Depression: Looking Up from the Stubborn Darkness (7 page)

The knowledge of Christ is revealed most fully at the cross—the death and resurrection of Jesus, the thing of first importance (1 Cor. 15:3–5). The cross is the evidence that Christ’s love is much more than good intentions or compassion without action. It shows us that Christ’s love was a holy love that surpasses our understanding. If we are angry that God allows depression in our lives, we should be reminded that his love is much more sophisticated than we know. Our anger shows that we are small children who think we know what is best.

It is no surprise that the knowledge of Christ is central to God’s plan for everything, not just spiritual warfare. God has exalted Christ over all things. When we know and honor Jesus, God is pleased to
bless us with more: more knowledge, more faith, more love, more hope. We are thus better equipped to fight.

Another reason it is so important to know Jesus is that one of the grand purposes of human existence is to look more and more like him. This is God’s plan for us. It is one of the greatest gifts he could give. It is evidence that he has brought us into his family. If Jesus learned obedience through suffering, we will too. A path
without
hardships should cause us to wonder if we really belong to God.

The challenge for us is to think as God thinks. In other words, our present thinking must be turned upside-down. We once thought that suffering was to be avoided at all costs; now we must understand that the path to becoming more like Jesus goes through hardship, and it is much better than the path of brief and superficial comfort without Jesus. When we understand this grand purpose, we discover that suffering does not oppose love; it is a result of it (Heb. 12:8). We are under the mistaken impression that divine love cannot coexist with human pain. Such thinking is one of Satan’s most effective strategies. It must be attacked with the gospel of grace.

Humble yourself before the Lord.
When you are depressed, you feel like you can’t be any lower. But an appropriate and strengthening response to the love of Christ is humility. Humility is different from feeling low. It is lowering ourselves
before
God and accepting his sovereign will.

Humility says, “God owes me nothing.” “He is not my servant; I am his.” “God is God, and he has the right to do anything he wants.”

This is the gift God gave Job in Job’s spiritual battle. Whereas Job wanted to question God, he was instead questioned
by
God, and after hearing God’s fatherly questions, Job was humbled before him. “ ‘I am unworthy—how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth’ ” (Job 40:4). When you have a growing knowledge of God, your natural response is humility. In the face of such a powerful spiritual response to the knowledge of Christ, Satan is powerless.

Consider your response to spiritual warfare. Do you believe it is happening? If so, you are on the right path. The Spirit is at work in your life.

Now take some small steps to engage in the struggle. Consider reading Job 38–42. The questions might seem harsh, but realize that this is the way Hebrew fathers taught their children. The context is love.

Does this discussion seem irrelevant? If so, you will want to consider two questions. First,
is your allegiance to Jesus Christ?
If it isn’t, be open to knowing Jesus. How could you refuse an opportunity to consider a person who promises life and hope? If you are not sure of your allegiances, do the same thing. Be open to knowing him better. There are ways that you will know Jesus in your suffering that are unique and profound.

If you have publicly voiced your faith in Jesus but now are filled with doubts, can you distinguish between depression and faith? Don’t forget that depression casts its shadow on everything, even faith. As a result, faith won’t feel jubilant. But that doesn’t mean you don’t or can’t believe. That is your job. Jesus said, “The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent” (John 6:29). Say, “Amen” when someone speaks the truth to you. Begin your day with “Yes, Lord, I believe,” however weak your faith may be.

The other question to consider is this:
Do you want to change?
As bizarre as it might seem, depression can come to feel like a friend. You wouldn’t choose this friend if you had a choice, but now that you have him, he is comfortable and predictable. You can even derive personal identity from him, which is especially tempting when you feel like you have no identity without him. If you are not engaging in the spiritual battle we have discussed so far, it is possible that you are deceiving yourself. Perhaps you are merely going through the motions. Then you can say that you have tried when you haven’t, and you can have a clear conscience when you remain entrenched in your hopelessness.

This is a battle. If you want change, you must be willing to take yourself to task.

At first I thought a dose of positive thinking would help Steve out of depression, so I tried to convince him that there really were some good things happening in his life. He still had a job, friends, basic needs met, abilities, and so on. It all sounded good. I actually thought I was encouraging him. My job was done. But it didn’t take long for me to hear what those words sounded like to him. “Blah, blah, Steve, blah, blah, blah.”

I apologized for my lame attempts to look on the bright side— ugh, how trite!—then we set out to identify things that are good and important enough to be worth remembering.

Show a favorite toy to a very young child, then quickly put it behind your back. It demonstrates that you possess magical powers, at least from the child’s perspective. You have just made a solid object vanish!

Now put the toy in front of the child again. Abracadabra, poof, magic! It reappeared out of nowhere.

Of course, you can’t take any credit for this sleight of hand. You are simply taking advantage of a brain that is still maturing. Very young children think the object has disappeared; older children will look behind your back for the hidden toy. For them, it may still be a game, but it is no longer magic. It’s a phenomenon called object permanence—the ability to know that a hidden object still exists although we can’t see it. It is an ability we grow into.

Spiritual reality is like that. You hear a great illustration, you participate in a Christ-centered worship service, and your heart is moved. But within minutes, it is as if you never heard a word and never participated. You leave the same way you entered—a case of spiritual Alzheimer’s. You don’t even hear an echo. It is as though you have not yet reached the stage of object permanence, at least when it comes to the knowledge of God.

With this in mind, Scripture beseeches us to remember. Before Jesus came, Scripture offered many mnemonic devices, such as yearly feasts that celebrated God’s deliverance and Scripture that could be read daily. Since Jesus’ death and resurrection, God is willing to jog your memory day after day. Scripture is more accessible, we celebrate the Lord’s Supper, and we are given the Holy Spirit, who testifies as an eyewitness and continually points us to Christ. God, apparently, is happy to repeat himself.

For some people, repetition becomes a been-there-done-that, and they check out until there is something new. For the wise, however, remembering is essential to the human soul. It is part of that forsaken art of meditating. It is critical to the process of change and a prominent means of doing spiritual battle.

Here is a psalm that can guide your remembering.

Out of the depths I cry to you, O L
ORD
;

O Lord, hear my voice.

Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.

If you, O L
ORD
, kept a record of sins,

O Lord, who could stand?

But with you there is forgiveness;

therefore you are feared.

I wait for the L
ORD
, my soul waits,

and in his word I put my hope.

My soul waits for the Lord

more than watchmen wait for the morning,

more than watchmen wait for the morning.

O Israel, put your hope in the L
ORD
,

for with the L
ORD
is unfailing love

and with him is full redemption.

He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins. (Ps. 130)

Psalm 130 begins with sufferings that have pulled the psalmist into the vortex of death itself. This is what he means when he cries, “out of the depths.” We don’t know how this happened or why, but we do know that he feels close to the grave. In other words, the psalmist understands suffering.

While teetering on the edge of the abyss, the psalmist has a choice: he can mourn his fretful condition, or he can cry out to the Lord. Of course, as both our voice and our guide, he leads us in crying out.

How will he be rescued? Will God subdue his enemies? Will he bring healing? The psalmist needs something powerful, and he needs it soon. He feels like his life is in the balance and, without deliverance, he has minutes left, not days.

Deliverance comes, but, as is God’s custom, it comes in a way we couldn’t have predicted. To be honest, at first glance it seems like a lame rescue attempt. The psalmist is given what appears to be a flimsy lifeline: his God is the one who forgives sins.

This one takes some reflection. We don’t have evidence that the psalmist’s sin caused his suffering. How is he going to take hope in the fact that he is forgiven? How will that rescue him? It seems like a pat spiritual answer to a life or death predicament. If you heard that from a friend, you
might
say “thanks,” but you certainly wouldn’t turn in that direction for help again. On the hierarchy of needs, physical survival seems more basic than spiritual encouragement. But the psalmist is clear on this. He is, without apology, presenting forgiveness of sins as the deepest answer of all. From his perspective, with forgiveness of sins he has hit the mother lode.

To appreciate the psalm’s guidance on this, we have to believe that sin is a problem in our lives. In fact, to really be led by the psalm, we must realize that sin is our deepest problem, even deeper than our depression. Robert Fleming, a persecuted Scottish minister who lived from 1630–94, said, “In the worst of times, there is still more cause to complain of an evil heart than of an evil world.” In a culture where sin is not part of our normal public discourse, to adopt such a perspective will take some work.

Here are some questions to help you get started.

Do you believe that seeing sin in yourself is a good thing?
Here you are, feeling like your self-worth couldn’t be lower, and the discussion turns to sin. Why not just pound the final nail into the coffin? But, contrary to popular opinion, sin is a good thing. More specifically, when we see sin in ourselves it is a good thing. It is good on two counts. First, sin might feel natural, but we were originally created to live without it. True humanness—blessed humanness—is sinless humanness. Of course, on this side of heaven perfection is impossible, but as we battle with sin we get tastes of how we were intended to live.

Second, when we see sin, it is evidence that God is close. It is the Holy Spirit who reveals sin (John 16:8). We don’t have the acumen for it. If you see it, have hope—the Holy Spirit is at work in your life. It is tangible evidence of God’s love.

Do you believe that sin is against God?
To go one step further, while it may be easy to acknowledge that you sin—who doesn’t?—it is tougher to acknowledge that your sin is against God.

We don’t think of most wrongdoing as personal. If we break a law, we are not thinking that we violated city council, Congress or whatever body made the law. But biblical law-breaking is much more personal. It is more like adultery than speeding. Adulterers may feel like they are just doing what they want, but when they are exposed, they realize that their wrongdoing was highly personal. Yes, they are doing what they want, but they are also doing it
against
the spouse. In a similar way, we don’t always realize that sin is conscious rebellion against God. We don’t immediately see that every command arises out of God’s character, and each violation dishonors him. The entire process is much more covert. Only when the Holy Spirit shines his light on our hearts do we realize that sin is personal.

Do you believe that sin is found in imaginations, motives, thoughts, and deeds?
Although we may go through a day without other people actually seeing our sin, we can’t go through an hour without sinning at the level of our thoughts and imaginations. It is there, at the level of the human heart, that you will find selfishness, pride, a desire to be loved rather than love, anger and lack of forgiveness, jealousy, complaining, grumbling, and thanklessness to the God who forgives. All these might be hidden from everyone else, but they are apparent to God.

Can you pinpoint, right now, a handful of sins?
Now for the acid test: What sins do you see right now in your own life? Don’t list ways you have not always succeeded in life; list ways you
presently
sin against God. Start with the obvious ones: you don’t love deeply from the heart; you are concerned with your own success more than God and his kingdom; you are prideful and stand in judgment of others. Then you can get more specific. If you fail on this one, the psalm is meaningless.

The psalmist knew that his sin problem was deeper and more critical than his suffering. (And remember that, if he authored
biblical psalms, he was a decent, fairly moral guy. If
he
knows his sin, we should too.) He also knew that no other god forgave such infractions without interminable penance. But his God, the triune God of Scripture, did not keep a record of wrongs for all those who turned to him. Therefore, the psalmist stood in awe. He could not comprehend such love, but he was thankful for it.