A Lifelong Condition

A few months ago, I was given a preliminary diagnosis of bipolar disorder. It’s treatable, but not curable. I can manage the symptoms, but not eliminate them. I’ll always have to take a daily medication. It’s a lifelong condition that I must learn to navigate. After the diagnosis, I had to reconstruct my identity and how I understand myself in light of this revelation. There’s a lot of ambiguity about where my personality ends and where this disease begins. I might never figure that out, at least not in this life. There’s a shame and stigma that I’ll carry because of something in which I had no choice. This disorder is on the receiving end of jokes, hyperboles, and callous remarks.

“Man, I’m telling you this weather is bipolar!”
“I seriously think my teacher is bipolar, she got in such a bad mood over nothing.”

I asked for humility and this is the answer I got.

“…a thorn was given me in the flesh…to keep me from becoming conceited.” (2 Corinthians 12:7)

I think now I am able, to some extent, identify and empathize with who carry similar burdens: Aspergers, diabetes, MS, and so on.

Enough about me, what about us? Can you draw any parallels between my situation and yours? Yes, you have a horrible disease, too—and it’s terminal: sin.

You didn’t have a choice in being born into a sinful world and to inhabit a sinful body. It’s a lifelong condition: you can treat it, but not cure it; you can manage the symptoms, but not eliminate them. You daily medication? Christ. Your guide to navigating your disease? God’s word as it’s given to us. When you were made aware of your condition, did you feel a shame and stigma? Are you on a journey of re-conceptualizing yourself in light of your disease?

It’s a special gift to be able to view life from this perspective. I won’t ever be free from Bipolar until I open my eyes in heaven. More importantly, I won’t ever be free from the condition of sin until I open my eyes in heaven. There’s not cure for either except by the provision of Christ—the hope of a future defined by redemption. I mustn’t forget to drink of the life-giving draught of Christ, the medicine that we need daily if we are to prevent our condition from ruling our lives. Let’s be eager to boast of our weakness, our lifelong condition, in order to point to the only final cure: Christ Jesus. Together, we can learn to thank God for the thorns we carry that keep us from becoming conceited.