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Meet Steve Austin: The Pastor Who Nearly Died by Suicide
Jun 22

Pastor to Psych Ward: Recovery from a Suicide Attempt is Possible.

By Steve Austin | Best of Messy Grace , Depression , faith , Mental Health , Messy Grace , Recovery , Recovery from a Suicid... , This is My Story (series)

My clients were concerned. When they couldn’t reach me, they called first my wife, and then the hotel. I was lying on my back, unconscious, covered in vomit, when the police and EMT’s found me. They thought it was a murder scene. Vomit covered the bed and the floor. It had projected up the wall behind me, and coated a massive picture that hung over the bed. Apparently the pink Benadryl pills, along with the tens of thousands of milligrams of other medication I took, created the effect of blood. I had been unconscious for a solid ten hours by then.

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Discrimination is Alive and Well in the American Church
Jun 07

How American Christians Use the Bible to Keep Discrimination Alive

By Steve Austin | Best of Messy Grace , faith , lgbtq , The Struggle With Church

If your God is love but your church won’t accept the disenfranchised, those on the fringe, the forgotten, something doesn’t line up.
And as we continue to speak from a place of ignorance, our neighbors are drowning in confusion and judgment.

Maybe it’s time to loose the death grip on our precious moral stances and open our hands to those around us who are hurting and longing for love and acceptance. Now, more than ever, we should love the person in front of us. Lives are changed through relationship rather than rule-keeping. This is the essence of the message of Jesus.

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Daring to Trust Again: Life After My Husband's Suicide Attempt
Jan 11

Daring to Trust: Life After My Husband’s Suicide Attempt

By Lindsey Austin | Best of Messy Grace , Family , Marriage , Mental Health , Recovery , Recovery from a Suicid... , relationships

I will never forget how cold the tile floor was on that hot September afternoon, as I slid down the wall of ICU room number six.
The statement that made my knees buckle, as I stood at the end of that hospital bed, was, “No, I did not mix up my medicine. I wanted to die. I do not want to be here any more.”

My clearest thought was how I was not enough. But if not me, how was our beautiful baby boy not enough to make my husband want to stay? I wondered how I could possibly face family and friends at our son’s first birthday party the next day, alone. I wondered if I would spend the rest of my life the very same way.

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