When Silence Speaks

Ten years ago I was ambushed by depression. With seemingly no warning, I was inexplicably struck with a debilitating weight I could not shift. Stretching from days to weeks, then weeks to months, others looked on in bewilderment as my life spiralled into isolated darkness and silence. To those I cared most deeply about, and who cared most deeply for me, the pain was great as I resolutely held them at arms length, cowering from any semblance of light and hope. Depression is a cruel, deceitful master—a master that left scars I carry to this day.

Yet, I am thankful for my depression.

I'm not glad for the pain I inflicted on others. But I am thankful for my depression. God grew a garden of delight in the fertile soil of my broken life. I had nothing left but God, and He did not fail me. When all else was stripped away, God laid a foundation that endures to this day, a foundation established on the unmerited favour of His grace.

But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline
Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust — Anne Steele

Not a week has passed that I have not returned to this beautiful hymn. Though I lay prostrate in the dust and all my hopes decline, my God has proven His steadfast love and enduring faithfulness; I have joined my soul to Him, and Him alone, to what else shall I flee?

Thy mercy seat is open still, 
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will, 
And wait beneath Thy feet