This letter is intended for all those who supported us financially, spiritually, and emotionally as missionaries.

I am sorry.

You entrusted us to go to the Philippines and share the gospel, make disciples, and plant churches. I can tell you we absolutely did that. However, God had different plans and our time as missionaries was cut short. We had plans and God had his.

I apologize that I am sitting here in my warm, comfortable home instead of sweating my tail off in my moldy home; which I loved. I am very sorry I am not there. You can not imagine how the tears still flow and the heart still breaks for this broken dream.  

We were advised when we had to come off the field that I had no obligation to tell anyone why or what my medical condition was. I still believe that is true, that is why we have HIPPA after all. But I feel that I need, for my own healing, to tell you what was going on inside my body.

My illness was first mental, then physical. I have, it seems, always struggled with depression and anxiety. Prior to leaving for the field, I did my due diligence and made sure the medications I needed would be available. I was in my third year of counseling and feeling better than ever. I had about three months supply of medication packed up tightly in a suitcase with all the only other belongings I owned. Upon arriving, I began my search for a doctor. After many, many hurdles to jump through, I finally found a psychiatrist who would see me. She prescribed my normal medication and I went to three different pharmacies to get three different medications. Missionaries in the Philippines I know you feel me on that adventure.

About two weeks into my Filipino medications I began to feel really awful. I had no energy, my body ached with flu like symptoms, I began loosing weight. After more time my body would tremor randomly and my hands seemed to always be shaking. The stress of a cross country move and navigating a new culture was stressful enough, but now I feel awful. As time wore on and I only got worse, my depression started to really amp up.

The depression made my symptoms worse and the cycle continued until I was scratching my thighs until blood pooled at my feet and trying to convince myself not to jump out of the second story window.

Now I have been suicidal before, but never like this. I see now, fourteen months ahead, that this was spiritual warfare over my body. I wanted to overdose on pills, I dreamed of jumping from the fifth story breezeway at the international school where my precious daughters had a basketball game. It became a normal nightly ritual for me to lay my head on my husbands shoulder and cry and cry until you thought you would die from crying and you fall asleep in exhaustion. I wanted it all to stop, I prayed, I begged for it to stop. I didn’t understand it. What was happening to my body?

I finally made a resolution. This came after about 3 weeks of being 90% bedridden. If this is what it takes for the Gospel to advance then bring it on. I told God, I will endure all the pain, and stay here until you say go in order for others to be saved. It felt like it was my duty to be afflicted and if that was God’s will then so be it. But the problem was, others were starting to notice. I couldn’t hide my horrible mood swings anymore. We were spoken to with love and deep caring by our host missionaries and our sending agency. It was decided that after 6 months on the field that we needed to return to the states so that I would not succeed in any future attempt on my life, which seemed imminent.

We got home and I felt worse. Now not only am I in deep deep depression but my dream and goal we had worked so hard for was gone. That crushed me. My initial evaluation by my American doctor was that the medication I thought was the same was in fact not the same. All my earlier symptoms, shaking, mood swings, aches, were all from coming off of my medications cold turkey because the medicines were in fact not the same. I was prescribed medication the doctor had never heard of and that I was also anemic, not to mention I weighted 108 lbs at 5’9.

I wish I could say that was the end of it, but it wasn’t. I only got worse and new symptoms seemed to pop up everyday. Finally after nine months of pure hell, we found a mental health and physical health facility that was able to help me and get me on the correct medication. I felt like a light switch had been turned on. I am not cured and still struggle daily, but I am leaps and bounds from where I was.

I know I didn’t have to give an explanation of why we had to return home, but I feel like I owe it to you.

You entrusted me to take the sacred Word of God to a new nation and the couple you met who were so excited to be your missionaries, are now back in America living a life similar to the one they had before. With all that being said, once again I offer my apology. I wish things had been different, I wish I had been able to have the medication I have now in Manila. But things turned out differently and why only God knows. I do however know that lives were saved because we went. One single event my husband was a part of, saw over one thousand students saved. I wasn’t at the event, but because I was there with the children and because I was in the Philippines, he was able to go and share the Good News. Praise God.

If only one life were snatched from the fire, it was all worth it. I know all of you supporters out there can say amen to that. Thank you again for letting us be your mouthpiece in a foreign land and I apologize that we weren’t able to do more.

Most Sincerely,

Jessica Anderson