Category: mental illness

There is a Crack in Everything

“Ring the bells that still can ring/Forget your perfect offering/There is a crack in everything/That’s how the light gets in.”

Leonard Cohen,  Anthem

A crack in everything. As someone who has experienced brokenness in my life,  I appreciate the wisdom of these simple words. You see, I am intensely aware of being different then others.

I had a night job working my way through school frying donuts.  I remember clearly an incident were I overheard my boss telling someone that, “Bryan is one of the most eccentric people I have ever met.” Now I honestly was not trying to be odd, or eccentric.

To put this in perspective, I just happened to be taking N.T. Greek at the time and knew that the word for eccentric was a contraction, (of ek, meaning “off, or off to one side, and “centros”, meaning, “center”).  He was saying that I was “off centered”. That really troubled me because I always felt like I was intensely stable, and very much a well-balanced person. (But I was just 22.  I guess that fact alone explains much.)

Cohen’s poem tells us certain things. First, he describes bells that can’t be used, they don’t work anymore. Second, he tells us of our need to get real and to understand that “a perfect offering” is beyond our capability. Maybe 30 years ago, ‘naive idealism’ might have carried the day for us. But now I’m in my mid-50s  and I have tried to figure out a thing or two.   By then we start to see the cracks in everything, nothing has gone by untouched. We live in a fallen and broken world.

But the poet delivers a paradoxical truth, he states, “that’s how the light gets in.”

To learn this deeply, is to turbocharge your recovery. You’re a broken person. But that is actually a good thing. It summons up a discernment of how we grow spiritually.

I find it quite astonishing that the broken, weak, and the burned-out are closer to the Kingdom then the strong, the sure, and the gifted. This is a rich and an incredible truth, we are to see our brokenness and ruination in a whole different perspective.  We must see that that is how the light gets in.

“Blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of God.”

Matthew 5:3

“God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume. It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.”

Vance Havner

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Chart of Awareness: Mental Illness

 

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Charts and maps have always intrigued me. The one above helps illustrate the incredible issues that we must deal with. These are US numbers and don’t reflect what’s going on in the rest of the world. One can only surmise that they’re not as good. Below is a bit wider view, that includes some major countries.

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I hope that this will build awareness for those affected by mental illness.

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Chosen People of Faith

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Shepherd of Hermes, (catacombs c. 160)

The Shepherd of Hermas, written c.125 AD, repeatedly declares that the Church has always existed, since the beginning of creation. The Old Testament believers are joined by those in the New Testament Christians in one single community of faith. Paul asserts that this faith unites us with each other; that we all have a common calling. (Hebrews 11.)

It seems you share a familiar bond, perhaps closer than you think, with Abraham, Noah or Isaiah. All of the OT saints are welded to us as we walk out our faith in Jesus. Personally I find that comforting.

God has always had a people who have been “chosen.” As a broken believer I will take all the godly encouragement I can. We are pulled in so many different directions; it’s hard sometimes to cope. Knowing I walk in an “unbroken line” of the faithful gives me “vim and vigor.”

I can now more deeply relate to guys like Joseph, who faithfully followed God from slave-to-prince. Or the three Hebrew children who walked around in the fiery furnace. By faith we possess the same hope as they did, we have the same God and Father. I believe it wouldn’t be off-base to call them family.

The nuances become clearer as we reflect on our mental illnesses. Noah built an ark. I’m constructing a sane mind. He went through the jeering abuse from his neighbors. I have to decide to get out of bed. All must be done through faith. Faith in God unites us. Faith is that which gives us “a sound mind” (2 Tim. 1:7.) Faith in God connects me with Noah.

“Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see. 2 Through their faith, the people in days of old earned a good reputation.”

Hebrews 11:1-2, NLT

Hebrews 11 connects our faith with theirs. It even hints that our own faith enhances their own.

“All these people earned a good reputation because of their faith, yet none of them received all that God had promised. 40 For God had something better in mind for us, so that they would not reach perfection without us.”

Hebrews 11:39-40

I didn’t mean to dump a load of “dry theology” on you. But I suspect that there could be healing for us if we venture to take it up. Good theology can be like good hygiene, if you don’t have it you will notice. (So will your friends.) I have come to see that the things we believe, affect us in significant and profound ways.

Your 21st century struggle of faith is as significant as David’s own battle with Goliath. It’s something to consider anyway. Read Hebrews 11.

“Faith makes all things possible… love makes all things easy.” 

D.L. Moody

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Peanut Butter, Hot Lunch and Dreams

Warning: Rambling post, very tedious. Don’t operate heavy equipment for two hours after reading this post.

I grew up in a big, brick house in Northern Wisconsin. Our beautiful home hid our desperate poverty, and it was quite difficult. My father and mother scraped by enough each week to feed and clothe us. But just barely.  Mom would take some elbow macaroni, and mix it with stewed tomatoes (from a dwindling supply she tried to manage.)

I was oblivious to our precarious situation.  I carried a plain peanut butter sandwich to school for years, but I had a simple dream of getting “hot lunch.” I was tired of peanut butter, as I watched all the other kids eat pizza, hamburgers and (my fav. mashed potatoes with a pat of butter.) I ate PB for several years.  You could stucco a house with what I ate.

I wasn’t really settled in my heart or thinking.  I developed into a bipolar childhood that had quite a bit of depression, and a load of impulsivity.  I was an impossible child, and I  was out-of-control. I was either terribly manic or profoundly depressed.  My Mom and Dad simply didn’t know or grasp my mental illness and how it was effecting me.

A repeated nightmare worked its claws into my thinking. I would wake up sobbing, almost inconsolable. I had this dream several times in my teens, and can still 40 years later taste the panic. In this dream, I would be lifted up and laid on a slow conveyor belt.  I would be on my back, and I would see over my feet a giant roller.  This roller had big nobs on it and it was rolling over what the conveyor belt brought to it.  In this dream I was paralyzed, unable to escape this giant crushing roller.  I kept fighting, and trying to escape.  But, I was completely frozen.

I would waken just as my feet met the roller.  The fear I had was as intense as any I ever had.  (Except when I had to go down to the basement, but that was more reasonable.)  I would repeat this dream several times, and it was always the same.  I haven’t had this dream for 30 years or more, but it still has a potency and fear to make me edgy.

Over the many years I have thought about this.  I certainly don’t want to mysticize it, or try to force an interpretation out of it.  But it has struck me as a metaphor of my life to some degree.  In this dream I was moving toward an inevitable crushing.  The paralyzing panic was a fair description of where I was at spiritually.

This explanation may sound childish and simplistic.  But it is so workable, and brings a certain comprehension to these terrible moments of fear. And our dreams, well, they are funny things.  All of us, somehow, and in some strange fashion are treated to a surrealistic and fantastical mini-story as we sleep. But what does it mean?

Much of the time, upon awakening, we try to piece together both the chronology and the meaning of what we had just dreamed.  It’s hard to do, most of the time it justs slips away.  Yet, our inner heart always wonders if that particular dream was “good, bad or ugly.”  There are rare times when we can grab on a sequence of events, and relay it to a close friend.

Some things will never be revealed in this lifetime.  But I believe there are certain things in our dreams that the Holy Spirit chooses to bring to light.  We are never sanctioned to seek the meaning of our dreams, but only the Lord Himself.  We should never lean on our understanding, but on our Father and His Word.

P.S. I realize in writing this, I don’t like peanut butter at all.

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