I was forty-three years old when I was first admitted to the psychiatric ward.
Born again in 1978, I had been a Christian for eighteen years. But knowing Jesus does not guarantee instant freedom from emotional and psychological turmoil.
I didn’t understand what was happening to me. In the middle of the night, I went into a catatonic state. My wife phoned our pastor. He came over and helped talk me out of that state, but I was in very bad condition mentally. Thankfully, our three children, ages eleven, nine, and seven at the time, slept through the commotion.
Diagnosis
The next morning, I knew I needed help and checked into our local hospital, where they assigned me to the psychiatric ward. I had an extremely high level of anxiety and imaginations and had barely been sleeping. Dr. Levy, the psychiatrist I met with in the hospital, gave me a diagnosis almost immediately—obsessive-compulsive disorder, commonly referred to as OCD.
That made perfect sense. I recalled that at around thirteen, I began compulsively tracing my own handwriting on classroom assignments. I also had to touch things seven times (why I came up with that number, I don’t know.) It was affecting my life to the degree that my parents had me meet with a child psychologist. I don’t know if OCD was a common diagnosis back in 1966. The psychologist never mentioned it. Instead, he urged me to just try to quit those behaviors. And somehow, I did.
As an adult, my disease was manifesting differently. A negative thought would pop into my head, and I couldn’t dislodge it. The more I tried, the more it persisted. The persistent thought would then lead me to act on it or bring it up in conversation, causing me embarrassment and confusion, and/or hurting others. The thought was the obsession, the act was the compulsion.
I was released from the hospital in a few days after rest, group therapy, and a prescription for a medication that helps alleviate OCD.
A divine appointment
But while I was in the hospital, God used me in a totally unexpected way. I am a Jewish believer in Jesus, and one of the patients in the group therapy was a young Jewish man. We got to talking, and it turned out that other Christians had already shared the gospel with him. When I explained to him how Jewish it was to believe in the Jewish Messiah, he asked Jesus to come into his heart. Amid the worst experience of my life, this gave me great joy. I later learned that he passed away some years later, but it was comforting to know he knew the Lord.
Dr. Levy continued to meet with me for many years until we moved from South San Francisco to Martinez, California. I remained on the medication he prescribed, but, experiencing great pressure on my job as a reporter for a daily newspaper, I became extremely anxious and needed to check into the local hospital, again being assigned to the psychiatric ward.
Round two
This stay was longer, as the staff psychiatrist said I needed new medications, which take a while to go into effect. It was very difficult to be alone, apart from family and friends, but again God used me in an unexpected way. I became friends with a young man of Indian descent. Of college age but living at home, he had an extremely tense family situation. He wanted to propose to his girlfriend, but, as is common in Indian culture, his father insisted that if they married, they live in the parents’ home. This would place enormous emotional and social pressure on his bride-to-be, who would have to sacrifice her comfort and identity to adapt.
I pulled out my Bible and showed him this passage, “ Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24).
He was amazed by the phrase “a man shall leave his father and mother,” which was the very dilemma he faced. I urged him to read the New Testament, beginning in the Gospel of John. My hope is that God’s Word penetrated his soul and that he will be drawn to the person of Jesus.
The third time’s the charm
A year or so later, work pressure continued to affect me to the point where I needed to be admitted again to the psychiatric ward. Again, they switched up my medications, so I was in there for nearly two weeks. And again, God had gone before me with an opportunity. My one roommate was a kindly older gentleman who was emotionally fragile. He had hoped to be released on a certain day, but had a relapse and remained with me in our room for several more days. During that time, I shared the gospel with him, and he prayed to receive Jesus as his Savior.
I am now retired, under no real pressure, and much better able to enjoy time with my wife, our children, and grandchildren. I would have preferred never to have entered a psychiatric ward, but it led not only to help and healing for me each time, but also to three lives impacted by God’s Word.
God can use you no matter what.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
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Interesting story… How important is it to have a base when lost in this ever changing world. Gods holy word is a great comfort to all folk. Especially helpful for those with mental or other problems. Gideon bibles have guides for lifes problems which are common. Bible has common solutions as mentioned in this account ^^^ mentioned.