When Cole met Jane, something special happened, and they found love.
He never expected Anthony to return…
Amazon Australia Amazon Canada Amazon US
Hi guys,
Yep, I’m a week late. Forgot last Sunday, and slept through my window Monday. Still, I could blog again in three weeks, it’s still lockdown so there’s a chance, but I haven’t planned anything after this, and I’m not sure what else I’d have to say.
A few weeks ago, I mentioned having trouble finding that God guy. I might be guessing, but I’m sure I’m not the only Christian, new or old, having that kind of trouble, falling off the prayer bandwagon, getting doldrummy. No, lockdown isn’t helping it, there being online services, no munch of JC, and no confession.
Maybe I can do something about the last one, but I’m committed to lockdown, hesitant with Mr Golden Crowned Lurgy floating about. I’ll see what eventuates, but did the rosary with the GF last Sunday, we watched the Maronite Mass (it was St Mary of the Cross day), got back into the Gospel of Matt – there’s an interesting convert – and life is, well, a little up.
And lockdown isn’t so bad with wine and Scotch at my disposal. As the man on my favourite greenback, Benji, said, “Wine is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy.” Guess it’s likewise of my favourite animal, the platypus, proof that God loves us and has a sense of humour. Love that little evolutionary throwback!!
Where was I? Oh, yeah, interesting converts. Matt was a tax collector for the Romans, the ultimate lowlife scumbag in Judea. Throw in Jesus and hey, there’s the dotted I, crossed T evangelist. Saul of Tarsus? Straight up persecutor of early Christians, until his famed flash of light encounter with Jesus, and he’s Paul, powerhouse of the early church.
Then there’s me. Funny story in the end, considering I was elated as hell and off my meds for three days, no sleep. But come a Friday in mid-August, having quit one job on Tuesday and had a very public manic episode, turned up to the other a day and a half after said episode, I opened the doors of my local Catholic church, got a wave from Father P, and entered into peace and quiet.
And when your brain has been running at a gazillion miles an hour, you’re still on hyper comedown, that burst of tranquillity was one of the most amazing, transformative things I’ve felt. I thought, “I’m home.”
But what was I, a science-abiding, bi atheist with bipolar doing at church? Surely I’d be crazy because only stupid people aghast at science go to the guy upstairs. I had a walk-in problem with two catechisms (out of 3800-odd, not bad). Must definitely be mentally ill to want to punish myself with a lot of “I’m unworthy; I’m a sinner; OT God is iron-fist absolutist, where is the actual mercy?”
Yeah, I was kinda Saul of Tarsus, smarter than Christians because science was so provable, don’t need no pesky God judging me for my faults. Atheism had its charms, and I’d found a place in existentialism, here because we’re here, and that’s fine by me. Then flash of light, total transformation, done and dusted, right? Well…
I’d read some bible, Genesis and Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, Numbers, then flipped to Revelation and had the C. R. A. P scared out of me. I had to go to scripture classes in one school because no Non-Scripture, where I first heard about Moses hidden in the reeds (Hi Superman inspiration!). Religious Christmas cartoons were the thing back in the 80’s. I’d seen King David (Richard Gere’s nappy dance, lol), half of King of Kings, and of course Life of Brian.
Funny thing one pre-convert Christmas service, the Priest’s microphone cut out, and “Speak up!” was my brain’s logical response.
There was the time I asked about the patriarchal bent on Yahoo Questions, and got the explanation about the Virgin Mary. The service for my niece’s christening taught me the significance of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet (it was Passover, lots of sheep in Jerusalem for slaughter, lots of poop, and donkey-riding Jesus stooped over and served, getting his hands dirty). And I’d gone down the Stations of the Cross just to see.
Still, atheist, more or less. One night at 18, though, something happened that I had to put my jury out on. I do have reservations saying this, but I think it was a miracle – which puts me at odds because I wonder why I was saved, when so many don’t seem to be.
(A readthrough of Catcher in the Rye on Wikipedia sort of put it into perspective; and though I haven’t put it in prayer in a while, the thoughts of those who’ve taken their lives, who might have missed what I received because the pain is too much, still invoke sadness. While we’re here, kindly give them a thought.)
Back out into the atheist pasture I went, that instantly-trustworthy voice bubbling away in the background. Then came the creeping mania brought on by a swap of meds; an awful YouTube argument with an arrogant so and so who said I denied Ontology (which opened my eyes); the acute sleepless mania (who needs meds?); the inspiration to find Jesus on Wikipedia; and the drive to solve 0/1, arriving at infinity, and there’s one of that so… “Hi God!”
Then I went nuts, got policed to St Vincent’s, got the visit from the psych, tried to walk out, got strapped down and sedated, held in the PECC ward overnight, and woke up with the acute knowledge, “You know you had an episode, right?” No more the future is now, winning every Nobel prize for proving all theories right, travelling at the speed of our minds. Just a shaky reality with acceptance it was back on my old med, a rough Thursday at work, then off to Church the next morning, fronting up to Father P after Rosary, and saying, “I’m looking to be baptised.”
What a ride that was, what a proper born-again moment. And what a touching moment, learning love was a bunch of strangers that don’t know you stopping you from hurting yourself when you’re acutely manic, and learning that first Sunday that people had been praying for myself and others in a fix without even knowing it.
Where does it put me, three Easters up at about the anniversary of my episode? Well, I’ve built a team of Saints who I really need to get back to, failed some vegan experiments three Lents in a row, haven’t solved looking for God in the wrong things and places, and I’m still bumbling around in my cycles.
But it got me hanging with the nannas in the reading group, getting some good formation up. It’s led me to look at relationships with a faith component. There’s forgiveness and somewhere to turn back to and go despite the falls. There’s hope and an urge to try for myself to keep going.
Becoming Catholic hasn’t made me perfect, but pointed me in that direction. It hasn’t solved my Tweeter arguments, but it’s helping me stop posting some things. I’m not some Bible scholar or basher. It hasn’t cured my bipolar, hasn’t changed my sexuality, and hasn’t changed my love of science (the what and how flipside to religion’s who and why). And I quite liked the love neighbours, respect “enemies,” peace on/to/from Earth for a long time.
It has just become a part of me, and I quite like the part I have in it, even if there’s more understanding yet to come.
I’m not sure what this post has done. Maybe comments will come (still waiting on engagement, I feel like I tweet into a void). Maybe someone will consider a faith journey, and maybe someone will block me because of this. And, well, someone could’ve gotten to the God bit and stopped reading. Thems the breaks with this.
I’ll let you go now. Thanks for reading, I hope you are well and safe in these uncertain times, and if you or someone you know are headed down the depressive path I went down, life so hard it hurts, reach out and seek help, because yes, you’re worth it, and have something to teach the world about your hardship, maybe in writing like me
Take care all,
T.M.
