‘A lack of trust’, they declared with a flourish.
‘Get over it’, they said.
‘You’re weak in your faith. Not trusting God…’
They scoffed and blustered,
puffed up with self-importance.
‘Have you lived with a mental illness?’ replied I.
‘Fighting your own mind, your thoughts?
The courage this takes. The internal battle.
Surrounded by people yet feeling utterly alone.
Have you ever walked that line?’
My greatest strength comes from God.
I know Him so well having sunk in this mire.
Drowning and suffocating, throat clogged with mud,
arms raised high in surrender,
‘Help me, help me, Lord’, I cried out as I sunk.
And He did…
And I knew Him all the more as I clung to the refuge of His arms.
Sleepless nights with worship songs on repeat.
Talking, begging, praying, imploring.
Do not talk to me about a lack of faith.
For it is through this battle that my faith has grown ever stronger.
My courage, my faith, my resolve, is strong.
Perhaps I have these in measures you will never know.
Experiences you have not tasted.
But, you scoffers, I would not wish this suffering on my greatest enemy.
I must make up my mind to let your words go.