..friends drive me crazy. "It is good to see, that I'm successful," the Devil.
|(Before you start reading please take into account that the mind of a psychotic person is impossible to accurately retell or reflect. Thoughts, ideas, voices and visions can race past at such speed that it would be impossible to contemplate the volume late alone the impact such times have on the sick person - only snipers of such realities can ever be (re)told.)
The sun was already up high by the time I woke up. Momentarily I was struck by the fact that my mind was in some sort of hazy cloud but soon everything spun into sight. A whitewashed room, a strange man sitting on an orange chair materialized within it, while I lay on a low single bed with snow-white sheets.
The man looked intently at me and then said, "you've got Bipolar," afterwhich he kept on studying me. I lay dumbstruck in my bed having no real idea what the man was trying to say.
"You're in hospital you dickhead," a snearing voice bellowed my way.
I briefly wondered who that could have been, but when I saw nobody else in the room I decided that it must have been one of Satan's henchmen, afterall they loved snarling the obvious at me.
I looked up at the man on the orange chair.
"We have put you on medication," The look on his face appeared pained for some reason.
"You're much better off taking medication," he concluded.
He must be the doctor.
"The hogwash that this guy dribbles," a voice shouted straight through my thoughts
"Yes what would God think about you taking meds?" Another one piped up.
Another swarm of voices set off. The load must have been visibly heavy, as the doctor looked compassionately at me.
"You've got Bipolar," he repeated.
Thoughts floated past my eyes; scores of thoughts all materializing out of nowhere, twisting crazily around in my head. The voices booming through it all. Was that someone singing a song? I heard someone scream, "No! Nooo!"
"I see," I said but with all the noise going on, I could not really see anything. I just said it to get him of my back. Ignoring the doctor I closed my eyes. The turmoil grew into a spinning frenzy of sounds and hallucinations. I heard myself gnash my teeth. Utter desolation threatened to overcome my feeling world; I quickly opened my eyes.
The doctor was gone, the realization was a shock, and it is dark outside, where has the time gone? I wonder briefly, I must have been asleep.
Quickly I got up and walked to the door but there was no handle. Locked up again, I saw. I felt my anger rise hotly,
"I hate being restrained like an animal," I shouted, kicking the door in my frustration. But nobody heard me or took notice of me, especially not the door.
After a while my rage subsided and I got back on my bed. I lay down and closed my eyes. I noticed this dull empty feeling right inside of my chest, just above the heart. I wondered what it was. The only other time I had felt something similar had been after my first psychosis. I also noticed that the thoughts in my head didn't spin half as fast as they had done a week ago, just before I went off the rails. The thoughts had been so fast then that I had thought I was superhuman.
"Get up!", a voice suddenly demanded loudly.
Oh no, Satan! Instantly I felt the rage return, my chest hurting under the pressure of it, my mind becoming as sharp as a razorblade. Yet heeding his command, I sat up.
"Keeping well?" One could see the sarcasm dripping "What have you been up to?" Now his tone sounded as innocent as a lamb.
My rage burst out of me,
"Get away Satan," I growled. Goosebumps from the chill of his presence ran down my back.
"Had a party at home the other day I heard," the dark one's voice was icy as if he was personally upset by my latest psychotic outburst.
"Leave me alone Prince of Darkness, I'm not going to talk with you anymore", I stated more firmly than I felt.
"Ha ha," the sound of his disdainful laughter filled my existence.
"I hate you!" Almost choking on the words, I cried it out "Satan, how I hate you!"
I turned my thoughts to the spiritual battle I was facing. Ever since I discovered how the Devil and his henchmen were responsible for turning people into wrongdoers, Satan had increased his personal attacks on me. Even now his hated voice was clearly audible, directed at me, God's own, so to speak, his messages of dreadful content thundering throughout my reality. It hadn't mattered how much I ignored him and his friends, his constant attacks had sure worn me down.
Just before my psychosis I had thought that I, like God, understood all in allness, but now my enlightened mind rested like a dark heavy cloud on my senses. For all I had accomplished, was that I had wrecked my family once more. Yes the children came to visit but I could see the fear in their eyes and the anger in my wife's eyes was obvious, though she had been loving and kind on her visits. The worst point was that I could not remember most of what had taken place on the days when madness had struck.
Just a few scenarios kept playing themselves off time and again. Firstly, me believing I had turned into God. Now just the thought caused me to cringe in shame. Secondly thinking that my wife Jeanette had been raped by a good friend of ours, who really was the Devil. Thirdly that I had to bring my family into heaven, making them see what I saw. It had turned out to become five days of carnage. The tears welled in my eyes, just thinking about it all. How was I going to fix up this mess? Guilt and shame threatened to undo me right there and then - oh these servants of Satan! I found myself wishing I was dead, how else could I escape this utter turmoil of being?
"Yes kill yourself you bloody bastard," a voice screamed right into my face.
"Jump from the Gap when you get out," another one suggested ever so politely.
The 'Spectators' were back into position. I had previously discovered that six spiritual beings, I called them 'the Spectators' because they held lofty positions in my mind, had their input into anything I thought or said. Sometimes I couldn't hear or see them, on my foggy days, but usually they would be at their stations, loud and clear - and they were noisy today.
The Beast! Alarmed at the thought I got out of bed. Yes the Beast, now I remember him again. Involuntary I shudder. The Beast and the Whore, the spirits who keep the whole world captivated. How am I going to make the Church understand? Why can't they see this? Just read the book of Revelations and their spiritual control over the numbered, even those numbered in ourselves. The number 666 stands for numbered control. Crystal clear, surely?
I found myself pounding the locked door of my room.
"Let me out of here!". But nobody responded to my anguished cry. The door stayed locked.
I looked at my hospital wristband, the numbers where clearly visible, from the Beast as well, I knew. Nobody in this place can be trusted. The Beast was in control here as well. I had become a number. Frantically I tore at the bracelet around my arm but the offending article resisted even my most violent attempt to dislodge it.
Luckily the wristband is around my left arm. Yet how can I escape this numbering of people and anything they had or stood for? Can't anybody see that the numbering of people and their goods is one of the last acts of the Beast and the false prophet? After that what will the numbered find? Oh the horror to see EVERYONE numbered. What does it all mean? Why can't I find someone to talk with?
Inner darkness rushed over me, sucking like a black hole, all good feelings and thoughts away, as if my heart resembled a barren desert. I sank to the ground squatting down, crouched over, with my hands over my head. My mind spun into overdrive, a bombardment of negative thoughts and feelings, with Satan's insane laughter riding right through it. I let it all wash over me. I let the wild animals have me.
I've been in this Hospital for ten or maybe even twelve days now. I must ask the shrink how many for sure, next time I see him. The first few days have just been a blur, melting into each other, seeming to have no end or beginning.
I looked around the hospital's mental health 'lounge room', most of it occupied with the five round tables, each with six chairs that served for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The rest of the room had six beanbags, an eight person modular lounge and a few straight backed chairs. The back wall of the room was completely taken up with shelves full of magazines and books of all kinds, games and many handcrafted articles. Obviously made by patients. I looked curiously over the artefacts. I noticed that most of the things on display were beautifully made.
Suddenly my private thoughts are interrupted.
"Hi darling," Jeanette greets me.
I looked around.
"Hi," I mutter.
"Interesting, all these magazines?" She asks looking at the shelves I had been studying.
"As usual most of them are heavily influenced by the Devil," I reply.
It looked as if Jeanette is going to say something, but at the last moment thought better of it.
She disagrees - I know what she is thinking.
"How are things in your head dear?" I hear her ask cautiously.
Nothing wrong with my head! But I don't say a thing.
"Oh look, who have we got here?" Spitefully the sound of the dark one's voice came through, as if my wife was just a piece of dirt in his eyes.
Ignoring him I said to Jeanette, "Look darling you know that I'm going through a spiritual battle. I asked the doctor if he was a Christian and he wasn't, so what does he know about the the Tempter and his unholy schemes? The doctors asked after voices but I told them that I haven't got any voices. I've been here for more than a week now. I've had needles and plenty of pills, but Satan is just as talkative as he has always been. Of course he is extra aggressive, as he knows that I'm dangerous to his kingdom. He will try anything to discredit me, being diagnosed with a mental illness suits him perfectly fine, as he is in charge of the hospital just as much as he is in charge everywhere else. Just look at America..."
My wife looked almost forlorn as she listened to me going on about the Devil. This irked me greatly. Why can't I make her see the truth?
"You should tell the psychiatrists what is going on in your head," she said to me, looking me bravely in the eyes.
"You can't trust her!" One of the spectators screeched from his exalted position. The whole mob of them now started to interfere with my thinking processes.
"What is she saying about you behind your back?"
"What is she teaching the kids?"
"Her credit card's got three sixes in the account number."
"She is a spy."
"She is dangerous..."
Leave me alone you mob of wild ravenous beasts.
The strain of keeping a lid on the inner turmoil must have been clearly visible, as I heard Jeanette say through it all, "You're having a hard time right now, aren't you?"
The sound of her voice sounded from afar.
Purposely I grab one of the straight backed chairs and sit down.
"No I'm not having a hard time," I snapped untruthfully, "It is only the spectators again. Remember them? I told you about them before. They, together with the Beast and the Whore, form the guts of the god of this world's spiritual intrigue ......."
Suddenly I stop talking I had seen something out of the corner of my eye, something to arrest my attention. Clearly I felt this evil sensation, my arm and neck hairs stood straight on end.
Was Satan sneaking around the room again? I had seen his shadowy form earlier on today. Where was I again?
My thoughts abruptly discontinued.
"Looking for me?" The evil sound of his voice blared through my very bones
"Ssatan, I found you," I stammer my fright.
"No that is the wrong way around my friend, I found you." The Devil answered in his truest tone.
"Oh you infuriate me, you and your diabolic friends drive me crazy."
"It is good to see, that I'm successful," the Devil smooched the words into my ear.
Just then I saw the doctor standing beside Jeanette.
How did he get here?
I watch my wife talk to the man.
"She is talking about you behind your back again." Satan eagerly suggested.
"I have to admit that such thoughts cross my mind at times, but I don't think for a moment that she would say something bad about me or something like that." I retorted feeling rather lame.
"You never know, you fool, if you don't check on her regularly." The dark one hissed the words of knavery into my face.
Brushing aside my antagonizer, I focused my attention on Jeanette conversing with the shrink.
"Mrs Jones what is going on in the mind of your husband?"
Before she had the time to answer, the doctor continued
"Brad here is not talking much to us you see. We are pretty sure of the Bipolar diagnoses but that doesn't rightly explain the constant talking to himself. The pacing around the room in a clearly definable pattern and his insistent preoccupation with certain numbers are a dead give away as well."
"A dead give away to what?" I heard Jeanette ask
"Schizophrenia." The health professional answered.
Stunned at what the doctor had said I sat up in my chair.
"Lunatic! Oh lunatic!" The Devil shouts victoriously in my face. "Oh my poor deluded Schizo fool..."
"And you Satan even if I'm labelled a Schizophrenic, you are but the old wicked evil mean Devil. All misery is caused because of you, father of all lies and wrong. You'll never have a true friend, because you will betray him before he gets close to you..." I try and counter the dark one's degrading comments.
"Oh stop this melodramatic sob story performance." Satan replies to my thoughts. "Those who think they are friends are more fun to destroy and they fall easier as well. I love their pained faces when they wake-up to their defeat. Ha! Ha!"
Feeling incredibly irritated, I stood up. Facing the medical practitioner square on, I basically screamed at him "I'm fighting a spiritual battle, every Christian knows about this battle between good and evil. Does that make me a madman? I don't think you understand me very well at all! Sure I've been agitated lately but the spiritual battle for our souls is heating up. Nobody seems to see what's happening. Are you all blind or something? God told me that sparks will soon fly and it is true because the Bible tells me how Satan tricks this world and he knows his time will soon run out, catching everybody who he can get stuck into his web of lies. Now then find me a Christian who would disagree with me on this score?"
"You talk about feeling agitated Brad, what is causing you to become so angry?", The doctor tried.
"Give it to him!" the spectators call in union "Give it to him!"
Wishing the Spectators to death, I carefully gather my thoughts. "Lack of spiritual insight. Biblical poverty," I answer as cautiously as I can.
This medico is not going to get anything more to nail me with. What is it with the medical world, not one seems to be Christian? How could an unbeliever understand that I'm building a new inner being, on instruction from the Holy Spirit, a new dwelling place. An 'I am' which is like God - to last forever. How could they understand the incredible spiritual battle that takes place inside me because of this, for Satan is not taking it lightly that I escape out of his clutches.
"So it upsets you that many people don't see the Bible as you do?" the doctor summarized my response, looking expectantly up at me.
"No, it upsets me that so many people are getting lost through lack of knowledge and it upsets me that Christian Churches do so little to call in the hurting of this world," I counter.
The Doctor looked sceptical. "Be that as it may, my diagnoses remains the same, I think that you suffer from Schizo-Affective disorder. We have put you on anti-psychotic and mood stabilizing medications and hope that you will take these tablets. They should counteract these voices in your head and also the radical mood changes you are experiencing." The Medical specialist looked tired and worn out just as if my diagnoses had suddenly aged him.
"Schizo Affective....?" Jeanette inquired
"Brad here suffers essentially from two mental conditions. The first one is Bipolar, mood changes, anger fits, bouts of mania, confusion and depression with its doubt, fear and guilt," he took a deep breath, as if to fortify himself, before he continued. "He also suffers from Schizophrenia as he displays a range of symptoms such as psychotic episodes, incessant talking with oneself, walking in patterns, voices, delusions and hallucinations."
I wonder what this torrent of words means? Schizo-Affective sounds like a terrible decease while I mainly fight a spiritual battle. Surely every Christian goes through that? True, I was tricked by the Devil into believing that I had entered God-hood, through the number eight - as the Spirit of God has seven pairs of eyes - plus mine for I was in complete surrender to Him, so that makes eight. Oh how could I have thought that all this was true? I shiver in shame and guilt.
It was then that I noticed the doctor staring at me as if he was trying to read my mind.
"A penny for your thoughts," he finally said laughingly
My thoughts are none of your business my medical friend.
"Spiritual battles are not something you would understand easily, I think," I reply as politely as I could, "and symptoms can be deceiving." Looking him straight in the eye I continued, "I think you misunderstand me, because you don't believe in God or the Devil and I do. Take these voices you keep going on about. I hear the good voices and I can also hear the bad voices but like I pointed out before, millions of Christians claim the same, as does the Bible. Does that mean therefore that we are all mentally ill?"
"What a completely useless argument." The Devil loud-mouthed announced the verdict.
I can feel the inner battle taking place. Am I right or not?
I'm right because I know the Bible talks about a spiritual battle. I'm right because I know many people who say that they also fight a personal Satan.
"See! Two witnesses," I say, but both the psychiatrist and Jeanette looked totally mystified.
I didn't feel like explaining why I had just said what I said, but instead asked the doctor,"When can I go home?"
The medical practitioner shook his head.
"Not yet. You are a lot more stable than two weeks ago but you haven't completely balanced yet. Plus I hope to get more information about your spiritual battle with these voices of good and bad..."
Now there we go. You wait and see, I tell them what they want to hear and then they attack you with it, it is always the same. The psychic...
"...like where do you hear the voices? Inside your head or outside?" Expectantly he looked at me.
...What to say now? I consider the voices, Satan is outside my head, he speaks into my right ear. The Spectators they speak from within my mind, that is in my head, from seats of importance they cast their lightening spells. What about the prodigal son within me? He comes from my chest - he speaks from my soul. He was my soul-mate!!
"Christians are honest." A kind soft voice advised. "Why does it matter, why don't you just speak up, you are diagnosed already anyway?"
I turned my attention to the voice.
"Hi Jesus! I thought you left me - it has been so dark inside lately. Oh Lord are you still angry with me?"
I look around to see if Jesus was about. His presence is an unreal experience. He must have come concealed today as I can't see Him anywhere. And yes, Jesus does speak, from the centre of my heart!
Finally ignoring my thoughts and voices, I answer the doctor as accurate as I can.
"I get attacked from outside my head mainly, ears and face and inside of my head, mainly from the right temple area..."
The doctor looked thoughtful but didn't say anything.
So I continue.
"Also from my chest area in particular, the heart and last but not least from behind." Remembering Jesus advise to be honest, I daringly added. ".....I also hear music, whole choirs at times and sometimes the radio or TV. But that doesn't happen very often."
It felt very dangerous parting with all that information. As if I had transgressed some noble rule giving those voices away... Suddenly all my voices looked stupid, irrelevant and pathetic.
"That's how the Shrink thinks about you. God and the Devil don't really exist they are but voices in a madman's head." one of the Spectators offers freely.
Insecurity sets in full strength now and I begin to falter.
I looked away from the doctor who's observational skills were giving me the creeps.
The Devil is putting an emotional attack on me, I knew.
"Jesus where are You? I need Your help.", I silently prayed.
"Mr Jones..,ugh.., Brad, what do you mean when you say that you hear voices from out of your heart?"
I must have looked aghast. For the medic changed his tone to a conciliatory one.
"I don't mean to pressure you. If you don't feel up to this conversation we will continue it another time."
"No it's okay, its nothing." I stammer. I took a deep breath and plunged on.
"Jesus speaks from my heart."
I must have sounded terrible, my thoughts proclaimed to me.
"Without Jesus you are not so brave!", the nasty voice cut through my already fragile reality.
I must keep my focus on the Truth of God, then these evil voices will go away. All I must do is keep my focus on Jesus.
"Jesus is but a mere carpenter's son, a young man who thought he could outwit me, possibly mad as well, sadly he lost his life", it was as if Satan looked me directly in the eye when he tried his truth to logic trick on me.
Suddenly the Devil changed his approach and started his swearing and cursing, it was Jesus this and Jesus that, the volume increasing until his curses reverberated through my head. One thing that I had clearly noticed, and that was that Satan's threats and curses should really be ignored, but having only recently discovered that reality, I still find it impossibly difficult to do. Satan's voice is always the loudest and the most annoying voice of all. Like now!
"Bah, you'll perish, I myself, yes, I will see to that. And don't think that mere grace can save you from what you have done - you will regret playing God."
"Strange that you should say that. ", I counter the Devil before I can stop myself.
"I beg your pardon?", the doctor looks mystified.
"...I'm sorry. I was momentarily distracted but I was saying that Jesus Christ speaks from my heart. He's been there from since I was young."
"And you believe that all believers in Jesus Christ have this voice in their hearts?"
"Yeah," at least I've come across a lot of people who also say that. "Surely Doc I'm not your first patient to say this?"
"No, you are not, neither will you be the last patient who experiences God in this way." The doctor paused for sometime, as if to weigh up the moment.
"Look, Brad, like I said, you have too many symptoms of mental illness, for me to believe that you're merely in a spiritual battle. There must be more to it."
"Honey do you see?" Jeanette asks me, her eyes pleading for the right response.
How can I make her see that Jesus is the truth himself? Sure I haven't been well, but I got all that under control again. It is just because the Devil says that I'm mentally ill, and you believe him.
"Obviously you side with the doctor. Do you really reckon I suffer from a psychiatric illness because Jesus and the Devil talk to me?" I ask, feeling very annoyed at my wife's betrayal of loyalties.
"No, darling I know that we can hear good and evil but you have forgotten that in your psychosis you were like the Devil yourself? You completely twisted all God's truths and became an unloving dangerous tyrant. I don't want to put you on a guilt trip, but you must accept that you are ill and that your bizarre spiritual battles are part of that illness."
"No! never," I shouted.
I turned to the doctor. "You see what crap you have put into her head now? Now my own wife sides with you, against me."
Addressing Jeanette I said with force, "Honey, I love you, but it goes about Biblical truths. I'm convinced that the Devil seeks to destroy me as I know too much. Can't you see that all these people carry the number of the Beast? Don't believe any of them!"
When I saw that Jeanette wasn't going to side with me I became very angry
"Good day to you both.", I greeted them harshly and raging within I stormed off to my bedroom.
Why can't I agree with the doctor? Why must I be stubborn about this? What will the outcome be for us all if I give in?
Involuntary I shudder.
Destruction! Satan has everybody fooled with his lies and army of liars. Just as is written in the Bible it will be. The numbered will die, and who are the numbered but those living in our modern society? It is difficult relating all that has taken place over the years that I have fought the Devil. I know for absolute certain that he is the great liar himself
"When did it all start then?" The voice inquired gently, as if to encourage further exploration.
Suddenly I felt like crying, Jesus was here, my best friend and He was so much more.
"Oh Lord you know how I'm feeling right now. I feel like shit, for, Lord, it hurts like hell half the time and the other half I feel doped out. ...But Jesus You are my witness about when Satan came into my life as a voice of real danger. I think he has been part of me ever since I was young. I remember when I was about four - maybe even younger - I stood outside and watched a sky full of clouds, the sun was going down. And then I thought that You, The Christ, would come back - full of splendour. Yet I got scared as I had been very naughty that morning. Then for some reason, I can't think back why, I thought I saw You standing in this window of clouds through which the sun blazed its rays. I remember then that I thought maybe I can be Jesus. And then, Satan, yes, that is the first time I recall hearing him talk to me, the wicked one said"
"You sinned..." In such a way that I felt really bad "...You thought you were Jesus." Burning shame had descended on me
"I felt so bad and small then I have never forgotten that time. I recall that I really struggled with the Devil's voice for he told me he was God - but he was never loving, just or fair. Still much later I thought that he was as much god as the real God of love and truth. Confused? So was I. Thinking that if you had done wrong then the god of wrath was on the throne and if I was good then the God of grace was on the throne, but as I said, that was not until much later on."
"Oh you dribble so much shit.", the Devil spat the words at me. "You were older than four when this event took place - your very first attempt at playing God - and as usual you failed miserably - was on December the 18, 1966 and you were 6 years, 6 months and 6 days old and it was on a Friday - bad Friday instead of Good Friday. Ha ha ha."
His contemptuous laughter filled my mind while my heart was bombarded by feelings of shame, guilt, doubt and confusion.
"See!! 1966 - three sixes again - oops one is upside down., aha, 6 years, 6 months and 6 days, wanting to be the Christ in 1966 tells us enough and if that is not enough you were born June 12, 1960. How many 6's in 12 add one 6 for the month of June and..? You are the Anti-Christ.", the Spectators complex speculations shaped into the worst possible accusation, it kind of flooded over me confronting me like an impassable block.
"Jesus.. Jesus, please come and help me out of this terrible bind. Because even though I don't believe Satan, I still can't shake the feeling that he was right and I was wrong.",
I pray the words aloud, carefully I pronounce the words, slowly, deliberately, all the while trying to keep my focus on Jesus and resist the feelings of my kerfuffling heart and racing mind.
"You're a bloody idiot thinking that God will help you.", a spectator threw down on me, "What good is a God who doesn't come and help you when you need Him?", another one cast upon me, his words were heavy with malice and hatred.
How I hated these voices, so full of evil intent towards me, always trying to stop me from getting into contact with my Saviour. Stubbornly I renew my efforts of prayer with my Lord. I know for sure that to come into contact with God the Father in Heaven and His rest, we must surrender ourselves to the truth. Jesus, God's Son is the truth, so I must focus on Him. Straight through the attack of the evil ones I have to hold my faith in Him, my Lord and my redeemer. I must be in the truth and stay there.
I felt my heart burning its resistance, how hot are these spiritual fires, I wonder briefly. Instantly the voice of the Devil could be heard again. Purposefully I turn away from the direction my heart and mind had gone and renew my focus on the King of kings.
He had died for my sins and short comings so I could go to the Father through the S(s)pirit of light. Still my thoughts twisted around in my mind. The whole scenario with Jeanette and my doctor kept appearing before my inner eyes of awareness.
Then I recalled that in my bedside cabinet lay a Gideon Bible. Quickly I fetched it. With shaking hands and a heart full of expectation I opened the book of life, Isaiah chapter 48. When I saw the chapter my heart instantly started to beat from excitement. That was the same chapter I had read the first time I had gone to the Heavens above. My eye fell on one small piece of this chapter. It said something like, that God was going to tell me new things from now on. Things I hadn't seen or known until now. As I was reading and rejoicing in these ancient words, my heart grew lighter and started to praise God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit, all by itself. Slowly truth started to materialize all around me and within me - my senses, feelings and knowledge. Knowing Him, Jesus, the rider on the white horse, the One who always beats His enemies. The Warrior who has a tongue as sharp as a two edged sword. With words of truth He fells His enemies.
In awe I watch as Jesus chases my enemies away with His Words of truth. Instead of feeling scorned and belittled, I feel warm and deeply loved, accepted without doubt. I am precious and important - crucial even, to the Kingdom of God, all this I saw once more descending out of Heaven into my heart. I dropped my Bible on the floor for my moments of insights were drowning under the load of Heaven's input, my senses on tilt, my mind spinning and my heart in jubilation, celebrating Life to the fullest. I find myself drinking in the intoxicating wine of victory through One Holy, Holy Holy Personhood of Being. My whole inner being cries out in union,
"Holy God, I am your servant."
I noticed that I wasn't talking to Heaven with my mouth but that I spoke through my heart in union with the all in allness that is my God. Oh, Oh, how I love Him. Humbly stricken I fall on my knees and worship Him who is and was and is to come.
"I'm a Westerner Lord and not for the first time, am I embarrassed about that."
I sink even lower to the ground.
"We are so crude when I compare myself with all of you here.", I manage to say.
The strange part of being in Heaven is that everything is true at once - my whole inner being was drinking in the delights of my Saviour's home. My inner child upfront and the rest of my inner reality - that is all of me, also those things in me that had died over time - yes me - from birth till now - marching into the everlasting bliss before us - even as I lay on my knees before God almighty - even as I was taking in truths of this incredibly familiar place - even as I was singing jubilant praises to God, with words I had never known or spoken until now. Love, Joy, Freedom, Equality, Oneness with a heavenly multitude that cannot be numbered - yet knowing everyone and everyone knowing you in perfect loving harmony and....
I might as well not try and explain where the truth brings me. How can anyone understand EXISTENTIAL ETERNITY, for that is who God the Father is. His name is I AM. I can feel my heart swell with an enormous and glorious pride - pride that I have the eternal God as my Father.
"Isn't pride bad Lord?", I suddenly hear myself ask, to no one in particular, yet instantly feeling scared that I'm not doing things completely right.
Instantly the whole blissful commotion of Heavenly activity stopped. Suspended I lay there on my knees. Then from far below me I could faintly heard a sarcastic voice
"Time to come home now!", I felt the tugging of the words, before I recognized that it was the prince of the world's voice calling.
Briefly I fought to stay in the place of truth and love, but slowly my heart and mind filled up with the negativity of a sinful existence, down in a cruel place of lies and half truths. All the tranquillity ebbed away out of my being and I was just broken sinful me in a world that is in even a worse state than I am. This process frustrated me enormously. Even though I knew it was my own fault, for I stopped holding onto the truth. I had asked Jesus if pride was bad, I had eaten again of the tree of right and wrong. In Heaven is no evil, only the opportunity to take wrong on board, as one can still choose to follow that road. The pride I had felt had been a glorious one, nourishing the spirit instead of destroying it, as earthly pride does. Pride in God is REALLY good.
"I'm sorry Lord that I didn't stay with You, please forgive me my folly.", I cried the words softly, as I laid there on my knees, letting the voices of negativity pour over me, feeling so sorry for myself that this was so.
I didn't have an idea for how long I had been laying there crying, when unexpectedly the door of my bedroom opened and my psychiatrist stood there looking down at me. I must have looked pathetic, on my knees in front of my bed, tears streaking my cheeks and red rimmed eyes.
"Excuse me Brad but we need to talk," the doctor spoke, looking very seriously down on me.
Warily I struggled to get to my feet but my knees and legs were so cramped up from kneeling, that I couldn't get up. I held on the the hospital bed and managed to pull myself onto the bed with quite a bit of difficulty.
"What is it you want?", I ask feeling irritated that he would just march in unannounced and uninvited. Didn't he know I was talking with my Lord?
"Do you know what the time is?" The way that the doctor asked his question, was as if he was really interested in the time.
Instinctively I look at my left wrist. Clearly visible was the white flesh where the watch band had stopped the browning rays of the sun, but the watch was gone. Vaguely I remember standing next to the lake, my whole family with me. In a troubled split second I recalled how I tore off all jewellery from my wife and kids including their watches and threw it all in the water. Screaming at them never to take on the tempting luxuries of the Beast and his Whore again.
"No I don't.", I basically snapped my answer into his face.
Why wouldn't this man leave me alone, I wondered?
"Brad? Have you got any idea how long you been on the floor for?", he looked intently at me. "...do you know how long ago you left us this afternoon?"
Perplexed I look at my psychiatrist. What is this man trying to prove, I thought?
"I fail to see the reasons for your questions." I replied getting really annoyed.
"Mr Jones, you have been on your knees for five hours straight, it is nearly seven o'clock in the evening.", the doctor spoke with emphasis on every word. "You missed dinner."
"Where have the nurses been?" I ask disbelievingly.
Five hours of meditation that was very long even for me. Mind you, my legs had become stiff and were hurting now that the blood was streaming properly again, so it could well have been true.
"Of course it is true, dummy, you been crying for hours and hours already. The whole hospital knows what a religious weirdo you are.", as he was speaking I could feel shame and insecurity pounding on the doors of my heart.
"You have been in your room and on your knees for just over five hours. The first four or so you were completely still and the last one you have been observed crying. And as to your question why nobody looked in on you during this time..", the medical practitioner looked straight at me, before he continued. "...that was on strict orders from me, I wanted to observe you, as I think that you are going through another psychotic upheaval." The doctor conceded. "I have increased your medications as of tonight."
"See? They won't even let you pray without thinking something bad about it," a Spectator offered, more confusion in an almost friendly way.
"Spies!" another screeched.
"Are you a praying Mantis?" The question of the dark one was steeped in sarcasm, the sound of his voice bellowing through my head as did his insane laughter after he had spoken the words.
Getting really worked up by now, I got up from my bed, made a few painful steps towards the doctor and screamed.
"Why don't you lot just piss off and leave me alone? I've had my gut full of you interfering in my life. I can't even pray to God without you spying on me."
As I was shouting the words, I saw, the rather surprised, psychiatrist take a few steps backwards. This made me even more angry. My stiff legs rebelling, I moved right in front of the doctor and pointed my finger right up to his chest.
"Yeah that's right, leave me alone will you, and stop poisoning my wife's mind with your medical bullshit..."
I didn't get much further, for clearly the doctor anticipated the possibility of trouble for three male nurses stormed into my room and struggled me to the ground. I felt the needle sink into my flesh. I fought bravely against the men as well as the fast acting drug which they had injected into me. I remember hearing the shrink say, "Mr Jones this is a most unfortunate turn of events..." before I passed out.
To be continued. (Hope to write another chapter soon. I have been very sick again but seem to be picking up once more - so hopefully I can continue soon.)