We decided we would try to break the stigma. We openly shared it. In fact we do a seminar called "Whispers in the Foyer: An Honest Look at Christians and Mental Illness." But the moment we shared that mental illness is a physical illness and what we'd learned, within a week or two the pastor would be back to yelling at people who were depressed and accusing them of being self-centered. But we just kept plugging until Steve and I got the opportunity to write a book, writing from both of our perspectives. It was very cathartic to write about the church and mental illness, the stigma, the misunderstandings, what the bible says, and what people suffering with mental illness need both professionally and personally.
I like that you have so much information into your book. You've learned a lot.
That's thanks to Steve's training. When he first got depressed and a couple of churches said, "We don't want a pastor with a case of the nerves," he applied to do social work. He said at the time that his major was religion and his minor was Greek. They told him he was educated for social work. So he earned his Master of Ministry degree, another degree in social work, and changed his life vocation into becoming a counselor. We've pastored since then, but most of the time he's been in counseling or ministry like now.
I wish that were the only story about unfairness in your life. Will you talk about some of the other events?
We had four children—three sons and a daughter. Our daughter got away from the Lord as a senior in high school. She moved out of our home and got pregnant. For 14 months we prayed and prayed. We didn't keep it under the carpet, we dealt with it. We didn't condone it but kept loving her and were firm in our resolution to bring her back to Christ.
In 2001, in June, she repented and went to our pastor. Her sparkle came back. She'd changed. She moved home for a month because now she wanted to do it right. During that time we got to know Phil, her boyfriend. All I can say is that she was fully back. She asked me to be her matron of honor in her small wedding on July 10 of 2001.
On Sept 11 she came to our house after the attacks in New York. She and her dad talked, and she said, "God is going to use this." Our pastor called a special prayer meeting and Lindsey wanted to go and pray. After the meeting, I gave her a hug in the parking lot and we all left at the same time. She pulled her car in front of us, driving and smiling, as another car crossed four lanes of traffic coming straight at her, never turning, and hit her head on. We all jumped out of the van and tried to help, tried to get the car unbent around her. Gasoline was running all around us. The ambulance people said we have a pulse. Then they told us she died. The person who hit her had enough heroin in him to put down six men. He was also on cocaine and marijuana. He and his buddies were coming home from a canceled rock concert, shooting up as they were driving.
Have you ever had more exposure to those men?
The two in the back seat got off with misdemeanors. The driver got three years, but while he was out on bond he robbed a 78-year-old at gun point, and went on another drug spree and he's still in.
Where does forgiveness play in for you?
I believe we've forgiven him. I can't give a stranger enough power to ruin our life. I believe somehow God ordained the accident, just like the people who crucified Christ were within God's sovereignty. I have to believe that. The only way we can deal with him is to let the law carry out the demands they have on him.
Why don't you hate God?
Probably because I've known Him so well through so many circumstances. I was saved when I was 13. When I married Steve, after dinner every night he took out his notes from his freshman year in college and went through the major doctrines of the Bible. I was open to that. We went through all the doctrines—atonement, salvation, and so on. And when he was depressed the first time, I laid my hand on his sweaty head and I prayed, and he said, "I don't know where you're getting your strength." And I said, "You discipled me for six years."
People talk about preparation for the Christian life. There's nothing like preparation. I'd be a liar if I didn't say I did feel when Lindsey died that God had crossed a line. I thought I could live with major depression, could live on a tight budget, could even live with a prodigal daughter. But not long after she died, we sang "What a friend we have in Jesus," and I thought: with friends like that who needs enemies?
I had deep dark times when I said to the Lord, "I just don't get it. Why did we go through all that?" It's some of the worst grief I can remember, and it doesn't go away.
So what do you do with it?
I communicate with a lot of moms who have lost kids, and I have a new credibility. I wouldn't mind being a little less credible. I believe God has trusted us. I haven't lost what Job lost or resisted to the point of sweating blood or suffered like a lot of Christian martyrs. I know Lindsey is safe and happy and not lost. My husband has a set of sermons by Charles Spurgeon. I took one off the shelf. He talks about finding comfort where it's found. Spurgeon gave it back to death, putting one truth on top of another. I'd cry, underline, and highlight. I read 10 sermons on death. He said we pray one way that the one we love with be with us, but Christ said, "The ones the Father has given me will be with me." It helped me so much to focus on what God is doing and that He doesn't need my permission. The Bible says if any man is sad, let him pray. We prayed everywhere. Everyone in the family was crazy in grief. We had post traumatic stress disorder from watching the accident. We learned from a show on Vietnam that the guys who maintained their sanity stuck with the unit and talked about what was going on. We tried to maintain everything in our family unit. We made ourselves go to our 10 year old's games. Everything hurt terribly. I'd look around at people laughing at ridiculous things. I hated them. I had tissues in pockets of everything I owned. Little by little, God brought us through it.
What do you tell people who tell you life isn't fair.
I said to Steve, "I don't understand it, why does all this happen?" He said, "Because this is earth and not Heaven." And I thought, "What do we expect?" We're middle class Americans. There are many Christians who don't live the lives we do. In the 17th century, people were losing five and six children in a family from things like strep throat. They had to grapple with trials, death, poverty, starvation. Life isn't fair. What do we expect?
But most people we know don't have those troubles.
And when my heart is broken or I'm having a hard day, I don't go to those people. Before Lindsey died, people came to us who had heartbreak and mental illness. Now they come for so much more.
People who haven't suffered are missing an important dimension of their lives, I believe.
What has suffering taught you?
Not to sweat the small stuff. God is sovereign in all his ways and holy in everything he does. It's taught me a lot of patience. I've always loved my nieces, but now that I don't have any girls, instead of hugging them, I sit down and talk to them because I really need a girl in my life and it's made me a lot more tender. My tears are much closer to the surface. (I hate that about myself sometimes.) I can really understand people and I'm not afraid to approach people having problems and help them. I don't ask, "How are you?" I say, "What are you going through today, and how can I help you?"
That's not the whole story for us. In 2003, I had breast cancer and radiation. I'm still on medication. But next to Lindsey's death, that was such small potatoes, it didn't matter. I thought it'd be nice to just die and take a trip to visit Lindsay.
Are you afraid of death?
No, I feel like I've got one foot in heaven anyway. Lindsey was such a timid thing—I think, "How could I be afraid of something she's already done? She was so funny but underneath she had a nervous side. To think she made a trip I haven't."
On the subject that life isn't fair. Is there anything else you want to say?
I'd say don't put yourself in a place of rebellion against the Lord because you choke out all the power. I decided I would tuck myself up under the Lord's arm and stay as close as I could, and I believe that is what saved me.