You know how sometimes you are just walking along and something stirs your mind? It can be anything, a leaf, a tree, even a piece of paper, anything that you associate with any certain happening or event. It brings about a flood of thought and emotion; making you remember a lesson learned sometime ago. Such was I, not more than a week ago. The sun had risen and breakfast was all but a distant memory. I had begun my jaunt to work like any other day: grab my apron, get some pens, and don't forget to lock the door. Yet, that last routine, locking the door, sparked something within me; it pulled to the forefront a bit of knowledge that seemed almost forgotten.
Growing up I had everything I needed - not everything I wanted, but my needs were met. I was blessed with a loving dad and mom, my sister would stand by me no matter what, and even a faithful old dog. (Okay, she was a poodle, but hey, we can't all have Old Yeller). It didn't seem that life could have gotten any better. You would think that I was the happiest boy in the world; but I wasn't. I was sad; I was depressed; and worse yet I didn't know why. I was told by some that I was a "manic depressant," someone that seemingly for no reason stays depressed and filled with regret. Well, I don't know about all that, but I never seemed to stay happy for more than a few hours. Once the enjoyable activity was over I would withdraw into my world of darkness again. Really never leaving, just suppressing; I was always afraid of what the next moment might bring.
Oh, the times that my family prayed that this demon would be loosed and cast unto hell from wince it came; yet in some way I was scarred to change. I couldn't remember life any different, how would I know how to live? So I didn't change. I refused help from the only one who could help. I reasoned: "I know how to survive like this; so this must be safe." But see I wasn't surviving! Suicide was a frequent thought; oddly enough I thought it might be the answer. Funny how Satan destroys us. We fear that God will change us too much, but death will answer it all.
One night however, all that changed, I cannot really remember what brought it on, or what woke me from my sleep. All I know is that I was crying! Not of fear for life like so many nights before, but for fear that I would miss life. Fear that Life would pass me by. I rolled out of bed, taking no thought for striking the ground with my knees, I laid my face upon my bed and continued to weep. "Oh, what a fool I have been!" I cried. "I know that I have sinned against you God, but forgive me! I didn't know what I was doing!" I would like to say that I changed that moment, but I didn't. I cried for hours that night, praying, repenting, and singing. The song seemed perfect for what was happening: "Pass me not, O' gentile Savior, hear my humble cry. While on others thou art calling, due not pass me by." Then it came. The feeling of peace, of joy, and of love. "I sought the LORD, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears." (Ps. 34:4)
The only other thing I remember is lying back down and crying until I fell asleep. These tears were not of gloom, they did not follow feelings of doubt and hopelessness; they were tears of joy. The feelings of depression were gone, locked out of my mind just like I had locked my door. Never to be let in again, for I am the only one that has a key to that door; and I have buried it so deep in Jesus that it shall never be found again. Truly it is said: "Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;" Ps. 30:11 |
