Mind Games Winning the Battle for Your Mental and

Emotional Health

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Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New
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 CONTENTS

Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication

Introduction Dad, Me, and the Key to Victory

Chapter 1 The Wealthiest Place in the World
Chapter 2 YouTube, Beethoven, and Finding True Worth
Chapter 3 The Day We Beat Amazon
Chapter 4 Just Your Basic Riches-to-Rags-to-Slavery-to-Seduction-to-
Prison-to-the-Palace-to-Riches Story
Chapter 5 Moving from the Basement of Depression to the Rooftop of
Victory
Chapter 6 Everybody’s Got a Buzz Lightyear
Chapter 7 The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Foothold
Chapter 8 Tornadoes, Hurricanes, and the Mexican Cartel
Chapter 9 A Beautiful Mind

Discover More
About the Author
Praise for Mind Games
Resources
Notes
 This book is dedicated to my wife, Ashley, our five
children, my late father and my mother, and to our
faithful church family of Victory. I am forever grateful for
the faithfulness, love, perseverance, grace, and Christ-
like example from my wife, our kids, my late father, my
mother, and Victory Church. Most important, I’m
thankful for the gift of knowing Jesus as my personal
Lord and Savior and the testimony He’s given me to share
this message of winning in the mind. Lastly, I dedicate
this book to YOU. The personal stories, hard lessons,
crazy adventures, hidden scars, embarrassing failures,
and private triumphs I share are for you. I pray that these
pages give you hope, grace, truth, life, and victory in the
battle for mental and emotional health.
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 Introduction

DAD, ME, AND THE KEY TO VICTORY

“God, please help me!” I cried as I collapsed with my back against the
outside door to our church. Here I was again, for what seemed like the
thousandth time, locked out of the church. “God, I feel so broken and
defeated! Dad, if you can hear me up there in heaven, I just wish you were
still here! If only you were here, things would be so much better in my life,
and especially in our church!”
The tears kept flowing. I hadn’t cried like this in a while. I’d been
holding so much inside for the last few years, and it was like the dam had
burst. Finally, with my voice cracking and body shaking, I let out one last
broken prayer: “Jesus, I could really use your help right now. I just feel
locked out of everything!”
I didn’t know it yet, but God was listening and was about to answer that
desperate plea for help.
Have you ever been locked out of something? Locked out of your car,
your locker at school, your house, your social media accounts, or your
office? I used to get locked out often—I could never seem to remember my
keys, or where my keys were, or what my password was. Maybe you can
relate. Maybe you’ve felt that frustration of trying to figure out a way in, or
troubleshooting passwords to see if any of your old pets’ names with
random numbers or capital letters might work. My frustration that night
wasn’t just that I was locked out of the church building. For a long period, I
had felt locked out of every door I was supposed to be walking through.
This book is about your mind and your heart, and more specifically how
to win the battle for mental and emotional victory. I truly believe that God
has given you and me the keys we need to access a life that is full of joy,
faith, peace, grace, and victory. I believe God wants each of us to be
fulfilled in His unique purpose for each of our lives, equipped with His
power to walk in victory over worry, depression, fear, anger, regrets, shame,
and hopelessness.
But during that season, I felt like I was locked out of hope in my heart,
locked out of joy in my spirit, locked out of peace in my mind, locked out
of forgiveness toward people, but mainly locked out of experiencing a life
that felt fulfilling. That dark season started with a phone call from my mom.
I was at my parents’ house that evening. I’d gone over to jump in their pool
on a hot September day, and after I finished swimming, I had started
practicing playing my guitar.
“Hi, Paul. Your dad’s up here at the hospital.”
“Okay, Mom.” I’d been tuning my guitar when she called, and I settled
my fingers back on the frets. “Who’s he praying with?”
Dad was the founding pastor of our church—Victory Church in Tulsa,
Oklahoma, with more than fourteen thousand members. He also was
founder of Victory Christian School, a large private school in the city, and
founder of Victory College, Tulsa Dream Center, and Camp Victory, so he
was always busy taking care of people. He was always out and about during
the week meeting with members, meeting with staff, meeting with
contractors, and meeting with anyone else who needed to see him. Making
hospital visits was a regular part of his routine.
“No, Paul…”
There was something in my mom’s voice that finally caught my
attention, so I put down the guitar.
“Mom?”
“Your dad just checked into the hospital, Paul. Will you come up and see
him?” I told my mom I was coming soon.
I was shocked, nervous, sad, and most of all just stressing out wanting to
know why in the world he was in the hospital. There were some very raw,
unedited emotions that began to pour out of me. I want to be clear up front
here that this book is full of some of the most painful learning moments in
my life, which weren’t always pretty, but somehow God used them to be
catalysts for His greatest healing moments later on. I’ve found that being
open and honest about my own pain, shortcomings, and learning moments
has led to me being able to relate with people I serve as pastor much more
than just sharing achievements—and I’m hoping the same holds true as an
author. So, here goes.
When I finally realized my dad had been admitted as a patient in the
hospital, the first thought that went through my mind was, how bad the
timing was. I was twenty-four years old, pastoring our college ministry at
church, and about to get married to my high school sweetheart. Because I
was the college pastor at his church, I knew Dad being sick meant I would
need to help cover for him around the church and possibly move my
wedding.
In my defense, it never really crossed my mind that Dad could be
seriously ill. The man had never been sick during my whole life. More than
that, he was my hero. He was my mentor. He was a rock in our community
and the foundation of our family. I genuinely believed there was no wind or
storm that could budge his place in our lives. In my life.
I was wrong.
The truth hit me as soon as I saw Dad in that hospital bed. He did not
look good. Then I looked around the room and realized everyone was there
—my mom, my brother, my older sisters, and even their spouses.
Something was up.
“What in the world is going on?”
The doctor came in before anyone could answer, and he laid it out
straight. I was too shocked to process everything he said, but several words
broke through the haze and seared themselves on my mind. Words like
malignant. And lymphoma. And hospice. And the big one: cancer.
Dad was dying.
I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it. But it was happening,
regardless.
That weekend, Dad wasn’t in the pulpit for the first time that I could
remember. He was one of those guys who made a point to preach fifty-two
Sundays a year, every year, so the absence was glaring. The church and
staff were in shock, and we prayed intensely and with great faith for a
miracle. As his son, and also a support pastor for the church, I felt so much
pressure, along with my other family members, to keep our faith and keep
praying for a miracle; but privately I was battling so much fear, anger, and
doubt in my mind and heart as I watched my dad—and the most faithful
preacher I knew—grow weaker by the day. His last public appearance was
at my wedding, which he officiated even though he’d lost a lot of hair and
most of his energy. Then, two weeks after I got back from my honeymoon,
he was gone.
Just fifty-seven years old.
That first day at the hospital, my mom told me that she and Dad had
known about the cancer for about a year. They hadn’t told us because they
didn’t want to make us upset. Dad didn’t want anyone to worry. I still
marvel at that sometimes. He kept everything to himself and kept at his post
while fighting cancer for an entire year.
That’s the kind of man he was. That’s the kind of man we lost—as a
family, as a church, and as a community. And none of us had any idea what
to do next.

LOCKED OUT

There’s a reason I’m telling you about my dad’s passing, and that reason is
directly connected to the theme and purpose of this book. I’m going to get
there, I promise.
But first I need to talk about keys.
Growing up as a pastor’s kid, I was always at the church building for
one reason or another. I guess I should say “buildings,” because our campus
has lots of them. Not only does Victory have the normal space you’d expect
for serving thousands of members, but there’s also a Bible college with
three hundred students, a K–12 school with another thousand-plus students,
a Dream Center out in North Tulsa dedicated to lifting people out of
poverty, and even a hundred-acre camp about an hour from the main
campus.
So yeah, lots of buildings. Which meant lots of potential space for a kid
to run around, but also lots of doors—with lots of locks, and only a few
people had the keys. It seemed like every time I tried to get into someplace
interesting, I was locked out.
I grew up volunteering a lot at the church, because as a pastor’s kid
you’re pretty much free labor for your parents. (Just kidding.) I served my
tail off for the church, not because I had to, but because I genuinely loved
helping people and seeing God impact people’s lives through the ministries
I was involved in. After college, I got a job on that church staff, and I
thought everything would be different Nope. I did get a few keys to open
and operate our college ministry, but that was it. With 450 employees, the
church had strict policies about which people could access specific
buildings and rooms. If you didn’t have a direct responsibility over an area,
you didn’t get a key. No exceptions.
Not even for the senior pastor’s son.
Honestly, I got a bit fixated on the whole key thing during my first year
of ministry. If I wanted to spend time in the choir room or the worship
center, or if I needed to use one of the conference rooms, I had to find
another pastor to let me in. Or a security guard. Someone who was
“approved.”
It felt like an everyday issue. I was constantly begging my way around
the building. “Mr. Johnson, could you open this door for me?” “Pastor
Jerry, could you let me in there? Please?”
The whole thing was super frustrating—and more than a little
humiliating.
I had even complained to my dad about it when he was still alive.
“Dad, I had keys to everything when I worked as a janitor at my college,
but I’m the founder’s son here at church and I can’t go anywhere. Why
don’t you trust me?”
He just smiled. “It’s not a trust thing. All you need is the key you’ve
got.”
Looking back, I think my whole fixation was about something way
deeper than physical access to physical spaces. It wasn’t about a lack of
keys. Especially after my dad died, it was tied up with spiritual and
emotional pain. I felt locked out of the life I read about in my Bible and
heard preached about at church. A life free of depression, free of insecurity.
A life of fulfillment, a life of joy, a life of love, a life marked with courage,
and most importantly a life of victory—spiritually, mentally, and
emotionally.
All of those feelings were compounded in a major way after Dad passed
away. It was a painful season, especially losing him as quickly as we did.
Then the church started bleeding members. We went through major
financial struggles. In a lot of ways, it felt like everything was trending
down. Like we were losing when we were supposed to be experiencing
victory. We were supposed to be Victory! But in that long season it seemed
like our best days were behind us.
I felt held back on the inside before my dad passed, but now with him
gone I felt stuck for good in this place of mental and emotional torment.
Discontented, discouraged, disappointed, and sliding deeper into a heavy
cloud of depression. I was trying my best to smile on the outside and
pretend to be happy, but I was wearing a mask. I was hurting and feeling
miserable on the inside, and I wasn’t sure how to break free of it.
This wasn’t a salvation thing. I was secure in my relationship with God
and my identity as a follower of Jesus. But on the inside I felt so spiritually
stuck in this negative place, to the point of wanting to give up. I hadn’t
discovered this yet, but later I would find that many heroes in the Bible and
great people of faith throughout church history struggled in their mental and
emotional health too, and yet God still spoke to them, spoke through them,
and used them to do incredible things in their lifetimes for His glory.
Because I hadn’t yet learned that, I was starting to spiral into this internal
pit of despair. I wasn’t experiencing the kind of life I wanted to live. I didn’t
have the victory I knew I’d been promised in Scripture.
Worst of all, I didn’t understand why.
I had a great wife. I had the support of my family. I had great friends. I
loved the work I was doing with Ashley as we led the young adult ministry
at our church.
In spite of all that, I was depressed.
I kind of knew what was going on, although I’m not sure I would have
used that label—depression—for myself. There was a cloud that hovered
over me for months and wouldn’t go away. I learned how to smile on the
outside and show everyone at church that everything was good. But I was
stuck.
Then, one night, Ashley and I’d just had a silly argument over my lack
of gratitude and grumpiness right after she had done some really nice things
for me on my birthday. The internal depression was not so internal
anymore. I was unhappy and extra sensitive about everything. I remember
just feeling trapped that night, like the walls were closing in around me.
So I left the house. I pushed through the front door and kept going.
Just walking down the road and thinking. Kicking rocks.
Eventually I realized I was walking over a highway overpass. It was a
bridge about thirty feet off the ground. I leaned against the cement wall and
looked down at the road. For several minutes, I watched the big trucks
rumble their way underneath my feet. There was a rhythm to the lights and
the sound and the speed of those trucks. It was almost hypnotic.
I won’t die if I jump from here. But if I landed in front of one of those
trucks, that would do it.
Whoa! The thought came out of the blue. Like it just bubbled up out of
thin air. But speaking in all honesty, it wasn’t totally unappealing. Here I
was feeling angry at myself and uncertain about the future. I was worried
about the church and what was going to happen to our ministry. I was really
missing my dad, and I was anxious at the thought of trying to fill his shoes
one day—anxious at the thought of messing up his vision or ruining his
dream.
And in the midst of that darkness, I realized all those feelings could be
finished in about four seconds. Just a little jump, and there would be no
more pain. No more fear. No more expectations or disappointments or self-
doubt.
Then the lies started to pile up. Nobody loves you. Nobody cares about
you. Nobody would even miss you. You can’t fix the mess you’re in, so just
get out. Escape. Jump. Just end the misery.
The voices were getting louder, and I was listening. I was considering. I
even leaned out a little bit over the wall to get a better view of the road
beneath.
One jump, and you can stop feeling pain. You can stop causing pain.
This is the best way out!
Can you imagine me standing there? If you had walked past me on that
bridge, you would have seen a young man in good health with decent
clothes. You would have thought I looked privileged—and I did. I was.
Yet I was depressed. And contemplating suicide. And in need of help.
I didn’t jump—which you know, because otherwise I wouldn’t be
writing this book. I’ll explain why I didn’t jump later in this book. (It’s a
good reason, praise the Lord!)
But there’s a question that bothers me whenever I tell this story: Why
aren’t we talking about these subjects in the church? About mental health
issues? Why aren’t we talking about depression and suicide? Why aren’t we
talking about anxiety, and jealousy, and anger, and all the mental and
emotional health issues that affect Christians as well as non-Christians?
Why is the church so quiet on those issues? Why do we tiptoe around them
and pretend church people aren’t dealing with them?
Because they are. Millions of people attend church with happy faces and
heavy hearts. I know because I see a bunch of them every week. I talk with
them and hear their stories. Beyond that, thousands of pastors stand up
onstage and preach the Word of God with confidence every weekend, yet
inside they are burdened with sadness and shame and doubt—and yes, even
depression.
I know because I’ve been there.
Scripture says, “As [a man] thinks in his heart, so is he” (Prov. 23:7
NKJV). Where your thoughts go, your life goes. Where your heart goes, your
actions and your attitudes follow. And for millions of people in the world
today—including millions in the church—their thoughts and their hearts are
leading them down to a place that is dark and lonely and frightening and
potentially suicidal.
So let’s talk about it. Let’s see what is required to find mental and
emotional victory in the face of mental health challenges. That’s what this
book is about.
Maybe you aren’t facing the same kind of mental health challenges I
have faced. I hope you’re not. But over the past decade I’ve come to realize
that lots of people experience something similar to the feeling of being
stuck, of feeling unsatisfied and spiritually empty. I’ve spoken with and
prayed with these people, and I hear the same kinds of comments over and
over again:

• “This isn’t what I expected my life to be like.”

• “I can’t let go of the pain of my past. It’s too hard to move forward.
It’s like I am chained to this anger, shame, and disillusionment.”
• “I’m tempted to throw in the towel and just give up on anything I had
hoped for from God.”
• “There’s something holding me back, but I don’t know what it is.”
• “I feel like I’m carrying this weight in my mind and my heart, and I
just can’t move forward.”
 These aren’t people complaining because they feel like they deserve a
life of luxury, or a life without pain. These aren’t people trying to get God
to wave a magic wand and make all their problems or circumstances
disappear. They’re not dissatisfied because they’re lacking something silly
or superficial.
No. They’ve been told over and over that God has a plan and purpose
for their lives, and that their heavenly Father wants to bless them, and that
their Creator loves them and approves of them, and—yes, even likes them.
They’ve heard testimonies of freedom, of others experiencing a
breakthrough of God’s power and grace setting them free or lifting them
from an internal pit of despair. But they haven’t experienced it yet. They
haven’t seen God do it yet for them. And because they’ve felt so stuck,
they’ve started believing that maybe it’s not true or at least it’s not true for
them.
They feel locked out.
Can you relate? Have you ever felt stuck mentally or emotionally? Have
you come to a place in life where you have to regularly deal with
disappointment and discouragement, when you’d rather be enjoying peace
and purpose and joy? Maybe you’ve been let down by a relationship that
didn’t work out. Maybe you lost a family member you were praying for.
Maybe you lost a job. Maybe your heart was broken and you haven’t been
able to move forward. Maybe you’re being held back by something truly
destructive in your life. Something like depression. Or addiction. Or
codependency.
The good news is that it’s possible for those of us who are stuck to
get unstuck. It’s possible for those of us who are trapped to be set free. I
know that from experience, and I’m eager to share a little more about my
journey from defeat to victory—starting with the night when everything
changed.

LOVED IN

Something significant happened between me and my dad before he passed

away, although I didn’t realize it at the time. I was sitting next to him at the
hospital, just being with him. When he slept, I prayed that God would heal