Part 1 God

I had started working myself off of my meds.  But I had not made much progress in leaving home!  Sinead encouraged me to leave the house on “safe” trips.  I would go to the grocery store at first, but only if Mike drove and of course went with me.  Later, and as a part of my recovery, I started going to church.  I figured it would be safe and Mike (who drove) and Jake went with me so it was a family affair.  I went to several different churches close to home.

I read the bible and studied.  I tried to understand.  To feel God.  I even started praying.

From church to church I went…

But I never felt God.  The best way I can explain it is it would be as if someone who was blind was being told what they should be seeing.  As if they weren’t blind.  I have now come to realize that I was not born with a faith gene.  It is not that I do not want to believe in God (I have desperately tried), but there is nothing there.

After months and  much effort I felt like a failure.  Like something was so wrong with me – that God hated me.  So many people had faith, where I had none.

One night (it was on a Friday and Jake was at his Dad’s) Mike left (we were having arguments constantly), only days before I attempted suicide, and out of complete desperation and in a manic rage I got into my car and drove!  I drove all the way to Shepherd, TX.  Why you ask?  That is where Phil and Sherry lived, the Pentecostal preacher and his wife I had known since I was a child.  I went to their church and found them.  They took me out to dinner and that night I asked them to pray for me.  Pray so hard that I would be saved.  They prayed over me for hours!  The next morning I drove back home with no sleep.

Nothing!

Nothing!

Nothing!

What was wrong with me?

If you believe in God, I bet you are asking the same thing! You are not the first and will certainly not be the last!

Nothing!  I know that now!  But then, I thought everything was!  And I was surely doomed to hell.

 

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