As I lifted my dear family up in prayer one day in late September, my words seem to reverberate off the ceiling and back down to me. I couldn't remember how long I'd been praying for him. Days, months, years, decades? Was I crazy to continue petitioning God for an answer that may never come? Was I truly interceding on behalf of this person or was I simply wishing for an ending that was impossible?
As these questions and doubts circled through my brain I remembered the words of Pastor Cymbala in his study, "When God's People Pray." He jokingly said the hardest part of the wait during any test or trial is the last thirty minutes. We want to give up. We don't see a result and think persistence is futile, but sometimes the response is just one prayer away.
Our finite mind's wait for an answer may seem never-ending, but our infinite God's work has only begun. Tweet this!
So, with my limited understanding of God's thoughts and ways, I continue to look upward. I pray because there have been times when I had no doubt that He had reached down and touched His hand on my life. Sometimes the answer is almost immediate.
About a year after moving to the area where we currently live, I went through a period when I felt extremely alone. We weren't making new friends the way I thought we would. We were trying, but failing, to connect with our community, and I felt incredibly discouraged. I cried out to God one day and asked Him to show me he was there with me, to relieve this feeling of loneliness from my heart.
Within a half hour, I received an unexpected knock at my door. It was my neighbor and friend who I was beginning to know, and she stopping by to drop off some hand me down clothes for my boys. And to give me a hug. Although she'd never hugged me before, that day, when I needed an act of love so badly, she did. Coincidence? I don't think so. God used a neighbor to show me He was there, and all I had to do was ask.
Since that day, we've found a church home, formed new friendships, and are volunteering in numerous ways in our church and in the community. He has answered me in ways I never imagined. So regardless of whether the answer to my intercessory prayer is minutes away, years away, or in another lifetime, I will continue to call out in the name of Jesus.
If you're struggling through a difficult time right now and wondering whether God hears your cries for help, know that He does. Keep calling on Him. You could be a prayer away from an answer that will change your life.
Darkness. It is a setting which existed even before the formation of the earth. Before there was light to oppose it, to shine into it. Before the two entities were separate, there was only dark.
It only takes the tiniest bit of light to penetrate the dark. A candle, a flashlight. A kind word or an unexpected smile. But sometimes, we simply cannot see it. Our vision is obscured by negative thoughts, the seemingly futile circumstances surrounding us, and self condemnation. Our glass isn't just half empty. It is bone dry.
For over a year after having my first child by means of an emergency c-section and losing my grandmother the following day, I lived in the dark. Although I'd battled a cycle of depression for most of my life, the events surrounding the birth of my son sent me into a pit so deep I thought I would never clamber out of it. I had a loving husband who treated me with the utmost respect and a beautiful child who was healthy and the most flawless thing I'd ever done, but none of it could permeate the desolation that followed me everywhere. We lived in a gorgeous area of Northern Utah surrounded by majestic mountains and vistas through every window of our home, but I felt as though I was living in a black hole.
Mental illness is not a subject which many people like to discuss. Some people shirk around it, try to make jokes and belittle the matter, and others simply ignore it. But it is real. It affects people in various ways and the symptoms are vast, but a chemical imbalance in the brain is not a condition you can simply snap out of or escape by just trying harder. No amount of busyness could improve my mood, and when caring for a newborn, there is plenty to do.
At my six week check-up, I told my doctor about my emotional state and was prescribed an anti-depressant. Although I have heard of many success stories from people who take one regularly, it did not work for me. My state of depression progressed to nearly suicidal. I couldn't sleep, I barely wanted to eat, and was dismally attempting to care for an infant in my zombie-like state.
A year after my six-week check-up I had a regular OBGYN visit and my doctor noticed I was still suffering from PPD. He prescribed another pill, which gave similar results, and at that point I decided to see a therapist. For me, making the decision to talk to someone I didn't know about my emotional and mental state was more scary that taking a medication which altered my brain. I was terrified. There was pain which I had buried so deep for so long that I was convinced that if it was brought to the surface I would crumple right there on the sofa in the patient room. But admitting you need help is not a sign of weakness. It shows strength. A faith in something you may not be able to see just yet.
I would be lying if I said it was easy. There were some fervent tears shed on that couch, but I can honestly say that seeking professional help was one of the first steps I took toward seeing the light again. I was able to cope with issues I kept hidden for most of my adult life and receive objective advice and perspective from someone who was not involved. Other steps forward were finding a supportive group of moms and reaching out to the community around me, becoming involved in our church and serving others. Each of these actions opened my eyes to the big, bright world around me. But the biggest step was surrendering all of my burdens to a God who is greater than my fears, anxiety, or self-loathing. He is a God of peace, love, and mercy.
For several years, I never shared this experience with anyone except for my closest friends and family. Now, I share with anyone who asks. I want people who feel as though the light will forever elude them to know there is hope. Even when you don't see the light, it is still there.
I believe in a God who often uses medication and science to heal, but this method clearly didn't work for me. Sometimes the most difficult step toward healing is admitting you need help. Saying no, I'm not fine, and being okay with that. The worst reaction you can have to depression or mental illness is to ignore it. Restoration begins with admission that there is a problem.
Acknowledging the dark is the first step toward seeing the light.
"'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'” John 8:12
Today I am participating in Proverbs 31 Ministries' blog hop as we study A Confident Heart by Renee Swope. This is an online Bible Study which will be taking place over the next eight weeks.
This post's topic is the point when I fully surrendered my life to Christ. Renee talks about this experience in her own life throughout chapter 3 of her book.
Reading Renee's story, I found so many similarities between the two of us. I spent much of my life looking to things other than a life surrendered to Christ to fill me and fulfill me. Sex, drugs, alcohol, you name it. I dated many different boys throughout high school and college, thinking that if I found the right relationship, I would be content.
Although I grew up in the church, I never fully understood that having a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ also meant trusting him with my heart, relinquishing control, and having faith that his will for my life is always the best path. I left the church as a teenager because of anger toward God… anger because of the abuse that a dear friend had experienced at the hands of my childhood pastor, anger because of the drug addition my brother was, and still is, under the shadow of, anger at my parents for being enablers instead of enforcing consequences, anger at myself for never fitting into the cliques at youth group and school.
So I ran… I ran far away from God and tried to immerse myself into the college life, which for me mostly meant parties and boys. And drugs. Lots of alcohol. Some studying here and there.
One of the first major turning points in my life came when I met my husband. He reached his time of surrender a year before meeting me, and after going on only a few dates, I could picture myself marrying him. He was unlike any person I'd ever met. We married after about three years together and throughout that time I could feel God pursuing me. I began going to church every now and then. I sent up a prayer here and there. But I still wasn't ready. I was trying to behave, to stay clean, to live a life I felt was worthy. Of what? I don't know. I just didn't get it. I couldn't grasp what I was missing.
There were two major events which catapulted me into the realization that I needed God in the deepest way. That I would seek Him and find Him when I searched with all my heart.
The first was a cross-country move to Utah. I had lived in the same place, Columbia, South Carolina, my entire life. Utah is very different culturally than the "Bible Belt" of the south. The second was the birth of my son, which coincided with the death of my grandmother, and sent me into a long battle with postpartum depression.
Anti-depressants left me feeling worse and unable to sleep in my already zombie-like state. Exercise helped my mood but couldn't fill the void in my life.
God continued his pursuit of me. A series of messages entitled "God is Bigger…" at the church we'd been attending really resonated in my heart. A friend and follower of Jesus reached out. She didn't look like the typical "Christian" that I'd stereotyped them to be. I finally admitted I needed help with my depression and began seeing a Christian therapist.
I was sitting on the living room coach of our home in Utah, after putting our son to bed, reading "The Purpose Driven Life" with my husband when I made the decision to follow Jesus with everything that I had…heart, soul and mind. To live a life surrendered. It was time. There was a chapter where he extended an invitation and I took it.
I made the choice to leave my life of ruins and come to the living water which never runs dry.
I remember the first chapter of that book hitting me like a freight train. "It's Not About You." Wow. How convicting. How liberating. How freeing to not have to think about myself so much. To get over my own neurosis. To realize that I have a purpose that has nothing to do with my self-loathing and everything to do with glorifying the God of the Universe. A God who loves me and cares for me so much He sent his son to die in my place.
Since that day on November 10, 2009, I've realized that God is sovereign even when I don't understand my circumstances. That despite my control-freak tendencies, my life is in his hands and there is freedom found in knowing He's at the wheel. He is a big God who will reveal Himself to me when I earnestly seek Him.
It is a day by day process. There are so many distractions begging to divert my attention from the One who gives me peace. But I'm learning. Each step. Each leg of the race. I will keep my eyes on Him. I will let him mold me to become the woman He made to be.
