Tag: Church

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.

A Clear Case of Forgiveness

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When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?”

Luke 7:42, ESV

 We are all in debt.  Some owe $10,000.  Others owe $500,000.  But we are all in debt.  And believe me, things are pretty grim.  Many lament our huge national debt, they have figured out that each individual owes thousands of dollars.  It seems very unfair that so much is owed by just a single person.  However, our debt with God and His law is far beyond our ability to pay.

The Father’s intention and focus is to forgive us, it may seem confusing, but He has kicked off a plan that leads to total and comprehensive forgiveness for anyone who will simply believe.  It’s amazing, and fantastical, but He has decided to forgive our debt.  It doesn’t matter in the slightest what we have done.  We may be a mass murdering Satanist, but when we turn at Him, everything is forgiven and then quickly forgotten.

Everyone who looks to Him, and clings to Him, has their debt forgiven.  The debt has been cancelled, and we have been released completely.  There is no liability, nothing is incurred.  We have been incredibily released.  Absolutely forgiven.  There can be no rebuttal.  No one can state otherwise.

There is one solitary issue that remains, although many would argue about its significance.  That issue is reciprocal love.  In your heart of hearts, you fully know your debt.  And you understand its implications.  The scripture states that you will love according to your forgiven debt.  If you’ve been forgiven much, you will love much.

The degree and severity of your iniquity can be forgiven.  But love should fill the vacancy.  He looks and anticipates your response to His offer.  But love really should be your only response.  We love Him and the amazing things He has set in motion.  We should be astounded at His incredibly deep generosity.  Especially when it concerns us so profoundly.

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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.

Are You Ready For This?

Nothing compares to the joy of a child.  I think its a form of lunacy myself.  (But I’m an old man, so what do I know.)  Children love life–they are attracted to a vibrant life like bees to nectar.  They breathe it, feel it, wait for it.  They see it as an exclusive focus, they see nothing else.  It is what they want.

I, on the other hand, weigh out my options, I compare their value and I give it some time, think about it even more, then make my decision.  Children on the other hand are spontaneous and look closely at their first impressions.  They trust the innate ‘gut reaction’ and will choose accordingly.

Jesus made the outrageous statement, that we are to become as children, to enter the Kingdom, where God rules.  The obvious issue, is how do I get there?  (Nicodemus in John  3 was the typical prototype.)  Perhaps a deeper question is this,  what if Jesus decided He wanted to come to my house?  He knocks on the door.  Mom comes to the door, kicks the dog who is barking, shouts something unintelligible and reaches for the door.  She is hoping He didn’t hear her, and hopes the dog isn’t too traumatized by her feeble assault.

Jesus is incredibly gracious.  As a matter of fact, He moves and conducts Himself as if He were a member of royalty.  He steps into the foyer, as if He were stepping into a coronation hall.  But there is absolutely no arrogance, there is nothing but kindness and gentleness in His demeanor.  When He looks at the room, He is looking for people.  People are His focus, pure and simple.

My religious tendencies are idiotic and misshapen.  In my ‘spiritual’ world, Jesus has none of these qualities, and certainly not this approachable.  I simply cannot fathom such magnificence.  I have reduced Jesus down to a ‘puppet-savior’, and He is much easier to contain and understand.  He now poses no threat to me, or my way of life.  I may get assertive and even try to put a collar-and-leash on Him so He understands who is calling the shots.

You know what?  Jesus understands people like me.  He calls me ‘His brother’.  Me!  Full of ugliness and turmoil–His ‘brother’.  But His heart even now, is reaching for the children.  They have a quality that I only dream about.  These children will have a grace and purity poured on them, till their clothing is soaked with His presence.  They will run through a lawn sprinkler for hours!

The Kingdom is coming  (actually, it is rushing) to children who will embrace Him with a love and zeal that simply doesn’t compute in our calculations.  As adults, the more proficient of us, has read (and maybe written) whole books on systematic theology.  We develop nuances, and are able to parse verbs from our Greek New Testaments.  We are good!

But Jesus clearly rearranges the furniture.  And we are definitely confused.  But maybe, that is right where He wants us.  His Kingdom is wide open to everyone who has the heart of a child.  I suspect that Jesus has a plan that has a ‘shake me to wake me’ kind of an approach.  I want to open up to all that He is doing.  I need Him so much.