Archives For Mental Health

Loss of a Child

Tim Jackson —  April 10, 2013 — Leave a comment

Some losses are unthinkable.

As a parent, there is nothing more devastating than the thought of losing one of my children. Just thinking of it feels unbearable.

But the aching reality is that millions of parents face that overwhelming loss every year.

According to Wikipedia, 6.9 million children died worldwide before the age of 5 in 2011. In the United States, over 53,000 children die under the age of 19 every year.

The journey through grief is one we are never prepared to take, especially when it comes to the loss of a child. Grief isolates. And that’s why we’re here. We’ve produced a program to come alongside those struggling through the loss of a child to let them know that they are not alone.

Two couples, Kevin and Dawn Burgess and Bob and Chris Zedeck have courageously opened their hearts and lives to share with us in their own words what their journey through grief has been like for them.

Here’s a trailer for the program that airs this weekend on the Day of Discovery television program on the Ion Network.

Please, if you or someone you know is grieving over the loss of a child, join us for more on The Journey Through: Loss of a Child.

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Unavoidable Pain

Tim Jackson —  February 1, 2013 — 6 Comments

In my role as a father, I’ve always considered protecting my three children from harm and from things that would hurt them as one of my primary missions. Hot stoves. Sharp knives. Power tools. Bikes. Cars. People. All of them have the potential for good or harm. Knowing how to handle each is crucial to minimize the risks of pain.

At times, I’ve succeeded. But all too often I’ve failed miserably. Or at least that’s how I feel when I’m helpless to prevent something from hurting one of them.

On Friday, I felt that helpless feeling again. This time it was a text from my youngest, my baby girl. (Yea, she’s 22, but she’ll always be my baby! You dads know exactly what I mean.)

The text was urgent, simple, and pointed:

“Please pray. One of my friends Micah is in the hospital after passing out in the pool. They haven’t been able to fully revive him yet. Please, please pray!”

A few moments later, she wrote, “He didn’t make it . . . Please pray for his family.”

My wife and I were on our way to meet my son and his wife for dinner. We were anticipating a wonderful time together. Now we were stunned, kicked in the gut. We ached for our daughter, but we felt a deeper grief for Micah’s parents who we’ve never met and who just lost their precious son. (His older sister had been on my daughter’s floor last semester.)

As we parked the car, my wife and I clutched hands and prayed. We asked that God be present with our daughter, and that He would hold and comfort her, her friends, the student body and staff of the Christian college she’s attending, Micah’s family, his roommate, the young men on his floor, and the students who pulled him out of the pool and did their best to revive him. All are reeling in pain from the loss of this vibrant young man.

We prayed that God would surround them with His loving embrace so that they would know they were loved even in the middle of their pain.

Recently I’ve been working through some material on the loss of a child in preparation for an upcoming program. In his book Written In Tears, Luke Veldt writes about the tragic and sudden death of Allison, his 13-year-old daughter. He makes an astounding and terrifying statement: “It took the death of my daughter for me to begin to understand the love of God” (p. 24).

Yikes! I want to know the love of God, but must it require that pain and loss be inflicted on my heart to truly know His love? Luke’s book describes his personal journey through grief and “how I came to know God better, not just despite my loss, but because of it” (p. 25).

Luke goes on to quote A. W. Tozer who wrote: “The Bible was written in tears and to tears it will reveal its best treasures” (p. 22). It’s the journey through grief that often drives us to the God of the Bible for answers. But there are no answers that will bring our loved one back or remove the pain of their absence.

Yet God is there. He’s not silent. And He weeps with us because He loves us. He’s not impotent or uncaring because He didn’t prevent the pain. Even though He’s a perfect parent, God never promised to protect us from all pain. But He’s with us in our pain.

The journey through painful loss was never meant to be taken alone. We need others to go with us, reliable guides who have walked this path and found hope in the God of all comfort (2 Cor. 1:3). How Can I Live With My Loss? is a booklet we’ve prepared to help you navigate your journey through grief.

And a request: Please pray for Micah’s family, my daughter Tracey and her friends, classmates, and the staff at Moody Bible Institute as they take this journey through grief together. Pray that the pain of this loss will bind them into a healing community that is empowered by the loving God who welcomed Micah home with joyful celebration.

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October Baby

Jeff Olson —  January 31, 2013 — Leave a comment

Over the weekend I watched the film October Baby. It tells the story of a college-aged girl named Hannah whose world is turned upside down after she discovers she is the adopted survivor of a failed abortion.

This story about a girl whose life almost wasn’t is a powerful film on forgiveness. Hannah had to wrestle through strong bitter feelings and forgive several people before she could move on with her life.

The film’s grace-filled, non-condemning treatment of Hannah’s biological mother, who had attempted to abort her, was also a surprising breath of fresh air. Women who suffer the heartache of having had an abortion may find watching this film to be a very healing experience.

Something Hannah’s adoptive dad shared with her near the end of the movie also stuck with me. Hannah’s discovery and search for her birth mother caused a lot of tension between the two of them, which he often didn’t handle well. As they stood next to each other at the graveside of the twin brother Hannah never knew she had, her dad confessed,

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that I’m trying honestly to learn to trust God again.”

Leaving things we care about in God’s capable and loving hands is a most important lesson for us all to learn.

In Anger, Doubts, Emotions, Faith In Crisis, Grief & Loss, Guilt, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Relationships, Shame & Contempt, Suffering , , , ,
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It’s the holiday season . . .

Tim Jackson —  December 3, 2012 — 10 Comments

It’s the holiday season. And the season seems to be expanding more and more each year. Stores small and large seem to be decked out earlier every year, with merchants trying to exploit the insatiable demands of holiday shoppers with dwindling discretionary income to spend.

But what’s the holiday season all about? From Thanksgiving through Christmas, this “most wonderful time of the year” has been hijacked by anyone trying to make a buck, hoping to make it into the black before the end of the year.

So, in an attempt to help all of us focus on the spirit of the holidays here at HelpForMyLife.org, we want to focus on some of the unique joys and heartaches, traditions and challenges, as well as opportunities that we hope will help all of us return to a more Jesus-centered focus at this “most wonderful time of the year.” After all, it’s His birthday that is being celebrated around the world.

We’ll be talking about traditions that we’ve found helpful and will give you some ideas that may challenge you to be more intentional in your celebrations this year. And we hope that will make the holidays more meaningful for you and your family.

First holidays celebrated with someone new—a spouse, a baby, a community—can be delightful and fraught with meaning. The newness can bring an intoxicating sparkle of wild-eyed discovery back into a holiday celebration that has become simply predictable or “ho-hum.”

On the other hand, first holidays celebrated without someone special—such as after a divorce or the loss of a spouse, child, parent, or dear friend—produce deep struggles with the ambivalent feelings of being torn over the heartache during a season made for celebration with precious loved ones.

Decisions regarding what traditions will or won’t be celebrated, to travel or not to travel on the holidays, and ways of avoiding getting sucked into the commercialization trap while balancing the desire to be a generous giver will be some of the topics we’ll discuss over the next 4 weeks.

So come and join in the discussion—” ‘Tis the season for sharing.”

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Identity: Who Am I?

Tim Jackson —  September 17, 2012 — 22 Comments

In my last post, I talked about how people sometimes mistakenly identify themselves by their mental health diagnosis. But a diagnosis isn’t the only way we misidentify ourselves. It’s easy to do that in other ways as well.

Don’t believe me? Take this simple test. The next time you’re hanging out with a group of people, listen to the ways you and they talk about and identify themselves. “I’m a carpenter.” “He’s a pediatrician.” “I’m a nurse.” “She’s a school teacher.” “I’m a lawyer.” “I’m a stay-at-home mom.”

Our natural tendency is to identify ourselves with what we do. Our jobs. Our professions. But fundamentally, as important as our jobs are, we are not the job. Our value and worth can’t be based on any job or profession. A job is how we function in a particular capacity for a specific purpose, but who we are isn’t what we do.

I’m often identified by others as a counselor. But honestly, I’m not a counselor. Yes, I have the requisite degrees, certifications, and licensure stating that I’m approved to practice the counseling profession in my state. But I’m not a counselor. Instead, I describe myself as a man who does counseling. Do you hear the difference? The difference is between identity (who I am—a man) and function (what I do—I counsel).

Counseling is something I do. But my identity is that first and foremost I’m a man, made in the image of God, worthy of love and respect, and I counsel. Someday, due to age or circumstances, I will no longer function in the role of a counselor, but my identity won’t change.

At the core, identity always goes back to image, not the image I create for myself with my public presentation of my profession, but the image that God created me in—His image (Gen. 1:26-27). And that image is foundational for understanding the value and worth of every human being.

It’s the image that the invisible God has etched on every human soul regardless of race, gender, age, socioeconomic status, nationality, or profession. Any other basis for identity is merely descriptive.

If our identity is tied to our job, well, in a nutshell, we’re in trouble.

The reality is that our jobs and professions can and do change. Statistics tell us that the average stay in a job is 4.1 years and that most adults will have 7 to 10 job changes throughout their working careers. If one’s identity is based upon one’s performance, what happens when the job, the profession, or the career we relied on is lost? An identity crisis. Many people don’t know who they are without their work. And with the instability in the job market coupled with the shifting sands in the current economic climate, an identity based on one’s work can be tenuous at best and can feed into chronic feelings of insecurity and inadequacy.

Remember: You have an identity given to you by God Himself when you were being formed in your mother’s womb (Ps. 139:13-14). It’s an identity you can never lose. Living with a renewed focus on your true identity can save you from investing massive amounts of time, energy, and money trying to create an image for yourself that will inevitably disintegrate.

So, who are you? Does this identity and image thing strike a cord with you? Let me hear from you.

 

 

 

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A Case of Mistaken Identity

Tim Jackson —  September 10, 2012 — 9 Comments

As a counselor, I work within a system that often places a diagnosis label on an individual’s struggles. I frequently hear comments like: “I am a borderline.” “He’s bipolar.” “I’m ADHD.” “I’m an abuse victim.” “I’m an alcoholic.” “She’s OCD.” It’s crazy—not an official diagnosis :-) —to take on a diagnosis as the primary identifier of one’s personhood. I want to scream, “No, you’re not!”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I like codes that unlock doors or allow me access to my computer. A diagnosis can be helpful. I have a little handheld gizmo that I plug into my vehicles that spits out a code, giving me a diagnosis of why the “check engine” light appears on my dash. The code is helpful so that I can determine if this is something minor that I can fix or if it’s a more complex problem that I need to have my mechanic repair.

Fundamentally, the problem is that while there is some truth contained in a diagnosis, a diagnosis doesn’t equal identity. That’s not who we are at the core. But it does describe how we struggle. And there’s a huge difference.

People are not vehicles. We’re not mechanical. We’re personal, living, breathing, feeling, longing, purposeful beings who are made in the image of the invisible God of the universe (Gen. 1:26-27).

Image-bearers. So what difference does that make in real life?

It means the person who was my 4:00 p.m. appointment yesterday isn’t a number, a diagnosis, or a case. She’s a person with a name and a story uniquely all her own. She should never be reduced to a diagnosis code. Yes, she struggles with a particular collection of symptoms that has been given a name, but that diagnostic category is not her name. It’s not her identity. She, like me and you, is a complex conglomeration of inherited tendencies and learned responses that have shaped her story. But underlying everything is her identity as a daughter of Eve who bears the image of the invisible God is at the core of her being.

Knowing that changes the way I see people. I focus more on caring for an individual’s heart, for who he or she really is, and focus less on treating only symptoms or merely correcting aberrant behaviors.

What we all need to remember is that we are not our struggles. Yes, we all do struggle and our struggles are colored by our stories. But we are not defined by our struggles. I know that’s especially hard to remember when we’re feeling overwhelmed in the middle of our pain.

So let’s help each other to remember this: You and me and everyone else we will encounter today is not a diagnosis, a customer number, or the patient in room 201. Each one of us uniquely reflects the image of God. It doesn’t even matter if we believe in Him or not, we all still bear the label of our divine Tailor—made in His image—and are worthy of love and respect. Remember that, and it will change how you see yourself and the rest of the world around you.

 

 

 

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Hiding behind Humor

Jeff Olson —  January 20, 2012 — 7 Comments

Hunter Adams, a physician whose life was the basis for the 1998 film Patch Adams, has spent his career encouraging doctor-patient relationships that rely heavily on the use of humor and play. Adams believes establishing this kind of connection with a patient is essential to their physical and emotional health.

Laughter and humor are an important part of life. The book of Proverbs says “a cheerful heart is good medicine” (Proverbs 17:22). Generally speaking, all of us could use more laughter in our lives.

Certainly there’s a time for laughter, but we sometimes use humor to hide.

Sometimes laughter or making a joke is part of a cover-up. We can joke around as a way to hide from others so they won’t take us seriously. Many of us have learned to play the clown and hide a lot of deep heartache behind our humor or wit.

While it’s true that “a cheerful heart is good medicine,” the book of Proverbs also says, “Laughter can conceal a heavy heart, but when the laughter ends, the grief remains” (Proverbs 14:13).

Although laughter can mask the pain, it eventually wears off. The pain is still there, and the most healthy thing we can do is acknowledge it to ourselves, to others and to God.

Are you hiding some pain behind humor? Perhaps it’s time to turn your laughter into mourning (Ecclesiastes 7:3-4) and allow others and God to get close enough to carry your burden and comfort your heart.

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Setting Life Goals

Tim Jackson —  January 4, 2012 — Leave a comment

Okay. So you’ve weathered the holidays and now you’re trying to get back into the swing of things. And, if you’re like me, you’re looking at how to trim away those few extra holiday pounds all the candy, cookies, and fruitcake you consumed have tacked on (Yes, I do like fruitcake. Not the store-bought kind that tastes more like an old brick I dug up from the backyard. My wife makes it from scratch. Now that is good stuff!).

Anyway, I had a little break between Christmas and New Years and I read a great article from a newsletter that comes to me via email that I thought was worth passing on. Mark Batterson, the lead pastor of National Community Church in Washington, D.C. wrote an article for www.churchleaders.com entitled: 10 Steps to Setting Life Goals.

Now, I’ve got to tell you that I’m not big on the New Year’s resolution bandwagon. However, Mark’s article got me thinking about being focused and intentional about what’s most important for the last stretch of my ministry career. I thought it was important enough that I sent it to the people I care about the most–my family. Yep, my wife and kids got the email with a little encouragement from dear old dad.

So, I decided if it’s good enough for them, why not share it with all of you too? After all, you’re kind of like extended family via the web.

So to all of you who read, watch or listen to helpformylife.org on the web (or any of the extended family of RBC Ministries), our gift to you in this new year of opportunity is to challenge you, like we’re challenging ourselves, to be more intentional and focused on those efforts that will make significant impact for God’s Kingdom in 2012 and beyond. Mark’s article may well be a good place for you to jump start this process in this first month of 2012.

Then, if you find it helpful, and you make some goals and you feel comfortable sharing them with us, we’d love to hear what God is stirring in your hearts as you look forward and consider how or what He may be calling you to and the redemptive influence you can have for His glory and your joy.

Blessings on you all in this new year.

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Take time for your heart

Jeff Olson —  December 22, 2011 — 3 Comments

Every morning I take a baby aspirin. Heart disease runs in my family, and my doctor says it’s good for the health of my ticker.

The particular brand of aspirin I take etches the shape of a small heart on the side of the pill. At first I thought it was corny. But every time I see it, it reminds me that I’m taking this little pill for the good of my heart.

Just as it’s good to take care of our physical heart, it’s also good to take care of a different kind of “heart.” I’m referring to that unseen place inside each of us that houses our deepest desires, hopes, convictions, and feelings. It’s that place within us where we experience the deepest joys and heartaches of life.

The heart is the center of who we really are. That’s why the book of Proverbs puts a high priority on taking care of it:

“Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.”
(Proverbs 4:23)

During this Christmas season and even as you enter the New Year, take some time to care for your heart that Jesus was born to rescue and renew. Take a break from the frenetic pace of life and give yourself time to breathe again.

Maybe grab some solitude. Read a good book. Reconnect with a friend or relative.

Do whatever you need to do to tend to your heart. It is the central part of who you are. It is the place out of which you love God and others.

 

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A Grief Revisited

Tim Jackson —  December 20, 2011 — 12 Comments

I spent last Friday with the HelpForMyLife video crew capturing the story of one of our coworkers, Kevin Burgess and his wife Dawn. Kevin works the audio magic to “sweeten” the audio of many of the RBC radio productions. (I have no idea what “sweetening” entails but I don’t think is has anything to do with the little sprinkles we like to shower over Christmas cookies.)

For those of you who have followed the HelpForMyLife.org blogs over the past year,  you may remember Kevin and Dawn. I featured them in my December 22, 2010 blog, A child is born . . . and one is taken. What a privilege to be with this amazing couple!

Their story is one of sorrow and grief, courage and compassion, endurance and hope. Having lost their precious son, Braeden, to cancer just a little over two and a half years ago, just shy of his 4th birthday, they allowed us to take the journey of grief with them as they shared their story.

And it’s a story worth telling.

Our hope in this new year is to launch a new portion of our website that features the stories of real people with real struggles that requires real faith. We’re thinking of calling it, The Journey Through . . . series. It’s because we’re always in process. We don’t arrive until we’re finally and fully restored in the presence of our good God. So on this earth, we’re all journeying through something.

For Kevin, Dawn and their remaining children, their hurt hasn’t evaporated over the past year. They quickly dismissed the notion that “time heals all wounds.” It doesn’t. Braeden’s absence at their Christmas celebration this year is just as poignant and painful as last year and the year before. But they also reflected something that only they can through this journey through grief . . . hope.

Kevin and Dawn readily admit they’re not immune to grief. Neither are they incapacitated by it. Instead, they are inspired by hope. They are using their experience to touch others who have lost children too. They want to share what they’ve learned on this journey they never chose, but that chose them.

What became very clear to all of us who witnessed their story first hand is this:

They have a story to tell. And we have the privilege of telling it.

Their story is not about a destination, but a journey through grief.

Their story is not over yet. They are still on the journey, they haven’t given up . . . because they have hope.

Why? How? As they would tell you emphatically, “God is in this.”

And their story inspires me to hope too.

So as you celebrate this holiday season with your family and friends, be grateful for those who are present, grieve over those who are not, and always remember the  glorious Hope that arrived under the cover of darkness to a couple in a stable 2000 years ago who is our Prince of Peace who heals the brokenhearted and brings comfort to the grieving (Isaiah 61:1-3).

Merry Christmas.

And, look for Dawn and Kevin’s story of hope in the new year at HelpForMyLife.org.

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