I am not ashamed to be diagnosed with anxiety and depression—the latter, a symptom of a more serious issue. However, I am exhausted. I am tired of fighting a battle seventy-five-percent of my family thinks isn’t happening; I am drained from the relentless, persistent civil war raging within, the constant insomniac nights, and my prowess in self-deprecation. Sometimes, I think about the peace six-feed-under will one-day bring. Dark thoughts lead to dark hours and then dark days, dark weeks, dark months, and dark seasons. I am inside one of these dark seasons now.
Regardless, dark times still submit to light, and my light, the one my heart points toward, is my faith. Without Jesus, I would be gone from this world. In him and with him, I can run my race. You would think that this would bring comfort to loved ones, but 99% of them aren’t religious—not in actuality. I take the Red Letters—words of Jesus—serious. This invites conflict from all around, because to take Jesus seriously, is to deconstruct the cognitive dissonant American Evangelical Church—which I refer to now as a support group for nationalists. I have no issue judging these Churches, because God will judge me according to the same standard I judge them, and, if I die right now, I know I will not be found guilty of idol worshipping a deranged, former President, ultra patriotism, capitalism, anti-immigration rhetoric, or marginalizing people of color, sexual orientation, and gender-identities. I have plenty to be judged and condemned for, but I do not have the baggage of hatred in my heart toward my neighbor. But we all have our own sins. None, not one single person is righteous before God. My sin is serious: I cut myself off from community. I try to walk my faith alone, and that is a grievous approach, because there is not a single verse in the Bible that says man can do it without the help of his neighbor. I fear failing those whom rely on me, and that fear, that lack of faith, percolates to the surface, causing me to withdraw from those I need most. Today, we interpret that as the Church. This is something I am working on, and God is walking me through this process. I have made huge strides here, but it is my cross to bear. Especially, since God has called me into the ministry. I take comfort in this: God never calls the qualified, he qualifies the called.
Albeit, this past weekend, we had a vestry retreat, and I opened up to fellow leadership about my sexuality and testimony. I was met with all the love good Episcopalian’s can give, and thinking about that moment is a high-beam in the blackest of nights. I love my Church so much.
If you are still reading this, I thank you for listening to my unorganized rambles. I have much to do today, and the toxicity enveloping my mind right now is paralyzing. Emptying my mind of its struggles—writing this post—helps me to center and gain control of myself. It is not my fault if the truth hurts, but it is my fault if I go on suffering behind closed doors. There is too much to do, too many needs to meet, for me to walk through this life on eggshells for Jesus. I’m broken, you are broken, we are all broken, and we all benefit from a grace that knows no limitations—God’s love. See, I’m starting to feel better after all.
Send good vibes and prayers. God bless you guys. See you next week!