Last Sunday I had a knock-down drag-out with my old foe Depression, and I took quite a beating. He's haunted me all week, mostly with the question "Where did God go?" and "How can you trust Him when He's not taking care of you?"
Since I've been very cognizant of the depression this week, I've been able to reach out for help. Many thanks to those of you who talked with me, prayed with me, encouraged me, hugged me, and/or decided to love me despite the fact that I've been crazy and irrational. I appreciate you.
I've been falling apart, unable to handle anything, and not wanting to try. I spent at least three days holed up in my room, accomplishing next to nothing. Yet there were times this week that I had to be strong, when people needed me to speak truth, pray with authority, and be a spiritual leader. I found that depression wasn't able to steal away my core of faith. In the midst of the darkness, God showed me that my belief in Him has grown and convinced me that it can never be stolen away.
Tonight I figured out where God is. He showed himself again, and I'm prostrate, tears-in-my-eyes grateful. I doubt that this will be the end of the short- or long-term battle with depression, but with the eyes of my heart open to God's guardianship of me I am no longer afraid of the battle.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost... As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Amen.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
my life in a nutshell
While packing for this little trip home, I worked very hard to be reasonable. Not including my computer, journal, or planner, I brought only three books with me. I was proud of that.
My luggage didn't make my connecting flight, so my mom and I went shopping while we waited for my bag to arrive in Buffalo. We came across a bookstore -- one that was going out of business. Everything was 80% off. We spent $100. I bought at least a dozen books.
Last night, a book on my father's coffee table caught my attention. I picked it up, leafed through it, read a couple pages in the middle. I asked to borrow it, and I'm about halfway through now.
Three books, twelve books, and the one I end up reading.
Ridiculous.
My luggage didn't make my connecting flight, so my mom and I went shopping while we waited for my bag to arrive in Buffalo. We came across a bookstore -- one that was going out of business. Everything was 80% off. We spent $100. I bought at least a dozen books.
Last night, a book on my father's coffee table caught my attention. I picked it up, leafed through it, read a couple pages in the middle. I asked to borrow it, and I'm about halfway through now.
Three books, twelve books, and the one I end up reading.
Ridiculous.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
22 words
I've started reading a wonderful blog called 22 words, wherein the author's posts about life and Christianity are never more than the specified length. It wasn't until he posted about how he learned things about his father by reading an interview that I realized who he is: Abraham Piper, John Piper's son.
Today his post was this fabulous question:
I highly recommend reading through the sixty or so comments posted so far. They are eye opening and encouraging.
And I pose the same question to you. How is your life the same or different than you thought it would be?
Today his post was this fabulous question:
How accurate were your younger self's ideas about your older self's life?
I highly recommend reading through the sixty or so comments posted so far. They are eye opening and encouraging.
And I pose the same question to you. How is your life the same or different than you thought it would be?
tangible
In the awesome sermon Pastor Bob gave last semester about why to choose God instead of sin, he mentioned that Christians are never really satisfied.
What he meant is that we are never really satisfied here on Earth, because until we're completely sanctified and united with Jesus, we're just... incomplete. It is right for us to yearn for Christ, to be left thirsty for more. Dan often quotes the opening lines of Augustine's Confessions:
Lately my struggle has been trusting that God will satisfy me.
I'm starting to learn to look to Him rather than my old vices for comfort. Now, to be clear, the old vices are only comforting in the short term. They induce chemical changes in my body in one way or another that placate me, but after that wears off or my conscience kicks in, I'm left bereft.
With God, I get the comfort in the long run -- eventually finding things to be thankful for, eventually worshiping, eventually getting the joy back and finding consolation. But honestly, I often don't feel like God is doing anything about meeting my needs in the short term. When everything seems gray and hopeless, I want to hear His voice, to see His face, to feel God's loving arms in one way or another. Often what I get is growing loneliness and keen awareness that my faith is too small.
I spoke to a friend about this the other day, asking for prayer that I'd be able to keep turning to God even when I don't have any tangible feeling that He's there and taking care of me. She agreed to pray, but left me with this challenge:
In some ways this is obvious, because if God is who He says He is and I need a tangible response, He'll give it to me. But it's kind of scary, thinking that God would ask me to let go of all the things that bring me comfort and turn to Him...but then just silently leave me there, hurting.
He's God. If that's what He wants, then I'll deal with it. It'll probably build my character. Maybe later on I'll even break down and be thankful for it.
But it just sucks when you know God's the answer, the reason for it all, and the one that loves you best, and He chooses to hide Himself.
I want to know, not just believe.
I long for God Himself, not just more faith.
Faith, hope, and love. I'm looking forward to the day when we won't need faith or hope anymore.
What he meant is that we are never really satisfied here on Earth, because until we're completely sanctified and united with Jesus, we're just... incomplete. It is right for us to yearn for Christ, to be left thirsty for more. Dan often quotes the opening lines of Augustine's Confessions:
...thou hast made us for thyself and restless is our heart until it comes to rest in thee.
Lately my struggle has been trusting that God will satisfy me.
I'm starting to learn to look to Him rather than my old vices for comfort. Now, to be clear, the old vices are only comforting in the short term. They induce chemical changes in my body in one way or another that placate me, but after that wears off or my conscience kicks in, I'm left bereft.
With God, I get the comfort in the long run -- eventually finding things to be thankful for, eventually worshiping, eventually getting the joy back and finding consolation. But honestly, I often don't feel like God is doing anything about meeting my needs in the short term. When everything seems gray and hopeless, I want to hear His voice, to see His face, to feel God's loving arms in one way or another. Often what I get is growing loneliness and keen awareness that my faith is too small.
I spoke to a friend about this the other day, asking for prayer that I'd be able to keep turning to God even when I don't have any tangible feeling that He's there and taking care of me. She agreed to pray, but left me with this challenge:
What if He's giving you what you need, but what you need isn't a tangible response?
In some ways this is obvious, because if God is who He says He is and I need a tangible response, He'll give it to me. But it's kind of scary, thinking that God would ask me to let go of all the things that bring me comfort and turn to Him...but then just silently leave me there, hurting.
He's God. If that's what He wants, then I'll deal with it. It'll probably build my character. Maybe later on I'll even break down and be thankful for it.
But it just sucks when you know God's the answer, the reason for it all, and the one that loves you best, and He chooses to hide Himself.
I want to know, not just believe.
I long for God Himself, not just more faith.
Faith, hope, and love. I'm looking forward to the day when we won't need faith or hope anymore.
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
(1 cor 13)
Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
(Rev 22, C. Bronte, and me)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
happy much?
I get a kick out of participating in research studies, and I just signed up for this one about personal well-being after reading a blog about it. Lots of questions about your happiness and your attitudes toward life.
Christians have lots of philosophy about happiness.
Some say you shouldn't be concerned with it -- that happiness is just an emotion and it's not very important compared to reliable fruits of the spirit like 'joy.' Others think happiness is integral to Christian life because God has graced us with good gifts and He is glorified when we enjoy them.
Probably one or both of these groups is right. We can talk some other time about delayed gratification, and righteousness that leads to joy, and how we're so depraved we don't even know what will satisfy us. I don't really feel like thinking about it.
I like being happy.
When happy moments come, like in worship at Connexion or while hanging out at the playground with friends, laughter, and warm late-night breezes, I try to savor them. I'm not the best at the heavier stuff, the righteous choices and all, but when I'm sitting with a friend and a cup of tea, or settling in with a good book, or plotting a fun surprise for someone special, or giggling about broadway arms, shiny shirts, vampires in baseball uniforms, twinkling eyes, finding Waldo, or the numbers one through nine, life is great.
Does happiness matter to you? What has made you happy lately?
Christians have lots of philosophy about happiness.
Some say you shouldn't be concerned with it -- that happiness is just an emotion and it's not very important compared to reliable fruits of the spirit like 'joy.' Others think happiness is integral to Christian life because God has graced us with good gifts and He is glorified when we enjoy them.
Probably one or both of these groups is right. We can talk some other time about delayed gratification, and righteousness that leads to joy, and how we're so depraved we don't even know what will satisfy us. I don't really feel like thinking about it.
I like being happy.
When happy moments come, like in worship at Connexion or while hanging out at the playground with friends, laughter, and warm late-night breezes, I try to savor them. I'm not the best at the heavier stuff, the righteous choices and all, but when I'm sitting with a friend and a cup of tea, or settling in with a good book, or plotting a fun surprise for someone special, or giggling about broadway arms, shiny shirts, vampires in baseball uniforms, twinkling eyes, finding Waldo, or the numbers one through nine, life is great.
Does happiness matter to you? What has made you happy lately?
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