Depression: Looking Up from the Stubborn Darkness (18 page)

Jonah did not get what he wanted. “Jonah was greatly displeased and became angry” (Jon. 4:1). Although the text doesn’t state it directly, we know from other Scripture that inappropriate anger, regardless of where it is directed, is ultimately against God. It is saying that God is not good, and that his judgments should be judged rather than trusted.

Jonah then followed a well-worn path. His dashed hopes and anger descended into self-pity. “Now, O L
ORD
, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live” (Jon. 4:3). Since Jonah had such a keen sense that God was the giver and taker of life, suicide was out of the question, but he opted for the Old Testament version of it and asked God to take his life. God had not given him what he wanted, so he was angry and hopeless.

“Have you any right to be angry?” was all that God said. Jonah ignored the question.

The next day, while Jonah was sitting outside the city limits, hoping against hope to see fire rain on Nineveh, the Lord shaded him with a vine and then withered it. Now Jonah was even angrier. He wanted shade and God did not give him what he wanted.

“It would be better for me to die than live,” Jonah said, to no one in particular.

“Do you have a right to be angry about the vine?” God asked.

“I do,” he said. “I am angry enough to die” (Jon. 4:8–9).

There it is: the triad of unmet expectations, anger, and self-pity. When they persist, they lead to thoughts of death.

We can assume that Jonah wrote this story, which is astounding because he is willing to make himself look so bad. It was one thing
to run from God’s call to preach to Nineveh. It was spiritually incorrect but politically correct. He could be interpreted as a patriot. But it was quite another to reveal his self-pity, which is never attractive and is even worse in print. He clearly wants us to learn from him.

God is big.
God’s greatness is on display in this short book. Prior to Jonah, God was certainly greater than all other gods, but this is the first official missionary journey outside Israel’s borders. God is announcing that he is also the God of the Gentiles. In other words, God is much bigger than anyone thought. He is the God over the world, not just a particular people.

Have you ever had a sense of peace when you witnessed majestic mountain peaks or ocean expanses? If so, you bear testimony to how we are blessed when we encounter something bigger than ourselves. Our own burdens seem a little lighter when we witness the awesome and the majestic. Such bigness, of course, points to the Creator who is bigger than his creation. Jonah is revealing to us the God who is bigger than we think, and that is just the medicine we need to take us out of ourselves.

God is good.
The character of God has infinite facets. “God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable, in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, and truth.”
¹
Of these and many other attributes, Scripture often emphasizes that God is great and good, powerful and loving. In Jonah’s book, these qualities are on display. The crux of the book is Jonah’s defense. “I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity” (Jon. 4:2). The problem is that this knowledge didn’t make a difference. If anything, it made things worse, at least from Jonah’s perspective.

Odd, given Jonah’s confidence in God’s love, that he would avoid trusting him. Didn’t he believe that God was also merciful to Israel? But his experience matches our own. We might believe that God loves us, but we aren’t so sure he will give us what we want. We want to be loved, and we also want to dictate the
way
and by whom we are loved. Jonah believed that God was gracious and compassionate, but he wanted love served up as judgment and destruction against his enemies.

Confession is once again the way out. With Jonah and ourselves, when our desires depart from God’s, they become idolatrous. We don’t want anything to get between us and our object of worship. Jonah didn’t want to submit to God; he wanted to
be
a god.

Confession is when we acknowledge the against-God root of our behaviors. It is the beginning of a process where we turn away from our self-focused desires and turn to the Holy God. When we turn, we realize that we had a very small view of his love. In Jonah’s case, he believed that God was good, but he didn’t
really
believe it. He believed that his own plans were better. His myopic vision of God’s love was such that he believed that if God was good to one nation, he couldn’t bless another. He didn’t understand that God could be good to both Nineveh and Jerusalem.

Perhaps you agree that God is good. You know what Christ has done, and you believe that the cross is evidence of God’s goodness. But his goodness doesn’t make a difference to you. It is irrelevant because good is defined on your terms rather than God’s. Like a child, the satisfaction of your plans, your wants, and your desires is the standard for God’s goodness. Jonah tells us that good must be defined by God’s terms, not our own. Otherwise, we are standing in judgment of God.

Do you have a right to be angry?
Jonah is a very personal book. God is not simply telling him what to say to Nineveh; he is having an actual dialogue with Jonah. These conversations are special events in the Old Testament, so you listen closely when you come across them.

There are three sections to the Lord’s words. First, he gives Jonah the message to speak. Then he twice asks Jonah if he has a
right to be angry. He concludes by defending his concern for the people of Nineveh. Notice, in particular, the questions God asks. Jonah has run away from God and now is filled with anger and self-pity because God was merciful. In spite of his recalcitrance, God patiently asks Jonah this question when Jonah asks that his life be taken: “Do you have a right to be angry?”

Try it. When you feel like everything is going against you and suicide seems attractive, ask yourself that question:
Do I have a right to be angry?
When you feel like God has taken away your dreams and hopes, ask,
Do I have a right to be angry?
When you can identify your frustration and are tempted to say,
Yes, I have a right to be angry,
let God reason with you about his love. Let him persuade you to say “no” and to trust him.

Underneath depression’s veil of passivity is a heart that is busy making choices. Sometimes you prefer hopelessness. You want it. You aspire to it. Isn’t that a reasonable way to explain why you are so immune to encouragement? You hear the words and understand them, but you don’t want them. Even though self-pity and your attempts to kill hope are not working well, you are loyal to your hope-killing strategy.

In response, God speaks words of mercy and grace, even though you don’t trust him. Then he repeats them. He pursues you and makes promises to you rather than ask you to make promises to him.

Here are some things about which you can be very optimistic.

He will never leave you. (Heb. 13:5)

He will never put you in a situation where a sinful response is the only way out. (1 Cor. 10:13)

He will give you more and more grace in your battle with sin (Phil. 1:6). You can be optimistic that next week you will love more than you do now.

He will easily be found by those who seek him. He is even found by those who
don’t
seek him. (Rom. 10:20)

He will make you fruitful as you abide in him. (John 15:8)

His purposes will never be thwarted. (Eph. 1:11)

God always says “yes” to these promises.

Depression is right when it says that death and sin cast a shadow over everything. There is reason to feel misery. But depression is wrong in surrendering to this interpretation. It is not the entire story. King Jesus has returned and is establishing his reign. The kingdom broke through with great power when the Holy Spirit was given and it continues to grow (Mark 4:30–32).

Depression, therefore, sees some things accurately but is absolutely blind to others. It misses how the Spirit of the Living God is on the move right now, right in front of you.

On this side of the cross, misery persists but the scales are tipped in favor of joy. The King is seated; the celebration has begun in heaven; we could not be loved anymore than we are right now; and there are tastes of heaven available even now. There are realities present now that can sustain your hopes.

Pray for eyes to see.

Whether you have killed hope or never nurtured it, hopelessness is lethal. You have already heard the question, “Do you want to change?” Now you understand why such a question is important. There are logical reasons to resist change. For example, what if hope creeps in? You might want to feel less miserable but not at the expense of awakening hope. Jonah certainly didn’t want to change, at least not at first. Most likely, you want to change less than you realize. So don’t be deceived. We
do
hopelessness. We choose it. But there is a way out.

Part of the answer goes back to what God says to people who fear. The connection is that fear, like hopelessness, is reluctant to trust God for the future. God says that he will give you grace to handle the disappointments that lie ahead; your task is to live for him in the present. At first, this feels reckless, as if you were enjoying the thrill of a speeding car when you are courting devastation at the next turn. But it isn’t reckless to trust in God rather than yourself.

Therefore, to fight against hopelessness is to take action in the present. You think that checking off a to-do list is unspiritual? When done by faith, it is heroic.

There are paradoxes in depression; there are also apparent paradoxes in the way God works in us. For example, if you want vitality in the present, entrust your future to the Lord. If you want to have glimpses of hope for tomorrow, trust God now.

What are your dashed hopes? What have you done with them? Where are your new, emerging hopes?

I usually teach about five semester-long classes a year, and each class ends with student evaluations. Since my students are trying to be honest rather than mean, I find most of the evaluations helpful. But there are inevitably, in every class, those evaluations that make me feel like I should retreat under the covers for, say, the next ten years.

And that is only one area in which I can experience failure. Add in parishioners who snooze when I preach, the occasional nasty letter about a seminar, the editors of some of my less-than-interesting manuscripts—yes, the extremely helpful editors—and life can feel like I am trying to keep my fingers in an aging dike that is holding back a tide of depression.

Dashed hopes come when we want something and don’t get it. For example, you dreamed about financial security by the time you were forty, but you are still living hand-to-mouth. Although you worked hard, a poor economy conspired against you. Or you dreamed of the ideal marriage, but you are starting to believe that there
is
no Mr. Right. It always seemed as though the wrong person was interested in you and the right person was interested in someone else.

Notice that we can’t always achieve our hopes on our own. The desired object is never fully in our grasp. We need some help to attain it. For that reason, we don’t immediately blame ourselves for these disappointments because we can’t control the outcome.

Failure and shame, however, are different. They point the finger at you more than outside circumstances.
You
have not measured up to your own expectations or the expectations of others. You can even see it in your posture. It is as if the unmet expectations and standards weigh you down. You can almost feel them; you half expect them to register on the bathroom scales. The weight is all on you. There is no one else to blame.

Depression travels hand in hand with low self-worth. It is even part of the American Psychiatric Association’s definition of depression. This sense of worthlessness touches everything you do; it even extends to who you are. (In fact, if you are
not
experiencing low self-worth, you might be experiencing a medical problem that mimics depression.)

Human beings evaluate worth; there is no question about that. We make judgments about people, music, art, and hundreds of other events in a normal day. They are good or bad, valuable or expendable, right or wrong. So it is no surprise that we also make evaluations or judgments about ourselves. According to some standard, we determine that we have not measured up.

Whose standard? It varies, but the emotional consequences are the same. You feel miserable and keep veering off into self-loathing.

The standard may be old parental expectations that were communicated through daily criticism, unpredictable punishment, or parental indifference.

The standard may be cultural expectations of success and failure that become apparent when you receive an invitation to a high school reunion.

The standard may be God’s unwavering commandments.

Whatever the standard, we have failed. As a result, low self-worth is evident in everyone. You will find it in the wealthy physician, the professional athlete, the runway model, and the movie star. The self-judgments of the depressed just tend to be louder.

The way out seems clear: we reject the standards imposed by other people; we don’t worry much about God’s commandments because no one measures up to them anyway; and we reassess ourselves with standards that are less oppressive, more balanced and fair. Like all people, you are a hybrid of good and bad, strengths and weaknesses. If you are going to evaluate the bad, learn to include the good. This would hopefully keep your self-image on an even keel.