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Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Beautiful People


 I am excited about tomorrow.

Tomorrow I get to spend the day with a group of people in discussion with theologian Vinoth Ramachandra. 

I feel like a kid before Christmas!

Vinoth is one of the foremost writers in theology and culture and is a personal hero of my mentor Rod Thompson. To get to spend time in conversation with a man of this stature and intellect is such an honour and a privilege. Squeals of excitement happening over here.

I am currently reading a book that Vinoth produced back in the 90's called 'Gods That Fail' looking at culture, modern idolatry, and christian mission. It's some good reading on the side of all my study and I highly recommend it.

I also had a great day going to my weight watchers meeting. There is something really wonderful about sitting with a group of people who understand what you are going through and who are really supportive. 

But reading Vinoth and doing WW has got me thinking about what we idolize in our culture. 

                                         


I would like to say that health, weight and beauty are some of those idols.

Now a lot of my blogging inspiration comes from things I see on tv and this is no exception. There are so many ads that are aimed at losing weight, looking good, and being attractive. How many times a day a we told that the way we look is not good enough? If only we were to lose ten kilos, buy this make up, wear these clothes, then we would be sexy and desireable and life would be better.

Being fit, skinny and sexy become all important. As a larger size woman I can tell you that it is freaking hard to get stylish clothes that aren't only for skinny people. Labels don't want to be associated with big bodies. Don't believe me? Check out what the CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch said in recent statements about his brand! I have even been into a store to buy a present for my sister to be told at the door that the store wouldn't have anything suitable for a woman of my size. The woman was lucky not to get punched in the face!

Joking, I am a pacifist.

I make pacifiers out of my fist.


No really, I am joking. Not a violence fan. But I was really offended. So some other store got my money.

What I am constantly told as a woman of size is that I need to buy something to make me feel better or look better, or I will turn out like the stereotypical fat person on tv and movies who is comedic relief and never gets the hot guy. 

Fat is ugly, unhealthy, unsexy and therefore of the devil.

Yes, I agree that having fat is unhealthy. But not to the point where health becomes a god. 

But this obsession doesn't end with weight. We have an absolute paranoia of germs! The number of ads there are for the latest product that will get rid of 99% of bacteria is insane! We are breeding a generation that will have no immune system when they grow up because they are growing up in sterile homes. And think of what those chemicals are doing to our bodies!

Being healthy is good, but when is it finally too far?


        



What does it say to the person in a wheelchair when they turn on the tv and see the new Special K ad that tells them that to be human is to run and move? What does it say to the terminally ill child when they are told that the best child is a healthy child? What does it communicate to the woman who has had a double mastectomy and has lost her hair to cancer treatment when she is told that long hair is beautiful and women with big breasts are more attractive?

What is it saying to you when you are bombarded every day with images telling you that you are not good enough, pretty enough, healthy enough, sexy enough?

There has to be another way!

There has to be another message to listen to!

Well it's your lucky day because here is one that was prepared earlier....

God is a God of messed up, ugly, broken people.





That means that God is the God of us all.

All throughout history we can see God using the foolish and non-beautiful people of the world to make a difference. Jesus came down in the form of a carpenters son, not a prince, and it says explicitly in the gospels that he didn't look like anything special.

God doesn't love the bikini model more than the paraplegic. God doesn't care if you run every day or if you have never seen the inside of a gym or know what one is!

God doesn't love me because I am fat, or because I am trying to lose weight. God loves me because I am me. I don't have to be special, I don't have to change the world. I don't have to be famous or have a viral YouTube clip. I don't have to fit the latest fashions or wear branded clothing. Because in the end all that stuff is meaningless anyway. In the end the prettiest model is going to get old like me, die like me, and rot in the ground like me.

The difference is where we go from there.

I lose weight so I don't get a disease later in life, so I can have children safely, and so I don't die way younger than my husband.

Not so I look sexy or fit a pair of jeans or to look pretty.


                                      

We have made being sexy, skinny, and pretty such an idol that is consumes us. Men are accustomed to viewing the bodies of models and porn stars and become disappointed with reality. Women are obssessed with looking younger and skinner to the point of starving themselves. Both sexes expect their partner to look sexy all the time or their attention will go elsewhere. 

There is a different way. There is a way to be loved where it isn't your appearance but the content of your character that is what is important. 

You are loved this way by God.

Perhaps we can learn to love others that way too.


                                 

Friday, July 26, 2013

The Life I Deserve



I have noticed a trend recently in ads on TV. It goes something like this:

You need product X. 
Product X will make your life perfect.
And you deserve a perfect life.
So get product X.
You deserve it.

It seems to be a common theme. I am sitting here watching TV on a Friday night and just counting the ads that tell me what I deserve (no, I have nothing better to do, and yes I am a geek). In one 5min ad break there were 4 ads telling me how I deserve to have what they are offering.

I find this a fascinating concept.

Firstly, how egotistical are they?! If I am as amazing as they say then I deserve only the best. And they say that the best is them! Now as a Kiwi I am obliged to cut down any tall poppies I see so I immediately feel suspicious when they start telling me how amazing they are. 

Time to burst their little bubble I think.

YOU ARE NOT SO GREAT. YOU SMELL. YOU LOOK FUNNY.

There, that should do it.

But it isn't that that bugs me. I don't really mind if they are a bit arrogant. I can live with that.

No, the question I ask myself every time is, why? Why do I deserve this? What have I done to deserve anything? What about being human means I feel I deserve having pretty, expensive things?

I am not saying that my self esteem is so low that I think I shouldn't have pretty things. I like pretty things and I like having them, but there is something fundamentally wrong with us believing that some how we have a 'right' to having money, we have a 'right' to having everything we want.

Coz we don't. 

If we look at the biblical story, there is nothing to tell us that we have the right to anything! In fact it is quite the opposite.

We have no right to anything.

        

Everything is God's and it is through graces that we are given what we have. 

In fact, the only thing that we deserve is to grow old and die with no hope for anything else. It is only through grace that we exist, that we have hope, that we are alive and survive. To say otherwise is to take the grace of God and cheapen it.

We cheapen it by saying that we deserve all we want and we want it immediately. We leave no room for the providence of God. We stop relying on God and start relying on our money. We can provide for ourselves and we can spend what we want without feeling guilty. Who cares that there are people in the majority of the world who can't afford three meals a day, we deserve that new diamond ring for thousands of dollars. In fact, if we don't get it it will mean our partner doesn't love us enough, we deserve it and they should know that!

                        

We cheapen it by saying we deserve to look like models on TV. It doesn't matter that this is how we were made and God thinks we are beautiful. We cheapen God's grace by judging others by how they look, not through the love God has for them. We deserve the 'perfect' body and face. God obviously made a mistake. People with disabilities are broken and we hide them away so we don't have to be reminded that life can get difficult and doesn't work perfectly. We want to fix what we think God has done wrong. 

We cheapen it by demanding what we want and refusing to wait for it. We no longer want to wait for the voice of God in the small whisper. We don't want to be told no. We want it and we want it now. God sometimes takes time. Grace is always perfectly timed. But we don't want that. We arrogantly say that everything must be done when we want it because we DESERVE to have it now.

So we reject God's gifts, timing, and creation because we think that we deserve something more than has already been given us. We think that we are some how more deserving than others so we need the latest thing to outdo our friends and family. 

Well let me tell you, you don't deserve it. You may want it, you may like it, you may even buy, but you don't deserve it.

Remember who deserves the praise. Remember that God deserves praise because life only happens because God deems it to be so. We only have hope because God first died for us. God deserves our love and devotion because without God we aren't.

It is only because God wants you alive that your are alive. Don't forget that in amongst all the calls for your attention and money that there is only one person who really deserves it.

And only then will you actually find joy in life.

       

Monday, July 22, 2013

Family, Brokenness, and Acceptance

Wow, I just checked out my blog stats and I am nearly on 8000 views of this blog! A MASSIVE thank you to you, yes YOU, who is reading this and who keeps me writing. I am honoured by your presence here and the fact that you find me interesting enough to keep reading.

If you are new here I recommend reading my blog post 'My Story' in order to understand where I am coming from on various issues. I make a lot more sense with a little background knowledge going on. 

I have been pretty slack at these blog posts recently as I am currently writing my Masters thesis and that tends to take up a lot of my time. As well as that I run a small group for young adults (hence the various blogs with flowcharts) so the planning for that can (or should) take up some of my time too. But enough excuses, let's get on with the show.

I have up until today refrained from talking at length about my relationship with my family. This has been for several reasons.

1) I have felt that it is unfair to share my issues without them having a proper chance to respond.
2) Talking to a bunch of strangers (no offence guys) is perhaps not the best way to deal with some issues.

Yesterday however, I watched a Dr. Phil show that really hit a nerve. It was portraying a family of three children who were desperate to make contact with their dad but he kept making excuses. Though they all proclaimed love for their father they were furious at him and he couldn't understand why they kept yelling at him if they wanted a relationship.

That's not what struck me.

There was a young girl, 17yo, who said that if she could have anything it would be to be able to call her dad, talk about her problems, do fun things with him, and have him as her confidant. 

It was a heartfelt plea.

It was also a major cause of the problem.

I say this because I truly believe that the world has told us what a 'perfect' family should look like. I am not talking about a mum, a dad, and 2.5 kids. What I am talking about is the 'Simpsons' idea. 

Family is dysfunctional, the Simpsons tells us, but ultimately everyone will get along. By the end of the half hour dad will have realised his mistake and apologised, mum would've realised she loves the silly man after all, the kids will realise they are being little terrors and stop, and everyone will live happily ever after...well at least until the next episode. 

This is pretty much how every family works on TV sitcoms. It is what I grew up on, what most of my generation grew up on, and it has, I believe, warped our understanding of the nature of humanity.

See, people can suck. I mean really suck. The number of solo parent families out there would suggest that mum and dad, or partner, or whatever, don't always figure it out. The number of abused kids would suggest that parents don't always like their children. The number of runaways would suggest that kids don't always like their parents.

Because we are broken. Though we all yearn for the love of our family, we live a world where people are broken, where we are broken, and it isn't so easy to reconcile our differences. 

I love my family. Not a day goes by when I don't think about my parents. But I haven't seen or talked to them for two years. We have issues. My brokenness has affected them and their brokenness has affected me. My parents weren't perfect, but neither were they awful and neglectful. We just found that some of our difficulties were too big for us to be able to work through in a way that we both agreed on.

It breaks my heart that things ended up this way between us. I can't tell you how much I would love to pick up the phone and have a nice, happy conversation with my dad.

But that isn't our reality.

Our reality is that things are broken. There are no credits that will role after a family hug. There is no canned laughter that will play when we all realise that we misunderstood each other. There is no being able to run into each others arms in slow motion when we see each other again.

There is love, but it is a love tainted by our issues.

And that is what hit me about the young girls story on Dr. Phil. She had in her head this idea of what she believed was the perfect father-daughter relationship. But it was clear from the program that the father had no intention, or ability, to be this father. She wanted a fantasy instead of accepting the reality, no matter how painful that might be.

My mother-in-law once told me that relationships only work when we lower our expectations of people. We need to stop imagining what we want in someone and accept the reality of what our relationship with them really is. Sometimes it means walking away and letting the relationship go. Sometimes it means having to work damn hard at ourselves and at a relationship, but this is only possible if both parties are willing to try and work at it. And sometimes, in those wonderful moments, it means accepting what is and living in the love that is offered and accepted.

But let me get one thing straight: acceptance and forgiveness are NOT the same as reconciliation. We can accept the reality of a broken relationship. We can even learn to forgive the hurts and the pain that are caused within that relationship. But that does not mean that reconciliation will, or can, happen.

I have forgiven my parents for any hurt, real or imagined, that they caused me. I know this because I am not angry at them any more. For years I was. I was bitter and twisted about every little thing that I remembered them doing (or not doing). It ate me up inside. I would rant and rage against them for hours at a time. We would have screaming matches and things were said that I regret. Things were heard that I have now let go of. I learnt to forgive them and love them as human beings who did their very best to love me as they knew how. I pray for the all the time and hold them very dear in my heart.

But we do not have a relationship. The reasons for that I am choosing not to go into in this forum but I will say that it is because we have been unable to agree upon a 'safe zone' for us to work out our issues. Sometimes relationships need outside help, sometimes it is not emotionally (or even physically) safe to step back into the same situation without boundaries and safety being established first. Sometimes reconciliation doesn't happen. And that is ok.

Forgiveness does also not demand forgetting. The old adage 'forgive and forget' has done so much harm to people in relationships that are toxic. We CANNOT forget. It is impossible to forget. So what we are told to do is sweep our issues under the carpet and pretend they never happened. This leads to cycles of destruction in relationships. Ever wonder why an abused woman goes back to her abuser? Because she chose to ignore past behavior instead of letting it help her determine what will happen in the future. Sometimes the only way to find healing is to leave the environment that perpetuates old behaviors. And sometimes forgiveness cannot happen until we choose to NOT forget what has happened before and instead face it, address it, and, if need be, walk away from it until it changes.

It is ok to learn to forgive and not be reconciled. In a perfect world we could do that, but this isn't a perfect world and we are far from perfect people. We do what we can, we try as hard as possible, and then we have to learn to accept what is. And sometimes what exists is a relationship broken beyond repair. Or one that needs more time to heal.

You can forgive and learn to love without relationship being reestablished.

If you have a difficult relationship with your family members, you are not alone! There are so many of us out there who are longing for the love of parent/sibling/spouse/child. There are so many of us who weep for what we dreamed could have been and for the reality of what is.

We understand. You are not alone. 

My prayers are with all families. They are with every broken person who prays for a miracle and yet despairs that it will never come. They are with every person who misses someone they love because of the brokenness of their relationship.

May God give you peace and may you know God as your parent who loves you and comforts you. May you know Joy.


God and Disabilties


Friday, July 19, 2013

The challenge begins....again

So as you are all very aware, I have been blogging sporadically about my on going weight loss drama. I haven't blogged about it in ages mainly because I pretty much gave up entirely.

That's right, I gave up!

Did. Not. Care. Anymore.

And it showed it my eating and exercising. I did a lot of one and not a lot of the other. I will leave it up to you to determine which is which.

I hadn't lost any weight previous to this but if I had I would have put all of it back on again. It was a few weeks of not giving a stuff.

Because I was tired. Tired of fighting against my own body. Tired of looking in the mirror and not seeing what I felt in my head. Tired of seeing photos of myself and being shocked at what I looked like. I was tired of feeling like I was meant to love myself and then simultaneously meant to want to change everything about me. I was tired of being worried and upset.

So I didn't think about it.

And then I went to the doctor. 

Well let me tell you, when it comes to weightloss the system is out to make you feel awful about yourself.

The BMI - body mass index - is now fondly referred to in my mind as the BSI - bullshit index. Apparently I am morbidly obese. I am the walking dead people. No more emancipated zombies, the real zombies are fat and coming to eat you and everything else in sight! There will be survivors, anyone who can run will be able to outwit these undead, but if we catch you we will sit on you and then you won't run anymore will you!?

Not only am I now a zombie but I also should only weigh 53kgs! I have never weighed that in my life! Who decided that was normal! I mean, I would understand 70 but 50!? Come on! They are just asking me to fail!

And when they do weigh you they don't just put you on a normal scale. Oh no, they have to put you on the industrial sized, steel reinforced, elephant weigh machine. You just look at it and it screams 'fatty!' at you. It's register has so many zeros it wouldn't be humanly possible to fill all the scale counter spaces. It is a device created to dehumanize anyone who touches it, let alone steps onto it. No maintaining you are pretty and delicate when they pull that thing out for you.

After the ordeal of being compared to a hippopotamus they then tell you that you need to lose weight. "do I?" you gasp, incredulous that such a thing could have snuck up on you unnoticed. They then assure you that yes, you are the equivalent of a zombie mammoth, and that you need to do something about it. At this point you are biting back replies of the things you HAVE been doing because, deep down, you know they won't really believe you, and listen to their advice.

Their advice? The best bit.

Go to the gym
Join weight watchers
Make sure you feel hungry all the time.

Let me address the last one first. As someone. Who has had issues with eating disorders in the past I am not a fan of starving yourself in order to get skinny. Not ok with that, weight watchers isn't ok with that, can't believe a doctor told me this.

The other two require something I don't have.....MONEY.

All weight loss solutions are aimed at those that are rich. When was the last time you saw a rich fat person? Never, because they can afford the freaking solutions!

Why is it that weight is such an economic issue? Because bad food is cheap, good food is expensive, and any support losing weight is expensive. WW costs $50 a month! I am bloody student! The gym is $20 a week, pluss the food needed to eat well.

And I know it costs nothing to go for a walk, but when you have the hurdles I have to overcome, support is necessary! I cant do this alone. And I shouldn't have to just because I am poor.

So my mother in law, bless her heart, and I have come up with a new idea. 10 weeks to lose 10 kilos. In that time she will put aside $10 a week to go towards buying me something if I achieve my goal. This is a win win, she loves buying me things, I love getting things, everyone is happy. But more importantly, it gives me a erroneous to get off my ass. It also gives me someone else to talk to and be accountable to.

If you are going through this same process it is vital that you have people surrounding you who are cheering you on and who you can be honest with about your failings, temptations and triumphs. You can do this but not on your own.

Keep it up, wee can do this!

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Theology, Disability and the People of God.

For the last three days, from 9am til 9pm, I have been at a conference. It was held at Carey Baptist College (in conjunction with Laidlaw College) and was focused on Theology, Disability and the People of God. The two international keynote speakers were Professor John Swinton from Aberdeen University, and Professor Amos Yong from Regent University.

There are so many reflections that I want to make that I am not sure where to start! My overall impression of the conference was that it was wonderful. It was unlike any conference I have ever been to. There were people from all professions, Christian and secular, of both genders, many races, and of varying degrees of ability and disability. They were all given a voice through the variety of speakers and were all celebrated and embraced in a way that was truly moving and inspiring. It was a total contrast to the usual boring theological conferences I have attended.

I was privileged to be able to spend a substantial amount of time with Professor Swinton. He is a Jamaican Scot with a loving personality and a wicked sense of humour. Within a couple of hours of meeting each other we were joking and poking fun. I very rarely meet people I instantly connect with but this was one of those moments. He has a background in mental health nursing and has a phenomenal intellect and interest in all things theological. His work in theology and disability is profound and deeply moving and challenging. It was many of his words that stuck with me throughout the conference and shaped the way that I viewed and considered what I was hearing.

The entire conference was about challenging our views of what we believe disability is and how people with disability are treated in the church. The personal stories that came out in the talks were amusing, harrowing and confronting. A statement that particularly impacted me came from a man in a wheelchair who thanked the college for installing ramps for access. He said that this simple gesture was the gospel to him. I had never thought of it that way before. I am thinking now about my church's worship spaces and whether or not they are accessible to ALL people. I think it isn't just whether or not there are wheelchairs in your congregation already, but the need for churches to be wheelchair friendly from the assumption that people in wheelchairs are in their communities and so therefore will at some point come to the church (if we are doing our jobs properly!!).

Another thing that really challenged me was the idea around carer. I often approach people with disabilities as a 'carer' that is going to take care of the person who obviously needs help. I had never considered letting them be the host and me the guest, or letting them care for me. I had never thought that the gifts of the Spirit are as applicable to them as to me. I had made people with disabilities the 'other' and covering up through charity. I have been moved and convicted in the idea that charity is still continuing the thought that these people are 'less than' and not 'equal to'.

I have cried a lot the last three days. I have been moved by the bravery and love that I have seen exhibited. I have been overwhelmed by the response I got to my own paper (see previous post). I have made connections with people on ministries that I never knew existed. And I have seen God in the face of so many people who have been rejected and cast aside. 

I may reflect on this further during the week but I am still processing all the things that were said. 

At this moment, I am moved beyond words.

The Silence Surrounding Psych Wards

Just today I presented a paper at the conference for Theology, Disability and the People of God. I shared my story of my experience with mental illness and used that as a framework for working with people with mental illness. I have shared my paper below. Feel free to share this and pass on to educate others in this area. Blessings

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Today I am here to talk to you about the impact of mental illness and the importance of the church community in the healing and restoration of people who suffer from these illnesses.



10 years ago I was diagnosed with early onset schizophrenia, an illness that usually besets someone in their 30's that I started experiencing at age 12. The diagnosis was given when I was 19, just after I had got married, and by then it had been seven years of mental health issues with little help or understanding. For all my teenage years I had struggled with extreme depression, self harming, eating disorders, and audible and visual hallucinations. In some ways it was a relief to finally be told what was wrong with me, and in others it felt like a death sentence. I had been labelled as incurable. For 5 years after my diagnosis I was placed on medication after medication, I was kept in psych wards for varying stretches of time, my every action was viewed through the symptoms of my illness. I was told the damage in my brain was irreversible, would get worse as I aged and I would be a permanent mental health patient. There was no hope for me, my family or my new marriage.

While in the wards I was exposed to people and behaviours that, in my early twenties, I was completely unprepared for. I watched a heavily pregnant woman attack staff and have a fire hose turned on her in an effort to control her. I heard the same lady describe her unborn child as a demon. In reality it was her fathers. I listened to a woman for hours tell me how the skin on her face was falling off. I met a 17 year old boy who was dropped off by his parents for suicidal behaviour. He remained there for a week with no visitors. I was verbally abused by a man who thought I was his mother, and I was confronted by nurses who were in equal measure compassionate and careworn. When not in the psych ward I was a daily visitor at the day ward with other mental health patients in the community. Though this was a much more pleasant environment I was surrounded by people I did not know, that were usually much older than me, and by community workers who were understaffed and overworked.

Eventually my illness took its toll on my loved ones and my marriage fell apart 3 years after it had started. My mother had to quit her job to become my full time carer. She had to wake me up, make me shower, take me for walks, and made all my food so I ate well. We were all told that this would be a life long sentence. There was no hope for recovery. Despite my mothers care, my mental health continued to deteriorate and I lived only for my chance to die. My family described me at that time as a zombie with no purpose or care for my life.

It is with this experience that I speak to you today.

I find that when I speak of my experiences with mental illness I am met with 1 of four reactions by the listeners.

The first is ambivalence. These listeners cannot relate, or don't know how to, and so are quick to change the subject and to move out of the area of a topic of which they have no understanding. They may think that mental illness is “all in your head” and something that can be changed by will power, or they may simply have no interest in the matter.

The second reaction is nervousness and confusion. These listeners mean well but simply do not comprehend what mental illness is or how to respond to it. They may look at you like you are about to pull out a gun and start a rampage, or they may ask to pray for you to release you from the demonic stronghold over your life. These are the listeners that will offer to pray for you but end up lost for words as they become confused as to what to pray for. They often super-spiritualize your experience in order to bring the conversation into a language that they understand.

The third group is perhaps the most interesting of reactions. They are the group that leans forward with eyes shining lapping up every word. When you have finished speaking they will say things like “that is so cool” and ask questions like “so, you could actually see people that weren't there? Was that freaky and what did they look like?” They are curiously excited by what is being said and can ask insensitive questions about experiences in the psych wards. They will also be the ones most likely to call people with mental illness 'crazy' or 'psycho'. They also tend to be under the age of 30.

The fourth group is the minority. They are the listeners who will find you alone later, share their own experiences, cry and pray with you. They usually have had an experience with mental illness and have genuine compassion for what you have been through. But these listeners are few and far between.

Unfortunately mental illnesses have stigmas attached to them that cause reactions of fear, disinterest, and wariness. People buy into the stigma that schizophrenics, and other mental health patients, are WORTHLESS, DIRTY, INSINCERE, DELICATE, SLOW, TENSE, WEAK, FOOLISH, INCOMPETENT, NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ACTIONS, DANGEROUSLY VIOLENT and UNPREDICTABLE. It is my experience that these stigmas are found just as much within the church as from without, but with the added labels of LACK OF FAITH, DEMON POSSESSED, and ANGRY. With these labels it is easy to understand why mental health patients find it hard to contribute in a world where the stigma of your illness is often worse than the illness itself. It is also easy to understand why mental health patients often talk of feeling isolated and rejected by their communities and churches.

The simple fact of the matter is, people do not know how to respond to mental illness.
Mental illness are two words that create a lot of confusion as they encompass a plethora of issues from emotional depression through to full blown psychosis that requires institutionalization. There are also very few mental illnesses that are truly understood, even by the medical profession, and this leads to misunderstanding, fear and isolation within families and communities.

Diagnosis of a mental illness creates greater issues for the patient than suffering the illness alone. Diagnosis locates the illness entirely with the individual, apart from their family and environment. It claims that there is something 'wrong' with the person that defines them as outside the acceptable 'norm'. This reduces hope of recovery, creates stigma from labelling, and turns a person into a category.

Currently in NZ today it is estimated that 1 in 4 people will suffer from a mental illness at some point in their lives. It is estimated that 38% of europeans, 62% of Maori, 59% of asians, and 59% of pacific islanders will be diagnosed with a psychotic disorder, such as schizophrenia, in their life time.[1]

Despite a quarter of the population having experienced one mental illness or another at some point in their lives, it seems to be a human issue that we cannot comprehend or relate to, a suffering that cannot be physically manifested. People will react out of fear and amusement, but very rarely out of genuine compassion.

And this is true of the church as well.

I was healed 6 years ago. Some ladies from the prayer group at church answered my mothers cry for help and started a chain of events that means I am able to stand before you today and speak for those that often have no voice. In the last six years I have had to relearn social cues and behaviours, get use to being on my own with no other voices to keep me company, try to reclaim what of my memories are true events and what were hallucinations, and to survive on my own outside of my family's care.

I carry with me the memories of people who have not been as fortunate as I. The haunted eyes of the lady that believed the baby in her womb was a demon. The dead eyes of the man that received shock therapy at age 8 and has been institutionalized ever since. The fear in the eyes of the lady who believed the skin on her face was melting off. The sadness in the eyes of the young teenager with suicidal tendencies. I remember the sadness, fear, anger and finally hate in the eyes of my ex-husband who received no support and who lost all hope.

I hold in my heart the conversations I had with the other patients about being forgotten, rejected, hated by our communities. I remember the questions I received when I told the other patients I was a Christian as to why no one in my church came to visit me in the ward. I remember the loneliness each one of us had wrapped around us like a blanket.

Jesus is a friend to the broken.

I believe this with all of my heart. Yet is it so difficult to befriend a person who doesn't speak sense, who may not even notice your existence while you sit with them, who can act in a way that seems barely human sometimes.
 
Yet Jesus is a friend to these broken.


Often these people who hear and see things very differently from us don’t suffer beause of their own psychosis. They suffer at the hands of people who tell them that they are abnormal, strange, ill, and crazy. They suffer from the side affects of medication and from the isolation and loniless. They suffer from feelings of guilt as they are told how much of a burden they are. They suffer because of us.

I knew this couple who had met in the psych ward, fallen in love and, against the wishes of their families, got married. Everyone expected them to spiral out of control mentally and end up back in the state's care. To everyone's surprise, they found a house, moved in, and, when I met them, had been happily married for 10 years. Their love and care for each other meant that they reminded each other to take medication and see the doctor. But the most profound thing that she said to me was “he makes me feel human, he doesn't care about my labels.” They had discovered in each other a person who saw and loved the intrinsic value that the other contained in simply being human. It was through this love and acceptance that they were able to move back into the wider community and form relationships there. Their mental illnesses didn't disappear or even get much better, but in being treated as human rather than as an illness they have been able to find wholeness and healing.

It was in their example that I saw a vision of what the church could be. Loving the broken is more than praying for their healing. It is more than listening to their stories. It is more than asking questions about experiences.


It is teaching the church as a whole to view people as human rather than as broken. To value the humanness of a person is to see past the brokenness, the medical labels, the sad stories, the stange behaviour, and to see the heart of a person who longs only to be treated as worthy of attention. It is to act out the continuing mission of Jesus to all who are difficult to relate to and to understand and to reincorporate them back into the community.

In my experience I have seen this love of my humanness a handful of times. I saw it in my next door neighbour who would come over for coffee everyday and sit and listen to me ramble, help me clean my house, tell me off if I did something silly, and give me advise on my struggles. I saw it in a fellow student who discovered that I had difficulty in picking up social cues and developed a system of signals to tell me when I was doing something wrong. I saw it in one of my lecturers who let me breakdown in his office when things were getting on top of me. I saw it in my new parents in law who accepted my history and embraced me for it.

These people listened, heard the issue, accepted it and worked with it, rather than trying to change it. For me, they are the church being lived out.


I still don't know how this love for the humanness of people works in churches. There is no 5 step program about reintegrating the mentally ill back into the congregation. But in a country where at least 1 million people will be diagnosed with a mental illness at some point in their lives, there needs to be a beginning of a conversation. And it is a conversation that includes those that it is about. They may be unwell, but they will be very aware of what they feel is missing, what they don't like and how they want to be treated. We need to start asking ourselves and our congregations some deep searching questions and listening to the answers from those who live with these illnesses.


I would love to say that I now run a ministry within psych wards. To be honest, I have found the very idea odf stepping back into that environment so terrifying that I have not been able to face it yet. It has been 6 years but the scars on my heart are still healing. Yet I do what I can to show that people with mental illness are worth time and effort. One evening I sat with a nextdoor neighbours mother when she turned up at their house while they were out. I found her yelling at the fence after not taking her medication for three days.

I sat with her all night as she told me about the things that only she could see. In that seemingly meaningless rambling I heard her fear of being alone, her joy of being able to talk to others and share what she was seeing. I saw her love for me as she told me I was smarter than Einstein and had the faith and feet of aborigines in the desert. I heard her concern as she asked me about my imagined Maori husband Steve and why he was angry at me. She talked about things that weren’t physically true, but in it she cared, she loved. And I loved her by listening.

I don’t know if my actions made an impact on her or if she even realised who I was or if I really existed, but to this day I am in contact with her daughter and the daughter’s partner and have been able to introduce them to a Christianity that loves even their broken mother.

I would love to stand here before you and say I am totally free of all impairment. I am not. I still suffer from chronic anxiety issues, depressive episodes, and intense migraines. I have had to take time out of my study to deal with these issues and I thank God for my husband Luke who is as steady as a rock and reminds me to breathe slowly. He is my reminder of God's redemption and resurrection power in my life/

Our congregations should have these people in them. The fact that often they don’t reflects on the fact that we have not questioned the way we practice church. Questions like:

What would it look like to have mental health patients not just tolerated in our worship meetings, but celebrated and embraced?

What does it mean to learn from the broken, rather than to teach them?

What would it look like to seek friendship with the friendless, not for their health sake but because they are human and have something to offer?

What would it look like, as Swinton talked about on Monday, to stop having to act as the host or hostess and instead receive hospitality from people with mental health issues?

What does it mean to act towards the least of these as we would Jesus?

What would it look like to treat them like we would our Saviour?





[1] Wheeler, A.  NZ Medical Journal 2005