spectroscopic grace

Esthy Hung

Night falls for a long time as my world

eviscerates. Death ready to attack.

Old friends—shame, anger, despair

Beckon me in with open arms.

Tendrils of black ensnare me; I cannot see God.

A nurse patiently sits with me as

I cry and shake in the

Dreaded Dining Room, a Digestive biscuit before me for

Two dark hours.

All I know is I cannot have it.

.

Dull grey iron bars stand guard at my window,

Reminding me: escape is impossible.

The painful panging for home is new for me.

God, how can you possibly use this to further your Kingdom?

The memories are foggy, there are only feelings—

Clouds of grey numbness or overwhelming sadness or sheer terror.

“Why is light given to he …

who rejoices exceedingly when they find the grave?”1

.

The mirror tells me I am covered in mud;

dirty and tarnished.

Friends come to visit and

Pray. Lies still crawl in, telling me I am

Shameful, that He has cast His face

Away from me.

Surely, as someone said—

If I just prayed more, if I just had more faith

But He ate with the

weak. Washed the dirt from their

Feet. He desires me still.

.

Though our minds are poisoned yellow with self-hatred and self-destruction

We yearn to take away each other’s suffering.

We hold each other up. Eliza:

“Bananagrams?”

I peer out from the nest of safe darkness I am curled up in.

Although I try to mask the salty droplets gliding down my face—

Eliza knows.

The voices in my mind are screaming,

as they do for her too.

I dry my face and slide onto the floor

She empties the pieces from the yellow purse

Silently we play Bananagrams

.

Violet bruises cover

Hazel; my sister in this prison

Whose mind has distorted her reality

Familiar warm salty droplets make

acquaintance with my lips again as I hear her

Scream in the next room fighting

Against survival as six staff hold her down to

Force-feed her.

Tears pour as I beg You to take away her pain, all the pain of those here.

Wetness drops onto my arms

Clutched tightly and desperately by Amelia

As I pray for her

.

Red sirens blare in my mind

On the day I am discharged.

Happiness should fill me, however only

Fear instead.

And that which was a prison became

A place of safety, with those who

Understand.

Home does not feel safe, for my

Mind is with me everywhere.

However, Lord you too suffered

Gushed with sacred crimson. For us, for

Me. That I might be released from the grip of fear,

of condemnation.

.

As I leave hospital,

I may step out and enjoy the incandescence of the sky

Which radiates all visible colours

Fusing into the brilliance of the sun.

At the source is a fierce, raging ball of fire

Like that which You ignite in me

How it sears and sorrows You to see suffering. I

do not want others to feel the

pain, isolation, loneliness

that I have.

And if they have

I will love them fiercely,

not let them go

and reveal the Father that does the same for me.

Christians wrestling with mental health difficulties can often struggle to reconcile these with our faith. This is sadly not helped by the misconceptions in the Christian world that mental illness is evidence of one’s weakness in faith or that one is spiritually possessed, implying a relational distance between one and God.

I feared that I was being shut out of God’s Kingdom when heavy doors locked me into psychiatric wards. These fears were subverted when He used some of the darkest moments of my life to reveal the vibrancy of His love and the multifaceted-ness of His grace. In sheer brokenness and weakness, I met Him more deeply than I had ever expected, which I am thankful for.

Healing is very much possible though often not immediate, as the journey itself is also one of continual relationship growth with our Creator, but we can rejoice because the Kingdom to come is where full healing will be.

Esthy is a fourth year studying Physics at Catz. She loves ice skating, dying her hair green, and telling everyone how awesome nuclear fusion is.

1 Job 3:20–22 ESV