Escaping Depression’s Tomb

The tomb of depression, my little room of despair, has threatened to squeeze life’s light out of me. Chinks of sadness, slowly mortared into repressive stones, attempt to close off the door of joy, oppress my spirit, and obstruct my desire to scoot out into the vibrancy of life. Looking beyond the shadowed portal, I remember the world full of colors, sounds, the thrum of heartbeats, glorious vistas to gaze upon, hopes and dreams. The laughter of children, family gatherings, celebrations of joy, shared memorials. Community, fellowship, team effort, hands stretched to serve. A place where peace illuminates faces, and flows on the very air we breathe.

Then, depression pulls the shade, dragging in hopelessness and despair. I find myself disheartened, realize I have been clothed in the same nightgown for seventy-two hours. Why change when, but for nature’s call, I stay planted in the recliner? Feet hurting if heels rest flat on the bed, shoulder hurting if positioned on my side, I have long made peace with the reclining chair. A soft pillow, covering the metal rod I can feel in the old footrest, cushions and yields to my foot’s weight, relieving the annoying discomfort.

Pain aside, why am I driven to cocoon in this place of respite? Where has flown the joy of engaging with life outside my office walls? Depression has been a place of deep soul work for me. Trusting the Good Shepherd to walk me through the twists and turns, the light He shines on my path brings joyous surprise. It’s not about doing religion or religious things, but unmasking the full neediness of my wretched self while trying to grasp the fulness of following Jesus. It is a process, a personal one-on-one interaction with the living God. Miraculously, He has not obliterated me for my impertinent or repetitive questions, my failure to buck up buttercup, or falling short of performing all the things. The LORD continues to love me, cradle me, and sets me on my feet again. He lets me be me, yet does not leave me languishing. Through His ongoing power, care, and love, He is transforming me, allowing me to overcome, learn and grow, live beyond those depressive things.

I slipped Lauren Daigle’s “Look Up Child” CD into the player, pulled out the insert of lyrics, and sank into her words. I sang along, felt the desperate longing in my soul, cried out the pain of my heart, dug deeper exploring why I was reduced to living in my recliner. Lying there, splayed like a water lily in my pool of tears, I felt a new low in my being. Have I reached the bedrock of my despair yet, LORD? Dug deep enough that I can dig no farther? At the same time, I felt I was being held not only by my dear mother’s old recliner, but by the hands of God. LORD, I trust You to lead me through this excavation. No matter how deep we go, underneath me always are Your everlasting arms.

I realized in that moment I was wrestling not only with nagging physical pain, but again with the grief of estrangement and rejection by dear loved ones. Relational conflicts, failed expectations, regretful shortcomings have thwarted forgiveness and reconciliation. As scabs covering raw physical wounds and burns need to be removed to allow full healing from the inside out, so too emotional and spiritual wounds need attention and debridement in order to fully heal. God’s provisions of confession and forgiveness are balms for healing. He already knows what cures I need.

I know I am made new in Christ. Why after a lifetime of walking with Him am I still battling these things? Yes, transformation is wrought in wrestling against my wretchedness, submitting to God’s close inspection of the festering mess, and enduring the necessary, painful scraping away of the refuse lest it poisons my whole being. (Interesting, the word refuse and refuse…waste and denial.) I invite and allow the Great Physician to cleanse me of my refuse when I do not refuse Him. “I’m losing my religion,” Lauren laments to the LORD…”to find You.”

Dear husband’s face peeks around the doorframe. He has gifted me the space I need to process my grief. His presence insists I engage with life, a gentle reminder this tomb is not sealed. I must get up and walk into next week. Decay is the fragrance of a sealed tomb. My body reminds me it’s time to wash off the stench, stand in the Light, and begin again. Thank You, LORD, for never abandoning me. Your Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness flees. You are my hope, truth, and life…my Savior amidst my pain and depression, the sure and healing way out of my tomb.

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LORD, thank You for Your unfailing mercy and grace. Lift, please, those who languish in sorrow, error, or sin. Thank You for repeatedly rescuing and growing me up from depression’s slough and setting me on Your never-ending, unchanging, firm foundation. You are Love. I want to find You. Help me love like You love, even in small measure. Let me sing of Your glory, dwell in Your presence, and move through this hurting world as You lead. Let my being and my doing, LORD, fulfill Your will for me. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Psalm 34:18 NLT “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”

Matthew 11:28 NLT “Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

Link to Lauren Daigle’s lyrics: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/laurendaigle/losingmyreligion.html