Drew raised
a question on his blog the other day about the ways depression can “minister”. I’m not particularly sure how to answer that, because “minister” is a bit of a loaded word for me right now, but it did get me thinking about some of the things I learned in the midst of the seven years I suffered from depression.
A few months ago another friend, as a way of illustrating a point in a much longer conversation asked me “Do you regret your experience with depression?” I answered her in the following way, “I regret sometimes that I lost what is at this point nearly a third of my life to that place of despair and hopelessness, but no, I don't generally regret the depression. I experience hope and joy more deeply because of it. It's opened so many doors into the broken hearts of others - doors that not many with my "super-christian" background can walk through because of the stigmas attached to mental illness. It taught me how deeply a word of encouragement can be needed, and how important it is to speak those out whenever possible. I could go on I suppose...”
And so, these last few months, as I’ve once again skirted the edges of darkness (managing, for the moment to remain above the abyss), I’ve been thinking again about the things I learned in the midst of those years where there was nothing but darkness, and I thought I’d share some of those lessons…
I learned that you have to honor the questions and the lack of resolution as much as you honor the answers and the resolution.
I learned that you shouldn’t make decisions or take strong actions on the really bad days. And that you can’t let all the bad days become completely paralzying - because if they're all bad days and you're not making decisions on the bad days, you get stuck in a hellish sort of cyclical rut.
I learned that God is sovereign, and even in the darkest of spaces He is absolutely, completely and totally worthy of my worship.
I began the (ongoing) process of learning that it is okay to be honest, and even angry with God, and that he doesn’t generally “smite” you for your honesty or anger.
I learned that light and darkness are far more intertwined than most people would care to admit, and that, in the words of Bruce Cockburn, sometimes you take “another step deeper into darkness, closer to the light.”
I learned that in those moments when you are the most spent, when you have absolutely nothing left to offer, and more is still required of you, God is faithful, just in that moment, just as you need it, to provide the more that is required.
I learned that sometimes just sitting and sipping a cup of tea can be a prayer.
I learned that suffering, despite the “re-assuring” words of many, is rarely beautiful when you’re in the midst of it, but that beauty really is offered for ashes, and you just may not see that until you reach the other side.
I learned that if you find friends who can love you deeply in your darkest spaces, you should hold onto them – they’ll be some of the best people to be around when you’re no longer walking in the dark.
I learned that if there is something or someone who can make you smile or laugh, even if the smile or laugh only penetrates your head and doesn’t make it to your heart, you should spend as much time as possible with that person or thing.
I learned that if someone offers to pray for and with you, even if that someone makes you cringe inside, you should probably let them. Sometimes the prayers of someone outside the darkness can push the edges of the darkness back for a little while.
I learned that a hug is truly one of the greatest gifts.
I learned that sometimes, just having someone who will sit with you and listen as you empty your heart, and hold you as you cry, is the most healing thing possible.
I learned that even in the midst of darkness, creation cries out the name of Jesus. And that you should spend time in that creation, because it lets light in.
I'd imagine that there are more lessons... in fact, I'm certain there are, but these are some of the ones that spring immediately to mind.
