By Scott Box
When Bipolar disorder broke my understanding of Jesus:
I had been a Christian all my life. But as I entered my thirties and was reeling with a new Bipolar diagnosis, I needed Jesus for the first time. In other words, in those days, I needed a form of rescue that wasn\’t immediately connected to saying the \”sinners prayer\” and believing in Jesus when I was a child. I also needed something much more lasting than an emotional or spiritual boost from leading congregations in songs every week (By trade, I have been a \”worship\” leader and pastor in Oregon and Washington churches for twenty-five years). Ironically, with Bipolar disorder, the hypomanic ups and downs of a worship experience at church were often detrimental to my emotional stability. It\’s humbling; I thought I knew how all things \”Jesus\” were supposed to work as a young man—I guess that\’s normal. But as I wrestled with my mental illness, my understanding of Jesus was turned upside down by a mind I couldn\’t trust—I did not \”know it all\” after all. But in some strange way, despite all the chaos, my brokenness drove me to Jesus and away from hopelessness. I became friends with Jesus. Perhaps I am saying that I used to think I knew Jesus, but it wasn\’t until I became desperate for Jesus that I found myself needing—but also longing—to be His friend for the first time. It was a powerful experience when my understanding of Jesus was altered suddenly and radically by hope-filled desperation. Bipolar disorder broke my understanding of Jesus.
When Bipolar disorder broke my understanding of Christian worship:
My seventeen-year battle to manage Bipolar disorder and my radical dependence on Jesus forced me to look at Christian worship through a new paradigm. I could no longer experience or lead a type of worship that fostered consumption and entertainment. Jesus\’ form of worship demanded that I continuously address all aspects of mind, body, and spirit. So, I allowed my relationship with Jesus to begin to change me. My prayers became day-long conversations with Jesus. I started to take my medication with complete dedication. I physically worked out for an hour each morning. I carefully controlled my diet. I even brushed my teeth three times a day. Wow. I tried to include Jesus in every part of my life. And without question, I refined the emotional, spiritual, and physical tools with many successes and ugly failures.
But all these things speak directly to what I started back in 2006 after diagnosis: Bipolar disorder required me to compare and contrast the worship I was leading against the worship I was living. And I want to be clear: the changes in my life became necessary because the \”worship\” I was leading in church every Sunday was not able to address my mental disorder. That kind of worship couldn\’t help. It wasn\’t that my faith was too small, either. And it wasn\’t that church music was insignificant; it\’s not. But when I think back, I realize my worship didn\’t resemble Jesus\’ model and teaching of true worship (John 4). Hang with me. Yes, I had often thought—even believed—that worship included more than singing songs in church. But when Bipolar disorder finally made me desperate for Jesus, and when I began experimenting with how He lived worship as a lifestyle, my life moved toward health.
What I experienced was that for Jesus\’ rescue to take hold in my life, I turned to Him to change how I thought and lived daily. Every. Single. Day. The Great Hero, Jesus Christ, rescued me and began to restore His heroic form of worship into my life.
Along with restored worship came wholeness to my living each day. I also gained confidence in my necessary role in God the Father, the Great Storyteller\’s Grand Heroic Narrative of Redemption. And then, eventually, my music leading at church took on new depth and proper meaning.
People\’s stories form their paradigm of Christian worship: their experiences, teachers, and personalities. The same thing might be said about who they think Jesus is. I don\’t know what everyone thinks about \”worshiping Jesus.\” Nor do I know how everyone finds or becomes desperate for Jesus. But I do know that once hopeful desperation for Jesus invaded my mind, everything in my life began to shift to worshiping Jesus His way, not my way. Health, not healing, was soon to follow. Knowing the darkness I had escaped, I was very okay with this outcome.
It\’s humbling to put into words, but it\’s the truth: When I faced the potential darkness of desperation early in my treatment, I didn\’t dip into hopelessness but instead began exploring the type of worship Jesus had lived two thousand years ago. Jesus\’ form of worship became the most significant revelation of my life (We\’ll visit about this next month. I am hooked on Jesus\’ form of worship—I call it heroic worship).
Ultimately, I find it amazing that Jesus used my Bipolar pain to point to His promise, purpose and provision in my life. God used Bipolar disorder to break my understanding of Christian worship. And it\’s all because the Great Hero, Jesus Christ, did what He did for me on the cross and by rising from the grave. Consider me broken—I am. Consider me whole—I am. What a marvelous heroic mystery.
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Scott and Kariann Box live in Redmond, Oregon. Scott serves as Pastor of Development at Shiloh Ranch Church and has been a worship leader for over twenty-five years. Kariann works as a Realtor in Central Oregon and supports Scott\’s…creative spirit. They have two children, a one-hundred-pound Labradoodle and a four-pound Shih Tzu without teeth. Scott is the author of HEROIC DISGRACE: Order out of chaos. Hope out of fear. ― A Worship Hero Story
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