Life sometimes doesn’t make sense. OK, a lot of times it doesn’t make logical sense to me. I’ve had such incredible experiences lately: a dream month in the States with both sides of my family, having my husband come home from deployment, having a comfortable home, having fabulous friends near and far, having a sweet, beautiful baby girl, flavorful food on the table, ability to watch fun football, a husband that loves me in good times and bad, and above all else, a faithful Savior that has given me hope for a future with him. Yet I have been battling depression. So dumb.
Barrett and I have been visiting with friends, going to small group, and serving the single marines who are alone for the holidays. We had seven amazing marines and my friend Aya over for Thanksgiving. Each marine had a card from the kids of Clifton thanking them for their sacrificial service, we read verses that emphasized why we should be thankful, and Barrett read about Squanto and the first thanksgiving. We had more than enough food and even threw in the movie Elf to top off the festive evening. What a blast! Yet the past few days I find myself wanting to disappear rather than appear each morning. What a battle in my mind and heart.
Then I found myself writing about hope. I can choose to look at the world with or without it. Scripture says that the Word of God is where our encouragement and hope should come. That if I look through scripture I can see that every pain of life there is a hope of a savior. With every discouragement there is an answer in the gospel. I have been looking at the world without hope. I concentrate on the shortcomings and failed expectations rather than the forgiveness of all my shortcomings through Christ’s work on the cross. Even with this knowledge my heart does not change automatically. I am still fighting to think on “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable”, what is excellence and what is worthy of praise.
It still doesn’t make sense. Both that I feel down and also that even though I know (and have) the cure (the gospel), it is still a fight of faith. Praise the Lord for his nearness to the downhearted. Praise the Lord that in my weakness he is strong. Praise the Lord the HE will finish the good work in me. Praise the Lord that he not only gave us the Word for comfort, he gave his Word for the answer to all poopy moods, the forgiveness of our sins.