Dark Days Are Not So Distant
There are scars I carry with honour, testimonies to grand adventures whose exploits were won with blood. These scars are reminders I not only enjoy recalling, but can be easily encouraged to boast in.
But not all scars are shown to the light so easily; other scars are masked in silent shame.
“I just want to leave this pain behind.” The words seem easy enough to recall now, but when I spoke them to my wife, sobbing in wretched agony, they took all the strength I could muster. They came in stuttering haggard gasps, a mirror of my spirit within that shrivelled and strained for some light to pierce the gloom. My wife, ever a rock by side, leaned into the place from which God had pulled her, just a little to the side of my heart, and rested her hand on my knee. She had no words, none were needed then. Silent presence was all that I required.
What I didn’t know then, but am thankful for now, is that all the words my wife could utter had been whispered through tears at the foot of the Throne. For eight months my wife prayed in anguish, watching her husband retreat and diminish with no explanation of the battle being fought within. Depression had sprung from some silent place, cheered on by unhealthy aspirations of grandeur and the exaltation of gifts over the Giver. My life and ministry were my identity, but if they had been a rope, I had found the frayed end. Despair became my companion who led me not to God, but instead to revel in my own isolation and failure. Depression is a flattering assassin, whispering words of comfort in one ear while pouring poison in the other. Eight months of listening to fear, sitting in failure, and submitting to sorrow had left ugly scars. All I could gasp out was, “I just want to leave this pain behind.”
Those words were spoken over a decade ago. God’s grace has continued to grow richer to this wretched sinner every year since. Though I once longed to leave the pain of that season behind, I have learned that even the dark night of the soul is worth remembering. It was in the fierce storm that raged that I heard the voice of God, felt is tender touch, and finally learned to rest in the sufficiency of grace.
