Sunday, 1/17/2021 [edited Monday, 1/17/2021, 5/28/2021] 10/30/2023 [Thursday 12/14/2023]
If the next paragraph seems angry and confrontational, then it's because it's tough love in the form of satire. ('Tis also horribly, viciously snarky. Thou hast been forewarned.)
The only reason that this literary project is rated "mature" is that gentile folk may find my point of view a trifle impolite. As in, "Lunatics should never be seen nor [sic] heard."
Look. I've been prayed over and blessed numerous times over a span of decades. And it has helped tremendously. Yet I still have issues. So...
For the moment, being a CCP (Certified Crazy Person) appears to me to be a thorn in my flesh over which God's grace is sufficient.
Translation: "Suck it up, buttercup!!" :) :) :)
(As in only one happy face icon would be woefully inadequate for this auspiciously auspicious occasion.)
STOP
Sturgeon General's Warning: About my sense of humor...
You won't understand 50% of my jokes.
I won't understand the other 50%.
CONTINUE
Today I may have attended my last Sunday service at a church that I've attended for years. I love the pastor, his doctrine, and the congregation. But, at times, I could barely stand to be in the same building.
What set me on edge was a perfect storm of multiple issues: spiritual, personal, medical, and psychiatric. Moreover, I have come to [realize] that I was compromising on my faith, my worship, my medical health, and my sanity.
* I could not serve 3 masters: myself, my congregation, and my God.
How, and why, did things get to this spiritual intersection of deliverance and disability?
First: my pastor, and my congregation, have been amazingly supportive and patient. (I use "amazing" sincerely, and not as slang.)
Second: I have at times adapted and compromised in ways that I was usually A-Ok with. If things got too loud, then I went elsewhere. I often had no qualms [about] being in another room than the main congregation.
Often, however, did NOT equal always!
At times, during social functions, a crowd of people chattering excitedly was a sensory overload — especially if I wasn't feeling socially engaged. Of course, there were times when I didn't want to even try to socially engage.
Today? Both the music and the sound system often grated on my nerves, and for several reasons. (The COVID-19 pandemic notwithstanding, I seriously questioned my then present situation!)
STOP
If this sounds to you a little like autism, then you get a gold star.
If I remember it correctly, I got diagnosed as having autism spectrum disorder when I was 55. Moreover, I received that diagnosis from the VA (United States Department of Veterans Affairs).
* I got an honorable discharge, [sic] in case you're wondering.
(Moving right along...)
By now, you may be confused.
1: Being "autistic" does not qualify me to be a Certified Crazy Person!
After all, if I'm autistic now, then I was obviously autistic when I was in the military, right?
2: If I got an honorable discharge . . . then I obviously was -not- an AWHM (Axe Wielding Homicidal Maniac)!
***
This is where things could get dicey. Relax. This is not an autobiography.
{Author's aside: yes, including this essay in an autobiography is the epitome of irony.}
However, it is an exposition on how modern Christianity in America may, at times, seem to miss the mark when it comes to mental health issues. Other matters may be discussed, if they are deemed appropriate topics for discussion.
Knowing a little bit about me may help you understand that my take on things is not "average."
Over the decades, more than one denomination has called me a "priest."
This may not seem "average," either.
However, I have joined a number of denominations during my lifetime. The criteria for being a "priest" can vary considerably! That said, I have never been either major category of Catholic. Nor have I ever attended either a seminary or a monastery. Biblically speaking, I qualify as neither an elder nor a deacon.
What do I consider myself now?
* I am myself.
Beyond that, any label is irrelevant to our purpose here. This includes calling me a "good man." I am unworthy of such high praise.
You see, only Jesus Christ is "good." I have at best feet of clay. Now -that- makes me average! :)
Or at least normal. Which is a terrible thing to call a bloke, don't you think? [😶🙂🙄😛]
**
What was I doing at church in the first place during a pandemic, you may be wondering?
Now, that might be a topic worth looking into! It may not, however, take top priority.
[,,,]
Suffice for now that some consider the assembly of the saints to be of vital importance, even in these dark days. As such, the matter is one [of] grave theological weight. I do not expect everyone to weigh it equally — although I do wish that some people would take being reasonably cautious more seriously.
That, in truth, includes me. Hmm...
I could suppose [that] the issue of faith without works being dead could be applied to this quandary in multiple ways. (Unfortunately, that is no joke.)
[Italics added for both emphasis plus clarity.]
YOU ARE READING
A Bridge Over Troubled Waters
SpiritualDear Reader: You are precious, priceless, and irreplaceable. In the entire history -- of the entire universe: In the history of all Eternity... There has been, and ever will be, only one you. Herein are opinions, observations, and things autobiograp...
