Depression: Looking Up from the Stubborn Darkness (8 page)

Exactly how God could forgive rebellion is unclear in the psalm. We, however, know how God could do such a thing. The psalmist anticipates the cross of Christ where God himself bore the just penalty for the rebellion of his creatures.

Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Rom. 5:7–8)

Such insight would have left the psalmist speechless.

Love produces hope. If we, in our misery, are absolutely persuaded of God’s love, we will be confident that he will deliver us. Therefore, we hope in him. We can wait as long as it takes because we are sure that he hears us and loves us. He
will
come. He
will
deliver. In fact, he is on the move right now. God’s love inspires both an eagerness to be with him and a confidence that he is true to his word, so we know he will come. It is these two—eagerness and confidence—that combine to form hope.

When love is involved, time moves at a different pace. When Jacob served seven years for his wife-to-be Rachel, “they seemed like only a few days to him because of his love for her” (Gen. 29:20). Contrast this with what feels like the never-ending present-tense of suffering with depression: relief will never come, sleep will never come, the morning will never come.

The reality is that we are the watchmen on the last watch of the night. It is 4:30 a.m. We have seen the sunrise many times, and we are eager for it and confident it will come. What is the sunrise we are waiting for? In Psalm 130, the morning sun is a person. In that person are many benefits such as healing, deliverance, and love, but, make no mistake, it is a person. We wait for
him
more than for his gifts. We are not like children who eagerly wait to get to Grandmom’s because she will have presents. We are like married lovers whose spouse is soon to return after a long trip. Just seeing the person is enough, whether he or she bears gifts or not.

Be careful at this point that you aren’t discouraged by the psalmist. His enthusiasm is inspiring but difficult to match. If it isn’t quite contagious, don’t despair. To move from the depths to a confident hope takes practice. Consider this psalm a condensed version of a long learning process.

God has determined that many good things come through perseverance. Look around and see how you have had to keep working at something before you learned it. Sports, hobbies, vocations, even relationships—they all follow the same pattern. So don’t expect hope to happen immediately. It would be like insisting that you play Mozart before your second piano lesson. Hope is both a gift from God and a skill he enables us to attain. The point is that you
can
have the psalmist’s hope.

When you receive something wonderful, you talk about it. The news can’t be contained. In this psalm, what began as the cry of an isolated man becomes a shout to the community. “If I have found hope and love in the Lord, then you can too. If I have found joy in forgiveness, you can too.” Or, to paraphrase, “If I, an Old Testament psalmist who hasn’t seen the coming of Jesus, can speak with this kind of hope, how much more can you, who have witnessed the cross—the unmistakable evidence of forgiveness of sins?”

Granted, this may still seem like an impossible dream, but remember that God himself is giving you this psalm. He is rewriting your story. You might feel like you are doing very well to repeat the cries of the first two verses, but the Spirit of God wants you to have the entire story.

This is just one psalm of many you could own. It can belong to you and be your future. Think about it. You feel like you have no purpose. Think of what it would be like to be an ambassador of hope to hopeless people. Those who have struggled with depression are especially credible because of their suffering; their hope is tried and genuine. When
you
speak hope to another, it is persuasive and attractive.

Sometimes you have to force-feed yourself. You aren’t hungry. You don’t want to eat. But you know you must. Now is a time to force-feed. Your spiritual health depends on it.

You are not accustomed to doing something without
feeling
like doing it. If you have tried it, no doubt it feels odd and mechanical. It does not feel very human because we are so accustomed to being mobilized by our passion. But be assured that this is
very
human. When animals have instincts—their version of feelings—they are slaves to them. You, however, can override your instincts. You can act out of wisdom and faith.

If this psalm suits you, stick with it. Highlight it, re-read it, speak about it. It will take practice to make it your own.

What is your plan for remembering?

“What keeps you going?”

The question sounded to her like, “Please explain the Heisenberg uncertainty principle in twenty words or less.”

“Umm, uh, my kids, my ...” She would still be stuck on the question if her friend hadn’t asked another one. This woman’s mind was blank, and during depression’s worst days she couldn’t even say, “my kids.” It was a mystery why she was still alive.

“Would you like to have a reason to live?”

There was, of course, no response. “Reason to live” made some sense. At least she recognized the words. She could almost remember that “reason to live” was a good thing. Then, with the question still lingering, her mind gradually reverted to its disengaged state.

Too often we live on little scraps of meaning. It is amazing how we can survive on so little: a three-percent raise, a new pair of shoes, a one-night stand, an Internet relationship. We manage to eke out meaning and purpose from fumes. That is, of course, until you submerge into depression. Then you notice that there is no larger story, and the stage collapses.

There come moments when our work—that activity by which we discover our worth in the world—there come moments, I say, when our profession, our daily labor, suddenly looks like a painted set in a theater, and the set collapses. All our valuable work collapses, and with horror we stare to the other side of material things, the spiritual deeps where we always believed meaning to be, but we see nothing. Bare nothing.
¹

Depression feels like a state of not-thinking, but it is also a place of insight because you see that the stage was really just a stage. What seemed meaningful and real a few years ago has turned out to be a façade. Pleasures were fleeting. Nothing lasted. Marriage became stale.

Such insight, of course, is painful, and it feels like it could cost you your life. But if you are willing, the next step begins a significant stretch on the path of wisdom. Many sages have traveled this way.

“Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun? (Eccles. 1:2–3)

This, however, is the way he starts, not the way he finishes.

Depression says, “You will not find meaning in what you are doing,” and depression is right. What it doesn’t tell you is, “Keep looking, you will find it. You are a creature with a royal purpose.” For this, you need to listen to others who have gone this way before. They urge you to continue and point the way.

When you observe life and listen to wise people, you will quickly find that
it is not about us
, which hurts our pride but is a welcome relief. We simply can’t invest our hopes, dreams, and love in the self because it was never intended to carry such freight. For that matter, there is
nothing
created that was intended to sustain such hopes. Creation is to be enjoyed, but we don’t put our trust in it. The only alternative is God himself.

The Teacher in the book of Ecclesiastes tries to save us time in our search for meaning and purpose. He tells us that he tried to make life about himself and it didn’t work. He tried learning, laughter, great projects, unbridled sexual pleasure, money, music, and children. None of them, when they were elevated to his life’s purpose, led to anything but despair. He could not find his purpose in the created world.

After briefly envying an ordinary life of honest toil, good friends, food, moderate drink, and doing right, he comes to his answer—his purpose.

Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. (Eccles. 12:13)

Don’t be put off by the word “fear” in “fear God.” It is a more expansive word in Scripture than our idea of being afraid of someone. It includes awe, honor, reverence, and worship. And, yes, there is a certain way that it is appropriate to fear God, but not because of potential condemnation. If you have put your trust in Christ, condemnation will not fall on you. We fear God because he is God. He is not tame and domesticated like we sometimes make him out to be.

The fear of God is how we respond to the fact that God is greater than we are—different from us—in all things. His beauty is
greater. His wisdom is greater. His love is greater. And, yes, his anger is greater. Simply put, he is God and we are not.

In an era when it is stylish to soften the character of God, “fear” is a wonderful antidote. There are times when, knowing who God is and what he has done, our knees should be knocking. Martin Luther, for example, was persuaded that we should be terror-stricken by the sufferings of Christ because those sufferings reveal that our sin is so serious and deserves such serious judgment. Of course, he didn’t stop there. He also was persuaded that we should be trembling at the knowledge of God’s love, which is greater than anything we have ever known or given.
²

Fearing God and keeping his commandments brings a certain simplicity to life. He is the Creator; we are the creatures. We belong to him. When he directs us, we follow. We come before him and say, “And how do you want me to live today?” The psalmist goes so far as to say that his affliction was valuable because it taught him more about keeping God’s commandments, which was his delight (Ps. 119:71).

There are, of course, many commands to be found in Scripture. No one can keep them all in mind. But we can easily remember the summary of God’s law: love one another. What does that have to do with purpose and meaning? Every command in Scripture is a purpose statement. We are servants of the exalted king. When he speaks to us and tells us what to do, that becomes our purpose. Our purpose is to live for his purposes.

Sadly, this doesn’t enthuse many of us. It is too simple, and we are too American to think that serving someone above us can be a good thing. We think that living for our purposes is more satisfying. But you know better. Ecclesiastes makes sense to you. You have tried other purposes, and they were found wanting. You have also been forewarned that we are on terrain where spiritual warfare rages,
so you have to walk very carefully. We can be easily deceived about those things that are most important.

Stop and think. A very wise person, the writer of Ecclesiastes, has just summarized your purpose. He knows that this purpose is the path of life. He knows what the heart really wants. He is pleading with you to listen to his conclusion and adopt it as your own.

Be willing to try it. How can you keep God’s commands today? Look for someone to love. A wise older counselor, who had experienced depression himself, challenged other depressed people this way: “Fight the spiritual battles that accompany depression so that you can love other people.” It sounds simple, but it is the summary of many years of experience.

If you are familiar with Scripture, you will find the summary of Ecclesiastes in a number of different forms.

And what does the L
ORD
require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. (Mic. 6:8)

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matt. 22:37–39)

The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love. (Gal. 5:6)

The language varies: fear the Lord, trust him, love him, walk humbly with him, or believe in him. Then we express this commitment to the Lord by obeying his commandments, the summary of
which is love. This is the true foundation for human life. Apart from it, life is meaningless.

Stop again. Consider how you are responding. Does this sound superficial? Stale? Pie-in-the-sky? Too easy? Important, but you can’t seem to work up any enthusiasm for it? Reflect on this one. Talk it out with another person. Don’t think that you have already tried it and it didn’t work. If you think that this is passé or irrelevant, you are revealing your purpose: to be rid of depression. That, of course, is worthwhile, but don’t elevate it to your purpose in life.

If in doubt, assume that your purpose is not in synch with God’s. You have most likely “tried” this purpose much less than you think. Although you might intellectually know your purpose, aspiring to it is very different, and living it out is more different still. The reality is that no one wholeheartedly aspires to it; no one consistently lives out of it. So begin with confession. Tell your Heavenly Father that you are like a prodigal child who keeps looking for self-oriented purposes rather than God-oriented ones.