The first 72 hours in the hospital were terrifying and terrific. I was convinced that I had been given a divine calling to share with the world and that the park was all a part of my wife and Mike M’s grand plan to surprise me. The repressed emotions of my childhood was a very real force that was lurking deep within my subconscious mind and my mental breakdown seemed to be shaking them all loose at one time. The emotions that were swirling in my head regarding my father’s conspired death, my sons’ fear in the park, the prayers that had been prayed over me, and my brother’s newfound position in my thoughts were holding my mind in manic overdrive. They assigned someone to my room for those first 72-hours and I used each opportunity I had to share the Gospel with the next person on call.

During this time, they were introducing drugs into my system that were effectively bringing me out of my mania and back to some semblance of reality and I was compliant with their efforts. Confused? Yes, but still compliant. My mood in the hospitals did not match my circumstances in life. I was hopeful that since I was seeking help that the church would come alongside my family and I and help us rebuild. However, they deemed my mental breakdown as something that made me unfit to continue in my position as the Kids’ Pastor. They asked me to resign from my position, agreeing to provide medical coverage through the year’s end and paying us a couple months’ severance. They also took up a love offering from the church and sent us on our way.

At the time I was devastated. I was convinced that the reason I had the mental breakdown in the first place was because of their shady handling of my wife’s concerns and the breaking of patient-client privilege. As I sit to write these words five years removed, I realize that the reason I had a mental breakdown was because I was unwilling to listen to my wife a couple months prior. I was convinced that the “changes” she was noticing back then were inspired by me getting healthy physically, not by me getting detached mentally.

We placed our house on the market and in September of 2020 we made our way to Florida to live with Lisa’s brother until we could determine what was next. While I am forever grateful for him opening his home to our family, those 3 months were the hardest three months of my life. I had always battled with impostor syndrome and having the mental breakdown and being effectively fired for the first time in my life made me feel like a fraud more than I had ever felt before. Waking up each day was a difficult chore. I wanted to stay hidden in the cave of my bedroom and sleep my reality away. I was the very thing I despised growing up…A father who couldn’t provide for his children.

One of the medicines they had placed me on did not work well with my system and within a few weeks I was going to the hospital to see if I could have them take me off that particular medicine. Little did I know that by telling them I was not enjoying life and that I needed help that I would instantly be Baker Acted, Florida’s way of putting you into a state-ran mental facility. That night was one of the scariest nights of my life as I was roomed in a unit with some very aggressive men. I remember pleading with God that night to show up and bring my heart some form of peace. I opened my Bible and read a passage in Psalms, I am not sure the verse, that met me precisely where I was at and helped me fall asleep. The next day I assured the doctor that I was not suicidal, and they released me back to Lisa’s care.

Back at the house I fought back all my emotions, and I attempted to be present with my boys. My efforts were not very convincing, but I found glimmers of hope in the possibilities of working as a student pastor in Orlando. However, in the interview process my mental health came up and they chose to go another way. Then, in November I applied for the Lead Pastor role at “Second Baptist Church.” My wife and I met with their pastor search team, and they offered us the opportunity that night to come and preach in view of a call a few weeks later. In my heart I reasoned that perhaps God allowed this to happen in Tennessee so that I would step out in faith and lead a church. I had always been told that God had gifted me to pastor one day by the men who I held in high regard.

I was scheduled to preach on November 29th, 2020. On November 25th, 2020 I received a phone call informing me that my mother had died alone in a hotel room in Covington, TN. A small town only 30-minutes away from her apartment. The news of her death was surreal. The dire circumstances of my work situation made it where I had to move forward with the church. I knew that my Mom would not want me to neglect the opportunity to preach in view of a call, and so, 4 days after her death I stood in the pulpit at “Second Baptist Church”, and I preached on John 4.