die well. So we don’t, we die poorly–in ICUs and LTCs, completely sedated, separated and unable to process it or help our families process it.  There can be no solid connection between the living and the dying. And to be very honest, this is not working.

For many, the fear of dying is intense and paralyzing.  Death brings us a terror that twists us; we don’t know how to respond to it.  Additionally there seems that there is no one available to direct us.  Death is a spooky taboo that no one really explains.  The implication is that we are simply to avoid death, ‘it may not come for you’.  But that is not what is real.

“Death avoidance” pretends to lift us above the issue, where we can imagine that we will stay separated somehow from its obscenity and ugliness.  Funerals are nothing more then an aberration.  We have become ‘teflonized’, these things just slide on and off.  We just refuse to calculate, or accept what is happening.  We have ‘molded’ our fear into a more desirable shape.  We simply cannot function in the steady gaze of what is real.  We just shut down and refuse to function. We simply pretend.

Its time for the Church to step up and guide us to our next step.  Our pastors and elders have got to prepare us to die well.  It is a part of being a disciple.  It is discipleship, and dying is inclusive.  We need somebody to prepare us for the inevitable and the certainty that is approaching us.  I need someone that will help me face my own death.

You know what?  No one escapes.  And the reality of that drives some of us mad, or addicted, or psychotic.  The idea of filling a casket up for forever is incomprehensible.  We cannot live with this sick idea of dying.  It disturbs us on the deepest level possible.  It is completely evil.

Psalm 23 has been pure comfort and healing for generations.  And it is an excellent starting point for us.  Verse 4 develops the idea of traversing death.  The writer has incredible insight of passing through death.  This verse alone is worth “billions of dollars in gold”.  Psalm 23 has made me a very wealthy man.  His Word has become my rich treasure.

 

The Sheer Hopelessness of Mental Illness

 

Bear with me please. This was written in March of 2012.
Right or wrong, it was where I was at with my illness. I hope it will bless, and bring hope into that situation that seems very hopeless:

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted
    and saves the crushed in spirit.”

Psalm 34:18

Depression makes you understand hopelessness.

I’ve seemed to have settled down into a blackness that defies all explanation. I’m dodging being hospitalized, and they can’t put me where I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be locked up again. I’ve been hospitalized four times for depression. Six months of my life wasted.

It’s the hopeless/helpless thing, a “one-two” punch that is the most devastating to me. It crushes and pulverizes until I lie in this sad pathetic mess I’ve become. Dante had it dead-on when ascribed the gates of hell with the words, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” In hell you’ll know what despair is really like. Perhaps heaven and hell really do start here?

And there was another writer, just as clever, said something along these lines,“Shut up! Unless you have been lost in this particular section of hell before,  just be quiet.”

And perhaps we should? Nothing can trump personal experience. The survivors, if you can find them, will understand what I’m saying. 

How is it,
People fear the dark?
Not me, I’m reconciled
as every day I see
the blackness grow,
I’ve come to terms with it,
it knows I know.

–Rod McKuen, Alone

Hopelessness swirls me around and I feel like a bug going down a drain. Thoughts of suicide are becoming more concrete and despair is becoming a frequent visitor.  Mental illness is frightening. Those who have experienced it, will learn not to say anything, but pray.

Durability may ultimately prove to be the most significant factor in this “mixed state” of Bipolar disorder that I am wandering through at the moment. Can I outlast these demons that plague me? My irrational mind plays tricks on me, I see mirages of wholeness and peace, but they don’t seem  real. It is a big, fat lie. It is nothing but a delusion, or a trick of the brain. 

And yet something inside of me steadfastly hopes for God’s grace and mercy. 

I can’t explain this.

I know that Jesus has conquered the dark. I must cling to Him. I must let this darkness go. He’ll need to work this out.

Up and down, side-to-side, where it stops, no one knows?  But God…and right now He isn’t saying. Jesus hold on to me. I hold on, by faith to the promise given to me–

“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”

Philippians 1:6

I don’t mean to be this raw. Sometimes I just let it “all hang out.” I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m too open. I just wanted you to have a picture of a “broken believer” and more so of the grace that saves me.

I know He loves me. I somehow cling to this.