Jesus Still Saves — The Story of a Schizophrenic

"Since you are still on medications, can you consider yourself healed of schizophrenia?" a fellow sufferer asked.

I remember a time when I refused to believe that I had schizophrenia. I thought it was an ordinary nervous breakdown. I heard voices telling me of my supervisor's love for me. I also heard that my family held a "secret" crucial for world peace. When I was hospitalized, the voices told me that I was under investigation by the FBI. It followed that my fellow inmates were representatives of countries who wanted the "secret."

I became hostile toward my extended family and felt that they threatened to stop me from giving out the "secret." When I was released after more than a month, I thought that I was clean by the FBI. As the drug began to work, I believed that I'd had a nervous breakdown and eventually would be freed of medications.

Eight years later, I thought it should be fine to stop. I felt good without them. But the voices and delirium returned. I was hospitalized again.

When I came out of the hospital, a good friend suggested that I should try a religion. My father tried to teach me Buddhism, but I could not find peace in it. Instead I read some Christian books and found comfort in the power of Jesus Christ. I started to place my faith in Him.

I relapsed a few more times due to medication changes and periods of refusing to take them. But I continued to read about the love and healing power of Jesus Christ. As I also read books by Christian psychiatrists and psychologists, I came to realize my past had a lot to do with my condition.

I belonged to a traditional Chinese extended family; my grandmother was the matriarch. My mother had passed away on my eighth birthday. Since that time, some family members took me as a jinx, blaming me for the premature death of a baby brother. They made me wear a golden anklet that supposedly would stop me from stomping my step-mother's baby to death.

My father was detached and could not be approached. I never felt loved. I felt like an outsider rather than a part of the family, and I found it difficult to communicate with people. Thus I had social problems when I left home for college.

God, however, gently told me to forgive. At first, I refused and struggled for a long time. But finally I accepted the Lord's prompting and promised to forgive with His help. The past surfaced again and again, bringing intense pain. Each time I prayed; each time the intensity of emotion lessened.

At the same time, the side effects of my medications were unbearable. I lost my concentration and memory. I struggled to get up in the morning. Fear persistently gripped me. I prayed for deliverance from these effects, too. Gradually and surely, God's peace overtook the pain of my past and the side effects subsided.

Since 1987, when I recovered from my last relapse, I have not heard voices or been hospitalized. I have lived on my own and faithfully taken my medications, essential for my brain's health. I've been able to trust my life to Christ and His healing power, overcoming the pain of the past and understanding the necessities for my condition.