Cracks and Jesus Glue

   Some of you know that my mother suffered from bipolar disorder for many years of my life. She found support in church friends, on occasion, but I know others from our homeschooling or church circles gave her platitudes. Jesus loves you; you can do anything through him; I love you too, I hope you know that. None of that was particularly helpful, but for many I know they thought it was a genuine fix if she’d only listen.

I’m still a bit confused as to why Christians tend to think religious platitudes will help solve the great problems of life. I’m even more confused when Christians judge those who can’t ingest the platitudes and use them to turn their lives around. Sometimes things are just too broken to cover up with the clever use of a Bible verse, or a sermon, or a series on God’s love. My mother used to talk to me about “receptors” when I couldn’t understand her mental illness. “I can read a verse about God’s love a hundred times,” she said, “but until I can receive it, it doesn’t make a difference. Sometimes my receptors are damaged or numb, and I can’t experience the truth in the words I’m reading. I know it’s true, but it doesn’t change how I am or how I feel.”

This resonates with me as I’ve been struggling for the last two weeks to make it out of the house, to finish an email, and even to feed myself. I like to joke about “losing control of my life”, and I like to say “I can’t; I have lost the ability to can.” But now it’s not a joke or an “issue.” My entire life is this way and I can’t do a single thing with it anymore.

Now cue the religious platitudes.

“Jesus loves you!” Great, fine, I know that’s true. But right now I honestly I don’t care. “You can do anything through Him who gives you strength.” Right now He doesn’t seem to be giving me strength. “I love you, I hope that helps.” Great, fine, that’s not the issue here; but whatever. “I know you’ll get through this.” Yeah, but… I don’t know when. What if I haven’t finished with this by the next time I see you? What if the light drains from your eyes as I answer you a week later with, “no, nothing’s changed. I’m still struggling”? What if you’ve used up your reserve of Christian sayings? Is this the point where we start avoiding each other?

Please trust me when I say that religious platitudes don’t fix anything. If you ever doubt that, please read the book of Job. His friends never actually address his difficulties with their proverbs. He even tells them in Job 16:1 that “I have heard many things like these; miserable comforters are you all!” There’s nothing to be gained by encouraging someone who’s struggling to try the things they’ve spent their lives trying or believe the things they’ve spent their lives believing. Trust me when I say that, if rubbing my Jesus lamp helped, I’d be done with this by now. The Jesus genie would have answered a long time ago with everything I need to patch things together.

The ugliness of this is that I can’t mop up my problems fast enough to be like everyone else at church (or to be as they pretend to be, perhaps). So you’re going to have to see the same problems in me, week after week. No book, sermon, self-help seminar, or Christian song is going to change that. “Yes,” you tell me, “but Jesus is the one who is supposed to fix your problems! Don’t feel pressured to take them on by yourself.” OK, then. What if Jesus doesn’t fix my problems? Where is your God now?

Does not compute.

If he doesn't solve my problems using the prescribed Christian method, what does that tell us? Probably that the prescribed Christian method doesn't always work. And what if Jesus wants to build my life from the ground up rather than just add another story? What if he doesn’t just want to “teach me something” or “strengthen me in some way”? What if he’s breaking down my existence and is creating something entirely different from my thought patterns and attitudes? That's just my guess as to "why".

 If you recoil in disgust at what that looks like in a practical sense, I can’t say I blame you. I spent Monday dealing with a series of panic attacks and I can no longer sit through a church service on Saturday night. I cry all the time and I zone out for hours on end. It’s a mess and if you don’t like it, trust me, I won’t be offended if you don’t look. I'm wrecked.

But I realize now that Jesus is not my superglue. All the cracks in me and the institutions that have made me what I am cannot be fixed by simply asking Him. He doesn’t work that way, because yeah, I've asked. Now that I’ve fallen to pieces, I’m going to have to relearn how He actually does work.