Depression

Depression.

A nasty word, a nasty thing.  It’s ugly and dark and life-sucking and terrifying.  And it has no place in this wonderful, blessed life of mine.

And yet, there it is.

Depression, what in the world are you doing here?  It makes NO sense that you should be in this house, in this life.  I am a child of God!  I am loved, I am blessed, forgiven, redeemed!  How dare you take my joy away from me?

 I wrestle.  I wrestle with depression.  I have on and off for a few years.  I am ready to write about it now, even though the battle is not over.  I wrestled, I wrestle.  And God wrestles too.  For me, against me, with me.  I don’t always know which.

But I have to write about it, because writing is what I do. 

Because I know there are others like me who wrestle, but are ashamed or afraid to say it out loud,  I will say things out loud for us.  I am safe in His grace, so I can say it out loud.  I struggle with depression.

I take medicine, I exercise, I sin, I fall, I wait.  He delivers me, somewhat, usually.

Yet I can trust Him, even if I can’t feel Him.

Of this ONE thing I am confident:   Not even depression can steal me out of His hand.

** weak and loved  **