Let the Seed Fall: Growing from a Seed to a Tree by God's Power

By Merica Saint John

Like an acorn falling from an oak tree at the end of the season, Merica Saint John found her life going out of control. She didn't know what was happening when her world dropped out beneath her feet, but God still had a plan. Through dark times and homelessness, destitution and persecution, she trusted God and persevered. In God's time He revealed His plan for her to become bread for the multitudes, nourishing and comforting others in times of adversity with the comfort she has found in a faithful God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781426956065

Merica Saint John

Merica Saint John spent thirty-five years with a disabling personality disorder, clinical depression and anxiety; as well as PTSD and a binge eating disorder. She served in the military and was a missionary in Alaska and Africa. She has known many adversities and seen God deliver her out of them all. Saint John lives in Minnesota.

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© Copyright 2011, 2014 Merica Saint John.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,

recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, English Standard Version (ESV),

Copyright 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations taken from the Amplified Bible, Copyright 1954,

1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockman Foundation.

Used by permission. All rights reserved.

www.Lockman.org

Lyrics to Hymn of Promise by Natalie Sleeth

Copyright 1986, by Hope Publishing Co., Carol Stream, IL 60188.

All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Lyrics to I’ll Never Let Go of Your Hand by Don Francisco.

Copyright    by Rocky Mountain Ministries.

All rights reserved. Used by permission.

ISBN: 978-1-4269-5605-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4269-5607-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4269-5606-5 (e)

Trafford rev. 01/27/2014

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DEDICATION

For my Good Shepherd, the Lord Jesus Christ. You have led me in both green pastures and through dark valleys overshadowed by death. You have always done so by Your sure and faithful hand, and always with the best of intentions, even when I didn’t understand. Apart from You, I can do nothing.

"Don’t view me with a critic’s eye,

But pass my imperfections by.

Large streams from little fountains flow,

Tall oaks from little acorns grow."

David Everett (1769-1813)

Lines Written for a School Declamation

These twelve Jesus sent out, instructing them, "Go nowhere among the Gentiles and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And proclaim as you go, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons. You received without paying, give without pay. Acquire no gold nor silver nor copper for your belts, no bag for your journey, nor two tunics nor sandals nor a staff, for the laborer deserves his food. And whatever town or village you enter, find out who is worthy in it and stay there until you depart. As you enter the house greet it. And if the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it, but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. And if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet when you leave that house or town. Truly I say to you, it will be more bearable on the day of judgment for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah than for that town.

Matthew 10:5-15 (ESV)

PREFACE

Dear Reader,

This is a work of creative non-fiction. All names and many locations have been changed in order to protect those who may not wish to have their identities known.

I was not privy to every conversation that is written within these pages, however they were based on factual information from my medical records and other sources. I obviously could not know what was in the minds of many of my doctors or others with whom I had contact, so in those cases I used my imagination.

The events relating to my life all happened, with the exception of my visit with Pastor Love. The person exists, and we have spoken long-distance. I hope one day to meet him face-to-face. The conversation we had in this book is based on actual events.

In the appendix, I have listed the Scriptures I referred to throughout the text. In this way you can be as the Berean brethren in Acts 17:10-11 who heard the Word and then searched it for themselves to see if it was true.

What is written about God is not fictional in any way. He really is that true and faithful.

All verse, unless attributed otherwise, is my own.

I pray you will come to know and love God more day by day.

Let us comfort one another with the comfort with which the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ has comforted us.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My special thanks to Hope Publishing for permitting me to use the lyrics to Hymn of Promise in this book. The words are beautiful and inspiring.

Many thanks also to Rocky Mountain Ministries for permission to use the words of Don Francisco’s song, I’ll Never Let Go of Your Hand. It was life-changing when I heard it at a pivotal point in my life.

I am so grateful to all of you, both past and present, for all you have done to show me the love of God.

I would never have been able to come this far if God had not chosen you to care enough to help steer the rudder of my ship, be a lookout for trouble ahead, or stand watch in the lonely lighthouse on the rocky shore to guide me safely into harbor when the seas of life got too stormy.

Pastor Dickson, Sharon, Jeff Black, Pastor Ed and Elaine, Dr. Pennington, Frank, Harry, Dagne, Pastor Love, and all the rest of you who have contributed so much to enriching my life, I am so grateful to you. David and Pam, you inspired me to use this title. My hat is off to you.

Although I may not see some of you again in this life, I hope you somehow know how much you mean to me and that I’ll see you later on.

All the doctors and staff of the clinics and hospitals around the world who have cared for me through the years, I’ll never forget you. I was always treated so compassionately when I needed your help so much.

To all of you then and now who come when you wish you could stay home, smile when you are sick or in pain yourself, or take the time to offer so much as a tissue for my tears, I thank you from the bottom of my heart

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART ONE

SEED FALLING

MEMORIES

SECOND-BIRTH DAY

CONSULTATION

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

BRIDE OF CURT

UNIVERSITY OF ADVERSITY

MARRIAGE COUNSELING

DR. PENNINGTON

JEAN

GETTING AWAY

HIGHER EDUCATION

ASYLUM

BACK TO SCHOOL

HONORS

NORTH TO ALASKA

PART TWO

INTO THE EARTH

CAST OUT

HOME IS WHERE GOD’S HEART IS

GOD’S KINDNESS

DYING TO LIVE

MISSION FIELD

IN DUTCH

CALLED BY A NEW NAME

INTO ALL THE WORLD

AFRICA

DIFFERENT AIR

GOING UNDER

PART THREE

DYING TO LIVE

KINGDOM OF GOD

INTO THE FURNACE

HOMELESS

IN MY SAVIOR’S ARMS

EXODUS

HOME

MOVING UP

PART FOUR

HARVEST

BACK TO THE FUTURE

CUT DOWN

ANGUISH

CIRCLE OF LIFE

PASTOR LOVE

Appendix

CINDERELLA LOVE

I stood in tattered clothes,

Just a beggar on the street.

I smelled of sins unwashed,

Until I chanced to meet

A Prince! But could it be?

He looked at me and smiled!

He wanted lowly me

He turned my rags to riches;

He gave me a robe of white,

He washed me in His own blood

And made my burdens light.

My mourning turned to dancing

I learned to love Him more.

Now I’m like Cinderella

On wings of love I soar.

One day this Prince will take me

To a mansion He’s prepared,

Where forever I will love Him

And remember how He cared.

PART ONE

SEED FALLING

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, …it remains by itself alone. But if it dies, it produces many others and yields a rich harvest.

John 12:24 (AMP)

GOD’S HEART

My heart is deeply grieving

As I cry and cry today.

You said you didn’t trust Me,

I might just go away.

But I could never do that,

No, I will always stay.

I’m hoping, always hoping,

You will trust Me one day.

When you are sad and lonely

And the painful path you trod,

Please know your tears are also

Running down the face of God.

TRUE LOVE

I feel like a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces just don’t fit.

I’d like to be a Christian, but I can’t get the hang of it.

Now you tell of Jesus and say He cares for me.

You say He loves me as I am and died to set me free.

He loves me when I’m this bad, so lost in sin and shame?

He really knows how I feel and loves me just the same?

I need to know this Jesus; I’m so desperately alone.

I want to accept this free gift, but must I not atone?

Surely there’s a price here; nothing in life is free. What?

His love cannot be measured, Jesus gave it just for me?

Why, if that’s true I can get free and step out of the mire.

I can believe in True Love and stop listening to the liar

Who says that I’m just garbage and helpless in my trap.

In fact, I’m free in Jesus! For me, He took the rap!

I only need to trust Him and repent of all my sins.

He will do the changing and yet I’m the one who wins!

Jesus loves me! Jesus loves me! I can’t believe it’s true.

He was dead and buried and arose for me and you.

Oh join me on the journey, and share the Love I’ve found.

Let’s follow Jesus’ footsteps and walk on solid ground.

CONVERSATION

WITH GOD

There are things I’ve always longed for, a lifetime and a day,

Things that no one knows, too deep for me to say.

I wish I was adopted by parents oh so kind

Who could erase the scars that tangle up my mind.

I wish I had a family where there was peace and joy,

And love beyond all measure for every girl and boy.

For inside me is a hurt child, regardless of my age

And no matter how I try, I can’t get past that stage.

I so much long for someone to see me as I am,

To reach out and touch me and open up the dam

Of feelings past and present that I have tried to shed

And help me overcome them instead of wishing I was dead.

I so much want a family with a real mom and dad,

With brothers and with sisters, the kind I never had.

I need to hear I’m worthy and I was not a mistake.

Please tell me the sweet story about Jesus dying for my sake.

I need it told and retold so it washes over me,

Bringing liberation to set this captive free.

I know you’ve had great sorrow and wanted to just die

When the pain was overwhelming and love seemed like a lie.

I was betrayed and lonely, left by My closest friends,

I’ve known abuse of power and the anguish that it sends.

I’ve cried and felt forsaken, I’ve been poor and homeless too,

Rejected, hated, threatened, with no one to turn to.

I have always been there, even in your darkest night,

And I am praying for you that you will win the fight

To cast down every fear and lie that has you bound,

Because it’s My desire to keep you safe and sound.

I also have a people who know what it means to love

And they will be your family sent from heaven above.

They are My gift of healing, My arms held open wide.

I give you over to them to nestle and abide.

Don’t fear or fret or worry that they will leave you too.

I didn’t bring you this far to now abandon you.

MEMORIES

It was a torrid West African afternoon and the ceiling fan in Pastor Love’s reception room was doing nothing to move the thick air. I sat on a low maroon velveteen sofa and waited for him to finish his conversation with a church leader.

Pastor Love and I had not officially met, although we had corresponded through e-mail and on social networking sites.

Now I was back in Africa once more, at his invitation, but this was new territory. I’d never been to his country before. I was looking forward to meeting his church flock and sharing in fellowship with them.

In all such encounters I discovered the things we had in common. People everywhere know temptation, pain, sorrow and loss. They experience suffering and grief, but they also know joy, gratitude and gladness.

I leaned back against the sofa and closed my eyes. The tropical heat always made me drowsy this time of day. I thought about the other times I’d been in Africa.

The first time I came I knew only one person on the entire continent. I’d never traveled overseas before; in fact, I’d never had a passport.

God guided me through every aspect of the long journey and made it seem familiar in ways only He could do.

The second time I’d come was different. I intended to live there, so I rented a house. I wanted to stay forever and considered it my promised land.

My thoughts drifted back to other waiting rooms in other places far away. Three decades before, I’d waited outside my first psychiatrist’s office and wondered what was in store. I’d had no idea then that such visits would continue for well over thirty years or that I’d see over fifty therapists in twenty cities on two continents.

My mind took me to another waiting day, five years after my first visit to a psychiatrist.

It was the day that changed my life forever.

SECOND-BIRTH DAY

My stomach ached and felt as if it was twisted in snarled knots as I walked into the gray twelve-story building, which was part of a temple of medical science. In it people saw doctors in all kinds of specialties and walked out the glass doors feeling better or learning they would never feel well again.

I walked down the long pale blue corridor to the section called Community Health. I laughed ruefully to myself at those two words. I didn’t feel part of any community and if I was in health what was I doing there?

I wondered what was wrong with me. I felt unwell, but I wasn’t sure how I could describe that to the doctor since my symptoms were vague tiredness, lack of interest in things or people, and a feeling that my future was limited and I would die young.

I entered the office and gave my name to the receptionist and took a seat in one of the blue upholstered chairs.

I knew no one in the office although I’d worked as a nurse for the clinic ten years before.

I looked through a magazine on the table but read nothing. After ten minutes, a tall nurse with steel gray hair twisted in a knot at the back of her neck called my name. She smiled briefly and led me into a room. I changed into an exam gown and she took my blood pressure and left.

With his unlined face and thick curly blond hair the young doctor who soon entered the room looked like he was still a medical student, not old enough to be a full-fledged doctor.

I saw his framed diploma and medical license hanging on the wall so I had to force myself to believe he was truly a doctor.

Hello, I’m Dr. Davis, he said in a gentle voice. As he talked to me I noticed that he seemed to really care what happened to me. He listened to my vague complaints with genuine interest.

Most doctors I’d gone to were aloof. They called it professionalism. I thought of them more like vending machines. I put my medical concerns and information in and doctors dropped down a diagnosis and treatment plan.

Dr. Davis wasn’t like that. He took time to listen to me. He saw my tears and heard my story of how I’d come back to Rochester in America’s heartland.

I don’t really know why I decided to rent an apartment and stay here for a while. I sublet my Boston apartment but all my furniture and things are there and the lease is up in September. I don’t know what I’m going to do then.

What were you doing in Boston, Pat? he asked

I was living there when I joined the military and returned there when I got out. But I had trouble with depression. Since 1976 I’ve been in therapy at the New England Government Hospital’s psychiatric day treatment program. I spent two years in therapy eight hours a day five days a week. Then a year ago I began to slowly taper off with the staff’s agreement. I dropped one group at a time while I kept seeing my individual therapist, until I finally stopped seeing her six months ago.

After your therapy tapered off, what did you do with your time?

I did some volunteer work as a tour guide. I tried going back to school to study interior design but I didn’t get through even one term. I did some acting with a repertory company in Boston and for a few weeks I tried working as a waitress.

Well, that’s a varied background. So how did you end up here? He asked as he felt my abdomen.

"I wanted to celebrate finishing therapy, and Amtrak had a great travel deal, so I decided to see the country. I’d never seen the Rocky Mountains so I took the train from Boston all the way to Pasadena. I stopped to visit a cousin in Denver for a few days and saw the Continental Divide. Later I saw the Grand Canyon. It was a great trip.

"I stayed in Pasadena with some actors my director in Boston knew. I’d planned to go on up to Seattle and back along the northern states to Chicago and then back to Boston, but I ran out of money in California. The actors let me stay on with them until the guy who rented my Boston apartment sent me the rent.

Then I took a plane to Rochester, which was part of my original plan. I wanted to see a nurse friend I’d worked with ten years ago. I stayed with her until I rented the apartment where I am now.

I see. OK, I’m finished with the exam. Go ahead and get dressed and then I’ll come back and we’ll talk, OK?

I took off the paper gown and put on my pink and orange flowered sundress and slipped into my high-heeled sandals just as Dr. Davis knocked at the door again.

I sat by his desk and awaited his verdict.

Well, I’ve checked you over, but I can’t find anything physically wrong.

My heart sank. It was the worst possible news. How I hated to hear those words! Nothing wrong. They always meant the same thing to me: my problems weren’t valid. I was only making up the pain. I cried.

What’s wrong, Pat?

I’m upset because you’re telling me none of what I’m feeling is true. Or real. What do I do now? I’m still tired, in pain, unhappy with my life and afraid of the future. I guess all this pain I’ve got is just in my head.

Dr. Davis looked at me with compassion in his eyes. "No, Pat, I’m really not invalidating what you’re feeling. I can see that your distress is very real and it’s clear to me that you are