Tagged: hope in Jesus

My Testimony of Enduring Hope

[I wrote this a while back, before my time in the psychiatric ward. I have edited it somewhat before posting here.]


I shared on another blog my Testimony of Pain. I do not feel proud about sharing that, nor of the feelings I had when I wrote it. My Lord Jesus Christ told me that if a man sets his hand to the plough and then looks back he is unworthy of his Lord. I did need to pray regarding my looking back at that pain as written in the midst of it, because it brought back that pain in a way which my Lord has advised me that I should not be so foolish so as to do.

Yet I did look back. And so, if Jesus’s words are indeed True – and He is the Way, the Truth and the Life and cannot lie – then I am unworthy of Him, even now. But I did not seek Him nor choose to follow Him because I thought I was worthy of Him, but because I knew I wasn’t. And that has not changed, and neither has His eternal love for me. Yet sharing that Testimony of Pain was necessary for you.

Why did my mother conceive me, carry me to full term and then push me out of her womb? I do not know. Why did I make so many mistakes, commit so many sins, that I could not bear to see myself in the mirror? I do not know. Why did I go insane for twenty five years? I do not fully know. Why did my Nan’s heart pills not kill me? I do not know. Why did I consider my money better spent on several pints rather than buying a new belt before trying to hang myself on a tree? I do not know.

But now? I know that my Lord died for me. And I know He did it because He loves me, and has loved me since before the creation of the world. And I know that I am exceeding glad. I am grateful that he ensured, however he may have performed it, that I did not leave this Earth before I had found Him, not in word or in trying to follow a preacher or a particular church or faith, but find HIM. And now I have found Him, I love Him. And I thank Him that I have come to love Him because He first loved me.

I have joy immeasurable in my heart. Yet I still mourn, and mourn greatly. Yet now I mourn truly and no longer self-piteously. Yes, if I am honest sometimes I mourn for myself, too, but mostly I mourn because my Jesus has not broken His word to me yet and so I know He will keep true to His word in these present, perilous, last days of the last days (as I believe). After all, He is the Way, the Truth and the Life and He cannot break His word. Yet the mourning does not diminish the joy one jot, because I know that blessèd are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

This my my Testimony, and the Power of the Testimony of the saints shall be in large degree the Power which overthrows the wicked ruler of this age, though it is the Blood of the Lamb which is the means by which forgiveness for sin and the salvation in Christ is gained.

And I am not wise. For if I were I would have learnt my lessons as a child and not as an ageing man. Yet I know enough to know that wicked ruler is not pleased with what I now do. And so, knowing that his time is short, he will attack all those he sees who resist and reject his evil ways. And I cannot hope to be exempt from his attention. Yet I trust that Christ is able to keep me.

Yet I count as joy my portion in the sufferings of Christ, for:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside the still waters, He restores my soul, He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, For You are with me, Your rod, and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, Thou annoint my head with oil, My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, And I shall dwell in the House of the Lord, Forever.
Psalm 23

My Testimony of Confusion – Part 2

[This is Part 2 of a two-part series of testimonies on my confusions and the sources of my delusions – Part One can be read here – and in this post I cover the source of my hope: Jesus Christ.]

My journey since recommitting my life to Christ as my Saviour has been a very difficult and strange one. Reluctant to truly follow Jesus Christ as my Lord even though I accepted Him as my Saviour I did, as I look back, end up a wayward lamb increasingly taken in by and deceived by the world.
In many ways I did accept Jesus as my Lord. I knew He is Lord. I now know He is Lord to a whole new depth. What I didn’t do before was act like Jesus was my Lord in the little things. I could make big declarations, big statements of faith, major vows etc. But to actually love my neighbour? To actually deny myself? That seemed too much.

Into Mystery Babylon

I am going to use some Biblical terms in this post. Please, please be aware that I am not making any theological statements as to these terms. I am using these terms as I have understood them as I have journeyed, and am still journeying, out of the deception into which I so grievously fell. I am using the terms as they play a part in my “delusions” and not as a Biblical teaching.

One of the terms I will use is that of Babylon, mentioned in the Revelation of St. John the Divine. It has seemed to me that I have been lost in this labyrinth of Mystery. The music, philosophies, drugs (which I now believe were sorceries) and the worshipping of angels and false gods, have taken their toll and had left me in a perilous state.

Yet Jesus is faithful and I truly believe that He has remembered me; has left the ninety-nine and come to find me and bring me back into the fold. I have been unfaithful, but He remains faithful.

The music has been haunting me – literally! The rap lyrics and other music words have resurfaced in my mind and played on my worst fears. Eminem made me scared to eat spaghetti, my Mum’s favourite meal. The Levellers confused me about apples and Snow White. (I now eat apples again, which I stopped doing due to a “word” I thought I had received, but I honestly don’t like spaghetti so will only eat it if its given to me.)

The sexual sins haunt me. I am tempted to commit filthiness now and again. I feel like a man who has been trapped by a seductress. Yet I resist and am usually victorious in that by the grace of God.

In recent years I have enquired into subjects I had no business enquiring into. Matters of the Illuminati, matters of the world religions, matters of the so-called Pleiadians and Annunaki, matters of the Gnostic religion.

Confusion took hold until I doubted the truth of the Bible. Yet somehow Jesus kept me believing in Him and in His Father, God Himself. Sometimes I have thought of myself as a false prophet teaching error.

The alcohol and drugs have ravaged me mentally, emotionally and physically. I now sincerely believe the synthetic drugs – and all the works of pharmaceutica – to be sorcery. Please note what I said previously: I am not teaching this as Biblical truth. I am giving my testimony of my delusions and confusions. But what I do know is that for me to willingly seek out medication would be against my conscience and against my faith and thus, for me, it would be sin and I would condemn myself even more. I take the agreed dose and do not seek to increase it. I am slowly intending on reducing it and eventually stopping the medication altogether in the Lord’s timing.

I have few comforts the world likes to indulge in; secular music is a no-go area for me. I don’t watch TV or YouTube videos. I don’t listen to radio. Pubs, clubs and shopping centres usually give me the creeps. I don’t drink any alcohol now. Drugs, whether prescribed or illegal, are against my faith.

Marriage is something I don’t need and so choose not to seek and certainly a relationship with a woman with no view to marriage would be sinful to me. Even such things as chocolate I am wary of due to my addictive personality.

So? What’s left? I have Jesus, and He should be sufficient, yet I also must be honest and say I smoke tobacco. I do not regard it as sinful. It is a plant. I like plants – I have two houseplants at home. I drink tea and coffee. No, I do not object to plants. The world tells me smoking is dangerous and yes, I cough. The medication actually makes my cough worse and of the two (tobacco and medication) I prefer to cease the medication before dealing with the tobacco.

Coming off psychiatric medication and dealing with the issues I deal with I cannot face quitting smoking right now, and so, though I have prayed for an end to my smoking at some point, for me right now it is not sinful. I do, however, seek to walk in love and not smoke in front of those who are offended by it, meaning if I have visitors at my flat I go outside or if I am at church I take myself off the church grounds.

The Hope Which Endures

In 1 Corinthians 13 the Apostle Paul states:

Now abide these three: faith, hope, love. And the greatest of these is love.

I am in many ways deranged, unstable and trapped by a number of delusions. Yet all that is changing. The verse I have just shared has been a comfort to me. I have clung on to hope. I have kept faith when I have not been able to see my faith. I have done my best to love even when so confused I can’t always demonstrate it.

And where does this faith, this hope, this love come from? None come from me. Of myself I am incapable of having faith, incapable of hoping against hope; incapable of loving. Faith, hope and love abide in Jesus Christ, the Lord and Saviour. And so, when everything seems lost I cling to Him.

I am still here on this journey. Will I come through and out the other side? I do not know. The odds are stacked against me. “But if God be for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31b) And so I shall continue to trust in my Lord who loved me so much He gave Himself upon the cross and bore all of my sin and iniquity there. “We love Him because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

So whatever happens, my life is in the hands of Jesus Christ my Lord and Saviour, and I shall endeavour to my utmost to deny myself and follow Him as I bear this cross of my many delusions, fears and mental turmoils which have come through my life.

[NOTES: This was written many months ago. Some things have now changed. Notably I listen to certain secular music again for the purposes of healing, knowledge and demon-fighting. Also, I now drink moderate amounts of alcohol. My faith has broadened. My hope become more sure, and my love more profound.]

My Testimony of Pain

[I wrote this testimony of pain on my birthday, mid-July 2018. It was a raw expression of how I felt at that moment. Some historical references may not be fully accurate but were as I remembered them at that moment. I have not edited it except for correction of spelling and grammar and, where necessary, for censorship of filthy language and/or false witness.

This Testimony of Pain I share so that you, too, may know you are not alone in your deep suffering and that perhaps, one day, you may find that blesséd relief which only truly finding Jesus can bring.]

My Day of Mourning.

Today I am 45 years old. I turned 45 at around 2pm local time. It is a day everyone expects me to celebrate, to have joy and to find blessings in the fact I am a year older. I do not fear nor regret growing older. I have no fear of agedness and my fear of death is quickly diminishing. But I do not celebrate.

Why? Why, people, do you want me to be the centre of attention? Why? What have I done to you that you want me to revel in some pride in getting to be born in the first damn place? Maybe it was actually my choice to enter my Mum’s womb? Maybe I did choose to be born into that womb. Maybe the pain and heartache I caused my Mum all those years actually was my fault on every level? She wanted a normal child. But I wasn’t normal as a baby and I am far from normal now.

You send me messages of encouragement. My Nan tries to encourage me with hope in her love and the writing in the card. But all I do is mourn.

I try. I try to see you, to meet up. I try to thank you. I try to remember that you are showing me love. I try to meet for a meal or some other traditional way of rejoicing. But I mourn. Each and every card brings pain and the presents make me feel let down and then feel even more pain because I am so ungrateful. This is my day of mourning.

Curse the Day!

I could curse the day I was born. But hey! Wednesday’s Child is already the Child of Woe. Why curse the day any more? I could curse the womb that bore me. But I put my Mum through enough pain already.

Why is the greatest memory of my childhood my pride at taking a marrow to church and giving it to God? And all the while I sat there in judgement of the other kids who couldn’t be bothered and simply got their Mum to buy a tin of peas from Tesco’s? Why did everyone think I was aloof? These kids are weird, Mum! I can play. I can do that. But they don’t feel properly!

Why? Why didn’t the measles kill me? I’m told it could be fatal but all I did was have strange dreams in my sickbed for days. Why? When both my lungs had collapsed and without help I would have suffocated? Why? Why! Why did you put my lungs back up again?

Why have I hurt you so much? Why do I still do?

Why didn’t Nan’s heart pills work? Did I not take enough? Why? Why? Why did my belt break as I hung from that tree and all I ended up with was a cop car picking me up as I jumped in front of another car? Why when I took the paracetamol overdose did I go to A&E? Why?

Why? They told me that just follow Jesus and He will give you peace and joy. I am. I do not have peace and I do not have joy. Has Jesus let me down? Have I let Him down? Do I know Him at all?

Why? When I see something others do not my sister orchestrates a show down and the family falls apart? Why did my niece admire me so much that she thought mental illness might be a good way to deal with her pain?

Am I such a tramp that people really have to offer me £5 notes as I await my taxis? Do the taxi drivers really have to open their windows when I enter their car? I know. I need a bath. It’s a big thing, though, isn’t it?

This is my day of mourning.

People wonder why mental health freaks do not open up more? It is because we know the pain. We want you to experience it a bit. We will play with, manipulate you, strike fear in your hearts and load guilt trips upon you. But we will never let you know how we really feel. We can cope with this. You could not.

I am 45 years old today. I know many, and some very personally, like Lenny who I gave lip-kisses to because we thought it would be a fun thing to do in front of bigots – and, besides, I loved him. They are not here on earth now. And I have no guarantee they are in heaven. They are gone. I remain.

Thrive? B**locks. I cannot thrive. I survive. I will continue to survive. That’s my best. And if my best is not good enough for you then please, do not even +1 my posts or smile at me in the street. You can’t kid a kidder, they say in AA.

When you see the world as it is, even if only through a glass darkly, why do people think you are no longer close to Jesus? Why do they still insist that everything is better now than it was in the past? “You’ve never had it so good!” goes the advertising and propaganda slogans. Why can’t Jesus come back soon? It is my earnest prayer that He does because my pain is nothing compared to the child with his leg blown off and the bread he just bought is covered in blood. The homo who gets stabbed with a switch knife up the anus because the preacher was particularly fiery and “right on” that day? The raghead who has his apartment raided and all the writings of Mohammed and Ali are removed for future investigation? My niece’s boyfriend who is abused because he is not “British” and we have voted to leave the EU? The dead millions killed by the CIA and MI6 operations? The people in Hiroshima and Nagasaki who have extra bits in their bodies? The Jews who think the perfect response to the Holocaust is to abuse Palestinian kids and call Mary a whore in the graffiti on church walls? You know what my American and British friends? If you call this the least violent and least suffering age on earth I would suggest that you widen your reading material. Seriously.

This is my day of mourning. I mourn. For me. For others. For you. But I will survive. And as for me, I will serve the Lord.

Maranatha!

(The shared song is important. As a Christian-influenced band the lyrics are perhaps best heard as a conversation between the protagonist and Jesus.)

My Immortal – Evanescence
(From the album Fallen. The CD sleeve contained the words from the songwriter: “Thank you Jesus. All that I have left is yours.”)