Suicide and Hope

Taking a short break from homework to blog about something I saw on facebook (one of the few times going to facebook actually has resulted in deeper thinking and understanding about a real life issue for me and not simply wasted time!).

Apparently Pastor Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life and pastor at Saddleback Church in California, had a 27-year-old son who committed suicide on Friday night. After searching out some news stories for more information, I was touched and encouraged by the sensitivity of the reports and the way that Pastor Warren seems to be dealing with this. This son struggled with mental illness his entire life, a deep depression that did not go away even after years of treatment at the hands of the best physicians and psychiatrists in America, medications, counseling, and prayer.

Initially, this terrifies me. In my struggle with depression, I have often been encouraged by the well-meaning friend or family member that "this won't last forever" or "you will feel better and you just need to hold out until then." While this is the case in most situations of depression, it doesn't seem to have been for this young man. When I hear about years and years of trying and finding nothing to help, it makes me wonder if that may be my lot too. Granted, I have already found such healing and relief from the worst of my depression and pray that this will be the case from here on out.

More than scaring me however, it breaks my heart. Because I know so well what it is like to struggle through depression as a Christian. Pastor Warren said that several years back, he remembers his son say, "Dad, I know I'm going to heaven. Why can't I just die and end this pain?" I have spoken those same words to my dad, more than once. Days upon weeks upon months of gut-wrenching, heart-shattering, unbearable pain, walking around like a zombie, numbed and unable to stop the flow of tears. . . it soon becomes clear that anything would be preferable to living life like this - and when death means perfect bliss and intimacy with God in heaven for eternity, of course that sounds more appealing!

The apostle Paul speaks to this in Philippians 1:23-24, when he says, "I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body." The "necessary for you" is the part that seems so impossible when living a life marked by depression - how can I be beneficial to anyone? How does my time on earth bring life or joy or meaning to anyone else? I feel like I'm just taking up space and I cannot see purpose or meaning in my own life, much less live in a way that helps others to find it in theirs. My pain is not worth whatever help I might be to someone else down the road.

And I don't have an answer to these thoughts or questions. When a mind is clouded by depression, there is no reasoning that will help that person to make sense of life or continuing to choose to live. I get that. But today, I speak as one whose mind isn't muddied by these thoughts. And I can say that these past few months, I have had glimpses of meaning. Slivers of light that point out ways my life might make a difference. Areas I may be "necessary" for others. Having to daily make the choice to live is not an easy task. I don't fault those who wake up one day and can no longer make that choice.

But today, I am. I choose to live.

Death and Easter

Today I was reading from Matthew when Jesus urges his disciples to "deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me." [ch. 16]  This happens shortly after Peter confesses that Jesus is the Messiah who they have been waiting for. Oh, and Jesus decides that these 12 closest to him are ready to hear that he will be brutally killed by the leaders of their community. nbd.

They say hindsight is 20/20, and while my vision is more like 20/200, even I can look back at this conversation and think, "Oh, this is in reference to the fact that Jesus will die on a cross. He had to carry it himself, so he's telling the disciples that following him requires them to also experience some level of self-sacrifice, pain, denial, and suffering." But today, I realized that the disciples didn't know that. Sure, Jesus had started talking about his death - but did they already know how it would go down? Not from what we're told of the conversations.

So. This radical, wonderful man they have been following through the countryside. Watching him heal and perform miracles. The occasional zinger to the authority figures in the community. Loving and befriending the common man. Sending the disciples out into villages with power. Suddenly is telling them that he's going to die, and he expects them to follow. "Whoever loses his life for me will find it."

Uh, Jesus? I joined this bandwagon because of the cool miracles and awesome perks of being on the road, barefoot and carefree and loving people. . . . but dying? Really. Doesn't sound like something I'm quite ready for yet. Can I just do the first part, the thing you said about denying myself? That sounds manageable right now. Maybe denying my need for facebook for a couple weeks. I think I can do that. You know what, let me take a couple weeks to pray about this whole "cross" situation. I'll get back to ya.

Carrying a cross. It involves humiliation. Being made fun of by everyone, put on display for all your friends and neighbors to see. Searing pain and physical strain. Embarrassment. Shame. Nakedness. Sweat. Blood. Eventually, death. Because you aren't just carrying a cross - you're carrying your cross. So we've gotta die. I don't see a way out of it.

Death precedes life. It's backwards from how we usually think about it. The newborn child, precious little Easter chick, green grass beginning to poke through the brown Missouri mud. Beginnings of life, and death doesn't happen until way down the road, at least we hope. And yet, Jesus says, DIE FIRST. Then, you'll get to "find" your life. Terrifying. Unknown. Regrets. These are things we experience in death.

But the best is yet to come.

Life, as it Were

Hello, March.
The birds are beginning to chirp in the mornings, and daylight savings has helped the sun hang in the sky a bit longer each day. Spring is almost here. Spring. New beginnings and life, a fresh start.

And May, specifically May 11th, is right around the corner. That is the day I graduate and head off into the great unknown of the future.

But first, let's look back a little. Three years ago this week was when I first came face-to-face with y diagnosis of Recurrent Major Depressive Disorder. Since December 19th, 2011, this diagnosis has worked a number on my  life. Today, it's still something I square off with on at least a weekly basis. I have learned a great deal about it, and like any disease, have discovered what symptoms and signs to be on the lookout for that may indicate a relapse. However, although I have developed a deeper understanding of this, I always face difficulty in explaining it to others.

This afternoon, in the midst of some really difficult feelings and thoughts, I came up with a rough analogy of what life looks like for me right now. Imagine walking along a smooth, sandy beach. To your left is the ocean, vast and unpredictable, with waves towering and crashing on the coast. The water creeps up the sand, tides changing throughout the days and months. As I walk, my toes sink into the sand - the sun shines, breezes blow, and life is lovely.

For those individuals without depression, they are far enough up the beach that the waves don't reach them, and that is for the best, because the water represents the difficulties of life. Occasionally, they may get splashed by a high tide, and scurry up a little further on the shore. Sometimes, a surprise rip tide may pull them in, and they may end up far, far out at sea - but always, they are able to find their footing, stagger up onto the beach, and learn to move away from those waves. I can live this life too, and I have found that I am most effectively able to walk in this way when I am on medication and in counseling, treating the chemicals in my brain that make this life so difficult.

But then, there is life without treatment. And for a variety of reasons, I have experienced this sporadically throughout the past 3 years. Life with depression is like walking in the wet sand and not having the ability to move up to dry sand. Each wave that creeps up the coast represents a trigger or stressor that has the potential to stimulate a depressive response in my brain. The water that used to be simply a beautiful, unpredictable, and powerful force I could see at a distance suddenly becomes a force I grapple with daily. And I can resist some waves, but it's just not the same as when I'm walking on dry sand. I get pulled out to sea and sometimes spend days and weeks there, worn down by the waves and wind. When I make it back to shore, I am exhausted and more easily drawn in by the next one.

My only solace and hope for this unknown future before me, and the only way I can make sense of these years of being beaten down by waves is that there is a lifeguard. Sometimes, it feels like he is just sitting up at the lifeguard tower, watching but doing nothing. Other times though, I know he's walking with me. That he has rescued me from the waves before something worse happened. Each day, he's helping me learn what it looks like to continue walking forward, even when pulled out to sea. And there are days in which we just sit down on the beach. I say, "I can't go on" and he tells me "I know." We bury our toes in the sand. Let the water drip through our fingers. Rest my weary soul.

Now I stand. Move forward again. I don't know if I'm on dry or wet sand, and I can not say when the next wave will hit. 

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deut. 31, 6

A Minefield of Memories

I wake up slowly in the morning, waiting to open my eyes until I absolutely need to. The morning light should bring hope of a new and exciting adventure, but instead it brings me fear as I dread another day spent in the field. As I roll over and off my bed, I place my feet carefully, cautiously on the floor, remembering that even in the relative safety of my apartment, anything can happen. Looking for my slippers, a sudden roar fills my ears and I know that I have inadvertently set off the first mine of the day. As I hit the floor, memories wash over me. Our first Christmas. He wore those cute pajama pants over so he would keep with the theme of my family all in our pajamas. Opening the gift of slippers. Him bending down, lovingly sliding them on my feet. I shake my head as the noise dies down into a dull ringing in my ears, stand up, and shuffle to the kitchen to make my morning coffee. I'm still not fully awake but I try to keep my eyes fixed on the floor, watching every step as I try to avoid another explosion. I fill the coffee pot with water, then begin to scoop out the grounds. Boom. The lingering smell of coffee was always around him. Laughing together in the coffee shop - the one that we joked never smelled like coffee. His meticulous measuring, grinding, and brewing of the perfect cup of coffee.

I force myself to finish measuring and push the start button, all the while trying to shake the debris of this memory from my mind. I walk down the hallway to the bathroom, turning on the water to let it heat up while I try to decide on taking a bath or a shower. He always laughed at how much I loved baths. He would spend hours in the shower if he could. One time, he said he actually fell asleep standing in the shower. I slowly undress, being careful to fold my clothes as I step out of them. He never folded clothes. When I'm done with my shower, I climb out to get dressed and pause to look at myself in the mirror. He told me I was beautiful. I look through my closet, wondering what I could wear. The green one was his favorite shirt. 

When I finally step out the door and head to class, I find myself wondering what waits for me. The sun is so bright, the grass so green, the birds so cheerful - how could hurt be ahead on such a beautiful day? He never walked these paths with me and I let my guard down as I wander my way to my first class. I smile at a girl as I pass her on the sidewalk. I used to talk to him on the phone on my way to class. Then, I spot a couple clearly in love, holding hands and laughing together. His laugh. I always stood to his right when we held hands. His hands were so strong and yet gentle. Gradually, I find that I am less careful with my walking as the pain becomes numbing. It's not even 8 in the morning and already I am wounded and want to curl back up in the warmth of my bed, away from the hurt.

The rest of the day is much the same. Campus is unpredictable, the mines changing every day. I find myself unable to avoid them, and over and over again my mind is filled with the dull roar of a detonation. He loved being outdoors. We wrote so many letters to each other while in class. I remember so many stories about his teachers. I always had his schedule memorized as well as my own. I wonder if he's in class right now. I wish I had him in my apartment to return to after class. 

By the time I'm done with class and get back home, I am exhausted. It seems like these mines have been designed just for me, exploiting my weaknesses and finding the best places to hide so they can catch me by surprise. How do I learn to navigate an environment like this? I need so much sleep, so I have the energy to be always on edge, anticipating the next blow. Making dinner - I loved to cook for him. He learned to make the most delicious stir fry. We had such good conversations over our Sunday lunches. Jumping in my car to run errands - We spent so much time in this car and in his truck over the years. Talking, laughing, crying, praying. I would lie my head on his lap while drove and he would stroke my hair as I fell asleep. We went on road trips and "off-roading" even though our vehicles weren't made for that. 

At last, I am done with this day and allowed to crawl into my bed. Surely this will be safe. Underneath my covers, face buried in my pillow, there are no memories to sneak up on me, no sights or places that will explode in my mind. And yet, like a soldier who has lost a limb, I feel phantom pains of the heart that once beat strongly in my chest. He said he loved you. He told you that you were the most precious person in the world to him. I cry out, but there is no drug that can take the edge off of my hurt. Eventually I fall asleep, only to wake up in a cold sweat - even sleep is not a sanctuary away from the memories. He called me 'my love'. He told me he looked forward to spending the rest of his life with me. Like a man who has lost all but his life on the battlefield, I do not find comfort in waking from these dreams, because the reality today is almost worse than the original experience. I find that my own mind is working against me, plotting ways to attack and further injure my already broken and weakened body and soul.

Every day, I walk this minefield. I don't want to - so often, I wish God would just take me home rather than let me experience this kind of fear, pain, and death in my life. I only pray that as time goes on, the mines will be less frequent, the explosions less deadly to my heart. Perhaps one day I will be able to walk in safety and freedom, not dreading each step but treasuring the breath in my lungs and the beating of the new heart I have received.

Eve: Shame or Confidence

"God saw all that he had made, and it was very good."

And yet, in all the good He had created, there wasn't anything that fit Adam just right, until God created woman. Adam's reaction on seeing Eve gives us a glimpse of what a beautiful woman she was. He breaks into the first poetry of this new world, a beautiful verse that would be shared for generations to follow as the beginning of the first love story. Together, they were in the garden - with trees "that were pleasing to the eye and good for food," rivers, and verdant valleys. And they were naked, and knew no shame.

This nakedness is one part of life that they lost after their fall into sin. The purity and freedom they experienced in the bodies God had given them was marred by their sin before God. But women of God, I ask you what it would look like to stand in front of the mirror each morning and be naked and unashamed. I am in right relationship with God, thanks to the sacrifice of Jesus - and yet, I look at my body and feel shameful. There is always something to find flaw in - the new acne popping up on my nose, that bulge so kindly called a "love handle," the scars on my hips that don't mark adventurous mishaps but rapid weight gain. I look at myself and try to come up with a new way to hide. Some days, it's baggy clothes and a hat, to hide my figure by blending into the background. Other days, I go the extra mile and pick out a great outfit and makeup, hoping their beauty will mask what is underneath. Eve grabbed some fig leaves and learned how to sew mighty quickly so that she could hide from God. I find it interesting though that nothing changed about her outward appearance that induced this rapid sewing frenzy - rather, a change had taken place in her heart and soul. When sin entered in, so did shame and the need to cover herself; to hide from God, Adam, and her own self the body she was formerly so free in.

Today, we suffer much because of the original fall into sin. The shame we feel about our bodies is nothing new. It is a manifestation of the sinful self we are born into, inherited from the first woman who experienced this shame. But as we come to know Christ and His sacrifice for us, and grow in our relationship with Him, I think God wants us to learn to see even our bodies as a gift from Him. Obviously, I am not advocating a confidence that begets nudity running rampant in the church. But when we think about our own bodies, and look at ourselves in the mirror, I wonder if we can learn to live like Eve did before the fall into sin - naked and unashamed, because we know that our value lies in our Savior, not in our size. She knew that, and experienced freedom and oneness with God. 

Best Friends

I miss having a best friend. I remember back in grade school how wonderful it felt when you and another girl mutually decided to be "best friends." At that age, friendships changed rapidly and a best friend didn't always keep that position in your life very long. But when they were present, it was the best feeling - to have someone to share everything in life with. Not only your secrets, but the activities you enjoyed, the silly jokes you made together, clothes and hair things. . . it was great.

Fast-forward 10 years. I've found that people my age still have best friends. However, this has started to take the form of a boyfriend or fiance or husband. The principle is the same - it feels great to have someone with which you can share life. Not only are you romantically drawn to this man, but you are also drawn in friendship. There is a bond of trust formed as you share secrets and walk through life together. He becomes your companion and supports you in the good and bad. We also have girl friends who take on this role in our life. Often they are accountability partners, classmates, or roommates. You find that one girl with whom you are comfortable to be yourself and share of yourself. Even as life becomes busier and busier, time with her is still a priority - not only because it brightens your day but because you love her and long to pour into her life.

Friendship is a vulnerable place to enter into, especially with a "best friend." The closer you become, the more potential there is for hurt. I've experienced that first hand, multiple times. And in the same way that having a companion in life is one of the most beautiful things in this life, being rejected or forgotten or set aside by someone you care for is one of the ugliest and most hurtful parts of life.

Right now, it seems like everyone else around me has a best friend. There is always at least one person who takes priority above me for each of my friends. It is a lonely feeling, to know that you aren't #1 in anyone's life. I remember this feeling from junior high and much of high school. . . longing for someone to share life with. And I have come to realize that this longing is not misplaced. We are made in the image of the Triune God and thus, wired for relationship. After all, God himself is in relationship with himself and the three persons that join together in relationship to form our God. This is something I find is imprinted on my soul and it's a desire I'm never going to be able to just ignore or push aside.

I've felt the most blessed in life when I've had a companion to share it with. But I'm beginning to see that perhaps the opposite is true. Maybe loneliness is a blessing because it allows me to learn to fulfill my desires with God. It's not impossible to do this when you do have earthly friendships and relationships . . . it's just harder. And if you are not in the habit of seeking God to fill the void in your life, those other friendships are never going to feel like enough. But as God takes on the role of Lover, companion, and best friend, I think we will find that our capacity to love and share life with others actually expands. Sharing God as your first love is the strongest bond any relationship can have.

I still miss my best friend terribly. I mourn the parts of my life that I shared, the seasons we went through together that will be lost forever to my happy memories. But Lord, teach me to use this time as a blessing and opportunity to fill my void and desires with your love, your friendship, your companionship. Be my secret-keeper, my counselor, one who desires me as I am.

Weakness

Could it be that weakness is my ultimate goal?

I see it as such an embarrassment, so painful, so hard to endure. And yet, II Corinthians 11 and 12 tell us that in our weakness, God's grace and power are seen the best. Isn't that what we want - God's glory?

If I must boast then, I will boast in my weakness.
I will boast in the fact that each night, I have to run to the Savior's arms because otherwise, sobbing overtakes me.
I will boast that I can't find the desire to live beyond today, because my sweet Lord gives me the will to live today for Him.
I will boast that I have disappointed someone who loved me deeply, because I know that God's grace is sufficient for me and His love will never, ever run out or change.
I will boast that I can't get a 4.0, because God has given me the strength to pull through some classes with B's.
I will boast that I tend to depend on loved ones too much, because God has taken that dependence and used it to show me how much I need Him.
I will boast that I don't know at all what my future holds, because that means God can do whatever He wants with it.

So much boasting. And yet, so much that the world (and even the Body of Christ) tells me I should be ashamed of.

Not tonight. Tonight, I boast that I have been wooed and won by the ultimate Lover. I am weak - then He is strong.