Tag: personal comments

Listening to the Disturbed

There is a tremendous need to listen to those suffering with mental illness.

Listening takes patience.

I believe it is a rule written somewhere, that self-centered people are simply not prepared to reach hurting people.  You might say they don’t have the capability to become a good listener. One thing is certain,  listening will change you.  The more you do it, the better (and wiser) person you will become.

Listening to the disturbed takes work. You can become that catalyst for healing and wholeness. But you have to set aside your own agenda to do this.

Typically the mentally ill are intense communicators. Sometimes they can be delusional and seem incoherent. But your patience will pay off. Trust the Holy Spirit to strengthen you.

“Spouting off before listening to the facts is both shameful and foolish.”

Proverbs 18:13

A Good Listener:

1. listens with spiritual ears open, hearing and understanding the spirit beneath the words;

2. listens with the heart and mind still and th e mouth shut;

3. listens with no personal agenda;

4. listens with compassionate spiritual eyes, maintaining involved eye contact;

5. listens with a compassionate heart;

6. listens with a committed heart;

7. listens with attentiveness;

8. listens without judgment;

9. listens without fear;

10. listens with faith, knowing that the Spirit of God is at work to will and do according to His good purpose;

11. waits patiently, quietly and prayerfully through times of silence, making room for the unfolding of things previously too deep and too painful to even know or express;

12. counts it a privilege to witness a soul in the process of transformation, even when it doesn’t look like it;

13. offers to explore options wisely;

14. offers to pray when the time of tears and sharing ends;

15. consoles with words of comfort and confidence in the faithfulness of God, which is usually all anyone needs to hear;

16. waits to give advice until asked;

17. offers a hug;

18. recognizes that these are holy moments of eternal consequence;

19. keeps all holy moments completely confidential.

20. doesn’t try to take the place of the Holy Spirit.

“Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry.”

James 1:19

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I have no clue where this list came from. But it is quite good and very thorough. I exhort you to really listen close to those with a disability. Forget about WWJD. Try HWJL.

(How Would Jesus Listen?)

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When You’re Out of Control (A Reblog from 2013)

Originally written August 29, 2013 and shared today hoping it will bless someone.

 

“I’m must show myself; things are not going well, to be honest.  I’m becoming more and more fragmented.  And I can’t seem to hold it together.  Essentially, I mentally can’t keep it centered on the things I know are right and appropriate. My mind is in a muddle, and my heart is not far behind.

I can’t go on like this.  I have to confess that I’m spinning out of control.  There are too many issues that hammer me, without any resolution or finality.  I need a “booster shot” of grace. (Perhaps, maybe an I.V. would be better.)

All I want is to escape, and to shake off these ‘parasites’ that sap me of any strength I might generate.  Far too many things are draining me of any vitality and hope.  Despair and despondency have suddenly shown up at my door, but I treat them as unwelcomed visitors, and hope they will leave me alone.  All they want to do is take me apart, and dismantle me, and I seldom advance beyond this. I haven’t invited them.

This simple blog has kept me going.  The posts that I write are sincere, and I know for a fact they touch many hearts.  I’m astonishingly grateful for this.  But they can’t minimize my own issues.  I am constantly on the edge, a step one way or another could push into a desperate fall. (Funny, I’m starting to scare myself.)

I have a deep confidence in Jesus.  I believe that he loves me in the most intense way possible.  I trust in his deliberate and careful love.  Resting in his arms is the very best thing I could do.  He is the only one who can lead me through my mental illness.  Or to give me the grace to move above it.

I do not want to offend or alienate anyone.  That simply is not what I am about.  But I simply can not try to take Brokenbelievers much further in this ‘frame of mind.’  I will try to post as often as I can– but both my therapist and psychiatrist want me to go into a hospital.  I have already been there several times and I do not want to be admitted any time soon.

The next several days should be interesting.  I’m definitely committed to avoiding hospitalization.  The “professionals” I trust are trying to commit me, but I do intend to make a scrap of it.  “I will not go lightly.”

Please try to be patient with me.  I want to post, it runs through my veins.  But I simply don’ t  have the resources that extend into transparency and clarity.  Please forgive me. There’s is no way I can make this work without avoiding a “shutdown.” We will see.

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kyrie elesion, Bryan

(Lord, have mercy on us.)

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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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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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