Witness to withness

Witness to Withness

Many years ago I felt lead to explore what it meant for me to be mentally healthy. I met before a group I will call the human tribunal. I went before this group to demonstrate that I was ready to join the human race in overcoming the suffering of mental illness. Unfortunately the group was not privy to my agenda. I went to St. Louis to meet with this group and was for many hours lost in trying to find the building. I was given a critique of my materials that I offered as proof of my good intentions.

I introduced myself and they introduced themselves in a small conference room. All of a sudden I felt small. I froze up and did not know what to say. Various people were getting more and more irritated. I was clearly wasting their time. There response to my being there was anything but positive. At one point one of the leaders got up and said he had to go to the bathroom. Before the meeting ended I was bathed in tears and there was no one in the group who would offer me solace. They had better things to do and let my supervisor know that I was not worth the time or effort. Soon after I was released from my duties as a supervisory student at Osawatomie State Hospital.

I am pained to look back even now. I firmly believed that I had something to offer the arena of ministers that would like to know how to help someone who has been healing from severe mental illness. That person was me and this is my story. I tell the story, because I believe there are others like me that would like others to know their story. It would be very easy to sneak back into my shell and make believe that it never happened. Unfortunately it is something that can not be swept under the rug and forgotten about. I recall a supervisor patting on the back in a patronizing way. He knew exactly how to work with people that were called mentally ill and no one could tell him different. He felt sorry for me and was glad for my healing and at the same time found ways to tell me that I was way over my head to think I could teach him or anyone else anything.

My story begins to unravel forty years ago as I seek some semblance of understanding about why I have been put in a state hospital. The hospital is a dreary place with linoleum floors that are gray with age. There are several floors. I am on the second. This day I walk into an arts and crafts area that I never knew had ever existed. Several times I had been told by a male attendant that I was going to be in the hospital forever. I would never leave, because I was crazy. I rarely saw my family. Various family members thought I was demon possessed, even if they would never say this directly to me and ask my opinion about it. I walk into the Arts and Crafts room and feel hope for the first time. The hope came in the form of a story that I would one day write called "A witness to withness". I have shared the concept on many occasions since that day. People are okay with the Witness part of the title and less comfortable with the withness portion of the title. After all it is not in the dictionary. I clearly speak in ignorance. Nevertheless the story will be told in the way that God planted the title inside of me so long ago.

The part about withness is what keeps me waking up everyday wanting to learn everything I can so that I can help others get to the place that they are wanting to go. After all I know what it is like to be imprisoned wondering if I would ever get out. I am determined to encourage others to think for themselves and not let themselves be deceived by the limitations that others impose upon them. God loves everyone and as long as I have breath I will seek to communicate this truth to everyone I come in contact with. I am tired of the persons who speak truth as a self righteous burden that they alone are called to bear. When I talk of withness, I am talking about Immanuel (God with us) and much more besides. I am talking about the importance of being a caring presence and yet that is not even enough. I enter into the fray as one of many members of the human tribunal who want to be heard. There tears are not in vain. They are not cast out like so much dirt and garbage. They are part of the human race. Only as we enter their wounds can we like the apostle Thomas truly know who God is. "My Lord and My God". Thanks for being with me when no one else would. Now that is the essence of withness.