Depression: Looking Up from the Stubborn Darkness (26 page)

“The more the universe seems comprehensible, the more it seems pointless ... . The effort to understand the universe is one of the very few things that lifts human life a little above the level of farce, and gives it some of the grace of tragedy.”
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The “grace of tragedy.” Apart from the telling of a different story, that is the most we can hope for. Perhaps “the grace of tragedy” is enough for those who find a certain romance and heroism in a completely pessimistic and lifeless endpoint, but such a perspective is a luxury reserved for those who have somehow found temporary hope within themselves. For the rest of us, “modernity was defined by the attempt to live in a universal story without a universal storyteller.”
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In post-modernity, there is neither universal story nor storyteller.

God’s story goes from eternity to eternity. It starts with, “In the beginning, God.” He is the Creator and we are his creatures. Immediately this retelling subverts all other stories. Other stories are always looking for ways to humanize God and deify us, but God’s story exalts him and brings appropriate humility to us as his creatures. All wisdom starts here. If you miss it, you are on the wrong path and without hope.

Words of comfort often begin with God reaffirming that he is the Creator and we are his creatures.

“This is what the L
ORD
says—your Redeemer, who formed you in the womb: I am the L
ORD
, who has made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who spread out the earth by myself.” (Isa. 44:24)

In this case, God’s self-revelation as Creator is a comfort because it reminds us that there is no other god who can thwart God’s intent. His plans will prosper. Also, it reminds those listening that they are not God. They are God’s offspring, who owe allegiance to him and no other.

The story continues. He creates a people for himself but his people choose a different story. Yet God continues with his plan and pursues wayward creatures. There is hope throughout, but sin and death are prominent. That is why the authentic story of hope hinges on the resurrection of Jesus. It is God’s answer to a hopeless world.

The resurrection of Jesus introduces the extended climax of God’s story. It goes from the resurrection to his final return, when he announces the consummation of all things. During this climax, God assures us that those who have placed their faith in Jesus will also be resurrected, but final bodily resurrection will have to wait for Jesus’ return. Jesus is the first-fruits, the elder brother who prepares the way. Our own final resurrection is stored in trust for us, so for now we wait. We wait with the expectation of someone who will soon give birth or soon be married, but we wait. And while we wait, we groan. Yet in the midst of our groaning, we hope. We live like Jesus who, in the midst of suffering, anticipated his resurrected life with the Father. If Jesus’ life was rooted in hope, then we are honored and humbled that our lives can do the same.

If you are hopeless, there may be many contributors, but two are certain. First, you have placed your hope in something other than God—a person, money, personal reputation—and it has let you down. Second, you may understand that Jesus conquered death, but you live as though he is still in the grave. All hopelessness is ultimately a denial of the resurrection. It falsely prophesies that the last words are death, despair, meaninglessness, ruin, and nothing. Yet the resurrection trumps death, sin, misery, and everything touched
by the curse. Resurrection is the last word; as a result, “your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Cor. 15:58).

Have you cried out to the Lord in your hardship? The resurrection says that such an act of faith has eternal value.

Have you sought to love in your hardship? The resurrection says that such an act has eternal value.

Have you sought to be humbly obedient to Jesus? Have you done anything because of Jesus? The resurrection says that this comes out of faith that will prove to be worth more than gold (1 Pet. 1:7).

Some hopeless people who anticipate only death cite Scripture that says “I desire to depart and be with Christ” (Phil. 1:23). But Christ is not what hopeless people really want. The God-talk is misleading. The goal of hopelessness is to end the suffering, and if God happens to be there when it happens, fine. But God’s presence is not essential.

Consider your own story. If you believe that Jesus is the risen Lord, then your story is this:

I am created by God. I am his offspring; he is my Father. I have sinned, but like the father of the prodigal son, my Father has pursued me. He sent Jesus to be the sacrifice for my sin and redeem me from the grave and the Evil One. Now I live for the One who died for me but is alive. I fight against sin through the power of God’s Spirit, and I look forward to the day when sin and suffering are over and I see Jesus face to face.

Notice the apostle Paul’s rendering of the story. He begins with his résumé: he was circumcised, from the right Hebrew tribe, from the right guardians of the law, and he kept the law faultlessly.

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss
compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ ... . I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. (Phil. 3:7–11)

He could also tell a shorter story. “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Phil. 1:21). Such a story makes hopelessness impossible.

What is your story? Our goal is to accept Scripture’s telling of it and make it our own, but too often we add personal edits and devise alternate endings. We insert chapters about how we need something from this world, such as love from other people or personal success. We reason that we are only human, not recognizing that we were made for something much greater than putting our hopes in created things. We interject themes that run independent of our relationship with God. For example, one part of our story could be about what God has done, but another part is about our quest for independence. We leave the Father’s house and embark on our own journeys, and we foolishly hope in this life rather than in Jesus. We make our story about pain, and we climax it with the release of pain rather than with Jesus. All these emendations to God’s story are guaranteed to result in hopelessness.

Most people believe that eternity will be better than the present. This, of course, is true for those who hope for Jesus’ return. When we see Jesus, “there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain” (Rev. 21:4). But there is something that is arguably even better. Therefore, if you are going to look forward to the gifts God gives us
when we see him face to face, hope for this: when we see Jesus,
we will no longer be people who sin
(1 John 3:3).

Yes, that is what is better. Think of it. We will love God perfectly. We will love others without reservation. We will think less often of ourselves and delight in the fact that eternity is about God and not us. We will be thrilled by the fact that God’s glory is on display for all his people to see; being pain-free will be no more than a pleasant realization that occasionally sneaks into our awareness. Given a choice, a sinless eternity with the loving God is much preferred over a pain-free one where sin still bedevils.

Be certain to incorporate this into your story. You are becoming what you were intended to be—a sinless child of the Most High God.

When you purposefully make God’s universal story your own, you will always be looking in two directions. You will be looking backward to the cross and looking forward to the time when you see Jesus, the object of your hope.

When we look back at the cross we see forgiveness of sin, the love and generosity of God to sinners, the fact that we now approach God without fear, the righteousness we receive rather than earn. These and many other promises are “yes,” and they radically change the present. We can live as people who have been given a great gift, so there is a persistence of thankfulness and joy. We have no reason to think we must repay God for our sins. We have no reason to fear. We don’t have to play it safe.

Living means choosing, and choosing means running the risk of making mistakes, and accepting the risk of being guilty of making mistakes.
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The cross means that we have freedom to make mistakes.

The resurrection of Jesus confirms that he truly was the Son of God with power; it redirects our attention to the future resurrection of all who believe. It points to heaven, and heaven is what brings meaning to the present. It means that your house will not be sold to a developer. Someday it will be a thing of great beauty, so you
do
change the carpets, work the garden, and paint the exterior. You know that your work will not be in vain; the master builder has determined that your less-than-professional attempts will contribute to the final masterpiece. Nothing we do because of Christ will be in vain. This brings purpose and diligence to the present.

But there is something else that hope does in the here and now. It opens our eyes so that we, like the psalmist, can see the ongoing work of God. The psalmist says, “I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the L
ORD
in the land of the living” (Ps. 27:13). The truth of God’s story is that he is on the move right now. He is changing us, enlarging his church, and bringing all history to a climax.

The book of Revelation is the best-known teaching that God is presently at work. It is written to people who are going through great suffering, wondering if evil actually wins so that the church gradually is brought to nothing. To encourage them, God parts the curtain of heaven so his people can see that the armies of God are on the move
now.
God both is winning and has won.

When you know that God’s strategy is playing out perfectly, you see much more. For example, let’s say that you are watching the Olympic 10,000-meter run. Your favorite runner seems to be struggling in the middle of the pack. You might be tempted to interpret every grimace as further evidence that she won’t win, and with every lap you are more certain of eventual defeat. But what if you know more details, such as the fact that her best time is more than twenty seconds better than anyone else in the field? Or the fact that she usually stays with the pack until the last two laps and then suddenly accelerates to a pace that can’t be matched? Or the fact that she
always
seems to be struggling—that is just the way she runs? If you know these things, you will interpret the race differently. You will be optimistic, confidently pointing out the strategy, and interpreting her grimace as a personal trademark rather than a cause for alarm.

When you look around at yourself and the world around you, it is easy to be pessimistic because the future doesn’t always look very promising. But when you know the conclusion—that the church will win and Christ will reign—you are able to see the Spirit of God move in the details.

Ask God to open your eyes so you can see his goodness in the land of the living.

God’s story is a great story. We, however, are people of habit. Change does not come easily or quickly. We stubbornly cling to past interpretations and old stories even when God’s universal story is much better. The reason is not that we lack education and knowledge, but that we overflow with pride.

You have been crafting your own story for years. It isn’t original, having been pieced together with scraps from your culture and people you admired, with your own unique twists. But it is your own. To adopt a different story, with a different hero, means that we must say, “I was wrong.” Given the options, many of us opt to stay with our old story.

Deep change is rarely a matter of knowledge. It is a matter of repentance. We have chosen a path apart from God; repentance is the process of turning back. We have chosen a different story, filled with subtle lies about God, questioning his love, care and compassion. Repentance means to renounce our story and believe that there is only one Storyteller. God alone is authorized to interpret our lives.

Hope will only grow in the ground of humility.

This is such a critical issue that it is worth an extended response.

First, note that there is an edge to hope. It refuses to surrender and sit passively while misery abounds. “Hope finds in Christ not only a consolation
in
suffering, but also the protest of the divine promise
against
suffering.”
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Hope says that things are not now the way they are supposed to be, and it actively partners with God to bring in the consummation of his kingdom. It is an act of rebellion against the status quo.

Second, if hope is nothing more than believing the promises of God, the lack of hope is unbelief. Lack of hope reveals that we really don’t believe what God has said. Therefore, it is sin.

Third, hope is a community affair. Church, like everything else for hopeless people, can seem irrelevant and meaningless. But one way it blesses us is that it reminds us of the true story. The songs, prayer, sermon, and fellowship all serve to remind us of reality. When hopeless people attend church, they often come daring the preacher to say something that will be helpful to them. As a result, they miss the retelling of the story.