Why Write About THAT?

 

Two days ago, I had the immense privilege of standing in front of my church family at Life Church and preaching a message titled Don’t Let Depression Rob You of Your Destiny! I had envisioned such a moment at times in the past—not preaching on depression, but having the freedom to preach on anything. In my heart of hearts, I knew I had been given a wealth of giftings—and I wanted to bless others, but depression always told me I couldn’t. I wasn’t “well” enough; I wasn’t “spiritual” enough (because of the depression); I wasn’t “worthy;” I just wasn’t. And the even bigger lie was that I never would be.

With all the responses I’ve gotten since the message—all appreciative and full of praise—I have had a lot to thank the Lord for. For the opportunity to share. For the anointing of the Lord. For the people He specifically brought to hear the word the Father had put in my heart. For those who were brave enough to stand, acknowledging that they have been battling depression and want to be free from it.

So as I was thinking on how far the Lord’s brought me and asking myself what I should write my next blog about, I felt like the Lord said “Write about that.” Write about depression? But that seems awfully…well, depressing. I was reminded of parts of my story that I didn’t share—I mean, I couldn’t keep the congregation there all day! So today in my blog, I’m going to share a little bit more.

A good friend said something to me after the service on Sunday that I hadn’t really thought about. Many times creative people get attacked with depression. Now, there are many types of creativity. In my life, these artistic or imaginative gifts have manifested themselves in many ways—arts and crafts, scrapbooking, teaching ideas, even organization—but primarily in writing. When the enemy knows one has a lot to offer—and many different ways in which to do it, and that it’s going to bless others—he works hard to keep the creativity from getting out. He looks for ways to keep it from touching the souls of those God intends for it to bless. Depression, in a sense, is an easy tool for him to use—it carries such devastation of self-worth with it. It basically negates all creative gifting with lies like “no one will want to hear that;” “that’s not as good as you want to think it is;” “big deal—anyone could do that.” The truth is…not anyone could do it—whatever your creative gifting is, it’s a mantle God placed upon you for a specific purpose and with a specific flair to it that is unique to you.

I’ve been a writer since I was a young child, and the Lord knew just what messages to send to my heart to keep me doing it. When I was nine, I had a reading and spelling teacher named Mr. Rhenberg. Once when I wrote a story called “Farla and the Flannel Nightgown,“ he wrote in big, flourishing letters at the top, “Beautiful story, Teresa.” Those words stamped something in my spirit and solidified a calling in me from that day forward: I am a writer.

What the enemy probably didn’t expect is that I would write through my depression and that God would even use it as a tool to lift me out of it. Yes, he may have shut me up at times and even slowed down my timeline (of getting my written words out to the world), but he has never been able to completely stop me from writing. And the more I write, the more I feel that call of the Lord well up within me.

I mentioned in my “sermon” (really more of a life story) that the enemy had tried to “take me out” when I was young—a rock being thrown through a window that almost hit me in the head as a toddler in my playpen; an incident with a window that cut my wrist and nearly cut my artery—another I didn’t mention was that at age ten I borrowed a ten-speed without asking and ended up running into a moving car. I came away with only bumps and bruises. And at age eleven, I experienced an incident of sexual abuse (by a stranger whom I never saw again) that, while not life-threatening in the mortal sense, did rob a lot of “life” from me—the enemy tried to use it to rob me of relationships, and particularly intimacy in relationships. He also used it to make me feel “dirty” and worthless. That was one of my earliest inductions into the realm of isolation and self-protection, within the much larger world of depression.

My heart was crying out for love, but I searched for it in some futile ways. I felt “ugly” and “low class.” So I was drawn to that environment—poverty—in finances, in emotional stability, in connection with God. It was a heist, designed by the enemy to rob me of everything of value the Lord had placed within me—a gift to write, a heart to praise, and a desire for close and intimate relationships.

For two years, I ignored the voice of the Holy Spirit—I had myself virtually convinced, in fact, that everything I was doing was “just fine.” I was still a Christian after all. But my relationship with my parents had taken a dramatic dive. I didn’t want to hear anything they had to say if it was contrary to the choices I was making. I told myself that they just wanted to run my life. They couldn’t see how “mature” I was. Looking back now, I know that my spirit longed for relationship with them—but at the time, I was not listening to my spirit; my soul and body were in charge. But each step I took down the path I had chosen led to shame—and inner discontent and turmoil. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

When I finally did come to terms with the mess I had made, God clearly illuminated the way out. It had been there all along, of course. He restored a good relationship with my parents—and I began to experience joy again. Not fleshly satisfaction, but actual joy. I was so grateful that God had rescued me. But never having developed a consistent devotional life (though I’d tried), I still felt I needed another person to complete me. I didn’t yet realize how precious I was to God—and that I was complete in Him.

When I met Byron (whom I’ve been married to for 27 years now), our relationship raced along—and fairly quickly I knew he was “the one.” The only thing wrong with it all was that I put him ahead of God. We married a year and two months after we started dating, and we were happy…except for when my unrealistic expectations of my husband made me feel unhappy. I began to focus on circumstances, and as I did so, it was harder and harder to trust God. The enemy capitalized on this—and I suffered great bouts of depression at times.

I was depressed—unfulfilled—feeling I wasn’t important to most people—struggling to connect with God. But what could I do about it? I have had many people come into my life who’ve spoken the truth to me, and I’m so thankful for them. I feel that their words were “like apples of gold in settings of silver,” truly “words spoken at the right time” (Prov. 25:11, NIV; HCSB). They lifted me out of some dark times and set me back on a well-lit path.

But I kept veering off the path—sure, I still prayed (as much as I could) and went to church (for years in a performance mode). But I kept going back to the enemy’s words instead of God’s. He would speak a lie that I would receive as the truth, and it would weaken my resolve to go after what God might have to say on the matter. I would simply settle for what my mind seemed to be saying was true. But in my spirit…I knew there had to be more. There was a cloud over my life. It seemed that every time I tried to move out from under it, it would just get bigger the next time. And I wondered if I’d ever be able to get past it at all.

The truth about who we are has to go deep, or it won’t have a lasting effect. For me, it’s been as though truth has been piled little by little, rock by rock, until the pillar was tall enough that I could finally see over  the edge of the pit I’d been in—and step out onto the grassy surface at the top to breathe the air I was always meant to breathe. I had to take a huge risk—I had to start believing what God said about me, and about my circumstances. My foundation of truth would only be as strong as my belief. Truly the choice came down to this: was I going to believe the enemy (who’d only worked hard to make my life miserable in so many areas), or was I going to believe God?

It has been a long, hard road—but I finally started to get the message—and not settle for less. Jesus didn’t say, “Come to me, and you will have a life of lack; deficit will be your portion; you will just have to learn to live with it.” No! He said, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). Not only did he establish God’s purposes for us in that one statement—He exposed the enemy’s! Jesus gave everything for me; why would I not take Him at His word? And that is where I now choose to stand. Even if it looks bad, impossible, or scary, I desperately  want—no, need—to take Jesus at His word. He will never lie to me, never give me a stone in place of bread, never leave or forsake me.

And He’ll do the same for you. Shut off the rantings and rovings of your brain. Open your spirit to Him. He is faithful to speak to us—check what you hear with the truth of His written word if you’re not sure. See if it rings true in your spirit. But please let Him in! He wants to give you the keys to freedom, and you can start collecting them today. “"Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends” (Rev. 3:20, NLT). It’s up to us to open the door.

Why write about depression? Because it matters. God cares where you’re at. He sees you. And He doesn’t want to leave you in the pit.

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you” (Psalm 139:7-12). God’s got you—He’s never left, not even in the midst of your deepest, darkest depression. God is light, and He is able to illuminate the darkness so that it no longer exists. You are not hidden from Him, beloved.

Why write about depression? Because Satan doesn’t want me to, and because the God who loves you infinitely is passionate about your freedom. It’s time to open the door—and turn on the light.