Wednesday, February 1, 2012
At the office I can feel the eyes boring into me. As I walk my neck gets tight, hands shaky and my palms sweaty.
I walk into the bathroom, look in the mirror, and try to understand what's going on inside. Maybe just by looking into my own eyes I can see it, I can find it and fix it.
For me it's just another day living with the specter of depression. It never leaves fully. And when it's gone, it leaves scars. Scars that always make me ask the same question, "What is wrong with me?"
The past couple of months have been on an emotional roller-coaster that has my head spinning and my feet groping for some solid ground.
I've wrestled with depression nearly my whole life (not always knowing that that was what I dealt with), but still no matter how many times I've been down the road to Funky-Town, as I like to call it, I never get used to it. I've broken my arm, separated my shoulder multiple times, had a number of concussions and nothing hurts like depression.
Those who suffer from depression suffer from an internal bleeding of the soul.
Now I don't want to be too dramatic, but when you're in the middle of the Town of Funk, you can't help but be desperate. And I find that spiritual fixes don't work either.
Don't tell me "This will all work out in the end" or that "This is for my own good." Don't ask me if I have any "unrepented sin in my life." Are you kidding me? Who doesn't.
That's why this verse above has always been a bandage for my soul bleeding. To hear Jesus defend the blind man with these words, whispers, no shouts, his compassion.
It also speaks of Jesus' hope. God is in Funky Town. God is in my life.
No matter how much I prod and poke my soul in my desperate search to find out and fix what's wrong, He's here. He's never left.
Not only is God close in these moments of desperation, but he pleads my case. And my guess is he argues something similar to the passage, "It's not that Philip or his parents have sinned, but that God's works might be displayed in Philip."
This is the other side of soul bleeding, that my internal pain and suffering can result in God's work being done.
As I look one last time in the mirror and wash my hands, I think, "There is hope, I will see. You will see Philip, just hang on."
"My soul clings to God, his right arm will lift me up." - somewhere in the Psalms