The God of Hope: From Poverty, Emptiness, and Mental Illness, to Experiencing God
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The God of Hope - Matthew L. Talley
Copyright © 2023 by Matthew L. Talley
All rights reserved. This book is protected by copyright. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including as photocopies or scanned-in or other electronic copies, or utilized by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the copyright owner.
Some events have been compressed, and some names and characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover Design and Interior Design by FormattedBooks.com
ISBN: 978-1-66788-575-9 (eBook)
Dedicated to
Krystina Hope,
my nieces and nephews,
Jenether Jean
Parker Hagen,
and my beloved aunt, Marthene Talley Penn
I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
John 6:35
CONTENTS
Foreword
Introduction
Prologue
PART ONE: THE MONTAGE OF A GENERATION X NIHILIST
Visions and Nightmares
California Dreaming
Southland Purgatory
Last Child Lost
Theism vs. Materialism
Torched, Displaced, and Loving It
The Embrace of an Outcast
Love Inside an Inferno
Captain of a Sinking Vessel
PART TWO: THE CRIMSON REBIRTH
The Emancipation of a Whosoever
Dichotomy Between Peace and Uncertainty
Escape from Adolescence
Alone in Your Satisfying Embrace
The Ambiguity of Nostalgia
Liberation in Letting Go
Slow Down to Move Forward
PART THREE: REST FOR A FOREBODING MIND
Psyche of the Dearly Departed
Dr. Brander: The Art of the Diagnosis
Gemma: Compassion at No Extra Charge
Dave: Tough Love in Several Easy Steps
Dr. Weinberg: Exposure Through Words
Journey to the Pathfinder
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgements
About the Author
FOREWORD
There was an obvious sense of urgency. I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. This book had to be written. The first time Matthew shared the idea with me was after dinner at his house. Our two kids were playing with toys, running back and forth between the living room and dining room while our wives cautioned them to slow down and be careful. We four adults stayed at the dinner table chatting about a wide range of topics, and eventually discussing Christianity. This was a topic close to both of our hearts. I shared my history of growing up with religious parents, always being at church, straying away from the faith, falling into substance abuse, rediscovering my faith, graduating from a private Christian high school, and taking on leadership positions at my local church. Our wives shared their individual backgrounds with the church — some negative, mostly positive — as well as the role faith in Christ has played in their lives. Then Matthew began to share parts of his profound experience. He spoke with the same emotion and vulnerability you will see in this book. There is no denying it: this is a man who is passionate about Christ, with a laser focus on the salvific significance Christianity has on the lives of those who placed their hope in God. This message, this value system is one that Matthew fervently prayed his daughter would live by. He revealed his plan to author a book to serve not only as a family history, but as a guide to help her navigate the dysfunction, heartache, and uncertainty life will undoubtedly throw at her. Through spirit-led catharsis, this manuscript was born.
Matthew reveals a central theme throughout the book about the impact relationships have on our mental health. Relationships with God, family, friends, and love interests; all of them can serve as obstacles or blessings while navigating life. Good relationships with the people in our lives have the power to support us through any circumstance. There are few substitutes for the perspective a good relationship offers. The worst times can be confronted with hope if the right person shares insight and encouragement. There is so much of life that is out of our control. We cannot choose our parents or our genetic makeup. We cannot choose how our words will be heard or how our actions will be received. We cannot choose what strangers think of us or how society will treat us. Bad relationships compound the effects of uncontrollable events by causing us to go through them by ourselves. These variables can be daunting if we must go through them companionless. When we are alone, there are times we struggle to control the thoughts that race across our minds or the desires that fill our hearts. We were not designed to be solitary creatures. Healthy companionships can function as safeguards from the depths of depression and the angst of anxiety. To be clear, having healthy relationships with positive people will not make life perfect. It could, though, make the tough times bearable, and help us find beauty through the struggle. However, we should avoid relying solely on human relationships. A strong relationship with God offers us unmatched discernment to overcome the spiritual battles we face.
For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.
(Ephesians 6:12, NLT)
At times, the challenges we face are not only out of our control, but beyond our understanding. Natural language struggles to define unnatural occurrences. We may analyze and reanalyze situations in our heads or discuss it with friends for further understanding; we may even go as far as to explore it with mental health professionals, only to still feel disturbed about our situation in the end. Worldly problems can be cured with worldly solutions. Nevertheless, when problems originate in the spiritual realm, worldly solutions simply treat the symptoms. Matthew walks readers through what he found to be the value in giving your life to Christ: healing, being made whole, and saved. He discovered that God is the answer. The Christian faith gave the Talley family something that nothing else could: peace of mind.
The role that spirituality plays in mental health is completely dependent on one’s relationship with God. A poor relationship will hamper progress, adding uncertainty to an already confusing world. Miscommunication with God leads to mistrust and misunderstanding. Think about your own earthly relationships. They work best when the lines of communication are open and consistent. Vulnerability and trust are hallmarks of a good working relationship. The same is true for our relationship with God. And when our spiritual health improves, our mental and physical health will follow. I believe that there can be recovery from mental illness. I am not speaking of recovery in the sense of having a broken arm, getting a cast, and your bone healing back in place, but recovery in the sense of making continual progress and living every day with a purpose. Anxiety, mood disorders, levels of psychosis, eating disorders, substance addiction, personality disorders, and stress can all be healed in Christ. That is the strongest message this book has to offer.
If you are not personally affected by a mental health condition, but know a family member that is, the message of hope in this book has equal value. As a family member, your role in your loved one’s recovery process is substantial. Having a younger brother with a mental health diagnosis has given me lived experience with the matter. Family members have the power to be a help or a hindrance. We hinder recovery by taking things personally, being judgmental, and having a closed mind, among other things. Offering solutions without a good understanding of the problem merely compounds the issue. We must listen to our loved ones with care as they share their needs. It takes courage for them to ask for or accept help with these kinds of challenges. One of the best things a family member can do in times of vulnerability is to listen non-judgmentally and empathize. By listening with the intention to understand instead of problem-solving, we demonstrate that we value them. This active listening breaks down communication barriers and strengthens the relationship. Once you have listened, you can begin to act. Placing your hope for healing and recovery in God and God alone will save you from the letdown of placing your hope in man. Therapy sessions will end, medications will need adjusting, but God’s purpose will never change. Believe in Him and no matter how far your loved one is on the road of recovery; you will have peace.
Regardless of your proximity to mental health, we all have a role to play. Matthew shows us the many roles he has played when dealing with mental health. He has been a son, a brother, a cousin, friend, a boyfriend, a husband, an ex-husband, a consumer, a mental health worker, and a father. Each role gave him a unique burden to bear. At times, he tried to carry the burden alone, causing him to stumble under the weight. Other times, he placed his burden on another person, causing both to fall. When he finally found Christ and gave his all to Him, the weight was lifted. Matthew’s life, as displayed through the journey written in this book, is testimony to the Scripture in the Gospel of Matthew:
Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light
(Matthew 11:28-30, NLT).
Clint Lewis
Peer Support Advocate
INTRODUCTION
I liked to consider myself a free thinker who had liberated himself from religion or any other humanistic idea that attempts to define the meaning of life. In my view, neither man nor God had the right to control the will of anyone. As free agents, we are all left to explore our own truths. Sovereign over my own existence, I alone defined reality, no matter how I chose to perceive it. Nevertheless, while I loved the idea that this mindset originated from me alone, I soon recognized that I was merely a human reacting to the circumstances surrounding me.
From the advent of my self-awareness came shame, anger, apathy, and agnosticism. The inclination to discover meaning compelled me to find greater insights into the purpose of life. That pursuit led me to nurture my personal intellect as a necessary component of my self-worth. As a result, I indulged in the preoccupation of gratifying my own ego and unyielding self-interest. In time, God became insufficient and nihilism, the acceptance that life has no meaning, dominated my being. That journey eventually left me empty, and the fullness of my own vanity was found futile. Yet, even from the depths of that emptiness, a seed of hope invaded my mind. Out of that hollowed identity, my mind and soul discovered objective truth, my own iniquity, and the need for salvation.
Antithetical to my youthful arrogance and informal intellectualism, I soon discovered that a purposeless universe was not a fundamental truth. God, in His divine aseity, creator of all space, time, matter, and life, set into motion a plan for the reconciliation of His creation. He provided the world a superior path to redemption through His Son’s life, death, and the crux of His Lordship – His resurrection. Those actions brought forth abundant grace and absolute propitiation for my own sin. Because of His love, I was inspired to follow that transcendent God who was, who is, and who will always be. God, as revealed through His Son, only required that I believe, receive, and follow in His goodness. As I learned of God’s Son, I observed Him to be superior to me, yet relatable as a human. At the conclusion of my search, the person I found – or honestly, who found me – was Jesus Christ, a man rooted in the Middle East, with a message of salvation for every willing tribe throughout the world. God, as revealed through His Son, is the quintessential representation of love and hope.
Before I placed my faith in God, my opinion of the word hope was akin to adopting foolishness, myths, or fairy tales. I linked hope with false belief systems and wishful thinking. My appraisal of the word was absolute. Hope was, in essence, delusional. In a material-minded world, there was categorically no room for discerning anything apart from my own five senses. For me, it seemed en vogue in the era of postmodernism to embrace relativism or nihilism. Intellectuals and popular culture offered me only vain alternatives to the inherent awareness of man’s intrinsic duty and value found in his creator. In my rebellion against God’s wisdom, I advocated for my own self-importance as the impetus for my personal evolution. That narcissistic endeavor left me devoid of any reputable substance, or spiritually interwoven links that bound me with others.
In my quest to discover purpose apart from God, there was always a nagging constant: the meaningless toil of my labor. I contemplated an insufferable world along with that knowledge and ascertained the eventual folly of my own vanity and broken spirit. Rabbinic tradition holds that King Solomon addressed these same fruitless endeavors in the writings of Ecclesiastes:
I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind… I said in my heart, ‘I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me, and my heart has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge. And I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a striving after wind.’
(Ecclesiastes 1:14, 16-17, ESV).
I deduced that the world was self-absorbed and contradictory. However, when I found God, I realized that all of man’s actions apart from Him are worthless. When men rely solely on their own instincts and works, it is easy for them to place trust in their own understanding, and thereby eliminate God. Once I recognized the danger in this, I understood that my purpose in life extended far beyond me, and that I needed a Savior. I could place my hope in God and in doing so, lay down burdens and find identity and peace.
Upon this realization, I wanted to understand the true meaning of the word hope. An ancient poem entitled, The Psalm of David
reads,
"Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope (qavah or קָוָה) is in you all day long." (Psalm 25:5, NIV)
The word for hope
in this passage is the Hebrew verb qavah (pronounced kaw-vaw), which means to look for, wait, or expect.
In Hebrew, qavah appears nearly fifty times in the Old Testament, and three quarters of its usage refers to hope in God specifically. In other words, the numerous authors use God’s past faithfulness as reassurance for their audiences to trust and wait on the Lord with anticipation for their deliverance.
Written in approximately 60 A.D., Paul the Apostle begins a pastoral letter to his companion, Timothy from Lystra (modern-day Turkey) with:
"Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the command of God our Savior and of Christ Jesus our hope (elpis or ἐλπίς)." 1 Timothy 1:1 (NIV)
For Timothy, and his Greek-speaking audience to which the letter was intended, Paul used the word elpis
(pronounced el-pece
), meaning expectation
to convey his relation to the risen Lord Jesus whom he saw as the forerunner for all who put their trust in Him. So, it is in these two brief examples that I understood the word hope in a biblical context. In my adoption of this scriptural framework, I concluded that hope is affirming and active, never static or passive.
Regardless of which stage of life I was in, living without this hope left me with mere wishful thinking for circumstances to turn in my favor. Rarely does this form of optimism result in lasting peace or resolution, therefore, culminating in further despair. As humans, we contemplate many negative thoughts and feelings during our lifetime. I have cultivated a multitude of feelings and thoughts that were devoid of hope. Those self-defeating beliefs, which held me in bondage, were seeded in my youth. I experienced an intimacy with poverty and neglect in South Los Angeles as a Black youth. I suffered alongside two parents and several siblings that battled schizophrenia, including one sibling who succumbed to alcoholism. Given my circumstances, the adoption of nihilism seemed inevitable. Unfortunately, my past trauma eventually resurfaced later in life, and I, too, faced my own struggle with generalized anxiety disorder. In adulthood, I spent years inside my own mental prison of neurotic behavior, fighting wave after wave of anxiety and depression. Misery and apathy merged to became an acceptable way of life for me. Nonetheless, when I finally reached the end of my tolerance for mediocrity and lack of peace, God intervened in my life, time and again. In my journey God opened my understanding of suffering, contentment, and victory over fear.
God’s love can grant us lasting peace. For me, I discovered that my true worth was not found from within, but in loving God and serving others. The early Christian theologian and philosopher, Augustine of Hippo (354-430 A.D.), said, The good man, though a slave is free; the wicked though he reigns is a slave, and not just a slave of a single man, but what is worst, the slave of as many masters as he has vices.
Released from the burden of my traumatic experiences, internalized fears, and enslavement to sin, I found freedom in simply loving God and extending that love outwardly.
The original goal of this book was to convey to my daughter her family’s legacy of faith, their recent struggles with mental illness, and the ability to triumph through God’s love. But a greater mission evolved: to share my journey out of anxiety and depression through God who offers hope, to shine a light on mental illness, and make stigma a more marginalized footnote in my small corner of the world.
PROLOGUE
I am lying in bed after a long day of work at the clinic. It is early evening, and my wife Tiffany is stretched out beside me, relaxing from her job at the local university. At the foot of the bed is my two-year-old daughter, Krystina Hope. As is routine, I peruse through the day’s mail stack beside me, sorting out bills and other correspondence. Almost immediately, I discover a letter from my doctor’s office, and without hesitation I open it. My doctor is requesting that I redo lab work due to an abnormality in my blood. Instantly an insurmountable tidal wave of fear and dread rushes over me. Sound reasoning escapes me, and I enter a state of panic.
My hands quiver and the letter falls from my grip. The room begins to close in on me. I feel increasingly as though I am about to lose control in the presence of my unknowing wife and daughter. I do not want them to see me like this, so I scream internally— Oh God, what’s happening?
As my wife, daughter, and that letter lie near me, I enter a trance, and a wildfire of thoughts race through my mind. What if I am sick? What if it’s cancer? What will my family do without me? What will Krystina do without her father?
I remain frozen in that bed, devoid of reason or hope.
The next day I begin to feel the presence of a familiar gray cloud hovering over me. My depression is returning, and I start to space out as I begin to spin all sorts of disasters in my head. I fantasize about my own death like a broken record playing over again in my head. I am trapped in mental torment, and I am powerless to free myself. Sadly, this misery had visited me before, yet my wife, Tiffany, did not yet recognize the rebirth of my despair. I notice my daughter Krystina, the second love of my life, reaching for me. I find it difficult to gaze into her eyes, even as she smiles and looks upon her father. The thoughts continue to bombard my mind, "Krystina, please get away. The thought of you losing your dad is heartbreaking. The thought of never seeing my baby girl again is even worse!" Stricken with self-induced grief, my thoughts become too much to manage. I vacate my family’s presence and retreat to a couch downstairs to drown out my thoughts with sleep. Tiffany follows me and asks if everything is okay. I simply offer some reassuring lies about wanting to fall asleep while watching a movie downstairs, but I am far from okay.
The days turn into a series of monotonous drudgery. My daughter awakes early, looking forward to our morning routine. On any given weekday, Tiffany would be out the front door an hour before the two of us were out of the bed. Krystina and I usually woke up at the same time, got dressed, and ate some breakfast before heading off to her grandparents’ house and myself to the behavioral health clinic for work. Just before heading out the door, I would sing a song to her. It was a little rhyme I made up for her when I first started to change her diaper. I wiggled her little hands and feet as I sang aloud with glee. Day after day, I sang or hummed Krystina’s favorite little tune as she smiled and laughed with delight.
Unfortunately for the both of us, this morning is much different. This time, I am unforgivably numb and unloving toward her. I do not feel any of her gazing eyes or incoming smiles. None of it moves me. What was normally a fun routine has turned into emotionless toil for me. I have zero pleasure in that moment. I have no joy for her or for our once loving time together.
I end up spending the next several weeks in the dark haze of depression. But like I said earlier, I have been here before. Prior to this new depressive episode, I had spent the last few years in individual therapy battling anxiety. I had purchased and read numerous books on how to tackle my anxiety disorder. I had practiced the most successful relaxation techniques. I had made moderate gains in my recovery from anxiety and depression. So, in my return to this dark place, I ask myself in frustration, Why am I still suffering?
Not only was it discouraging to ask this question once more, but now my anguish is compounded by the fact that I have a daughter involved in my pain, and who could be potentially affected by my behavior. So, I contacted my healthcare provider and scheduled an appointment with my long-time counselor, Gemma. Once I was in her office, a month later, I confided in her about my recurring depression and lack of feeling for my daughter. Unable to contain my pain and sorrow, all I could do was take a long sigh and weep.
PART ONE
THE MONTAGE OF A GENERATION X NIHILIST
nihilism noun
ni·hil·ism | \ ˈnī-(h)ə-ˌli-zəm , ˈnē- \
Definition of nihilism
1a: a viewpoint that traditional values and beliefs are unfounded, and that existence is senseless and useless.
Merriam-Webster. (n.d.). Nihilism. InMerriam-Webster.com dictionary. Retrieved July 10, 2021, from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/nihilism
VISIONS AND NIGHTMARES
IN A SMALL, CHARMING BEDROOM filled with aspiration, I experienced an extraordinary dream. It was a vision of me being lifted to the sky by what appeared to be an angel. I cannot recall if he had wings as depicted in murals or other forms of western art, but we were flying. Hovering over an urban neighborhood, my eyes scanned below to witness a single-story, yellow home. Further down the road was a green corner home at the end of the block. As we hovered briefly over the green house, I saw a large young man standing in front of it, surrounded by a group of other men. Afterwards, we shot up beyond the stars until I seen an unimaginable and majestic location full of glaring columns. When I looked closer to get a better visual understanding, there before me was a banquet with countless white tables and place settings. I then saw a sea of humanity, dressed in white, approaching the tables, far too numerous to count. I wanted to express the sheer beauty of what I had witnessed, but my mouth was closed shut; I could not find the words. As my mind began to wonder if I could partake in the feast below, I heard a voice say, We will be here for se ven days.
My earliest memories of childhood are fragmented, like broken glass scattered across the floor. Yet the most vivid moments of my life lie within those scattered pieces, including the one dream that has remained with me like a sharp piece of glass embedded deep within my skull. A dream that seemed foreign yet felt so remarkably vivid. Even now, it’s locked within my mind, an unforgettable experience that refuses to go away. I awoke from that dream in the center of my own bed and in the care of the only guardians I ever knew, foster parents Mr. and Mrs. Ivory. Though my recollection of my time in foster care is limited, there were some notable moments. The kind years spent in foster care were shared with my twin brother, Matthias, and as rambunctious young boys, we found ways to test the love of our devoted parents.
Our foster father was strict and never shied from threatening us with his belt to correct our behavior. By contrast, our foster mother was a mild-mannered woman who intentionally found ways to spoil us. Still, our time there was pleasant. What stood out the most was how delightful life was with my family. We took joy in the simplest of pleasures. Mr. and Mrs. Ivory denied us little. Day or night, we were given the comforts of life, like routine late-night kitchen rendezvous in the pantry. A bowl of Lucky Charms cereal or a glass of milk and cookies were frequent late-night treats to our tummies. So enormous was our love for this cereal that it later became a long running joke of our biological older brother, who often teased Matthias and me in his repeated melody, I want Lucky Charms. I want cookies and milk!
Matthias and