Susannah's Corner

One of the men lying there had been sick for 38 years. When Jesus saw him and knew how long he had been ill, He asked him, “Would you like to get well?” “I can’t,” the sick man said, “for I have no one to help me into the pool at the movement of the water. While I am trying to get there, someone else always gets in ahead of me.” Jesus told him, “Stand up, roll up your sleeping mat and go on home.” John 5:5-8, The Living New Testament

I believe that to reach our full potential, and to serve Christ to an optimal degree, we must heal the wounds of our past. By wounds, I mean the legacy of neglect and abuse—such things as fear, anger, and shame. Healing our wounds also guarantees that we will not pass our pain on to others and destroy their lives. This is important to me because I carry around many wounds. Most of them are the legacy of a childhood filled with loneliness and depression.

Of course, it took me a long time to realize that I was being held back by my emotional problems, and, when I finally did, I still lacked the motivation to do anything about the situation. Then, one day, while discussing all of this with a friend, she asked me, “What holds you back from getting better? What do you think the block is?” Without thinking, I found myself blurting out, “I am afraid to get better. Mental health is unfamiliar. It is a mystery that lies beyond a closed door and I have no peep hole. That mystery feels like a beast ready to devour me if I open the door. What if getting better is worse than being sick? It can happen. Besides, I think I have bonded to my vision of myself as a victim. I prefer self-pity to self-esteem” “My friend looked at me in surprise, but before she could say anything I left. I really didn’t want to talk about this because it made me feel ashamed.

Not long after this conversation, I sat down to read The Living Bible. Without thinking, I turned to the gospel of John. Soon, I got to the story of the sick man by the pool (John 5:6-8). I had read this story before, and liked it, but this time when I got to the words, “Would you like to get better?” a loud voice boomed in my head, “No.” At first I was shocked by this passionate and spontaneous response to the question Jesus had posed, and I didn’t know what to make of it. Then I remembered my earlier conversation with my friend.

As I began to reflect on this story in John, in terms of what I had revealed to my friend about my fear of getting better and my victim mentality, I found it particularly fascinating that once Christ confronts the sick man about whether or not he wants to get well, the man in question begins to make excuses. (Don’t we all.) And the man never really answers Christ. (If he is anything like me he probably just stood there looking sheepish, trying to find more excuses for going back to his bed.) Fortunately for the man (and for me) Jesus let him off the hook and simply gave him the answer to his dilemma. “Stand up, roll up your sleeping mat and go home.” In other words, do something—take action—don’t sit around the pool in a state of suspended animation.

So this is what I did. I got down on my knees and prayed for the willingness, courage, and guidance to change. I said out loud, “Yes! Lord! I want to get well!” Then I picked up my mat, or in my case got out of bed both literally or figuratively, and went home.

Home, as it turned out, is both a metaphorical and physical place. Metaphorically, it is that place in my heart where my soul resided before the trauma and where today I am a free and unblemished spirit unencumbered by my fears and illusions. Literally, it is the church where I can incorporate the Christian disciplines of prayer, meditation, confession, study, submission, and worship into my life—all the things that are helping me get better. Most of all, it is behind that door I was so afraid of where the Holy Sprit teaches me everything I need to know about reaching my full potential as a human being.

So remember the lesson of the sick man by the pool. Christ is not going to heal us without our permission. We must say yes to mental health. We must get past your reservations about being happy (as strange as that sounds). And we must do something—sometimes even before the willingness comes.

I had a spiritual awakening in 1983. For me it was a shift in consciousness from agnostic to believer. Today, I believe the Holy Spirit came to me but he did not reveal himself as the Holy Spirit at the time so I just called it the voice my Higher Power or God.

Yeats later I came to know Christ. The Holy Spirit told me 4 years ago that Christ was real; he was more than a prophet, he lived among us; he died for our sins; and he was resurrected. Basically she said, “Susan, get with the program.” So I did.

Days later I told someone I had been visited by the Holy Spirit. Even though this friend was a Christian she did not believe me. I became embarrassed and stopped talking about it.

Months after that,  I talked to my pastor about this and he asked me: “How do you know the voice was the Holy Spirit. Maybe it was Satan?” I could not answer him at the time but since then I have created a list of things that must be present if I am talking to the Holy Sprit. I share them with you and hope you are graced by the presence of the Lord in the guise or the great Comforter and Counselor.

1. The instructions must be loving. It is not from God if the feeling tells me to do something mean or cruel.

2. It must not be selfish. If it benefits me it must also benefit others. Writing benefits me because it is fun but my writings are always to help people.

3. The feeling is uplifting. It will make me feel good. If I am judging myself or others I am not listening to the right feeling.

4. It should bear fruit. Whatever is said will lead to something wonderful. A change for the best or some kind of blessing.

5. The Holy Spirit will never contradict the scriptures in the New Testament.

P.S. I asked the Holy Spirit why it took so long before I came to believe in Jesus Christ. I was told that (1) I was not ready for the Truth, and (2) the Holy Spirit wanted me to help addicts heal and many of them were not Christians. So I did and now I am home.

“Then Jesus went into the Temple of God and drove out all those who bought and sold in the temple. [He] overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves.” Matthew 21:12 NKJV

I have had many pastors tell me that Jesus was not angry when he overturned the tables at the Temple. I don’t know why they have a problem with this. After all, Jesus was human at the time and anger is a human emotion. Is it so hard to believe that at least once in his entire ministry Jesus would feel this emotion? Furthermore, is anger necessarily a bad thing? It can lead to bad things, of course, like rage, resentment and violence, but it can also prompt us to stand up for ourselves and make badly needed changes like Jesus was doing.

Regardless of whether it is good or bad, anger is with us to stay and I think it is time we put it into perspective.

There are three types of people when it comes to anger. The internalizer , who suppresses anger out of shame; the loose canon, who loses control of it; and the centered person who handles it in a sensible way.

The internalizers are Christians who are convinced, despite the gospel of grace, that we have to earn God’s love by being perfect. For them this means they must never be angry. They try desperately to hide it. They internalize it. They get angry with themselves rather than be angry with others. They flagellate themselves emotionally. They let the stress of trying to hide and/or suppress their anger affect their health. They hold themselves up to such a high standard that they make it impossible for the love of Christ to warm their souls.

These internalizers are usually predisposed, by temperament, to suppress anger, but they are also taught to do this by their parents and those who influence their upbringing. This is especially true of children growing up in a dysfunctional home. Young child in such a situation learn quickly how to stay safe. If hiding their anger keeps the family from erupting, many children readily comply. Soon, they become ashamed of their anger and learn to “stuff” it. When these children grow up, and have more control over their environment, they must make peace with their anger. They must understand that the emotion, isolated from any kind of acting out, is nothing to be ashamed of. They must allow themselves to feel their anger before surrendering it to the Holy Spirit.

Loose Canons may, or may not, be ashamed of their anger, but they have no ability to control it. Cain was a loose canon. (Genesis 4:5) He took what he perceived as God’s rejection and turned it into violence. We all have a loose canon in our lives. I am one because of my BPD. If not, we certainly see them in the news and everywhere around us. Loose canons blow up when things do not go their way.

They tend to be controllers and this is how they intimidate others. Or they have a lot of emotional baggage that keeps them on edge all the time. Stress quickly leads to anger, then rage, and, sometimes, violence. Daniel Golemen, in his book Emotional Intelligence, explains what happens physiologically to the person who loses his temper. An event, that would normally be processed by the neocortex (the thinking part of our brain) triggers a reaction in the amygdala (the brain’s storehouse of emotional memory). This bypassing of the neocortex makes loose canons unable to think through their reaction to events around them before they act. They act first and think later. Loose canons need to learn how to process their anger before acting on it. This is hard, but I am making process.

Centered Christians (the ideal Christians) are not ashamed of anger. When they feel it they process it rather than act on it. They put it into perspective. Some do this more quickly than others, but they all do it. How do you process anger? Well, if you are angry at a situation that needs changing, and it can be changed, then channel your anger in a positive way. This usually means doing something positive in a well-thought-out manner. If you are angry about a situation over which you have no control, then try the following:

# Pray for God to lift the anger.

# Visualize yourself surrendering the anger to God.

# Visualize God’s pure love filling you up and pushing aside the anger.

# Write about your anger on a piece of paper and then put it in your anger box.

# Talk to a trusted friend, counselor or pastor.

# While you are waiting for the anger to be lifted, pray that God gives you the strength not to act on it.

# If you are angry at a person, pray for him or her every day for three weeks.

# If you have the courage, do something nice for this person.

# The Bible tells us what to do with anger, so refresh your memory by reading Matthew 5: 23 (being “ reconciled to your brother” before going to the alter), and Matthew 5:44 (loving your enemy). Then read about the crucifixion of Christ and ask yourself what you have to be angry about.

# No matter how long the anger lingers, do not stop praying; do not act on it; do not shame yourself.

These thoughts about anger could easily be applied to some of the other seven deadly sins—the ones that refer to emotions—pride, envy, lust, anger. I cannot stress enough that, in my opinion, we must allow ourselves to feel these emotions without shame and yet, at the same time, nip them in the bud using prayer and the power of the Holy Spirit.

I got married when I was just nineteen years old, and, despite my attempts to be a good wife, my marriage failed shortly before the birth of my second child—Karl.

I was depressed because of my failed marriage and turned to drinking. I also started reaching out for love from other men who were abusive. This was really hard on my children–especially Karl.

To support my children, I got a job and tried with all of my heart to balance parenting and work. At first, my son Karl seemed unaffected by losing his father, but as he started coming by less often to see him, I could see Karl withdrawing into himself.

When Karl was twelve years old, his father died. I tried to comfort him, but he just got angry and barricaded himself in his bedroom. “I don’t care,” he said. But I could hear him crying on the other side of the door.

When Karl was fourteen, he entered high school. I prayed that he would do well and go on to college. Unfortunately, it became apparent right away that Karl was having difficulty adjusting. When his first report card came, it indicated that he was failing all of his classes because of poor attendance.

I talked to Karl about this. I went to endless parent-teacher meetings at the high school. I sent him to counseling. I went to counseling with him. I tried punishing him —even begging. Nothing worked. Everyday, I dropped him off at the high school entrance, on my way to work, and after I drove away he crossed the street and hung out in the park with the other dropouts.

The low point for me came the day I received both Karl’s report card and a letter from the school’s “Talented and Gifted Program.” The report card indicated that Karl had been absent forty five times and gotten five failing grades. As a result, he was now a full year behind his classmates. The letter said, “Your son was given an IQ test and it indicates that he has above-average intelligence. Please call our office to discuss his future. We are convinced that he will do well in our college-bound program. He is exceptionally bright.”

This was the last straw for me. I couldn’t get Karl to go to school, much less to a program that asked for extra effort. I was powerless, so I just started crying. Then, after what seemed like hours, I dried my tears and began to pray. I asked God to take my son into his arms and dry his tears. I asked God to be the father that Karl never had. I asked God to inspire Karl to live up to his full potential.

When I finished praying for Karl, I was rewarded with a sense of peace that I had not known in years. I slept like a baby that night, fully convinced that everything was going to be all right. And, from this point on, I stopped all efforts to make my son go to school. I turned the whole situation over to God—and I waited.

A few weeks later, I was sitting at my desk at work. Suddenly, the phone rang and a man with a deep voice asked for Karl’s mother. “That’s me I replied. What can I do for you?” “I am Karl’s school counselor,” the man said. “I want to talk to you about your son’s absences.” “Oh,” I said. “I am glad to hear from you, but I want you to know that I have already tried everything to get Karl to go to school. Now, it is up to the Lord.” With these words I began crying and pouring out my heart to this stranger on the phone. “I love my son,” I said. “I only want what is best for him. But I can’t make him do something he refuses to do. God knows I have tried. So, I am going to pray for him and love him no matter what he decides to do with his life. That is all I can do for now.”

When I was finished, there was silence on the other end of the line. Then, solemnly, the man said “Thank you for your time, Mrs Peabody. I will stay in touch.”

Karl’s next report card showed a marked improvement in his attendance and grades. I was ecstatic. The following semester Karl was on the honor roll. I couldn’t believe the change, and yet I had prayed for it.

For the next two years, Karl continued to work hard. He went to summer school and evening classes at the local adult school to make up the classes he had failed. He was determined to graduate with his class even though I told him that it was all right with me if he graduated a year late.

Halfway through Karl’s last semester in high school, he asked me to go to Parents Night. I agreed and he squired me around from classroom to classroom introducing me to his teachers. They were all very happy about Karl’s improvement.

Before we went home that night, Karl escorted me to a patio adjacent to the school gym. It was a beautiful night. The moon was full and the stars glistened. Karl and I sat down on a wooden bench just enjoying the moment.

We were both silent for awhile, and then Karl turned to me with a smile on his face. For a second he hesitated. Then softly he said, “Mom you have never asked me why I went back to school. Don’t you want to know?” “Yes,” I replied. “I guess I was so happy that I didn’t want to question it.” “Well,” he said, “I would like to tell you. Awhile back, I decided to play a joke on you. So I called you at work and pretended to be a school counselor. For some reason, you didn’t recognize my voice and so you shared with me your inner most feelings about the problems I was having. What you said saddened me and made me ashamed. Then, suddenly, I knew deep in my heart that I had to do something to make things right. From that moment on, I resolved to do better—for myself and for you.”

I couldn’t speak. I was amazed. Then, I gave Karl a hug and, silently, I thanked God for making my dream come true. I also thanked God for renewing my faith in him because now, more than ever before, I know that he has the power to intervene—to talk to us through our hearts— to move us to do things we would not ordinarily do. This experience taught me that we are not alone and we never need to feel forsaken.

“But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:44)

I was sitting in my car one night, warming up the motor, when a man forcefully swung open the door. Then he reached across me with lightening speed and grabbed my purse. We struggled. Then I screamed and he ran down the street. I was overwhelmed. The next thing I knew, I was running after him. I didn’t get very far. Within seconds he disappeared around the corner and I stopped running. Then I walked back to my car, tears streaming down my face. The motor was still running, the door was wide open, and my shoes were lying out in the middle of the street. For the first time, I realized I had been chasing this man in my stocking feet.

The police came and took a report. After they left, I grieved—for myself and for a world in which these things happen every day. I also thought about the reasons people hurt each other—poverty, drugs, greed, anger. Then I went to sleep.

The next day I lay in the bed thinking about what had happened. Then I thought about the man who had robbed me. Who was he? Why did he do this to me? How could I stop being so angry? How could I find some peace of mind?

Suddenly I realized the answer to my dilemma. I must pray for this man as Christ asked us to do. So I closed my eyes and asked God to heal this man who had robbed me and to help me get over my anger.

About an hour later I felt the anger dissipating. Then suddenly the phone rang. In a soft, almost inaudible voice, a young man said to me “I guess you know who this is. I’m the guy who robbed you.” Like a surprised child I found myself saying without hesitation, “Oh yes, I’m so happy you called.” After a moment, the young robber said, “I just wanted you to know that I am sorry and that I am going to bring your purse back to you.” I thanked him. Then he said, “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t need the money.” “I understand,” I replied.

For the next few minutes I listened to this young man and got in touch with his pain. Then I talked to him about the pain he had caused me. Finally, I counseled him a little. He listened quietly. When I was finished he said, “You know, I try not to personalize what I do, but I feel bad about robbing such a nice lady.” “Good,” I said. “Perhaps your remorse will help you change.”

After this I said, “If you want to bring my purse back just leave it on the porch after it gets dark. Then it will be there in the morning when I wake up. He responded by saying, “Someone might take it if it’s out there all night. I will tap on your door when I drop it off and then you will know it is there.” “Okay,” I said. (The irony of my robber being concerned about me being robbed again did not escape me, but I didn’t say anything.)

After this, there was silence. I think we were both hesitant about breaking the connection and yet it seemed the practical thing to do at that point. So I said goodbye and he hung up. An hour later there was a tap on my door. (I resisted the urge to look out the window.) A few minutes later I opened the door and my purse was lying on the porch.

To this day, I continue to pray for this young man. I pray that his remorse has become atonement. I pray that he was released from the burden of his sins. I pray that he was saved even though I will never know if he was. I do know, however, that God used me to try and bring this young man into the light—if only for a moment. And in the process of loving my enemy, who had suddenly become my friend, I got the peace of mind I had prayed for.

Epilogue . . .

I want to add that I chose to share this story with my readers, not just because it is about forgiveness, but because it is about grace. It is about the mystical power of the Lord to intervene—to talk to us through out hearts—to move us to do things we would not ordinarily do. Christ lives my friends! Not just through the Word, but through action. We are not alone and we never need to feel forsaken, because he takes bad things and transforms them into good things. Our enemies become our friends if we are open to that possibility—if we pray for those who sin against us. We may not live in Eden anymore, but we have the Lord at our side. This is what my experience with the young robber taught me, and I think about what happened every time I get discouraged about the world I live in.