Tag Archive: Depression

Psalms 9:1

I will give thanks to you, Lord , with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. (NIV)

No one but God knows your life. No one really knows what you have gone through, from the joy through the pain, only you know the paths you have tread. Your hopes and dreams, those hidden in the secret places of your heart, God knows. He knows all about you (Psalm 139:16)

While God knows everything about you, the only person who can tell others what God has done for you is you. We’re told in Psalm 38:8 to, “taste and see that the Lord is good” because the one who takes refuge in him is “blessed.” You may have heard the first part of that verse but it’s the second part that tells us the most important, “why” part. 

If you’re like me then you like to know if a restaurant has good food before you visit. Perhaps you’re going on a first date or having an anniversary. You don’t want to take someone to a place where the food tastes bad, right? What do you do? You either ask the people you know or you look up reviews online. You’ll look on Yelp, perhaps. What do you when you’ve gone to a restaurant and the food is good? You’ll tell someone. Maybe you won’t review it online but the odds are you’ll tell someone. You might even discuss it with someone, like the person with whom you ate. If you’re like me then you’ll also remember it. 

What if you went for counseling? There are all sorts of counseling available today from marriage and family, career, substance to education. While you might not tell everyone about the counseling that saved your marriage, you might tell someone you know who is having problems. We tell other people about the things that have helped us in our lives because we know the burden of carrying them and we know the relief when we are free from the burden. 

Jesus tells the disciples, in John 14:26, that He is sending someone to help them when He gets to Heaven. The Greek word that Jesus uses is, “paraklētos which means, advocate, intercessor, consoler, comforter, and helper. It’s the Holy Spirit that comforts you and reminds you when you’re having a bad day, that you are loved, that everything is going to work out and we, Believers, don’t even notice most of the time. You know what? That’s okay. It’s His job. It’s good to know, don’t you think? 

Other things have happened in your life that may stick out to you more than being comforted on a bad day. I was depressed for 36 years of my life until one day when I gave my life to Jesus. That sticks out in my mind. Living without hope, wanting to die some days and not as much on others, measuring life by how “good” I felt. Yeah, I remember that. God remembers it and how I felt broke His heart. He’s collected all of my tears in a bottle and written each of my sorrows into His book (Psalm 56:8 NLT). He’s done the same for you.

If you know Christ then that means someone told you about Him. Oh, they might not have sat you down and “sermonized” you. Perhaps you were invited to church and you finally went? You know and God knows how He saved your life. You see, as followers of Christ, we’re not asked to do very much. Jesus commissioned us, in Matthew 28, to go forth and tell people about Him. 

You don’t have to be a preacher, a pastor, or ordained by God. You just have to be you. You don’t have to tell the world His story, just tell them yours and let God do the work.

If you would like to accept the gift of Salvation that’s being offered to you right now then pray this prayer:

Dear Lord Jesus, I know that I am a sinner, and I ask for Your forgiveness. I believe You died for my sins and rose from the dead. I turn from my sins and invite You to come into my heart and life. I want to trust and follow You as my Lord and Savior.

If you prayed that prayer then congratulations! You are on the first step of a brand new life. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to my family, the family of God. There are abundant resources available online for new Christians. You can visit here for more information on what to do next. You can also leave me a comment and I’ll do my best to help you on the next step of this incredible journey.


Salty Seas

Massive hands
hold these tears,
shed in pain,
of being.

Glazed, blinking
orbs, seek
His face,
heart wracked,

I clap
my hands,
“Snap out of it!”

It’s funny how often people will ask, “What’s your first memory?” We ask each other, we’re asked by teachers, friends, films and media. We search for the beginning of our lives. What do we remember first? It’s posed as challenge. How good is your memory? If you remember far enough back you must be smart, or something. I apologize if your first memory was like mine. I’m sorry for your pain. The loss that you carry with you every day. I know the loss. I know the pain. I carried it with me for 29 years.

What’s harder is dealing with that memory. Trying to share it with others. Dealing with the shame when we keep it to ourselves. And when we share it, the eyes that turn away from us. From the brutal honesty that this life is hard. That, somehow, you were tainted from the beginning. From your first memory. People don’t like the truth because it shines a light on their hidden past. On things that they don’t want to remember, and that makes it harder. The shame, feeling “unclean” and not worthy. Friends may turn their backs. People may label you. You think how wrong it was to share. If you’re like me, you didn’t tell anyone for a long time. When you did tell someone, perhaps they tried to help. Perhaps they medicated you to help with the depression. The pain. The loss. The what if’s. Their intentions were good. Some healing may have taken place. The first person I told loved me. She did her best to help me and it helped. I talked about it more and it helped. There was some healing.

The healing lead to sharing with those who would ask, “What’s your first memory?” When I was studying abroad in Paris, the instructor assigned us a paper. Write about your first memory. I did. I poured it out onto the handwritten pages. Each page covered with wrinkles from the tears that fell as I wrote of that first memory. As I wrote of the memories that followed the first. I got an A, impressed the heck out of my instructor and was encouraged to share my paper. My “authentic” paper, as the instructor spoke of it, with the other students. There were some tears, gasps, shocked looks, pity and scorn. As I have mentioned, people have a hard time with truth. It reveals their own truth hidden in their hearts to their minds and they have to deal with it. Or not. I didn’t make any friends that day. Truth is scary and when someone speaks it, people, whether they have compassion at that moment when they hear it, or if they pity or have scorn, will run from it. We all have hidden truths in our hearts that we don’t want to face. We don’t want the light on that truth. Whether are lives seem perfect or our lives, like mine, overflowed with depression and despair. It’s easier to live with the truth hidden away. Out of sight and out of mind. Right?

It’s comfortable, the hidden truth. Whatever it is. No one knows. The thing is though, you know and only you know. How can you help yourself when you won’t acknowledge the truth to yourself? Not the truth of whatever it is that is hidden in your heart. The truth that you cannot deal with it on your own.

Now some people, they embrace the pain. They embrace that truth and speak it to everyone. It becomes their badge and their identity. They wear it proudly. They think that they are healed because they have embraced the truth. The truth, however, of that first memory and those that followed isn’t who you are. Whether, like me, you held onto it for so long and kept it neatly tucked in a heart of pain, or, if like others, you wear that pain on the outside. You are still bound by that memory. You lived it once. Why continue to live it day after day?

I was 29 years old when my grandfather died, and I had this childhood memory of my grandmother, standing above me, telling me about something valuable. Something that, when I was older, I would claim. It had to do with money but I couldn’t remember what it was nor having received it. I called my parents and spoke to my mother. I asked her about this memory and she told me. When I turned one, my grandmother had put a savings bond into the bank for me. When I turned 18 it would be worth 50 dollars. I don’t recall if I got that bond when I turned 18. However, when I was 29, and learned of this truth, what my grandmother had said, “it will be valuable,” was true. It didn’t happen when I was 18 and it wasn’t money. It was far more valuable than all the money that ever was and will be. I was 29 and that memory, was my first memory. It wasn’t that awful truth I carried for so long.

My first memory was my grandmother standing over me, proud and smiling. Had it not been for gravity, and it’s stubborn law, I think I would have floated away that day. The weight that I had carried for 29 years was lifted from my spirit and from my heart. The “truth” as I had known it, was a lie.

I was still depressed. I was still in despair, but I could say, with a gladness in my heart, if anyone ever asked again, that my first memory, was of love.

Haiku – Painting

woke up today, a
blank canvas before me. Raised
my brush, painting tears.