Depression: Looking Up from the Stubborn Darkness by Edward T. Welch Page B
Authors: Edward T. Welch
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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.
R ESPONSE
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?
CHAPTER
9
Purpose
“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
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.
R ESPONSE
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?
CHAPTER
9
Purpose
“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
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