The Sweetest Savior

There are so few people who are willing to visit the lonely and afflicted. To sit with the suffering person requires courage that most of us lack. We wonder, will we say something that causes them further distress? Will we somehow make them angry? What if they yell at us? Throw things? Weep unabashedly? We don’t want to wander into dark hallways where cobwebs lurk and so we wait for them to heal and return to our frothing play in the sunshine. But there is One who goes to such places and his comfort is sweet. And so for those who long for comfort, know this, you are never forsaken nor alone. If you invite Him to come close, he will.

I remember listening to Jason Gray on the radio not too long ago. He is a musician I enjoy and from whose music I take solace. He described a moment in his life where he confided to a friend that his marriage was crumbling. It was a fearful confession and a deeply painful one. His friend opened his arms wide and said, “Come here.” Then he wrapped his arms around Jason and just held him and let him cry. I remember thinking that there is nothing more profound than one who will hold us in our suffering and say nothing. There are times when words only inflict more damage when all we really need is the safe and protective arms of a friend.

I have been struggling with depression again. It is a frustrating condition, one which removes all the good feelings that make life fun and replaces them with darkness. I can remember the happy days, the carefree words to friends and co-workers, and the silly jokes. But now I’m drowning. I can’t catch a breath. My every thought is, “Swim! Swim! Swim!” because if I don’t, I’m going down and I may not make it back to the top.

Depression is a thief. And it’s really hard to be around someone who battles it. The day in and day out struggle of fighting for ones life is a grueling endeavor, and loved ones often get tired too. This morning that happened to me. I tried to talk to my husband about the pain I was feeling by sharing a deep wound I have carried since childhood. He said, “I want to help you but I can’t. And honestly, I can’t deal with this today. I’m leaving.” And he went out to enjoy the sunshine while I sat in silence wondering when the dark clouds will lift.

There is something immensely healing about tears. I think tears are natures way of rooting out the emotional poisons that lurk in our bodies. When we cry we release not only our emotional pain but all of our pretentions. I don’t believe tears are a sign of weakness, but rather of strength. Maybe that is why when I cry I feel relief.

I rode my bike and wept. I wept for what was and what will be. I wept for the wounds I have bourn in my body and the wounds I have caused others. I wept over my fear, my anxiety, my disquietness over relationships past and present. I wept because I wanted someone to hold me and not say anything and that somebody is nowhere to be found. Pain is that omnipresent human experience. It takes only a tiny needle to remind us just how wimpy about it we really are. So when I consider how important it is to have a friend who cares deeply about my sorrows, I am filled with gratitude.

“You have kept count of my tossings, put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” – Psalm 56:8

I have a lot of people in my life who tell me how to heal depression. They tell me I need more faith, more healthful food, more rest, a positive attitude, or the least helpful thing of all, “to just get over it!” I’m trying, I say. And they get frustrated when I’m not instantly healed and ready to go play. But God never responds to me that way. He meets me in my disquietude and pulls out his bottle. Then, he gently places it next to my cheek and begins to count, “One, two, ten, fifty-six…” And he never says the wrong thing. He encourages me to rest and know that I am loved and cared for.

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?”
– Psalm 56-3,4

Maybe there are people who have never experienced the kindness of God. Maybe they don’t think he’s real or that if he is, he is judging them or hating them or just waiting to put the whammy on them. But in our weak moments, when all of the frivolities of life crumble and the intense throb of a hammer on our thumb reminds us of our frailty, he is there. And when we are brave enough to admit our weakness, he expressly enters into our suffering and comforts us with his grace.

God met with me this morning. He whispered words of love to me once again. He looked on me with favor and said I am his precious child and that I am deeply and desperately loved. He proved it on the cross so I have no reason to doubt it. My pain is not the end of the story. God is my hero, my cornerstone, my refuge and strength. And if you are suffering or struggling today, reach out to him and he will help you too. Depression is a sickness but there is a great Healer and I trust him. Even in the pain, I trust Him.

“Blessed is the one who considers the poor! In the day of trouble the Lord delivers him; the Lord protects him and keeps him alive; he is called blessed in the land; you do not give him up to the will of his enemies. The Lord sustains him on his sickbed; in his illness you restore him to full health.” – Psalm 41:1-3