In that taxi, something happened. Something I've tried to explain, over and over again. I've never quite been able to do it. I guess that's how truly spiritual experiences work. You can't put them into words, because they were never meant to be told.
After we had left the city, we had a long drive ahead of us. And I hadn't been alone in a long, long time. You see, one of the rules you follow as a missionary is to be with your assigned companion 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's for our safety.
So we drove. Me and that random taxi driver. I had a blue trash bag full of the essential things I would need. It had a white drawstring. I couldn't remember the words to any hymns in english. So I sang in Armenian.
Indz het eghir du misht, Im ter bari
Ko dzaina togh hokus , Hangist beri
Indz het eghir du misht ter
Kez misht karoghtem yes
Orhnir indz im purkich
Galis em kez
I could feel them all around me. Angels. I know you think I'm crazy when I say that. But I know they were there. And no presence or lack of empirical evidence could convince me otherwise. They were surrounding me – reverencing my pain. And I knew, at that moment, what it has taken me so long to understand.
This is what He had planned for me. There was no shame in what I was doing. He knew how far I would go for Him, but I needed to know. That I would let myself break emotionally and mentally before I would betray Him. That I would willingly suffer the shame of an unfinished mission, the beratings of a mistaken Priesthood leader, the slanderings of my generation of saints for Him.
So you may rightfully ask why my descent into mental illness is my most proud posession. You may ask why I am so brazenly sending this into the world, my account of it. Because there is nothing more honorable than learning who you really are. And there is nothing more gratifying than feeling the pride of the only perfect man I know. Some of us don't know how far we would go for who we love. I am one of the fortunate few who does. I would go anywhere. I would do anything.
Clarity has come in pieces. The fog has lifted slowly, thinning as the light that has always been there burns it off. More things start to make more and more sense.
I know who I am. Do you?
