I possess the cure for mental illness.
Tucked right here in the pocket of my heart.
Despair is an impossibility, fraught with conflict and
half-truths. “Remain here and die in doubt! “, the enemy
hisses. Almost did. Pain became my keeper,
alcohol my easement, lies my perceived checkmate, and
suicide my surrender.
In the heartbeat of a child, I met Jesus.
Yes, my body fails, death is
at work in me. Yes, my mind
wrestles with concrete experience,
life bears valuable scars.
Disease, visible or invisible, was crucified on
the cross, wrapped around Jesus, and entombed.
Tangible. Definitive. “See I told you so,”
Satan laughed. Resurrection interrupted.
Holy Spirit, come.
Even if challenges remain unlifted, Your love
sustains me. Even if my mind
sees the spiritual realms at war, I know
who wins. And even if I fall into the pit
of overwhelming suffering, I know who is
in the pit beside me. Redeemer of all things,
comforter in all tears, and healer of all wounds.
I believe in the possibility.