After some of my well-meaning friends added to my confusion with sincere, but unwise, advice and comments, I applied the blood of Jesus to the doorpost of my mind and asked for the toxic thoughts to be turned away. I pleaded with God to save me from fear, anxiety, vengeance, bitterness, worthlessness, hopelessness, and despair and to fill me with his thoughts.
Though I could not completely avoid the nagging voices of depression and despair, I began to block this “stinking thinking” by trying to “fix [my] thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely and admirable. . . about things that are excellent and worthy of praise” (Philippians 4: 8). Rather than letting outright lies and half-truths camp unchallenged in my mind, I sought to “cast down these imaginations and bring every thought back into captivity” (2 Corinthians 10). Whenever I wrestled my renegade thoughts under control or struggled to differentiate clearly between truth and lies, I told myself that I was making my mind, mind. Because I knew that if I didn’t make my mind up, something— or someone— would make it up for me.
– Originally published in The Other End of the Dark: A Memoir About Divorce, Cancer, and Things God Does Anyway (the profits of which go to Freedom House).