A Testimony of Mercy
We begin this testimony with hearts humbled, because of God's Mercy...
We called ourselves Christians...we went to church faithfully, carrying our bibles...I smoked, drank, used foul language...we were active, participating, tithe paying members...we regularly watched and brought into our home inappropriate movies and shows for the sake of being entertained...we attended the church dinners and socials, was on the bowling team and softball league...we took our daughter to Children's Church regularly...we completely relinquished our spiritual responsibility to train up our child to others...we made regular trips down the aisle to pray and ask forgiveness repeatedly around an emotional "Just As I Am", old-fashioned altar...we walked through life carrying hatred, unforgiveness, lust and other fleshiness in our hearts...we sat in the pews singing hymns and raising our hands towards heaven as a sign of worship...I literally raised my fist to God in anger and frustration over the financial blows that assailed us...I sang in the choir, in ensembles and was a soloist...I yearned for fame and the recognition of being a singer...we spoke of God and going to church to our neighbors...I sat next door with neighbors sipping pina coladas and bemoaning my past...yes, we called ourselves "Christians"...
In the late 1980's, I injured my back and could not sit for any length of time, so church was out of the question; it became a habit. After all, who needs all that church anyway. Oh, it was not going to church, per se...it was the biting each other, the hurtful gossip, elitism, cliques, the list of do's and don'ts, the weekly fashion show of designer clothes. I was not blameless, but got tired of being a part of it. We still spoke of God to our neighbors, I would get drunk at the neighborhood block parties, would read the bible when guilt pricked my heart, but truthfully, we had dropped out. And by the early 1990's, I began to spiral downward. I had suffered from anxiety and depression for years, but this became a deep pit of despair.
Over the years, I sought different avenues to find relief from depression. It hung over me like a cloud. Doctors prescribed anti-depressants which brought no change. I went to numerous counselors, support groups and programs that brought only temporary relief, rather like letting steam escape from a pressure cooker. I was prayed for several times by our pastor, or the occasional guest evangelist, but nothing helped. My anger grew, I was tormented in my thoughts with dreams and nightmares, and one day I remember realizing that when I awoke in the mornings, there was a black heaviness in my gut and in my heart.
During this time and because our insurance had changed, I had to see a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with manic depression/bi-polar disorder, post traumatic stress disorder and the onset of agoraphobia, which is the fear of public places. Anxiety attacks were becoming emotionally crippling. The psychiatrist prescribed lithium, two anti-depressants and tranquilizers. Trying to work a job became impossible. I was working as a seamstress, sewing protective fireman uniforms. I could barely make production, was being put in positions where I would almost explode with anger over the manipulations of my supervisor, and got in trouble for helping another woman who was also being manipulated. Paul bought me an industrial sewing machine and we set up a sewing room at home, but after awhile, because of the depression and increasing insomnia, I just could not cut it. And that made everything worse.
Before we go any further, let us say that oftentimes we run the risk of too many words, too many details...trying to convince someone of the depth of our situations and pain...we can hurt others by dredging up old wounds...we often glorify the past...competitions arise over who had it worse...as well as the temptations of feeling as if, or being viewed as a martyr. People cluck their tongues, saying, "That poor person...", and we get addicted to the attention of it all. We need to see the gravity of our conditions instead of turning them into a "look what I've been through" attitude. We often display and portray our past as a badge of honor, but the reality is that Jesus bore it on the Cross and we can't let go. The truth is, how can I blame circumstances for what was actually the condition of my heart??
Moving on...I had to see a new psychiatrist who increased the strength of the medications. After a time, even this was not effective; nothing was working and I could literally feel insanity swirling around my head. Because of fear of what could come next and a previous doctor suggesting shock therapy, I had quit telling the psychiatrist that the meds were still not working.
One day, I sat at the kitchen table smoking a cigarette. I had come to the end of myself. I decided that I would stop taking my meds, refuse to go to the doctor, get a disease and die...then it would be over. I was obsessed with continual thoughts of suicide, and as I sat smoking, I spoke to the air..."I give up!". I was so weary of the fight, felt that I had fought all my life just to keep my head above water. I was convinced that I'd ruined our family with the emotional stress of a depression that would not leave, I could not function as a normal person in society, I could hardly get through a day..."I give up!!"
I have a cousin (and will always be thankful for her courage) to whom God had given a burden for prayer and a message for me. When she first told me, I was furious. She said, "Patti, if you'll come back to church, God will heal you!" How dare she tell me something like that. Had I not tried? I was under psychiatric care, for heaven sake...this was out of my hands. Nonetheless, a few weeks later, and without medicating with tranquilizers, Paul and I showed up at a Sunday evening service. As we walked it the door, I almost dared anyone to speak to me. We sat at the very back of the church, which was pretty crowded that night. The music and worship began, people were praying and singing. Our pastor, who was always very sensitive to the Spirit and voice of God, stopped the music and said, "There is someone here who is suffering from a debilitating depression. If you will come down front to be prayed for, God will heal you." My cousin asked me if I wanted to go up and I told her that I was just fine where I was...still battling anger...anxiety rising. Then I saw someone walking down the aisle and my heart fell...."see, it's always for somebody else". As the music and worship started again, people singing and praising God all through the congregation, I felt my heart begin to stir and yield. Ohhhhhhhhh, it had been so very long since I had felt anything other than pain and depression. The pastor stopped the music once again, and he said, "There is still somebody here, and you have given up!" I started laughing, incredulous that I was hearing my very words spoken at the kitchen table some weeks before. By this time, my precious cousin was crying and she said, "Patti, please!" I gruffly said "Okay", and we walked down the aisle to the front. The pastor's wife anointed me with oil and began to pray...and I tell you this with no exaggerating words to try to convince you...I almost fell down, because what was once so very heavy within me literally lifted out of me...I felt it lift off...and it was replaced by this lightness and joy and freedom...So if the Son liberates you [makes you free men], then you are really and unquestionably free...John 8:36 (Amplified Bible).
On my next psychiatrist visit, I told the doctor that I wanted to get off all the medications, that God had healed me. Because of the manic depression/bi-polar diagnosis, she thought I was having a "manic episode". She told me not to throw my crutches down just yet. It took 6 months to prove it to her, while she gradually decreased the doses each month, finally releasing me from her care. And it was like a domino effect in our home...our lives made new...our home made new...our marriage...our family.
Since that day, we live completely different lives...Jesus is not only or Savior, but our Lord...we have laid our lives down...we have told the Father that we will do whatever He asks...we will go wherever He asks..not our will, but Thine, O Lord!
Mercy: An act or exercise of kindness, compassion, or clemency; a blessing; a kind of merciful act...pardon...forgiveness...pity...compassion...