“And he told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart.” Luke 18:1
Have you ever been lost in the dark? Have you fumbled around in your bedroom at night and bonked your face on your bed post? Has your flashlight gone dim in the woods when you were trying to find a path back to your camp sight? Have you ventured into a cave on a dare only to discover the horror of a darkness you can actually taste?
The darkness of depression is like that. When the cloud descends on the brain, the mind startles to comprehend what is happening. Then it struggles with vigor to find the light, only to discover the battery in the flashlight has gone dead. The soul hopes for a while, then despairs. If it goes on for long enough, the will to live dies.
It is very difficult to “not lose heart” in those circumstances. When painful conditions in life make it difficult to see the good, we must look outside ourselves for hope.
Depression is real and it is more than a simple sadness.
The pandemic has revealed to many—myself included—the unbearable nature of isolation. It has also revealed the inability for many to comprehend the suffering of those who chronically struggle with the darkness.
Last Friday I received news of two suicides. One was a friend and the father of my nieces and nephew. Steve was a fun loving, jolly sort of fellow. I enjoyed his company immensely. He was smart, witty, and quick with a compliment. I remember early in my journey when I ran into him at the grocery store. He got this big grin on his face and said, “Margaret, you are looking really good. Good job!” There was something in his chemistry that made him a joy to be around. When I heard his light had gone out, I felt the darkness more deeply.
The other was a man I did not know but whose ministry impacted many Christians. His name was Darrin Patrick. He was an influential religious leader who was married with four children. He founded the Journey church in St. Louis. A friend of his told me he was insightful about scriptures and courageous with the gospel message. He was a pastor to many and a good man.
When I learned about the deaths of these men, I knew their pain. I have been fumbling through the darkness for a few weeks now. I have reached out to various friends and sought comfort in the scriptures. But the darkness remained—as it often does. (If you are not a regular reader, I write frequently of my struggles with depression.)
My cries for help in the darkness were met with varying responses. My chiropractor told me my serotonin levels were low and gave me a supplement to try (along with acupuncture). I went running and cycling—which helped for an hour or two. I listened to sermons on resilience. I listened to the testimony of women who have suffered and survived. But at the end of the day, I fell into bed with the same thought in my mind: I can’t do this anymore.
One morning I woke early and went for a run. The thought, “I can’t do this anymore” was pounding in my head with the force of a mallet pushing a nail through oak. It was early so I called a friend I knew would be awake and asked her to pray for me. I wept as she reminded me that the devil is real and this thought was a lie. She rebuked the spirit of death and prayed peace over me. But the depression did not lift. I arrived home exhausted and not experiencing any peace whatsoever.
I feel naked writing such things. But I don’t write for pity. I share to shed light for those who have never walked in the darkness. Depression is irrational. It is a sneaky thief that steals all hope. And when we lose hope inside ourselves, we have to look outside ourselves for help.
“As he drew near to Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. And hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what this meant. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by. And he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!’ and Jesus stopped and commanded him to be brought to him. And when he came near, he asked him, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ He said, ‘Lord, let me recover my sight.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.’ And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.” – Luke 18:35-43
Jesus heals a blind man
My niece wrote on Facebook of her father, “I should have been your peace.” Many people who love a depressed person echo her thoughts. We want to help those who are suffering. We want to ease their pain. But the love and compassion of people cannot heal the hopeless heart. I know because they have not healed mine. Steve and Darrin had so many people who loved them but, in the end, the death-loving whisperers poisoned their minds and led them into madness. For this is what suicide is: madness!
So, we cry out like the blind man to Jesus, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
The gospel message that Jesus brought from heaven to earth was the purest form of love that ever existed. He said, “For I tell you that this Scripture must be fulfilled in me: And he was numbered with the transgressors. For what is written about me has its fulfillment.” (Luke 22:37) He was referencing the prophet Isaiah who wrote in the middle of the 6th century, “Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong, because he poured out his soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors.” (Isaiah 53:12)
But Margaret, you say, what does this mean? What does it have to do with me? What does some stuff a weird old guy wrote thousands of years ago matter? I am in pain NOW. I have lost hope NOW. I can’t go on TODAY.
Jesus was the son of God. He came to earth to take our sins and be punished for them on the cross. The wrath of God (his father) was poured out on him so that we might have peace. That is why he is called the Prince of Peace. He purchased our pardon. He saw our suffering in the form of regret. He knew our inability to stop drinking, our unwillingness to stop stealing, our stubborn, hard-hearted frustration with people who are repeatedly hateful to us. So, he left the throne room of Heaven and took on a frail human body and was tortured to death for you and for me. He hung on the cross and looked out into time for everyone who has struggled and said, “I died so that you might live!”
And then, HE ROSE FROM THE DEAD!
I sat down at the piano this morning and played a song I learned as a child. It is a song that comes to mind every time the darkness thickens. It is the light of hope sent from the Holy Spirit in times of deepest distress. I sing it when hope is far away to remind me that I am loved. When people fail me, when friends forsake me, when even my church family grows weary of my sighing, Jesus never does. I am copying the link to my video here. I am not a professional musician but I wanted to be completely vulnerable with my readers (so don’t tell me I’m off key!). This is what depression looks like. This is the hope we have in Jesus. We sing with exuberance and confidence, “You said you’d come and share all my sorrows. You said you’d be there for all my tomorrows. And Jesus said, Come to the water, stand by my side. I know you are thirsty, you won’t be denied. I felt every teardrop when in darkness you cried and I came to remind you, that for those tears I died.”
Do not lose heart, my friends. He is with us and for us. And if you don’t know him, cry out today, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And He will shine the light of the knowledge of the glory of God into your heart and make your blind eyes see.
This blog is dedicated to the memory of Steve Eisman and Darrin Patrick – I wish you had eyes to see.
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