Tag Archives: depression

The Weight of a Life That’s Not Mine

Life gets heavy when it becomes about you.

It was a Holy Spirit whisper that won’t go away, so I know I need to talk about it, because I think there’s a lot of heaviness going on.

I remember how life felt so many years ago. Like I was perpetually bent over from the weight of what I carried, and what I carried was my imploding life with a marriage that was in pieces, and chidren that were hurting. What it was and what it wasn’t. What I wanted, felt I needed, thought I should have, deserved. Why was I here, was I good enough, was I doing it right, did I ruin everything.

I was strong, but not that strong, and eventually I ran out of stubborn. So I quit. Threw in a towel and said no more. I fell under the weight of a life that was mostly about me, and God caught me in a fire that my flesh sorely needed.

I came out of that fire knowing one thing more than anything else: Every inch of my life is from Him, to Him, and for Him. Everything is about Him.

It’s hard though. Seeing everything through a lens that isn’t focused on us takes getting used to, but it is the road to freedom. When our lives are our own, with that comes the stress of doing it right. Comparison. Being enough. The fear of failing. The pressure of succeeding and of living a life of purpose and leaving our mark and pretty quickly we are bent over with the weight of a life that isn’t even ours.

I’ll (maybe) end with this question: Is it possible that at least some of the high levels of anxiety and depression that we are experiencing might be caused by the weight of lives that are mostly about us?

Oddly enough, there is great freedom and healing in the untangling of ourselves from our lives, averting our eyes from the mirror, and letting Him be the main character in our story.

Questions to start asking:

God, what do You want? What will bring You glory? What are You doing in this place, at this time, and how can I obey You here? How can I cooperate with what You want to do in me, with me, and through me in this season?

Where has my life become my own and how do lay it down again?

dearly beloved

Dearly Beloved,

I am praying for you. I don’t know why you feel the way you do. I don’t know why your mind is dark and your heart is heavy. I wish I could fix it but I can’t. I am not your healer. So today I approach the throne of grace with boldness on your behalf. Because your Healer is on that throne and He is good and He is mercy and He loves you.

drowningBeloved, you were not made to tread water, gasping to get the air you need as you go under again. This going under and barely making it through each day is not the destiny your Father has for you. Today I pray that He will call you to walk upon the waters that are threatening to drown you. And when He calls, I pray you will stand up and walk.

 “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

dry-bonesDry bones are not your portion. That valley is not your home.  So today I ask for the breath of God to blow upon your soul. I ask that life would stir in your bones and in your heart. Today I declare that the thief cannot have you, for you are not his to take. You belong to God and God breathes life and not death because He is alive and has called you to life. Beloved, God Himself is your portion and He holds your future and He is good. I pray that every scheme set against the life God has called you into will be brought down by His mighty hand. Today, I call out to dry bones to come alive.

“Contend, Lord, with those who contend with me; fight against those who fight against me.”

 As David cried out, so I cry out. Because you see, I know that your God fights for you. You don’t feel it, may not even believe it, but I know it to be true. Because you are His and your enemy is His enemy and when He arises, that enemy scatters.  So I cry out for you and I ask your Father and mine to rise up on your behalf and contend for you. I pray that His presence will be felt by the darkness, and by you, setting the enemy to flight and giving you rest in your Father’s shadow.

“He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.” 

 Today I am asking that the Healer of hearts will heal yours. I pray that the wounds that have led you here, to this place of despair, will be exposed to the Light and covered by the healing hand of God. I pray that whatever is holding you captive would hear the voice of your Savior pronounce freedom over you today and that darkness would be compelled to release its’ hold. Because the Son of heaven was sent for you and all authority was given to Him. That leaves none for the enemy of your soul.

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light.”

 So right here, before the throne of grace, I declare the truth of God. You are not defined by your feelings, but by God’s heart for you. You are chosen and you are holy and you are God’s. I pray that today you will break your partnership with the lies of the enemy that tell you anything other than what God has spoken over you. Beloved, you are not who you think you are, but who God says you are.

You were not made to despair. You were not made to feel hopeless. You were made to praise.

Raining

So today I pray that despair and hopelessness will be overcome by praise rising from the heart of His beloved. I pray that by the Spirit of God living in you, praise will erupt and lies will break and truth will overtake the darkness that hovers over your mind. Because praise is a weapon and it shuts the mouth of the liar and opens the heart of the downcast.

Dearly beloved….

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

John 10:10; Ps 35:1; Isaiah 61:1; 1Peter 2:9; Romans 15:13

the writing in the dust

Twenty-two years and seven months ago I surrendered my life to Christ. I was an emotional wreck, my marriage was a mess, I had a 3 year old daughter and was 9 months pregnant with my son. I was in crisis and, for the next twenty years or so, I remained in crisis. My marriage went from bad to worse to dead, while at the same time my daughter went spiraling out of control into self-destructive darkness.

In the midst of all of that, I discovered God. He taught me how to fight, and how to run for cover behind Him while the enemy assaulted my family relentlessly. I came to know His faithfulness, His power, and His own relentlessness to protect and defend that which is His. I came to know my all powerful, ever faithful God through a very long time of crisis. And now, my marriage is restored, and both of my kids are living lives sold out for Jesus. The dust has settled, and God stands victorious over the enemy who sought so hard to destroy a family. So for the past two years I have been trying to figure out what this nagging feeling deep inside of me is about. Why do I feel like I am wandering aimlessly around, looking for something I cannot define? This morning I figured it out. Actually, God figured it out and then told me about it.

I don’t know how to do relationship with God without a crisis.

For two years I have blamed this emptiness, this total dissatisfaction inside of me on everything from empty-nest syndrome to menopause, and my latest one…depression. All of those things are true in my life, but they are simply words to describe my behavior. They don’t explain the ache deep inside of me that co-exists with complete numbness. My empty nest isn’t the real reason that I feel more lost than found, or why the scriptures that gave me life all those years now look like just words on a page. This is me, being real. Because I can’t be anything else right now. I don’t have the strength for it.

But at least I know what it is now. I feel as though God just wrote it in the dust on my dining room table (because depressed, menopausal women who live in empty nests don’t dust very often), and He and I just are staring at the truth in that dust. Now what? Do I introduce myself to this omnipotent Being who just pulled my family from the wreckage of hell, as we both stand here in the after-the-war silence? What do I say, when shouting and declaring His promises over my family seems out of place now?

It was the voice of my daughter that God used to write the truth in that dust. We had a conversation this morning…her in Africa, me here in this very quiet house in Illinois. As I told her a little bit of my “empty-nest” woes, she matter of factly said this, in so many words:

“Being a wife and mother is a gift God gave to you, but it is not why He created you. You were made for relationship with Him, so maybe that’s what you need to concentrate on now.”

That’s what I heard my daughter saying to me. But what I saw God writing in the dust was, “You don’t know how to be in relationship with Me outside of a crisis”.

So, here’s the deal. I love God. I love His Word. I know His faithfulness and His power to heal and restore the most broken things. I know Him as a victorious God that puts the enemy to flight, chases after prodigals until they chase Him back, and turns hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. I know Him in the rage, chaos and deafening sounds of battle. I know my place and my purpose in the war.

I’m just unsure of what to do in green pastures, beside quiet waters.

Standing across from Him, staring at the truth, I could think of only one thing…

“My heart says of You, ‘Seek His face!’ Your face, Lord, I will seek.” (Ps. 27:8)