To those who are suffering mentally and can’t grasp a hold of things emotionally. 1 Timothy 6:12 – Fight the good fight of faith. The idea of a fight is a grueling contest, a struggle in the soul. In the original language it is the word that we define as an AGONY.
From my diary of depression
The elasticity of the mind is stretched out of shape. The cavity of the soul echoes a hollow reply. The emotional receptors of the control panel of the will are fried. The body exercises getting through a day by going through the motions of a thin membrane of muscle memory. The net worth of life is what you are not. The once deep, dense material of the mind is fragmented.
They have moved the desert you wandered in to an underground cavern where your movements are restricted to a lonesome isolated shuffle. The years of being invisible and mute have suffocated your spirit. You clean broken glass but the window has become a wall. Nothing works like it use to. The opportunities that have never been given outnumber my days. Sleep comes easier now that it’s day.
You can’t rise until you’re dead. May the twitch be extracted like a thorn or sliver. No sense in pretending to die alive when you can seize a chance to rise again, as the living dead.
Poetry from Pain
Hope never lives to fulfillment. The pain keeps pressing inside my head, against the hollow, empty walls of an abandoned shed.
My soul is an unwashed, opened, crushed can. My thoughts keep fleeing away. I can’t keep one sustained for any length of a day.
Jesus once felt this way, but not today. He has left the building and left no forwarding address.
I’m broke. Nothing in me works like it use to. The life I built is unnoticed and on mute. I used to be resilient and brave, but now I’m arrested by what I crave.
I’ve lost count of all the opportunities that have never been given. I want to sleep because I just woke up.
I try to explain to my most trusted sources, but not one of them knows what to say. I’ve stumped the panel, even though their sermons tell me there’s a breakthrough coming, it’s been 13 years.
I reached out to a beloved counselor in time of need and explained my plight and two months later not a word in sight.
Depression tries to pick a fight, but compared to hopelessness it’s so trite.
My every effort beyond a lifeless going through the motion is extremely oppressive.
I don’t want to do more than I’ve already done. I need a reward of faith, a show of divine favor to put my life back in place.
The ravine of my mind can finally be seen, it stretches for endless miles empty and insane.
We struggle for everything we have or get and so many other things are not even legit. Without either favor or fortune we live under a curse. The gross injustice in our lives make us hurt, cry, hate and scream.
God must be non-violent and passive because we never see him getting involved to fight on our behalf. He always seems content to just watch us get beat up so we never get ahead.
Where is God? Is he dead?
Faith that is not tested is not trusted.
While going through a similar time back a couple of years ago, my 14 year old daughter wrote me this note…
I know it’s hard right now! Cause your the man and that’s your job! But on the other hand your showing us integrity, perseverance, and constant love! You and mom aren’t giving up on this faith fight and that is being a great role model for Sydney, Josh, David, Whitney, and I. We may not be rich in the bank or working in an office, but you’ve made us wealthy in character and you’ve been working in our hearts! And I love you for that! I hope you feel better soon.
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