Can Your Greatest Agony Actually Turn To Joy? How?
The blast of the gun!! The horror in the middle of the night!! Trembling as I emerged from the bedroom to see my husband gasping for air. Blood poured from his mouth. The gun still in his now limp hand. I gently tipped back the recliner to open his airway; but the bullet had gone through his head. I called the ambulance. A cousin who had been visiting and witness, stood paralyzed. My oldest son screaming from the back bedroom—he couldn’t breathe. I opened the windows then went back to making phone calls for help. It was in Mexico, so there was no 911, the ambulance was very slow. Agony, rage filled my heart. I had watched my husband battle inside the monster of mental illness. Too proud as a physician to get real help, he had tried to go it alone. Mental illness had won. Or had it? All the struggles we had faced as a family; always hoping, always dreaming that he would be well one day. How I had believed that with enough love, he could be made well?
The agony and despair was more than I could bare; yet, as the day moved on there came a whispering sound—deep beneath, barely audible nearly drowned out by agony’s roar. A whisper of God—assuring me that my husband was now at peace—that he had found Christ a few months before. He was with God. He was healed. In the depth of agony, deeply hidden in the recesses was this promise. Oh, don’t get me wrong–suicide is NOT the answer for anyone–God’s desire is that we find hope here in Him; but neither is it the unpardonable sin. The scars of all those years, the years in the midst of the illness—the scars of that pain filled night remain with me and my children. They blare like sirens reminding us that this world is broken. The scars remind us of the darkness. Only when you know the darkness, can you see the true light shining into that darkness with hope, joy, and love.
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