depression

Jul

2024

Called to be alongside of others

A message for the 9th Sunday after Pentecost

Sharing peace in Christ, leaving no one out

by David Sellnow

Image credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Texas_Tech_University,_Student_Union.jpg

In my early years of ministry, I led weekly Bible studies on campus for a student group at a large public university in Texas. Anybody was welcome to attend. One who began coming regularly was Linda, who was somewhat older than the traditional college-age students in the group. After attending for a couple of months, asking many questions herself and listening to the discussions I led with the group, Linda approached me after one of the evening sessions. She told me, “I’ve decided you’re not a cult leader.” “I’m glad to hear that!” I said. Linda explained she had spent over ten years of her life stuck in a thought-controlling cult. After getting out and getting reoriented, she became a cult interventionist, helping extricate others from similar situations. The religious body that was the parent church for our student organization had a reputation for fixed doctrines that everyone agreed to. That had been a red flag for Linda, and she had decided to investigate our group. Thankfully, I had passed the test and was not a cult leader. I wasn’t mind-controlling anyone or causing spiritual damage. We were digging in Scripture together and sharing thoughts openly and equally.

Sadly, there are religious leaders and religious organizations that dominate in ways that are abusive and harmful. Much research has been done into complex post-traumatic stress disorder, including religious trauma, when religious systems harm rather than help. It happens when individuals are made to feel fearful and trapped and depressed and lose who they are. They experience an erosion of their individual personality. They are compelled to conform themselves to the dictates and decisions and rules of the group (CPTSD Foundation).

Not all stern, unbending churches are inflicting religious trauma in the formal sense of the term. But they may be ignoring the hurts and hopes and needs of many who are looking for good news and instead find mostly restrictions and legalisms.

I knew a young woman whose pastor preached that any and all forms of birth control were wrong. The young woman’s fiance had the same, unyielding view. As he and she talked about marriage, he insisted they should have as many babies as they could. Any attempts to limit that he saw as sin. The young woman was terrified, wondering if her body and mind and emotions could handle so much. Her pastor and her fiance were overemphasizing one thought in Scripture, that a man who has many children has been given a great blessing (cf. Psalm 127:3-5). They meanwhile were ignoring another Bible imperative, that husbands are to show consideration and concern for their wives and honor their needs of body, mind and spirit (cf. 1 Peter 3:7).

I knew young men and women who were training for roles in ministry in the church, who would not talk about internal struggles they had. If they had doubts or questions about any particular spiritual teachings, they were afraid to express them. If they experienced any mental health challenges, such as feeling anxious or depressed, they did not dare admit these things out loud. The church culture that surrounded them made them feel that any admission of weakness would disqualify them from ministry. They feared being dismissed from pre-ministry training because they weren’t good enough, weren’t strong enough, weren’t perfect enough to be pastors or teachers. Somehow they were forgetting the stories of all the human faith leaders we see in Scripture. Scripture openly shows the flaws and shortcomings of Abraham, Moses, David, Peter, Paul, and others whom God called into leadership. Good leaders lead through God’s strength, not their own (cf. Philippians 4:13). We don’t lead—and we are not disciples—because we are perfect people.

Religious groups and religious leaders can lose that understanding and that humility. They can begin to view themselves as having a rightness that’s righter than others, a betterness that’s better than others. They overlook their own failings and inconsistencies and judge persons who don’t adhere to their rules as out of line, as less than, as falling short.

These are the kinds of things that the LORD spoke against, through Jeremiah, saying, “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! … You have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them” (Jeremiah 23:1,2).

In One Coin Found: How God’s Love Stretches to the Margins,” Emmy Kegler points us to Jesus’ parable of the lost coin (Luke 15:8-10). She says, “The thing about coins is that they can’t get lost by themselves. They can’t roll away on their own. Coins get lost because their owners aren’t careful; whoever was in charge was wasteful with them. Coins get lost because they lose their shine, because dirt and rust cling to them, and without careful attention, they turn a color indistinguishable from dust and mess.” Lost and dismayed and scattered souls are often in that condition because persons charged with responsibility in faith and religion have not kept their focus on God’s grace, have not maintained mercy in their preaching and their practice. As a result, people are cast aside—or they pull away because they are afraid, because they feel shamed and judged, because they are not led forward in hope and joy.

Image credit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/bob5d/16730007506

Do we do things in our own ministries and dealings with people that make others feel less than, as not properly in line? Are we more concerned about holding onto our own traditions than we are about welcoming others who have different backgrounds and different perspectives? Do we think of the church as our church, as if it belongs to us and anybody coming to us needs to fit in with our expectations and think the way we think? Do we put signs outside our churches and banners on our websites saying, “All are welcome,” but if folks come who aren’t the kind of people we were expecting to join us, make them feel unwelcome?

Back in the early days of the Christian church, the members who had been part of the Jewish traditions of faith did not easily adjust to having Gentiles joining the faith. The new Gentile Christians did not share the cultural context of Judaism, and often were made to feel like second-class citizens. The apostle Paul, who had described himself as the most enthusiastic proponent there could be of the Jewish faith (cf. Philippians 3:4-6), addressed that problem. In the church in Antioch (in Syria), he even confronted the Apostle Peter for going along with the standoffish behavior that Jewish Christians there were showing over against Gentile believers (cf. Galatians 2:11-21). In his letter to Gentile Christians in the Greek city of Ephesus, Paul reassured them that they were fully equal members of the church. He wrote to them, “You were [once] without Christ … aliens from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise. … But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. He is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall between us. … You are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:12-14,19). Paul also strongly made this point: Christ “has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace …. Through Christ all of us have access in one Spirit to the Father” (Ephesians 2:15,17-18). Jesus had fulfilled God’s laws for all of us. So laws and rules of the Jewish community were not to create a barrier to Gentile persons finding a spiritual home in the church. The church was not to have rules that made people change who they were in order to belong.

Nearly two thousand years have gone by since Paul wrote those words to Gentile Christians in what was then primarily a Jewish church. Today, do we Gentile Christians, with a long history and tradition in our practices of faith, need to hear the lesson Paul was teaching to Jewish traditionalists back in his day? Have we become so used to the church fabric and makeup as it has been that we don’t (or won’t) open our eyes to new people and new possibilities for the church in our own time? Do we truly welcome everyone, as Jesus welcomed everyone? Or are we sometimes too focused on ourselves to be full of caring and compassion for others?

Think of the ministry of Jesus. He labored with all his energy to reach out to every soul in need. At one time, when he and his disciples were exhausted from their work and had not even had time to eat, he said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while” (Mark 6:31). They decided to cross Lake Kinneret, but the crowds hurried on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them (Mark 6:32-33). What did Jesus do as he went ashore? He saw the great crowd (over five thousand people), “and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd” (Mark 6:34). Tired as he was, he took the time to teach them, delivering words of comfort and hope. And along with his teaching, Jesus then also did a miracle of mercy, providing a meal of bread and fish for that whole crowd, more than they could even eat (cf. Mark 6:35-44). We’re told of the general pattern of Jesus’ ministry that “wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed” (Mark 6:53-56).

We are called by Jesus to carry on ministry in the same spirit as his ministry. Do you remember the woman who had been suffering for twelve years from hemorrhages, who said she just hoped to touch Jesus’ clothes and his power would heal her (Mark 5:25-34)? Do you remember the Syrophoenician woman, from outside of the children of Israel, who came to Jesus for help for her daughter, and said to him, “Even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs” (Mark 7:28). People of all sorts and all needs reach out for love and acceptance and hope and help. They may not even be consciously reaching out toward the church. But they may be reaching out to you, if you are in their circle of acquaintance. Don’t look down on them. Don’t turn away from them—any of them, no matter who they are or what they are. Reach out to take their hand. Reach out to put an arm around their shoulder. Reach out as an ally to them, as an advocate for them, as a friend and partner. If I may use a Greek word, be a “paraclete” to them. That’s a word that Jesus used when he promised to send us his Holy Spirit. Jesus said, “ I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Paraclete [Παράκλeτοß], to be with you forever. … You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you” (John 14:16,17). The Greek word parakletos, literally translated, means one who is called to the side of another. Jesus has been that for us. God’s Spirit has been that for us. We are called to be that for one another, for our neighbors, for our friends, for strangers, for enemies, for everyone.

We are not a cult, trying to control others and make them follow us without question and without thinking. We will not be like the shepherds Jeremiah described, who scatter and drive souls away in fear and trauma, rather than attending to them with care. We hope to be the sort of shepherds the LORD said he would raise up, providing a witness to God’s love and an embodiment of his grace, so that those whom we reach “shall not fear any longer, or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing” (Jeremiah 23:4). We will not demand people fabricate their own righteousness; rather we will point to the Savior God raised up in Jesus, whose very name by which he is called means: “The LORD is our righteousness” (Jeremiah 23:6). We are the church, established by Jesus, being “built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God” (Ephesians 2:22)—and for all of his people. Once we were not a people, but now we are God’s people; once we had not received mercy, but now we have received mercy (1 Peter 2:10). Christ, in his mercy, has called us alongside him that we might call others alongside us. We proclaim the mighty acts of the one who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light (1 Peter 2:9). Let us be that light, in Christ, to all of our neighbors, near and far.

For a related devotional thought, see this post on The Electric Gospel: https://theelectricgospel.com/the-house-of-disposable-souls/

Scripture quotations, except where otherwise indicated, are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Jan

2020

A letter to the depressed

Originally published on the Electric Gospel on August 26, 2017.

An open letter to those dear to me who are suffering with depression

by Hannah Carter

First of all, I just want to say that I love you immensely. As do all of us—your family, your best friends, and most importantly, God loves you more than anything.

I know how hard it is to describe how you’re feeling. I know it makes it even harder that very few people seem to actually understand you. I, too, don’t understand why your emotions are the way they are. I know you often times don’t understand why either. Why God chose this to be your cross to bear. I know you feel weak, but I’m here to tell you how strong you are – rather, how strong God has made you.

You are strong, so unbelievably strong. You feel so many things that you can’t describe, and yet you still live each day, day-to-day, like anyone else. Not many people can even tell what you go through. You put on a brave face and a wonderful contagious smile. When you tell people about your depression, they are shocked. They would never have guessed.

I know you feel like you have to hold things in. You don’t want to burden others with your problems—which you feel are insignificant, but they aren’t. They are significant to me and, more importantly, they are significant to God. I am here for you as much as humanly possible, but God is there for you always. Every single second, you can always go to him in prayer and he hears you. You can trust him no matter what, and he promises to sustain you. He will never leave you.

I know you don’t feel like you are worthy of anything – unworthy of love, unworthy of happiness, and many other things – but you are! You are worthy. Through Jesus’ death on the cross for you, you are worthy of God’s love. And does he ever love you! He loves you more than I do and that’s saying a lot.

Please never think that you shouldn’t belong here. God placed you on this earth for a reason. He knew you at the creation of the world and he created you with a purpose in mind. You are such a blessing in my life and lives of all of those you touch. Never let depression be the only thing by which you define yourself. You are so much more than that. You are funny, caring, and kind. You are smart. Your soul is beautiful. You are a child of God.

My prayer for you is that God continues to grant you the strength to carry on. That he continually shows his love to you and gives you many wonderful gospel lights in your life to motivate and remind you of his love and faithfulness.

Remember that I am always here for you, always praying for you, and sending love to you always.

Dec

2019

Encouragement concerning depression

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on May 21, 2016.
Collin wrote this letter for a friend of his who was dealing with feelings of depression. Her name is changed for privacy.

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Letter to a friend

by Collin Wenzel

My dear friend Olivia,

The Lord’s blessings to you—I pray you are doing well. I was glad to have heard from you earlier this year. However, when I learned of your recent struggles with feelings of depression, my heart went out to you. I would like to offer you spiritual guidance and encouragement from our heavenly Father.

I smile and laugh as I frequently look back on all of the memories we have stored up with our friends over the past three years. How much longer than three years it seems! I thank God that extra-curriculars brought us all together when we were in high school. Now, although we are in different states and only see each other a few times a year, I still care deeply for you. Concerning the hardships you wrote to me about, I often ask God in my prayers to help you through this difficult time.

Sin entered the world at the fall of the first man. Through sin came sorrow, pain, despair and feelings of hopelessness. I understand that what you are feeling seems unexplainable and unreasonable. Olivia, you know that at conception, we were enemies of God. We were born into this world as truly hopeless beings. But you also know that we have a Father who loves us so much that he gave his Son for us. Jesus lived the life for us that we never could live ourselves—perfect in every way. Jesus bore for us the punishment that we merited. Because of Jesus’ work and through faith in him, we are justified before God.

I know that you know this. Why, then, did I write it? I want to remind you of the blessings we receive through this justification. To us belongs hope—hope of the greatest kind. We know that we must go through many trials on this earth. But we have hope to help us get through them. We have hope that God is on our side. We have hope that God is guiding us and holding our hand—that he will never leave us. Take joy in this! Our strength comes from the Lord. He empowers us in every situation. He will help you with your feelings of depression; in him alone can you trust. Call upon him! As David wrote, “Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous fall” (Psalm 55:16).

Your thoughts of depression may be telling you that you are losing purpose to press onward, and that you can’t do it. But God will never let the righteous fall. God will not let the burdens pressing you down become so heavy that you will be crushed. God will sustain you.

So rely on him! Find your joy in the fact that he fulfills his promises. Pray to him, saying, “Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.” (Psalm 51:12). Your salvation is sure. No earthly sorrow can hinder it. So remember God’s love and receive unending joy from it! I heard a spiritual song which included the following encouragement. Let us use some words from that song as we pray:

Dear God, please comfort my soul. You are at my side; no longer must I dread the fires of unexpected sorrow. Let me not be moved by lesser lights and fleeting shadows, nor let me forsake the truth I learned in the beginning. Guide me as I wait upon you and assure me that hope will rise. God, I will trust in you and not be shaken. To your name alone be the glory. Amen.

The words from this prayer were adapted from the song “Still, My Soul be Still”
by Keith and Kristyn Getty and Stuart Townend, from the album Awaken the Dawn
(Getty Music, 2009).

Dec

2019

Do we truly love each other in the church?

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on June 26, 2015.

In a religion course that I taught, I asked participants to say something in a personal way about the church — either in the form of an essay or in poetry or song or by an artistic creation. They had much freedom of what form their words or images would take. I received many thoughtful and beautiful pieces. One of the most striking testimonies came from a dear soul who came from the Caribbean island nation of St. Lucia to study in the United States. She wrote in urgent, stream-of-consciousness fashion. Evodia evokes our heartfelt response. She speaks of struggles within what is supposed to be the loving community of the church. How often within the body of Christ, the church, do we leave individual members feeling similar aches and distress? How often do we forget what Christ’s apostle urged of us?

By the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. … Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. (Romans 12:3-5, 10-16).

I pray you will appreciate Evodia’s honest expressions of hurt and hope … and that we all find greater hope and love in community with one another. This is a longer item here on The Electric Gospel blog, but well worth your time.

Running on Empty

by Evodia Cassius

I wish I were able to truly express how I feel. This my sixth attempt to write this essay and the words still do not pour out of me naturally. I am hesitant and unsettled. I guess my title “Running on Empty” is proving itself to be true on many accounts. Apart from the five failed attempts at this paper, I also have two failed poetry attempts and two failed paintings. Honestly the paintings were not failures, they just do not accurately express my story. Neither did the poetry or the other writing attempts. Hence this blog entry … this series of blog entries. This real-life talking style about my failed successes and empty full life. The irony is painful. As I write, the butterflies in my stomach seem not to enjoy the frenzy in my head because they are trying their best to escape. This is my story, my blog, my irony.

Insanity

Shy? Afraid? Unsure? Quitter, deserter, pitiful coward, downer … these are not me. So why do I feel like it is becoming second nature to be all these things? Why do such attributes seem to be the very essence that makes up this temporary dwelling in which my soul lives? Why has living become so hard? Why do I feel defeated before I even attempt something? And more, why do I keep trying if I know that the outcome will be the same? I am beginning think that I MISSED SOME IMPORTANT LESSON that God attempted to teach me, so as a result I go through and do the same things over and over again expecting a change. The very definition of insanity.

Broken

Helpless, needy, clingy, desperate, attention-seeking … these are not me. But someone said even though you glue the pieces back together, you can still see the cracks. Someone else said once it is broken—though you may make the unit whole again—the element is now weaker than it originally was. If these theories are true, what can be said for something that is repeatedly broken and smashed? Does it not stand to reason that one day like Humpty Dumpty the pieces will not be able to be put back together again? I wear a mask. A façade, a camouflage, if you would like to call it that. Something that hides the cracks and the holes where the pieces that once were are now lost. Yes I admit it, I am broken. … And just when I think that by some miracle I am healed and whole, something bumps me over again, reminding of how weak my structure is, of how fragile I have grown over the years. Of how unstable I really am.

Empty

Depressed, sad, lonely, losing faith? These are not me. A priest once told me that questions do not equal lack of faith. I agreed; it was more my curious nature that drove the questions. But when the questions have been answered and yet still they linger or they resurface, a door is opened. A door that allows more things to come in, but not go out. This door brings past hurts and darkness creeping back in. Slowly but surely, the once brightly-painted room is overcome with a darkness, and the fear is that all the light will be gone.

“What brought all this about?” you may ask. God, the devil, myself? That is an excellent question. You see, I had thought not too long ago that life was splendid. Grand with images of butterflies and rainbows behind every corner. Allow me to explain what I believe happened.

Seeing the light

You know that feeling when some startling revelation occurs, when a conspiracy is uncovered, when some big holes are poked into something you thought was all good? That feeling you get of deep despair and confusion and a stomach ache that you cannot explain? That is the feeling that I felt. That is what I experienced. I came to this unknown place with the best of intentions. I was told, “You will be among God-fearing people, people who believe in the same thing you believe. People who love God just as much as you do.” And that brought me face to face with a painful irony … I love God … but I don’t love you? The Bible itself asks how can you love someone you cannot see but hate the people you see. “Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen” (1 John 4:20).

So which love is it? Which love will mine be? Which love will be in the hearts of those around me? It’s hard to come to terms with love within the church when the church has lost the love it had at first (Revelation 2:3). Where is love when your loyalty to God is measured on your attendance statistics at each and every religious service, and not on how you treat and relate to the people in your very presence? Where is love when you can have a conversation with someone now, and five minutes later not acknowledge their presence? Where is love when you are treated differently because you are different, or just because? When judgment is cast without knowledge of the person? It is sad. It is hurtful. It is infuriating.

I asked my mother, “How can they say they love God, my God, and behave the way they do? Is it just me? Am I the wrong one?” I pray almost constantly, “God, if I am at fault, help me see and help me change.” But it had gotten increasingly difficult to deal with life within the lukewarmness of my surroundings. Increasingly difficult to smile, to be, to live. A minister friend tells me, “You are exactly where God wants you to be.” And I need to believe this because it is the only thing that keeps me going at times. But is it true … or is it a means of pacification so I stop questioning things? I am not saying that I am the only person who struggles, and the Lord knows that my issues may be rather insignificant compared to others. So who am I to complain? But I do feel empty and low. I feel like a failure because I am not happy where I am. God has richly blessed me and all my endeavors; he always has. I cannot say that he has ever left my side. But where I am at the moment feels wrong … in my gut, in my soul. Sometimes if feels like everything around me is rejecting me, telling me constantly, “You do not belong. Something here is different, you are the odd one out, a foreigner that has infiltrated and is not wanted. A cancer. A poison.” I walk into a room and people go quiet. Conversations cease and people walk away. People’s attitudes towards me change overnight. I am not so self-centered to think that I am always the topic of conversation, but I am old enough to know when life is like high school all over again.

Should I stay in my room and brood or cry? That’s not me. I feel like I need to stifle myself and change to be accepted as one of the masses. That’s not me. I do not want to fit in, be one with all others, if being one of the masses means that I am no longer an individual but a drone. I want the respect I deserve. I deserve it not because of the color of my skin or the country of my origin, not because I am better than anyone else. I deserve respect as a child of God – not because I have not done anything to deserve that title. But the Lord has lavished his love on me and called me his own in Christ (1 John 3:1). And, I will remember, the Lord has called many others as his children too – people different from me, people not like me. And we owe each other love and respect as fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.

Prayer

Lord, help what Paul prayed be true for me. Help what Paul prayed be true for those around me. Help us, within your body, your church, to be more and more filled with the love of Christ and with love for one another. …

I pray that out of his glorious riches, the Father may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God (Ephesians 3:16-19).

Dec

2019

Lifted up

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on August 22, 2014.

This week’s message, from Naomi Unnasch, looks at how God’s promises speak to us even in our darkest moments — especially in our darkest moments. The LORD lifts us out of the mud and mire and sets our feet on a rock (cf. Psalm 40:2). We have a “firm place to stand” (Psalm 40:3) when we stand on “the Rock of our salvation” (Psalm 95:1), Jesus Christ.

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Out of the Pit

by Naomi Unnasch

Praise the LORD, O my soul; all my inmost being praise his holy name. Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits–who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s (Psalm 103:1-5).

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A year ago, the life of someone I loved was hanging in the balance. A deadly cycle of untreated depression, addiction, and self-injury was drowning him in the bottomless loneliness of self. After having unexpectedly discovered his cutting habit, I spent night after night tossing and turning, barely sleeping through harrowing nightmares. I awoke every morning wondering if I’d get a phone call that day telling me he was gone.

I happened across Psalm 103 one of those days. I’d read it before, of course. Praise the LORD, O my soul, praise the Lord, praise, praise… how often had I sung those words or mindlessly recited them? How mundane they’d seemed.

Now those words came to life, juxtaposed absurdly against the ugly picture of a rotting disease and a black, miry pit. Praise the LORD… but how could I, drowning as I was in fear and doubt? Praise the LORD… but how could my friend do that from the darkness of his depression?

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We don’t know exactly when David was moved to write this psalm, but we do know this: David understood what it was to inhabit the bottom of a pit. His life was riddled with troubles–troubles even of his own making. If anyone was qualified to write about sin, suffering, and regret, it was David.

What’s at the bottom of your pit? Empty bottles? A failed marriage? Crippling loneliness? Shame over a past sin? Forget about it. Leave it at the bottom. Your Father is calling, and he’s not leaving.

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A year ago, my days and nights were endless variations on the same prayer. Gone were the wordsmithing and formality I’d foolishly felt a prayer required. Instead, my relationship with God had become a wrestling match. I poured myself into his promises, and I thrust those promises into the very face of God, reminding him to be faithful.

As if he needed reminding.

God heard and delivered. Though it was by no means an easy recovery nor a short one, my friend now thrives in joy and vitality. He’s committed himself to hard work and a healthy lifestyle, and he praises his deliverer by reaching out to individuals from all walks of life. While he bears scars–both physical and emotional–he understands grace better than most. His Savior pulled him from the pit.

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No matter the depth of your pit or the ugliness of your disease, your Father calls. Despite the length of the list of your sins, he calls. And even if you close your ears to him, he will still be calling, relentlessly, lovingly pursuing you.

Your Father is a God of grace–of lavish, undeserved, faithful love. He will deliver you. Count on it and praise him.

Naomi’s friend also offered her this note when giving approval to publishing this message on The Electric Gospel. He offers these thoughts to us:

“God is not only calling us, but is reaching out for us, and never gives up on us. For people such as this, I think that it’s extremely important to know that there is still someone who hasn’t given up on them.

“There is a common myth that cutting is a strong sign of suicide or attempting suicide. This is not (usually) the case. Cutting is an addiction, much like alcohol, to endorphins in your body. When someone cuts, and cuts a lot, it releases a lot of endorphins and gives a sense of relief. It is similar to alcohol because it is not something you can be completely cured from. It is always an option and an easy route.

“If you ever come across something like this (and I pray you don’t), the last thing to do is to take it to someone else. Cutters do not [cut] for attention, and that attention puts more pressure on them and can overall make things worse. I would advise [you] to talk to that person first in order to understand better why [they are cutting]….

“This is an important thing to me that I want other people to know about, so I have no problems answering questions or sharing my story with others. If it will benefit someone else, I’m all for it.”

Dec

2019

Life is Worth Living in Jesus

Originally published on the Electric Gospel on April 26, 2014.

A friend shared with me her personal story of anguish … and of hope. For the benefit of others who may struggle in depression, she graciously has permitted the posting of her story here.

From Darkness to Light

Author’s name withheld by request

It started like every other morning. The alarm went off earlier than I really wanted, but I pulled myself out of my bed anyway. I went to the bathroom and started getting ready, the whole time waiting for my phone to buzz to let me know that he was thinking about me; but it never came. I left the house just after 9:00 to make the commute to a school 45 minutes away. Sitting through class, I never stopped thinking about the text that never came. “Why do I still get so surprised when he does this?” I remembered thinking to myself. The reality was that this was becoming normal, going days without speaking. And still, sadness overwhelmed me. When class finally finished, I decided I wouldn’t go to my other classes. After all, what was the point? I got back in my car and drove home, allowing that deep depression to overwhelm again.

By the time I got back home, I could barely hold myself together. Collapsing on my bed, I wept for too long. Looking back, I know that something so trivial shouldn’t have gotten to me, but after months of the same ritual the pain never really went away. I started to think, again, about all the bottles stored in the medicine cabinet. I remember thinking, “If you’re going to do it, stop thinking about it and just do it!” Gripped with sadness, I went and got a bottle of pain killers (to stop the ‘pain’) and a bottle of sleeping pills (to put me to ‘sleep’). I took every last pill in those almost brand new bottles. I sent a text to my mother, who was at work, telling her I was sorry, but that I just couldn’t stand the pain anymore. Then, I curled up in bed to let myself die.

I know you’re probably thinking: Isn’t that a little dramatic when she was only being ignored by some guy? And yes, I would agree with you. The problem is, though, that these thoughts had been racing through my mind for about 7 years. I had been able to ignore them, but the six months before this had been an especially trying time. It may have not gotten so bad if I had just talked to someone about it, but I was trying so hard to be the perfect child and I didn’t want anyone to know my dark thoughts. What’s funny, though, is my parents never put any pressure on me to be ‘perfect.’ They have always been very clear that as long as I try my best, they will be proud of me. I was the one putting the pressure on myself.

Until now, I haven’t mentioned prayer, or church, or anything about God or my faith. And no, this isn’t the story of my coming to faith after sinking to such a low place. You see, I was raised in a Christian family. I went to church my whole life, and am still a member of the church today. I went to a Christian elementary school and high school. I even enrolled at a Christian college upon my high school graduation. God was not foreign to me, but unfortunately he was not as important to me as he should have been. I was allowing my depression to lead me through life, rather than praying for strength and guidance.

Thankfully, after lying in my bed for only 10 minutes, I realized the foolishness of what I had done and got help. The embarrassment of having so many people know those dark thoughts combined with seeing my mom cry for only the second time in my life kept me from trying anything again, even though the sadness continued. I realized that doing nothing and hoping it would get better (my previous way of thinking) was not going to work. I started making a few simple changes saw tremendous results. I accepted that I had a problem and stopped trying to hide it from everyone; I sought counseling and was prescribed anti-depressants; I cut negative people out of my life; and I finally started going to God for help. I went to church and actually paid attention to what was being said. I prayed that he would take the deep sorrow away and help me to rely more on him. And you know what? He did. He reminded me that he gave his own Son, Jesus, to die for me, to make my life worth living, to give me life with him that will never end. Imagine that; my loving Father answering my prayers like he promised so many times in his Word. Crazy concept, I know. So next time you have a problem, no matter how big or small, try talking to God about it. He has told us to come to him with everything (Philippians 4:6). And he gives us life in Jesus as the answer to our anxieties.

A message for the 9th Sunday after Pentecost

Sharing peace in Christ, leaving no one out

An open letter to those dear to me who are suffering with depression

Letter to a friend

Running on Empty

Out of the Pit

From Darkness to Light

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