Less Than Conquerors

Jesus lies.

Look, I get it. You’re not used to hearing things like that from a pastor, and certainly not a pastor who says that the Bible is God’s inspired Word. It is absolute truth. No question.

But he must be lying about me. He has to be.

He says that I am more than a conqueror. He’s wrong.

Conquerors don’t get home after an easy day and fall apart because it was too much.

Conquerors don’t cocoon in blankets because it is the only way to hold themselves together.

Conquerors don’t cancel appointments because they just can’t handle being around people.

I am no conqueror.

I confess to you: I’m sick of it. I’d like to give up my depression for Lent. Is that a thing? Can we swing that?

I can’t hold myself together.

I’m falling apart. I don’t have the strength to keep going.

I am no conqueror.

I am not enough. I am a fraud. If I write as if I have conquered depression, I have misled you. If I write as if I have all the answers, I have deceived you. Forgive this charlatan.

And as my depression savages me, as it rips me apart, as I am left hollow and alone, I fall.

I fall into the hands of the Living God.

I expect anger for all my failures.

Yes, I know. I tell the true, true story of Jesus’s love every day. I tell how he died for sinners like me. Through the miracle of the Holy Spirit, I even believe it.

But some stories are so hard to believe. They are too good to be true. And sometimes what I know to be true, what I confess, what I cling to – well, sometimes I can’t grasp that they are true. I still fear the hands I have fallen into. I know all my failures. They haunt me.

I am not enough.

But here… here in the hands of the Living God, I do not have to be enough. I do not have to be strong. I do not have to have it all together. Here, in my weakness, I am loved.

It cannot be. It cannot be real. It cannot be true.

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But it is.

I, even I, even failure that I am, even shame that I am, I am loved. I am known and loved. And I cannot fathom. I cannot grasp it. I cannot hold on to something so amazing that it would be true not just for others, but for me, too, for this broken man, it’s true.

I am loved.

I don’t have to put on a show any more. I don’t have to pretend that everything’s ok. Jesus sees who I really am. He sees all the places I have failed.

He loves me anyway.

His love shatters me. I break even more apart in the utter stillness of his acceptance and forgiveness.

“My child, I died for you. You. And I know what you face. Do not fear. You cannot conquer this darkness. You do not have to. I have conquered it for you.”

Do you see? I am no conqueror. He is the conqueror. He has faced death and survived to tell the tale. He has faced the shame of the cross and scorned it. My little shames are nothing compared to that.

And me?

He picks me to be on his team.

I am more than a conqueror… because he conquered for me.

In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

Romans 8:37

If death cannot separate me from his love, how could depression keep him away from me?

No. Jesus did not lie. My heart did.

Forgive me for listening to my heart instead of your voice, my Savior. I need your strength, especially when my heart lies. I need you to hold me, because I am not enough to hold myself together. I need you to remind me that you have chosen me and made me more than a conqueror. Thank you for sharing your victory with me. Now keep your promise and keep me close to you.

Amen.