Can you remember where you were on 23-25 February 2004? On these days—Monday through Wednesday—I went from the edge of death to the very meaning of life—and Jesus Christ as depicted in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ was the making of me.
February 23 was about as intense as it gets as far as the despair of spiritual attack as I’ve come, I think. I was at work, only six weeks after starting a brand-new job at Fremantle Port Authority as Port Safety Advisor, but I can recall making so many phone calls that day to those who had a stake in my life—and I also made a desperate call to a lifeline. I was beside myself in an extended version of panic—a panic attack of epic proportions.
It was five months to the day since my life had been turned upside down. Five months since I lost everything that I’d taken for granted. I lost it all overnight. Amid the darkest night, I had to find the strength to make a new life when I couldn’t stand to let go of the old one.
I’d come to the end of myself and what I could bear, and I reached out to the facility manager who had also been through divorce, and he told me to do what I needed to do, that I had his backing.
TRIGGER WARNING HERE... BEFORE YOU READ ON...
I’d made an agreement before I left work that day at 13:00hrs. I’d made an agreement to go back to the dingy flat that I’d leased in Shoalwater, and I was fully of a mind to end my life. Sorry if this upsets you, but it’s the truth of where I was at—completely not in my own mind but possessed by a need to end my pain.
(If any of this causes you distress, please, I urge you to reach out for support.)
When I arrived back there in the flat, I was in my bedroom and I can remember thinking, “It’s not going to work,” and immediately decided to keep moving. I drove past the church I was attending in Mandurah, and felt moved on to my parents’ house, which was the catalyst I needed. Hope returned very quickly, which goes to show that prospects can change swiftly even when you’re experiencing the worst emotional and spiritual pain.
Tuesday was a positive day. I booked my ticket to the Australian (and worldwide) launch of The Passion.
I went to the cinema the following day, 25 February 2004, and I cannot tell you how much I wept through that first viewing. I went SIX more times after that over the following weeks. I felt that the movie was not only important to keep me from having another day like Monday 23 February, but I felt that I was actually suffering something like what Christ was suffering in The Passion. I so identified with the injustice and the pain of The Passion.
What I recognised is that after five months I was no closer to resolving the crisis I was in if it depended on returning to an old life that was now in shreds. What I was on the cusp of discovering was that the only possibility for me was to move valiantly toward a new life. On that dark Monday 23 February 2004 day, I was stuck between being desperate for the old life and being fearful for the new. I needed a catalyst that would catapult me toward the scary new.
In each of those seven viewings of The Passion I wept without thought or fear for who would see, hear, or know. I just didn’t care what people thought. What I needed to be assured of staying alive at that point in my life was to identify with Christ, and I feel the movie launched at just the right time—for me.
The interesting thing is throughout March 2004 I fasted and walked 50 kilometres most days. Somehow, I went from that day of absolute despair on February 23 to a person possessed by the strength of hope that kept me full of life without food walking six hours a day. The heat of summer didn’t affect me. I felt invincible. The revival I experienced could only have come from God.
It’s really no exaggeration to say that God used The Passion of the Christ to save my life—spiritually, yes, but also physically. For that I’ll remain eternally thankful for it.
NOTE: if you look closely at my diary entry for 23 February, hardly any of the darkness and panic can be read on the page. It’s enough that it’s etched into the memory. But what is bigger than anything was how God saved me at that time. And it’s been a constant theme by faith in my life.
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