As something of a disclaimer, I should mention that I'm about to be honest about my life
One of the saddest parts of our western culture is our societal inability to be vulnerably honest, especially on the internet. If anything, social media is to be the place where everyone sees only your good side, right? You only post photos of you having fun or doing something you want everyone else to see you doing. Myself included! I have yet to post a photo of my acne, or videos of my fights with Allie, or a status update of my horrible thoughts. I mean, it makes sense. One of the most basic human needs is to be loved, but unfortunately Facebook has turned that into being "liked," or even tolerated! Real love is so different, and I certainly don't know what it looks like completely, but I have decided that a good start is to be honest. And 90% of the time, being honest means being vulnerable no matter the consequence. If I'm being honest for a desired reaction, I'm not really being honest, am I? Real honesty and vulnerability means letting people see the gross and undesirable parts of us, so they can know that they don't have to do this alone. I'm not alone. We're not alone. You're not alone.
I was a happy kid. In college, I had a thousand friends because I was just so darn happy all of the time. That's why I never saw it coming. It really started as soon as I graduated, but it was about a year later before it fully took over. I thought it was a food allergy. I cut out gluten, sugar, dairy, even even coffee. Sometimes, it seemed to work for a day or two but then it would come back like a hurricane. I called it "The Great Weariness," then "The Terrible Sadness," although words never really worked for relaying how I felt. By themselves, words never do. I finally landed on the only word that seemed to fit. I knew others who struggled with a similar "condition" who would use this word, but it was so hard for me to admit. It was almost as if I had been in denial and the word itself brought the acceptance of the thing which I so hated and feared.
It comes and goes in tidal waves, but a few weeks ago, in one of the lowest times of my entire life (without any circumstantial rational, mind you), I barely made it from my bed to the computer to attempt a description. The following was written in that time:
Depression is aptly named.
What shall we call the feeling of an unimaginable weight that is lurking at every turn to crush us into something that is hardly recognizable? A smooth matrix of sand interrupted by an incredible object, leaving only the impression of the weight in what was before. Smoothness gone, left only with a depression.
It's like a sickness. A tumor in my body. I can even feel it as such. A sharp pain that nearly brings me to my knees yet with a dullness that leaves me with no feeling at all. A centralized physiological location of pain... sort of behind my stomach, but much deeper in my body. Even temporary moments of pleasure are impossible to bear for the knowledge that it won't last. It's as if the darkness in itself is burning it's way to all the lit parts of my body to devour each source.
And yet, the worst part is that God is somehow good. This world is somehow beautiful, but all i know is unimaginable pain. In these moments, the only thing that even comes close is poetry. Only songs can somehow capture what I "feel." Beauty is in the pain, but even that is a maddening concept solely for art.
"Oh God, where are you now? Oh Lord, say somehow"
You're all i have, but why does it feel like i have nothing? I'm imploding.
"The devil is hard on my face again. The world is a hundred to one again."
These psalms of sickness speak to God's heart. I know He wants me, I know He wants to rescue me, sometimes this world just feels like ....
"Oh God, hold me now. Oh God, touch me now."
The thing is... I know many can relate. I think the enemy's primary goal in his use of depression is to make us feel like we're completely alone. I think there's power in knowing that he's a liar.
So, then in my darkness I got up from my desk and and God gave me Psalm 42:
As a deer pants for flowing streams,
David is not singing a cute little woodland melody, this is a tear-stained dirge of raw agony! In my darkest, God saw what I felt and wrote, then immediately gave me that to read. David sat at his desk 3,000 years before I did and poured out his soul in the same way, and God heard Him. God heard me. He was there the whole time, with tears in His eyes, longing for us to see Him through our pain.
I'm not alone. David was not alone. That little psalm of vulnerability made it to our cannon of scripture for a specific purpose. When we accept reality, each moment calls us to answer the most important question that is ever asked: "Is God real, or isn't He?" Because if He's real, then He's real in the pain. If God is real, then He's really with me when I don't feel like it. For us to shrink God so that He can fit inside our constricting box of emotions and feelings, is to replace Him for a God that does not exist. The God that met me on my living room floor and spoke to me with trumpeted clarity, changing the course of my life, is just as present with me in my suicidal depths of agonizing depression.
I wish that I could offer this post as a neat little wrapped up package. I wish I could share all of this as past tense rather than reality. I can tell you that I will be freed of this. I do know that this is spiritual oppression because the enemy doesn't like what God's doing in North Judson. And I am certain that everything I'm going through is because God wants to use me to bring healing for others also. In the chance that you're reading this and going through something similar, know that you're not alone, and that I'm walking with you.
I know this is long, but let me leave you with an amazing story from 2 Chronicles 20. King Jo finds out a massive army is coming to destroy him and his country, so he cried out to the Lord. He says "Oh Lord, I do not know what to do, but my eyes are on You." God answers him and says to go to battle praising him. King Jo and all of Judah go weaponless to battle against an army 3 times their size. They get there and start singing praise and thanksgiving, and the ambush waiting for them mistakes their own army as the enemy. All of the enemies of Judah fight each other until every single man is killed, and not one Jew is touched.
This is a battle, but as Bob Dylan wrote, we fight this battle with God on our side.
we're not alone.
-Trey
Been there with you, Trey! Someone once told me that the soil is the richest in the valley; that is where the seeds take root! I have learned that when I am wandering in the desert, God is preparing me for something even more amazing! That is my prayer for you! Thank you for your honesty and authenticity! We love you and your precious family!
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