“Should I even be here?” The thought scurried through my mind upon arrival.
This past weekend I went to a concert/show with hubby. Loud music, laser lights, and colorful people filled the room. Puffs of smoke swirled above the main floor, while people danced to their heart’s content.
After settling into the atmosphere, my initial question turned into a definitive, Yes! Who better than someone who understands the culture and has been there and done that. Plus, I like electronic music. I prayed for God to use me throughout the evening while enjoying my night out.
In my current season of life, I spend most of my time engaging with people who share similar values. It’s comfortable. My activities, groups, and overall lifestyle centers around the culture in which I identify.
As Christians, we need to be part of a church community. Our faith strengthens as we grow spiritually and do life with others. Accountability is encouraged (hopefully) and welcome. Reading God’s Word, serving in the church and community; all of these are important.
But, we are called for more.
Be fisherman of men
Feed my sheep
Be the light
Go and make disciples
There is no cookie-cutter way of doing this. God uses our experiences and personalities to reach different people in all types of environments. While there are many ways to show love to others, the message of the Gospel remains the same.
We must burst our comfortable bubbles and go out into the world. Ultimately, we are responsible for spreading the love. Opportunities are everywhere.
I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.
John 16:33 NLT
Are we going to be shaken by this world, or keep our eyes fixed on the one who’s overcome it?
When someone criticizes me–even if it’s constructive–I can feel my walls going up, my heart putting on its protective gear.
But sometimes we need to hear this stuff, as hard as it may be.
Just the other day, I had a tough conversation with someone close to me. Some valid points were made and needed to be said, but I’ll admit–it hurt like hell to hear them.
My initial reaction was to defend myself, which I did for a bit. When our talk was over, I was left to choke on the feedback I had received. I can’t remember the last time I cried so hard.
I decided to go for a drive to process things. I was angry and confused. Was what they said true?
I called some friends for prayer AND because I knew they would co-sign my stuff. I wanted them to tell me that it was an exaggeration. I wanted them to tell me that is wasn’t true–but they didn’t answer.
In between sobs, the Word of God spoke to my heart through worship music. As painful as it was to fully engage with my feelings, I knew I was supposed to be in this exact place. I wasn’t meant to lean on or be comforted by anyone except for God.
What usually follows an episode like this is a big-old butt-kicking of my own doing and guilt for days. Instead, I felt this odd peace and conviction-not guilt-conviction. At that moment, I knew the feedback I had received was accurate. The messenger loved me enough to tell me the truth.
Sometimes the truth hurts, but we are called to hold each other accountable as brothers and sisters in Christ.
I chose to leave my pride at the cross and accept this as a growth opportunity. There was no booty kicking or guilt to speak of.
I know that God loves me as is, but I also know that He wants me to continue growing–and this was an opportunity to do so.
It’s in those times of deep sadness and pain that chains have been broken in my life. And in those times God has never left my side.
Who is helping you maintain accountability in your walk?
This was first my experience with a Psychiatrist. I didn’t appreciate his frankness and besides that, he was wrong.
Years passed, and once again I found myself in a Psychiatrist’s office, but this time it was a different doctor. “You are bipolar,” he told me.
“Crap!”
Growing up I struggled with depression, anxiety, and anger. These three symptoms were besties. One was never present without the other, although much of the time one would lead the rest.
I knew I had issues but an official diagnosis freaked me out. I was now willing to hear it but accepting it was a whole different thing.
The doctor suggested medication, but I wasn’t ready. I was already self-medicating with my dear friends: drugs and alcohol. They had been around a long time.
I knew I had issues
It got to a point where my coping methods started working against me, taking my mental health to even more extreme highs and lows, so I chose to get clean and sober.
I no longer had my friends to console me and needed another way to manage my symptoms, so I became open to the possibility of taking legit medication.
I didn’t want this diagnosis
I didn’t want to be labeled.
I had a specific idea of how people with mental health issues looked. What I had seen was extreme. I wasn’t like “them.” I was a functional part of society. This mindset kept me stagnant, floating in the river of denial.
I started attending support groups through DBSA (Depression Bipolar Support Alliance). I never knew how broad the spectrum of mental health was. It was at these groups that I began to release the stigma I had attached to mental health.
I didn’t want to be labeled
Fellow Christians would tell me stories about God healing them of their depression. I’d walk away thinking, why them and not me God?
I believed God was more than capable of healing me, but that’s not part of my story.
Once I started to accept that this was something I’d struggle with throughout my life, my attitude started to change. Instead of asking for this “thing” to be taken away, I started praying that he would use it for His glory.
He has.
As I started sharing my experiences, others shared theirs. If it wasn’t them who struggled it was usually someone close to them.
God put people in my path for me to support and encourage when I was a complete trainwreck, reminding me that even at my lowest, He can use me.
I can’t even begin to count the times He’s provided comfort to me in the midst of it all. Sometimes it was a text from a friend; other times it was a song playing on the radio. Although, nothing beats my all-time favorite comfort tactic like my tattoo (Ephesians 2:10).
Why them and not me, God?
The struggle and pain that comes with life are real. Knowing that there might be a greater purpose than what my eyes can see encourages me to keep moving forward.
Having bipolar doesn’t define me, even though it tries to convince me otherwise. When my thoughts start attaching to this idea, God gently reminds me “You are who I say you are, my beautiful daughter.”
God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4
If you are in need of some encouragement today, please listen to this song.
