“It’s how the light gets in”
Ahhh it’s time. Long time, no see. It’s been two years since I posted a blog. What?
One of the reasons I love Facebook is for the memories that pop up in my notifications. Today’s memory was a blog I posted four years ago. About postpartum depression. It was the impetus I needed to post a blog today. To come out of hiding. To let my faith be bigger than my fear.
If you’ve read anything I’ve written or are a friend of mine, you know I have battled clinical depression for most of my adult life. But I battle. I don’t give in. I struggle.
I’ve come to be thankful for the struggle. Yes, I can rejoice in my suffering. At 48 years old I am at peace. I am in recovery. I take my medication. I pray. I meditate on God’s truth. I take my thoughts captive. But that doesn’t mean I don’t suffer. It just means God has given me peace in the middle of my storm. He has made me productive in spite of the depression and anxiety. He has shown me his heart. He has allowed me to know him. He hates my depression. He hates this screwed up world that I live in. He loves me! And he loves you! But, yes, I believe he is saddened and angry at our fallen world.
Because it’s not what he meant it to be. It’s not what he wished for. Hoped for. He created us and loves us. He created this world in its beauty and perfection. And then we screwed it up. But he loves us too much to just leave us alone and let it burn. He sent his son. He became just like us and walked among us. He gave his life for us. And God raised him from the dead.
That is why every morning I jam to the song, “Ain’t no grave.”
“Ain’t no grave gonna hold my body down. . . If you walked out of the grave, I’m walking too.”
Early in my faith, I thought all I had to look forward to was heaven. When all things will be made perfect and new. And I do look forward to that. But now I know the truth: Jesus came to give me an abundant life now. Here. In the midst of my struggle with depression. Yes, it’s partly environment – both relational and environmental. It’s part genetics.
I’ve lost count of the times I have lamented and cried out to God – why did you make me this way? Why can’t I be someone else? Why do I have to struggle? Why do I feel things so deeply? Why am I so sensitive? Why is my sixth sense so impossible to ignore? My intuition so chilling?
I’ve stopped asking God those questions. Why? Have I given up on God? Do I not think he can take it away? No, I know he can. But his response to me is, “My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in weakness.”
I’ve stopped wishing to be someone else. I have embraced who God has made me to be. I agree with Ernest Hemingway: “I’m not broken. It’s how the light gets through.”