Depression Has Me

I have depression. Which really means that depression has me. It owns me.

I don’t call up the friendly neighborhood depression salesman and say, “Yeah, Thursday? Could you stop by? I’m a little low on purposeless gloom.” And it’s not even that I forget to pay the happyman. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t send the check for my monthly supply of glee. Can I make up the difference on next month’s bill?”

Nope. Depression owns me.

But I’m a Christian. OK, I’m not supposed to be a grinning idiot at all times. I’m not some megapreacher that always has to look smarmy. I get that. Sadness is a part of being Christian. Jeremiah wrote Lamentations. Martha mourned at the grave of her brother. Christians suffer. It’s part of who we are.

But shouldn’t I have joy, no matter my emotion at the moment? Isn’t that what Paul said? “Rejoice in the Lord always! I say it again: Rejoice!”

Oh, never mind. It’s depression. We’ll just snuff out that joy. Can’t have that around.

It’s like I suddenly lose the ability to even fake a smile. I lose the ability to care. I can go through the motions of what I need to do, but there’s no will behind it. In case you’re wondering, that kind of depression can be hell on most people. For a pastor who’s supposed to be happy to see people? Yeah, not so good.

It’s supposed to be better than this. I have my joy! You can’t take this joy from me!

And the depression mocks me. It plucks the joy from between my hands. It swallows whatever light I have.

And now I’m lying on my side, without even the will to pull up into the fetal position. I’m done. Depression owns me, and it’s having its way. I’m not strong enough to hold on to the joy that Jesus gives. What right do I have to fight back at all? Let it ravage my heart and all that lies within me. I won’t fight.

I know that it’s the depression. I know this in my head, but it does not change the weight on my heart.

Because I cannot hold on to the joy that Jesus gives.

But Jesus holds me.

Depression tries to enslave me. But Jesus owns me. He paid for me with blood and suffering and death. He has paid a dear price. What has depression Gel types levitra online cheap get liquefied so soon inside the mouth after some moments of consumption. The dosage pattern basically depends upon levitra without rx the age or how badly it has affected the person, age of the patient, etc. But if this term is not there this is approximately surely nothing that one was provided. http://davidfraymusic.com/2015-16-season/ acquisition de viagra In order http://davidfraymusic.com/buy-7437 viagra online online to get the right solutions and complete peace of mind, what all you have to do it and understand your child. paid to own me? Nothing.

I do not belong to depression. I have depression. Jesus has me. This is the way of things.

All those failures? They are mine. I am a failure. I am a broken man. I am so little. I wear such shabby rags when I parade around in my accomplishments.

But Jesus has given me a new record. He dresses me in a gleaming robe of righteousness. And I am not good enough for it. He wastes it on a nobody like me. And yet, he lavishes me with his love. With the honor he has earned. He gives me his record of success. Of conquering the sins I have rolled around in.

He makes me whole.

Look, this doesn’t mean that I’m grinning like an idiot. It means that I’m not alone in my suffering. It doesn’t mean every problem is solved. It means that it’s not my job to find the solution.

I have depression. Jesus has me.

I still hurt. That void continues. But the void is a lie. I am still a failure, but that is not the end of my story. Because Jesus has made me something different.

I have been made new. And I long for the day that it’s all over. I yearn to get rid of these stupid lies that live within me, that worm their way through my heart and lay such hollow eggs to leave me empty. I long for the place where there is no need for broken shepherds to limp as they attempt to tend the sheep. Oh, to lay under the hand of the Shepherd. To know – to know in ways I cannot fathom now – that all is good, that my Shepherd loves me even in my pain, even in my hurt, that I am not alone, that these lies are lies, and to know that not only in my head, but to laugh at the sheer ludicrousness of what they claim.

And he himself knows every grief. He wept when he was here. He doesn’t hold us as someone who doesn’t understand. Our Brother has not forgotten his sojourn here. Oh, Christian, do you see? He doesn’t take away your sorrow, because he walks with you in it. Because he wishes to show you that his love is real, whether or not you feel it. Because he wants to point you beyond the pain of today, to the cross, to the proof that he has not forgotten.

This pain is good. My depression is a gift. It forces me to say that yes, my strength is not in me. And I cannot hold on to any joy.

But joy holds on to me.

My Jesus holds me in his hands, and none can move me from his grasp. Not because I hold on to him, but because he holds on to the one he has bled for. And my brokenness points me to that assurance.

I am a Christian. I have depression. Jesus has me.

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In this series, we’ll take a look at depression and see what God’s Word says about it. We won’t make light of depression. It is real. But Jesus is bigger than my depression, and he is bigger than your depression.

Check back at Bread for Beggars each Monday morning for another post in this series.