A Tug of War with Grace

A reflection on the last couple of weeks.

Community is important.

I have been struggling for meaning and attachment in the past few weeks.

I am blessed to have friends who have encouraged me through this time.

Most of my friends are over 50 years old, and I thank God for that.

Today, I met with my good friend, Ed Quinones.

He told me what many people in my church have told me: that I am a man of God and that God will use me.

I looked at him, shook my head, and laughed.

Who me?

The guy who has a severe mental illness and the person who tried killing himself four years ago?

We had a tug of war for a few seconds.

I tugged and said I'm broken.

How can God use a person like me?

He tugged back and said that all things are possible by the Spirit.

I dropped the rope and contemplated to myself that maybe he was right.

Maybe God could use me.

I am a member of Cornerstone Christian Center, and people there love me for who I am.

Sometimes, if they got to know me better, they would think twice, but I'm probably wrong.

I am surrounded by people who believe in me and have hope.

I grew up in Cornerstone, and I loved being there.

As a teen, Alfred D. Watts, the pastor, mentored me.

He gave me a lot of direction and helped me navigate my life.

He saw so much in me, and he still does.

If only he knew the inward battle of lust, the drunken nights, the times I got high, the times I indulged myself with food, the countless cigarettes, and the worship towards my career.

My life hasn't always reflected God's goodness.

It's a shattering of pieces of what I thought was a good man.

Sure, I don't practice most of those things.

However, I am not as glorious as people think I am.

I listen to and read books that are not Christian.

I listen to other's perspectives that do not align with Christianity.

I sometimes wonder if my faith is genuine.

I often find myself questioning whether God genuinely cares for me.

I frequently laugh in disbelief, yet there are moments when I seriously consider giving up.

My whole world rocked when I was 17.

I was a missionary to Haiti, and we relieved the Haitian kids.

I was overwhelmed by the poverty, and I was deeply thankful for what I had here in America.

However, over time, the feelings that ignited in me disappeared.

My illness became chronic, and I fought for my sanity.

I have lost my mind more times than I'd like to share.

It's a miracle that I write today to share my thoughts and have insight into my life.

I think maybe how God uses me is through my writing.

To share the authentic and intimate part of myself with the world.

Lately, I have been asking people what drives them and what gives them purpose.

If I ask enough people, I'll likely find my purpose.

My drive was I wanted to prove to the world, the doctors, my family, and my colleagues that I wasn't mentally ill.

I wasn't a category in the DSM-V book because I thought I was more than that.

I studied psychology, philosophy, and communication for years to show competence.

It worked until life happened.

I had a traumatic event in the hospital in 2019 that shook me to the core, and it took years to bounce back from.

By 2021, I wanted out.

I didn't want to be here anymore and felt like a burden to those who loved me.

It was a lie, but I believed it to the core.

I'm slowly regaining my purpose back.

One thing remains through all my struggles and doubts: I am still here.

Despite my brokenness, I am reminded of God's love and grace.

Maybe Ed was right; maybe God isn't done with me yet.

I've come to see that my journey, no matter how messy or fractured, can be a testimony of hope for someone else.

My story isn't over, and perhaps my purpose is still unfolding.

I don't have all the answers, but I'll keep writing, reflecting, and seeking for now.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that being a work in progress is still being in progress—and that's enough.

Thanks for reading.