Youth Stories - June 4th 2025
I'm finally ready to talk about Bruno.
In life, there's a separation between what you do to make money and the life that money affords you. We strive for a healthy balance between living and making a living. Many occupations blur the lines, and ministry is one of them. It can often be hard to"switch it off" and not think about church work when you're not at church. This can be because ministry isn't just about a Sunday production; it's the practice of discipleship, which means there's a lot of bleed-through into our everyday doings. This happens sometimes by an unexpected text from a congregant that comes at 12:30 am that reads "HELP". Sometimes it happens because you run into someone in the supermarket who is stunned to find that you exist outside of the building where they usually encounter you. And sometimes the lines get blurred because someone comes banging on your door at 5:45 am on July 4th.
My wife came in and said, "Kellan, get up, Bruno's here and he seems really angry."
This is not the way you want to get woken up on a rare holiday, even if you were a morning person, which I am not. I was confused too because I knew Bruno well, but not this well.
Walking into my living room, Bruno is pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.
Upon seeing me, he says, "Kellan, you know that I love you, right?" I nodded.
"Then you need to hear what I have to say." I sat down.
"Kellan, my father this very night tried to kill me, to murder me, but an angel of God has spared me and now God has a message that he wants to deliver to you." Well, now, that is new.
"I am now going to speak, but I want you to know that it is not I who is speaking, but God. I am speaking with his full authority, and you, as his faithful servant, need to listen to all that I have to say." I said nothing.
"I want you to know that I am so confident in this that I will demonstrate it to you. In order to show just how confident I am, I will remove all of my clothes and deliver this message to you while being naked." Got it.
When you work around people for as long as I have, you see the full range of humanity. Especially when the church has a reputation for being a place where the hurting can find help, it attracts all sorts of people. In addition to that, I have friends and family who have a history of mental health disorders. So I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bruno was experiencing his first bipolar breakdown. He was an 18-year-old kid that I had interacted with a lot, and I knew that the Bruno before me was embarking on a journey that would come to define the rest of his life. I grieved for him there because I knew that nothing would be the same and that the road to living with this disorder was a long one.
I told him that I would listen, but only as long as he stayed clothed. I said I didn't doubt his confidence, but because I didn't share his confidence, I needed him to talk and be fully dressed. My wife and I sat and listened as a conspiracy theory that had no basis in reality came pouring out. Carolyn excused herself during the monologue to contact Bruno's family and to alert church staff that there was something actively going on, and asked them to pray. While she was doing this, I sat and listened for over an hour as he described how God was going to destroy the earth, his role in it, and how God would prepare him for a very specific mission.
My dog, Havoc, came in to listen and sat with Bruno. He told me that she's a heavenly spirit sent for his protection, and on that, we nearly agreed. When he finally felt heard and wound down, he erupted into tears. All the while, Carolyn had been communicating with family and trying to figure out the best next steps. When it felt safe for all, I excused myself and spoke to Bruno's father on the phone. Having a gracious whimsy about a genetic disorder that he himself wrestles with, cried over the phone, telling me he was hoping the "Bipolarbear" would pass over his son. That hope was gone.
Plans were set into motion to get Bruno the help he needed. Having eaten, he asked if he could sleep in our guest bedroom after a shower. After having quietly conferred with his family, we agreed. The plan was to allow him to sleep and then, upon waking, we were going to bring him to either the hospital or a facility that could help, which was an hour away. He asked for a Bible to read, and Carolyn gave him a Bible that she had spent months drawing illustrations in the margins, hoping it would be extra meaningful to him.
The day was tense, and as Bruno napped, we stayed in the next room reading, talking, and praying in rotation. A member of the church staff has asked local law enforcement to conduct a wellness check. Since Bruno was resting when they arrived, we thanked them for checking in and informed them of our next steps. Everything seemed calm.
Carolyn and I became aware at the same time that a voice could be heard from the guest bedroom. Bruno didn't have his phone on him, so we were unsure who he was speaking to. I went to the door and heard him speaking in a harsh, guttural tone. The words were unclear, but there was a deep anger and a menace to the cadence of what he was saying. I knocked on the door to see if he was OK, and that's when the screaming started.
I pointed to Carolyn and said, "Go outside and call the police, NOW!" The screaming escalated, and then came the sounds of smashing furniture. The door shook as something went flying into it. I didn't dare open the door. I walked down the hallway and stood there as my heart jack-hammered in my chest. I didn't want to break eye-line of the door just in case he came out, but I also had a primal urge to run. I am not gifted at scripture memorization, but God, in his mercy, gives you what you need when you need it.
Psalm 23, The Lord is my shepherd, I have what I need. BOOM! He lets me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside quiet waters. CRASH! He renews my life: he leads me along the right paths for his name's sake. RAWWRGH! Even when I go through the darkest valley, I fear no danger, for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me.
Things shattered, and I prayed the scripture as I had never done before. I am not a person easily frightened, but in that moment, I experienced genuine terror. I feared for Bruno. I feared for myself. I feared because I knew that what was going on was very much grounded in the real world, and I also knew that there was a spiritual force at work that I did not understand.
What felt like hours, but which was only minutes, passed until the police arrived. Bruno immediately flipped a switch and became calm and talkative, agreeing that a ride to the hospital would be an excellent idea. He had a few injuries on his face and hands, but was otherwise OK. He apologized to us as he calmly followed the officers and was given a ride to receive the help that I could never have provided him. Some of his family was there, and after thanking us, they went to be with Bruno. There was nothing for it but to check on the damage and see what would be done next.
Bruno had smashed nearly everything in that room. There were holes in the walls, splinters in the carpets, and blood splattered everywhere. We're pretty sure he had given himself a minor cut when breaking things, and then he intentionally threw that blood with abandon in all directions. The reason we think it was intentional is that we found the Bible that was given to him up high on a shelf. Nearly every page on which Carolyn drew an image was ripped out, and what was left was soaked in blood. The ripped-out pages were turned into confetti and thrown into the trash can. This unique act of destruction towards the lone Bible in the room confirmed to me that this was spiritual in nature as well as a mental disorder.
We threw most of the stuff away.
Living in a small coastal tourist town has its advantages. One is that it's a destination for many, especially in the summer when the weather turns beautiful. As a result, the 4th of July show put on by the city is spectacular. In addition to that, thousands roam the beach with their own fireworks, some of which rival the official show. Carolyn and I walked down the beach under a hazy canopy erupting with colorful pyrotechnics. The smoke drifted thick, and the setting sun just magnified the prismatic chaos in every direction. Ironically, it was in the midst of nonstop explosions that we finally felt safe. We broke down a bit and watched the iridescent night sky.
Bruno got the help he needed, but things got worse before they got better. His family often travels for months at a time internationally. In Italy, by the grace of God, he was unsuccessful in a suicide attempt. His family got to him in time, and ever since, he has been on a better path to recovery.
For Carolyn and me, there was plenty of fallout from the day's events. Some took exception to the way we handled things and expressed anger that the police were not allowed to make the initial wellness check. We were told that if only that had been allowed to happen, then all of what followed could have been avoided. I don't dispute that, but in the moment, I was focused solely on protecting this kid and doing what I thought was best for him at the time. I have learned some lessons from this event. Hindsight always lends clarity; what I lacked was the foresight.
The holes were eventually patched and painted, a new mattress purchased, and Carolyn is making excellent progress on another Bible full of beautiful pictures.
I have struggled with my understanding of things like demons, the nature of demonic possession, and spiritual warfare. I much prefer to have those things be theological quandaries instead of bedroom battles.
The experience has given me a renewed love for scripture. The solace I found in that dark moment in the words of God cannot be overstated. The trauma took some time to work through, but God uses all things for the good of those who love him.
It's been nearly a year since this incident occurred, and last week, Bruno attended a Bible study I host at my house. It wasn't the first time I'd seen him since July 4th, but it was the first time I'd seen him this year. He was smiling, and his eyes were clear. We hugged, and I told him that it was good to see him. He told me a little bit about his travels, and then we stood watching my dog, Havoc, living her best life by chasing and retrieving a frisbee on my back lawn.
He looked at me and said, "Hey, I just want to let you know that I'm really sorry for what happened last year. I feel really bad about the whole thing."
I replied, "There is nothing for you to feel bad about. We knew that wasn't you at your best. Honestly, Bruno, we both felt glad that when you were in a bad spot, you found your way to us, we're glad that when you needed somewhere safe, you found it here."
He smiled and thanked me. The conversation moved on.
That night, we studied the book of Ecclesiastes, specifically chapter 6. The author of that passage ends the chapter with two enigmatic questions in verse 12. "For who knows what is good for anyone in life, in the few days of his futile life that he spends like a shadow? Who can tell anyone what will happen after him under the sun?"
I don't have an answer to those questions. All I can say is that for now, it's enough to place my trust in God and trust that whoever comes knocking on my door, I'm in his hands.
In life, there's a separation between what you do to make money and the life that money affords you. We strive for a healthy balance between living and making a living. Many occupations blur the lines, and ministry is one of them. It can often be hard to"switch it off" and not think about church work when you're not at church. This can be because ministry isn't just about a Sunday production; it's the practice of discipleship, which means there's a lot of bleed-through into our everyday doings. This happens sometimes by an unexpected text from a congregant that comes at 12:30 am that reads "HELP". Sometimes it happens because you run into someone in the supermarket who is stunned to find that you exist outside of the building where they usually encounter you. And sometimes the lines get blurred because someone comes banging on your door at 5:45 am on July 4th.
My wife came in and said, "Kellan, get up, Bruno's here and he seems really angry."
This is not the way you want to get woken up on a rare holiday, even if you were a morning person, which I am not. I was confused too because I knew Bruno well, but not this well.
Walking into my living room, Bruno is pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.
Upon seeing me, he says, "Kellan, you know that I love you, right?" I nodded.
"Then you need to hear what I have to say." I sat down.
"Kellan, my father this very night tried to kill me, to murder me, but an angel of God has spared me and now God has a message that he wants to deliver to you." Well, now, that is new.
"I am now going to speak, but I want you to know that it is not I who is speaking, but God. I am speaking with his full authority, and you, as his faithful servant, need to listen to all that I have to say." I said nothing.
"I want you to know that I am so confident in this that I will demonstrate it to you. In order to show just how confident I am, I will remove all of my clothes and deliver this message to you while being naked." Got it.
When you work around people for as long as I have, you see the full range of humanity. Especially when the church has a reputation for being a place where the hurting can find help, it attracts all sorts of people. In addition to that, I have friends and family who have a history of mental health disorders. So I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bruno was experiencing his first bipolar breakdown. He was an 18-year-old kid that I had interacted with a lot, and I knew that the Bruno before me was embarking on a journey that would come to define the rest of his life. I grieved for him there because I knew that nothing would be the same and that the road to living with this disorder was a long one.
I told him that I would listen, but only as long as he stayed clothed. I said I didn't doubt his confidence, but because I didn't share his confidence, I needed him to talk and be fully dressed. My wife and I sat and listened as a conspiracy theory that had no basis in reality came pouring out. Carolyn excused herself during the monologue to contact Bruno's family and to alert church staff that there was something actively going on, and asked them to pray. While she was doing this, I sat and listened for over an hour as he described how God was going to destroy the earth, his role in it, and how God would prepare him for a very specific mission.
My dog, Havoc, came in to listen and sat with Bruno. He told me that she's a heavenly spirit sent for his protection, and on that, we nearly agreed. When he finally felt heard and wound down, he erupted into tears. All the while, Carolyn had been communicating with family and trying to figure out the best next steps. When it felt safe for all, I excused myself and spoke to Bruno's father on the phone. Having a gracious whimsy about a genetic disorder that he himself wrestles with, cried over the phone, telling me he was hoping the "Bipolarbear" would pass over his son. That hope was gone.
Plans were set into motion to get Bruno the help he needed. Having eaten, he asked if he could sleep in our guest bedroom after a shower. After having quietly conferred with his family, we agreed. The plan was to allow him to sleep and then, upon waking, we were going to bring him to either the hospital or a facility that could help, which was an hour away. He asked for a Bible to read, and Carolyn gave him a Bible that she had spent months drawing illustrations in the margins, hoping it would be extra meaningful to him.
The day was tense, and as Bruno napped, we stayed in the next room reading, talking, and praying in rotation. A member of the church staff has asked local law enforcement to conduct a wellness check. Since Bruno was resting when they arrived, we thanked them for checking in and informed them of our next steps. Everything seemed calm.
Carolyn and I became aware at the same time that a voice could be heard from the guest bedroom. Bruno didn't have his phone on him, so we were unsure who he was speaking to. I went to the door and heard him speaking in a harsh, guttural tone. The words were unclear, but there was a deep anger and a menace to the cadence of what he was saying. I knocked on the door to see if he was OK, and that's when the screaming started.
I pointed to Carolyn and said, "Go outside and call the police, NOW!" The screaming escalated, and then came the sounds of smashing furniture. The door shook as something went flying into it. I didn't dare open the door. I walked down the hallway and stood there as my heart jack-hammered in my chest. I didn't want to break eye-line of the door just in case he came out, but I also had a primal urge to run. I am not gifted at scripture memorization, but God, in his mercy, gives you what you need when you need it.
Psalm 23, The Lord is my shepherd, I have what I need. BOOM! He lets me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside quiet waters. CRASH! He renews my life: he leads me along the right paths for his name's sake. RAWWRGH! Even when I go through the darkest valley, I fear no danger, for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me.
Things shattered, and I prayed the scripture as I had never done before. I am not a person easily frightened, but in that moment, I experienced genuine terror. I feared for Bruno. I feared for myself. I feared because I knew that what was going on was very much grounded in the real world, and I also knew that there was a spiritual force at work that I did not understand.
What felt like hours, but which was only minutes, passed until the police arrived. Bruno immediately flipped a switch and became calm and talkative, agreeing that a ride to the hospital would be an excellent idea. He had a few injuries on his face and hands, but was otherwise OK. He apologized to us as he calmly followed the officers and was given a ride to receive the help that I could never have provided him. Some of his family was there, and after thanking us, they went to be with Bruno. There was nothing for it but to check on the damage and see what would be done next.
Bruno had smashed nearly everything in that room. There were holes in the walls, splinters in the carpets, and blood splattered everywhere. We're pretty sure he had given himself a minor cut when breaking things, and then he intentionally threw that blood with abandon in all directions. The reason we think it was intentional is that we found the Bible that was given to him up high on a shelf. Nearly every page on which Carolyn drew an image was ripped out, and what was left was soaked in blood. The ripped-out pages were turned into confetti and thrown into the trash can. This unique act of destruction towards the lone Bible in the room confirmed to me that this was spiritual in nature as well as a mental disorder.
We threw most of the stuff away.
Living in a small coastal tourist town has its advantages. One is that it's a destination for many, especially in the summer when the weather turns beautiful. As a result, the 4th of July show put on by the city is spectacular. In addition to that, thousands roam the beach with their own fireworks, some of which rival the official show. Carolyn and I walked down the beach under a hazy canopy erupting with colorful pyrotechnics. The smoke drifted thick, and the setting sun just magnified the prismatic chaos in every direction. Ironically, it was in the midst of nonstop explosions that we finally felt safe. We broke down a bit and watched the iridescent night sky.
Bruno got the help he needed, but things got worse before they got better. His family often travels for months at a time internationally. In Italy, by the grace of God, he was unsuccessful in a suicide attempt. His family got to him in time, and ever since, he has been on a better path to recovery.
For Carolyn and me, there was plenty of fallout from the day's events. Some took exception to the way we handled things and expressed anger that the police were not allowed to make the initial wellness check. We were told that if only that had been allowed to happen, then all of what followed could have been avoided. I don't dispute that, but in the moment, I was focused solely on protecting this kid and doing what I thought was best for him at the time. I have learned some lessons from this event. Hindsight always lends clarity; what I lacked was the foresight.
The holes were eventually patched and painted, a new mattress purchased, and Carolyn is making excellent progress on another Bible full of beautiful pictures.
I have struggled with my understanding of things like demons, the nature of demonic possession, and spiritual warfare. I much prefer to have those things be theological quandaries instead of bedroom battles.
The experience has given me a renewed love for scripture. The solace I found in that dark moment in the words of God cannot be overstated. The trauma took some time to work through, but God uses all things for the good of those who love him.
It's been nearly a year since this incident occurred, and last week, Bruno attended a Bible study I host at my house. It wasn't the first time I'd seen him since July 4th, but it was the first time I'd seen him this year. He was smiling, and his eyes were clear. We hugged, and I told him that it was good to see him. He told me a little bit about his travels, and then we stood watching my dog, Havoc, living her best life by chasing and retrieving a frisbee on my back lawn.
He looked at me and said, "Hey, I just want to let you know that I'm really sorry for what happened last year. I feel really bad about the whole thing."
I replied, "There is nothing for you to feel bad about. We knew that wasn't you at your best. Honestly, Bruno, we both felt glad that when you were in a bad spot, you found your way to us, we're glad that when you needed somewhere safe, you found it here."
He smiled and thanked me. The conversation moved on.
That night, we studied the book of Ecclesiastes, specifically chapter 6. The author of that passage ends the chapter with two enigmatic questions in verse 12. "For who knows what is good for anyone in life, in the few days of his futile life that he spends like a shadow? Who can tell anyone what will happen after him under the sun?"
I don't have an answer to those questions. All I can say is that for now, it's enough to place my trust in God and trust that whoever comes knocking on my door, I'm in his hands.
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