It’s November, 2016.  The Chicago Cubs had just won their first World Series since 1908, ending the curse of the Billy Goat and giving Steve Bartman (hopefully) a little peace. Donald Trump, who I always knew growing up as “that rich guy who made a cameo in Home Alone 2,” had just been elected president.  And I was lying face down on a chilled concrete floor of a mental health facility.  

Let me rewind a little to attempt to explain how I ended up in that predicament.  And I really do mean “attempt” as I had many gaps in my thinking. 

2016 was going to be a year to remember (and not because of who won the World Series or who was president).  My wife and I were in the final stages of planning our July wedding, and even a miraculous half court shot by Kris Jenkins in the national championship game against my Tar Heels didn’t put me down and out for too long.  

Our wedding was amazing. My wife was, and still is, an incredibly beautiful bride.  I’ll never forget her dad being so choked up as he walked her down the aisle that he immediately handed her to me and took his seat before the pastor could get a word in.  I had family come in from all corners of the country.  It’s a big deal when my whole family gets together because it’s hard to find a common meeting place between Washington, Oregon, Kentucky, North Carolina, Maryland, and Florida.

Our Punta Cana honeymoon was equally as awesome.  We were literally in paradise and all felt right with the world.  That honeymoon phase came to an abrupt end just a few months later. 

It’s early November and my wife and I are at a fundraising event for my work.  The food arrives at our table, but I’m distracted by Django Reinhardt playing on the PA system.  I look around and feel like people are staring at me as if I have a dunce cap on my head. I can barely touch the food on my plate, let alone engage in conversation.  The dessert comes to the table.  It’s cheesecake.  I’m known for being a little bit of a cheesecake connoisseur, but I can’t even take a bite.  My wife looks at me in bewilderment as if I had lost my mind.  Little did I know that’s exactly what was happening. 

My paranoia continues to grow as I’m starting to think everything is being directed at me.  Similar to Jim Carey in The Truman Show, where he’s the main character and everyone that he has ever known is an actor baiting him like a mouse in a maze.  I feel as if the whole world is watching my every move, making bets on what I’d do next. 

Out of nowhere someone lays hands on me and prays for me as we start to exit.  There are concerned looks on people’s faces.  Was that concern for me or something I had done?  I manage to drive my wife and a co-worker home, while every one of my senses seems conspicuously heightened. 

We get home, get ready for bed, and turn out the lights.  I lay there in the dark wondering, “how am I supposed to sleep when the whole world is watching?”  God, are you there or even listening?  No answer.  Surely, He has not forgotten me.  However, I feel as if I’m drifting towards hell and stuck in Satan’s teeth.  

I can’t sleep at all and my paranoia seems to be getting worse.  I now think my wife is a hired actress and that there are hidden microphones and cameras everywhere.  My whole life feels like it has been completely forged.  After two days of not eating or sleeping, my wife desperately calls a friend to take us to the hospital.

As we’re in the waiting room I’m fixated on the television, incapable of even consoling my wife who’s in shock at this point.  I’m watching a History Channel episode about Hitler’s final days in his bunker and my delusional thoughts race to a conclusion that my fate will be the same.  The complete feeling of isolation is becoming unbearable as the nurse calls my name.   

The next twelve hours are a complete blur.  I’m in a room with several medical professionals who barrage me with question after question, but all I can focus on is how bright and loud the fluorescent lights have become.  I’m frisked by a security guard, pricked with all sorts of needles, given a CT scan, and sent to another waiting room with other patients.  “Help!” I cry with a frail voice as I stand in the middle of the waiting room.  No one bats an eye.  I must be dreaming now because this definitely does not feel like reality.  “God, please make this stop!”  I wait for what feels like an eternity, but they finally call my name back, only to be thrown into an ambulance.

The next morning I wake up on a couch in what looks like an arts and crafts room.  I have no clue where I am, but it must be another hospital because I see several nurses congregating in the hall.  All of the other patients seem to be on some sort of schedule because they are in a single file line walking down the hall.  However, I’m by myself just wandering aimlessly thinking to myself, “Is this some sort of test?  Am I supposed to find some hidden room where all of my friends and family will be, like this is some big prank on a reality TV show?”

I’m finally escorted to my room where there is a bag of personal belongings waiting for me.  I find my Bible buried underneath some clothes and grab it, hoping to find some comfort in scripture.  Lamentations 3:22-24 pops into my head as I know that one by heart:

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;

His mercies never come to an end;

They are new every morning;

Great is your faithfulness.

“The LORD is my portion”, says my soul, therefore I will hope in him.

I turn to the verse frantically trying to find the first few lines, however I don’t see them.  I make sure I’m in the right chapter and verse, but what I see on the page is completely foreign to me.  In fact, it seems more like something out of the Book of Mormon than God’s Word.  I’m hallucinating words in scripture, so I quickly close my Bible and head down the hall.

I’m trying to find some way to escape this place I’m in.  I notice a security guard going out a side door down the hall, so I run just in time to catch the door before it closes.  I wait for the guard to go up the stairs, then I quickly make my way down.  “I’m finally going to get out of this place,” I think to myself.  I get several flights downstairs before I feel the weight of two giant hands forcibly grab me and drag me up the stairs, back down the hallway to my room, and throw me on the bed.  Several other nurses quickly dart into the room and sedate me.  They then take me to a small 10’x10’ concrete room that serves as some sort of solitary confinement.

And that’s how I found myself lying face down on a chilled concrete floor.  I was in my most desperate state, yet it was quiet and strangely calm.   As I lay there I have an overwhelming feeling of joy overtake me.  Was this just the drugs?  No, this feels different.  Somehow I felt safe and was assured everything would be alright.  I can’t even begin to describe the feeling I felt, other than I knew that Jesus was right there on the floor with me.  He heard all of my cries for help and turned them into joy and peace even in the midst of my psychosis.  God was with me in my most desperate moment, full of strength and compassion.  

I was officially diagnosed with depression with psychotic features.  I had a long road to recovery and I’m thankful for all of the medication and therapy I received, but the greatest gift I was given was that brief moment in isolation.  It’s crazy how God can turn such a horrific circumstance instantly into a moment of praise and thanks.  One minute you’re crying in agony, the next you are full of joyful laughter.  Even though I don’t understand why everything happened, I can find solace and confidence in God’s goodness and his unwavering faithfulness to his children who trust him.

A Reflection on Psalm 86

Psalm 86 is a very personal and emotional prayer by David.  He asks God to hear his prayer several times, which points to his desperate situation. I love the imagery of God stooping down to meet us where we are to listen.  It’s comforting seeing David’s trust and confidence – not only in God’s character and promises, but his standing before Him.  He knows God will answer him, but it’s just a matter of when.  David doesn’t just merely ask for his situation to be resolved, but he’s seeking a deeper relationship with God in his time of trouble.  (Teach me your way, O Lord, that I may walk in your truth; unite my heart to fear your name, v 11)  He is wanting to experience God’s goodness as an active participant with a unified heart.  David has seen God’s goodness, knows that He is good, and knows that God will continue to do great things.  He trusts God even though he might not receive an answer to everything.

Father, lower your head, so that you may hear me. I am helpless and deficient 

Save me, for I have put my full trust in you. I am counting on you and nothing else

Be gracious to me. My tired voice cries for help. 

Give me a cheerful heart and cast out this confusion within me.  Lord, I turn to you. 

I do not doubt your goodness for you are eager and ready to forgive. 

Lord hear my plea.  Listen to me. 

You will attend to me when I call upon your name. 

You are unlike anything else I cling to. Your works stand above the rest.  Nothing compares to you. 

You are the creator and ruler of everything. 

You are doing wondrous things right now, even in the midst of my suffering. This is why you are set apart from the rest. You are not merely the best god, rather you are THE God. 

Teach me, so that all of the affections and motivations of my heart may be aligned with you.  Teach me to walk in your way, your truth, and your life. 

My heart is united in praise for you my God.

You are overflowing with grace and mercy.  You have rescued me before and you will rescue me again.  My mind has escaped me, but you have not forgotten me.  Even in the midst of suffering, you are full of compassion. 

Lord, see me and be merciful to me. Take my weaknesses from me and give me a renewed strength.

Show me a sign of your goodness. My confidence and trust is firmly rooted in your promises.

Psalm 86, adapted