PHil this is what I like about your stories and articles, they are real and
therefore thought provoking.

Lelia


----- Original Message -----
From: "Phil Scovell" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, December 16, 2003 9:35 AM
Subject: The Cutting Edge Of Depression 1 of 2


> The cutting Edge Of Depression
>
>
>                          By Phil Scovell
>
>
>      Most of my adult life was normal.  My father died
> unexpectedly when I was 11 years old and one year later, I was
> pronounced totally blind after a dozen eye operations on my
> failing retinas.  Two weeks later I was enrolled in a school for
> the blind nearly fifty miles from my home and only came home on
> weekends.  Otherwise, life was normal.
>
>      I know those events, to some people, were traumatic but that
> word wasn't in my dictionary at the time.  Christians did tell my
> mother, on the other hand, when I was a teenager and using LSD,
> shooting up speed/amphetamines, marijuana, hashish and some over-
> the-counter things I prefer not to mention lest some knuckle head
> gets the big idea to try it for himself, that I needed to see a
> psychiatrist.  I wonder why we never say they should see the
> pastor over such things?  I'd be mad if I were a pastor and
> everybody kept sending my people I was pastoring to the
> psychologist or psychiatrist but it doesn't seem to bother most
> pastors for some reason.  In fact, it truth be told, they probably
> send more of their own people to the shrinks than their free
> advice giving church members do, but I digress.
>
>      As I married, had children, and grew older, with more and
> more responsibilities, my life seemed pretty normal.  My children
> all could see normally so there was one burden I could stop
> worrying about.  Now that I am in my fifties, all of my
> grandchildren see normally, so there's another burden I can stop
> toting around.  I made pretty good money for a blind guy and my
> business was going well and growing.  I have a home, something I
> never dreamed I'd have, I'm married to the best woman I have ever
> met to this day so there's another plus, and if I were to sit down
> and put a pencil to it, sort of speak, I could come up with
> hundreds of things I am truly thankful for both as a Christian
> and a father.  However, and somehow you knew there would have to
> be a "however" in this story, I had a problem.  I don't think I
> ever mentioned this to anyone over the years; in fact I'm sure I
> didn't.
>
>      during my mid adult years, I had somewhat of a concern, oh,
> you could call it an undeveloped worry, about knives.  Strange,
> though.  I had knives all over the place.  Somehow, and for some
> reason, knives seemed to begin to bother me later in life.  I
> wasn't afraid of them and yes, I have been cut by them many times
> over my life, and yes, I carry one in my pocket all the time.  In
> fact, I sort of liked knives.  Maybe I became concerned about them
> after I made the mistake of asking my father to teach me how to
> clean the fish we brought home all the time from a day's fishing
> at the lake.  Perhaps I watched to many scary movies.  I have
> never witnessed anyone killed by stabbing.  I mean, no body in my
> family died that way as far as I know and I certainly never saw
> any kid in my neighborhood cut anybody.  Well, Orville cut his
> foot real bad on a broken pop bottle wading in some drainage water
> but I don't think that counts as far as knives are concerned.  He
> also got his mouth stuck on a popsicle once and nearly pulled his
> lips off trying to get it loose but somehow I think I am drifting
> off topic.  Anyhow, what I used to have, concerning knives, was
> some sort of fear that I might use it on myself.  Well, it wasn't
> exactly a fear but more like a feeling at the time and one I could
> easily dismiss by stopping to think about knives.  As I said,
> fortunately I never told anybody about this.  If I had told my
> mother, she probably would have purchased me a new set of knives
> for Christmas and I could have become a collector.  If I had told
> a psychiatrist about it, he probably would have put me into the
> hospital for a few days, shot me up full of drugs, and then had me
> come in as an out patient once a week for the next ten years until
> my fear of self destruction were purged from my life.  I'm not
> sure what my pastor would have said because I don't think it's
> covered, knives that is, in the Bible.  No, in case you are
> interested, I wasn't suicidal nor had anyone in my family
> committed suicide nor did I know anyone who committed suicide.
> So what was the big deal with knives?
>
>      I was praying with a lady one day when she told me that,
> whenever she entered the kitchen alone, she put her fingers into
> her mouth between her teeth and bit down on them.  Why?  Because
> she was afraid she would get a knife out and do herself harm.  The
> Lord healed her of that, you'll be happy to know, and the
> interesting thing is, we never once even prayed about this
> particular thing; it just went away with whatever else was the
> problem.  Isn't the Lord wonderful?  He fixes things without even
> specifically focusing on certain matters.  At any rate, back to my
> story.
>
>      In my case, every time, well, nearly every time, I picked up
> a sharp knife, butter knives never crossed my mind when using
> them, I had a funny feeling about them.  What sort of feeling?
> Well, I don't know.  I mean, I never really focused on it for very
> long but something about sharp knives seem to tweak my thoughts.
> My first thought seemed to be related to doing myself harm.
> Sometimes it was the possibility, I might do someone else harm.
> Now, the question becomes, where did this, or these, thoughts come
> from and why?  Let me try and suggest some answers.
>
>      First, I was crazy.  I mean, after all, I did play around
> with drugs so it was possible I got something screwed on backwards
> during one of my nine LSD trips or when I was nineteen miles high
> on speed.
>
>      Secondly, in some Christian circles, I might have been demon
> possessed or, at the very least, with these sort of thoughts, I
> could be demonically oppressed.  Other than these two things,
> there wasn't much else, at the time, to pen these odd thoughts on.
>
>      Let me tell you a story.  I was pretty much a Baptist all my
> life, although I was born again while we were in an Evangelical
> Free Church, but I think "Once a Baptist; always a Baptist," comes
> into play when considering my life.  I mean, I am Charismatic now,
> speak in tongues freely, do intercessory prayer, spiritual
> warfare, talk directly to demons in prayer sessions with people if
> it is necessary, and I believe all of the gifts of the Holy Spirit
> are viable for the Church in today's New Testament Body of
> Believers.  Yet, I have Charismatics accuse me of still being a
> Baptist when we discuss the bible.  This has nothing to do with my
> story other than the fact, what I am about to tell you I heard
> from a Baptist preacher with whom I was employed once upon a
> time.  The story goes this way.
>
>      This preacher was at a church camp for kids.  A mother, whose
> son happened to be there working that week, happened to mention to
> somebody, that her son, he was ten years old, could not sleep at
> night.  He could not fall to sleep easily and he was awakened all
> the time.  I believe, if I remember correctly, he had to sleep
> with the light on, too.
>
>      This story was repeated to others until several people became
> involved in discussing this situation so a small meeting was
> called.  Mostly the preachers and pastors and missionaries, who
> were at the camp, came to the meeting.  They decided, somehow and
> for some reason, this ten year old boy was being demonically
> oppressed.  So, they called the boy into their small meeting.  He
> wore a baseball cap, carried a ball glove because they had been
> playing baseball out on the field, and they told him they wanted
> to pray over him.  He said "Ok," and these Baptist preachers
> prayed and basically told the demon had no authority over the boy
> and to get lost.  The mother later reported her son never had any
> more sleeping problems.
>
>      I am telling this story to show that demons are real and they
> often become involved in the lives of Christians and even children
> without our knowledge.  How?  Well, sin works pretty well at
> attracting demons.  It is pretty unlikely, in my story, however,
> that this 10 year old boy was involved in some heinous sin that
> cause his insomnia.  So what is left?
>
>      Trauma is a good substitute for committed sin.  Let's say you
> are a very good swimmer but one day, something happens in the pool
> and you swallow a gallon of pool water.  I'm exaggerating a little
> there but take it from me, a little dab of pool water up the old
> snout does wonders to create a fear level that's off the scale.
> So, anyhow, there you are, thrashing around and you think, "I'm
> going to die."  Well, there's only one problem with this idea of
> death and that is, you are two feet from the side of the pool and
> you reach out and pull your head above water.  It is a good
> thing, too, because all that water down the spout makes you puke
> your lunch up over the side of the pool on to the sidewalk.  At
> least you're not dead at the bottom of the pool but for a split
> second there, dad gummit, you sure enough were convinced you were
> a goner.  The question is:  Where did that thought come from that
> you were going to die?  Yourself?  Maybe.  What if it came from
> somebody else?  Think about it.
>
>      A very successful business man is seated at his brightly
> gleaming oak desk, the limon scented polish still in the air, and
> doing paper work in his lavish office.  He has just hung up the
> phone and picks up a folder he wants to examine.  Suddenly, he
> thinks, "You are worthless.  You'll never amount to anything."
> The odd thing is, the man is a millionaire many times over, owns
> his own twelve story building, and couldn't be any more
> successful even if he won the Ed Macman Clearinghouse Give Away.
> Where did that thought come from that he was worthless and would
> never amount to anything?  Maybe he just made it up on his own?
> Really?  A 42 year old millionaire just suddenly thinks he is
> worthless and won't ever amount to a thing?  That's even hard for
> me to believe but it could have happened like that.  It could have
> been something else, too, I'll bet.
>
>      So, you aren't convinced?  Let's try another one.
>
>      A man is minding his own business and walking to his car
> after work.  He is pulling his keys out in preparation for
> unlocking his vehicle so he can get home, eat, and watch Monday
> night football.  Oh, I forgot to mention that he lives in the
> United States.  People outside the USA will have to rearrange the
> story to fit their culture.  So, here he is, as I say, minding his
> own business and heading for his car.
>
>      A woman, a very beautiful woman, a very young beautiful
> woman, an insufficiently dressed very young beautiful woman, and a
> woman who is not only beautiful but has other qualities which are
> generally noticed by men, is standing by his car.  Her car is
> parked right next to his and she is standing there looking at the
> back tire which is flat.  So what does this guy do?  Right!  He
> offers to assist in changing her tire.  She is extremely thankful
> and sets off some emotional and mental fireworks this guy hasn't
> felt since he was 16 years old.  In fact, he figured that part of
> his life was dead and gone.  What do you suppose he thinks about
> on the way home?  As he is congratulating himself for being a good
> Samaritan, he thinks, "She really liked you."
>
>      "Well, who doesn't," he thinks; "that goes without saying."
>
> His mind, or what he perceives as his mind, replays the entire
> panorama over again and he discovers he can easily remember each
> and every detail; absolutely every detail.  By now he is totally
> convinced she liked him.
>
>      "What a woman," his mind thinks.
>
> He's been happily married, of course, for 23 years.  The kids are
> all teenagers but life at home isn't what it used to be;
> especially with his wife.
>
>      A very graphic image flashes in his mind of the woman he just
> saw.  I mean, he could smell the lovely feminine perfume she was
> wearing.  He could also remember a lot of other things like what
> he saw when he was down on the ground on his knees, and trying to
> loosen the lug nuts when she asked him a question, and he looked
> up to meet her gaze.  It was everything he saw on the way up that
> he remembered so well.  "Why do beautiful women have to wear
> skirts so short, you can see their panties when you are at the
> wrong angle? Maybe they do it on purpose?" he considers the
> possibility.  Her voice, too, for that matter, was musical and
> when she laughed at his jokes, her voice sounded like tinkling
> bells.  So, in a nonchalant way, he decides that maybe he will try
> and fine her listed on the company roster the next day.  Just to
> see who she is, of course.  What was her name?  Freela?  Yep, that
> was it, Freela.  "Can't be more than one Freela working for this
> small company," he thinks.  "I wonder what sort of a woman would
> have the name like Freela?"  The light changes and he's a little
> slow pulling away.
>
>      An eleven year old boy is playing with friends in the front
> yard.  His mother is standing in the grass talking to a man with
> whom his father works.  "I think Willie is going to live,
> Noreen," he says confidently.
>
>      "I don't," he hears his mother say.
>
>      The young 11 year old boy runs across the yard, leaps up to
> the tree stump left over from the mulberry tree his father had
> cut down the summer before, catapults himself into the air as
> high as he can.  He touched lightly down on the ground but
> suddenly, he can't breathe.  This has never happened before and he
> panics.  "Your father will never make it.  He is going to die."
> He doesn't literally hear the words but he feels something
> terribly abnormal in the middle of his chest.  A moment passes and
> his ability to breathe returns and he goes back to playing and
> half listening to his mother and the man arguing about if his
> father is going to live or die.  His father dies a week later.
>
>      What happened to that little boy?  Did he feel or hear  or
> perceive something?  Did he make it up?  I know this one is true
> because I was that little boy.
>
> * Demonic Talk
>
>      I want to start out by assuring you that not everything you
> think, or hear, in your thoughts is demonic.  "boy, that's a
> relief."  However, anything traumatic creates an atmosphere
> whereby events can be misinterpreted without demonic help.  If
> such occurs, however, it easily opens a way for unclean spirits to
> offer suggestions.
>
>      Demons talk.  They normally talk at emotional low points,
> traumatic experiences, frightening events, tragic circumstances,
> when the heart is broken, overwhelming sadness, suffering intense
> pain, during severe sicknesses or illnesses, intense stressful
> incidents or generally whenever the mind is sidetracked by
> something out of our control.  Why?  It is easier to fool people
> at these times.  I mean, if you were sitting on your couch in the
> living room and watching Jimmy Stuart in your favorite western and
> a demon walked in with a baseball bat and clubbed you to the floor
> and then hit and kicked and spit on you, what would you do?  You'd
> spring to your feet fighting mad and start swinging and would
> probably get the baseball bat away from him and belt him into next
> week.  But demons don't do that.  So what is it you think they do?
>
>      You are tired and exhausted from a hard days work.  You can
> barely keep your eyes open but you love the Leave It To Beaver
> reruns so you are trying to watch it.  A demon comes in and says,
> "That woman you saw today was sexy."  Now you are wide awake
> because the images the demon brings with him are slapped into your
> mind and you see everything and some things you realize you really
> wish you could see which weren't visible.  Guilt floods your mind
> and suddenly you recall what Jesus said, "But I say to you, That
> whoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed
> adultery with her already in his heart," (Matthew 5:28).
> You don't even remember ever memorizing that verse. In fact, you
> know it was never taught in Sunday school when you were five years
> old.  So where did that verse come from?  Maybe your pastor used
> it in a sermon.  Sure, that must be it.  So how did it spring to
> mind now?  the voice, which quoted the bible verse, sounded
> amazingly like your own.  Well, what do demons know.  They aren't
> Bible scholars or anything, after all, but you get the message.
> You silently pray and confess your sin of thinking such terrible
> thoughts.  Unfortunately, the images won't go away nor will the
> unholy desire.
>
>      You jabbed the television off and head out to the kitchen.
> There you fix a large ham and cheese sandwich.  Going to bed on a
> full stomach always helps you go to sleep so you gobble it right
> down and wash it down with a big glass of milk.  Off to bed you
> go.
>
>      Laying in bed, you listen to your wife's rhythmic breathing,
> she went to bed an hour before you, which is something she always
> does, and it always makes you mad, although you have never figured
> out why.  Laying on your back, you try and relax your body but
> your mind is wide awake.  The woman you saw springs to life right
> there before your very eyes.  The only problem is, she is attired
> in loose fitting, translucent, pale green lingerie.  You grown but
> the picture stays.  Your mind begins playing tricks on you Moments
> later, the tension rises to a level you haven't felt for a mighty
> long time and you find yourself feeling even more guilty after
> gratifying your lustful desires.  Guilt floods your mind and you
> kneel by the bed and repent; promising never to do it again.  You
> fall asleep thinking, "I am 45 years old.  What's wrong with me."
> Less than a week later, you have dialed up dozens of porno sites
> on the web and you feel terrible.  After awhile even the guilt
> fades.
>
>      Most people would think this story is normal.  I mean, the
> man is a normal man and he has God given tendencies which the
> story implies isn't being satisfied at home.  Is it normal?  Does
> he have no control over his thoughts or is there something else
> helping him?
> Continued in next message.
>