My final months at Morling College were quite tumultuous. Two major health issues were to plague me.

Firstly, the anxiety that I had been suffering during my first few weeks of college came back. Thinking that I was doing the right thing—especially since I had accepted a call to Carlton Kogarah Baptist Church—I sought the help of a psychiatrist to deal with the anxiety.

This turned out to be the greatest mistake of my life. He was mainly interested in using drugs to treat the anxiety, whereas until that point I had been seeing a counsellor and that had been working quite successfully. Over a period of weeks, I had so many bad reactions to the different medications he prescribed that one night I ended up on the floor, curled up in the foetal position.

As a result, I spent four weeks in a private hospital recovering from this experience, only to be left on a medication called Rivotril. This medication seemed to stabilise my anxiety and mood at the cost of feeling drugged out.

Secondly, the other health issue that was to dominate my life for the next 25 years was migraines. These started one night, out of the blue, while I was watching TV with my family. A sudden, intense pain began inside my head, like someone was trying to pry it apart with an expanding bolt. The pain was at a level I had never experienced before.

The end result was that I was in no fit state to take up the call to be the pastor at Carlton Kogarah Baptist Church. I was forced to make the hardest decision that I had ever made, which was to turn down the calling (one might say the end of a dream).

Fortunately, when we left for Sydney in 1993, we had rented out our home, which made it possible for us to move back to Tamworth in February 1998. During the first six months after our return, I sought the help of another specialist in Tamworth, who admitted me to hospital and changed the Rivotril to a more modern SSRI antidepressant. There was a period of weeks before that medication started to work, and I was able to begin rebuilding my life.

The migraines, however, were to remain a constant problem, and initially I was treated with Panadeine Forte for the headaches and diazepam for the anxiety that was a residual effect from all the medications the psychiatrist had tried.

Gradually, I was able to start working part-time, doing computer maintenance, coding, and repairs. By the middle of 1999, I had started to work part-time as a voluntary chaplain at Tamworth Base Hospital. Here, I gravitated towards working with people with mental-health issues like my own.

I split my time between computer work and chaplaincy, working in a tent-maker style of ministry. During this period, despite the migraine headaches (at this stage only episodic), I was able to work alongside people who were suffering from depression, anxiety, and loss, and in some cases I sat at the bedsides of the dying.

In one particular instance I was called to the hospital to assist with a young mother whose baby had just passed away. The nursing unit manager and I were able to comfort her with emotional and spiritual support. We then took hand and foot imprints of the child so that she had something to remember her by and something to hang on to.

This was a particularly challenging time for me personally because of the age of both the mother and child. The young mother was so grief-stricken that she had trouble letting go of the baby’s body, even though it was turning blue.

On another occasion, I was called to the intensive care ward to help mediate a disagreement between warring members of a family standing on either side of their dying relative. The nurses in intensive care had asked if I could mediate for them so that they did not have to call security and have the family removed from the hospital. Fortunately, after some stern words and compassionate pleas, the family were able to put their differences aside and simply spend time with the dying family member.

Likewise, on another occasion I was called to intensive care to sit with a man who was awaiting an air ambulance to take him to Sydney for heart surgery. When I mentioned I was a chaplain, he responded, “I don’t believe in God.” My response was that I was not there for religion but rather to sit and keep him company while he waited.

Several hours later, as he was being wheeled out of the ward, I asked him if he would like me to pray for him, as his outlook for recovery was not good. His reply—“Yes, I would like that”—was not surprising.

There were many other experiences I had over those five years that were similar to those I had just mentioned, but gradually the migraines became more persistent and severe, eventually forcing me to stop work altogether.

At times, I was taken to the doctor or the hospital in the middle of the night and given a morphine injection to try to relieve the pain of the migraines.

I found myself spending most of my days in a dark room, lying on the bed, trying to endure the pain.

That dark room became my whole horizon. I didn’t know it then, but the next door to open would promise relief and usher in a longer night. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).

This is Part 1 of a 2‑part post. Next: Part 2 → Chapter 11 (Part 2 of 2)