The Shadow at my Door

 "Oh great, here comes that guy again," you say.

"Which guy?"

"That guy who's always complaining," moaning, you lament. 

But it's too late. Mr. Woe-Is-Me has already overtaken you to complain about a toxic ex and some gaslighting kin and relation. You're stuck. You're on the hook for a long, one-sided convo where you only contribute the occasional "dang that's crazy"s, a few "really"s, and if you're exceptionally generous, a hearty "wow, that sounds terrible." But you can bet your last icebreaker that you will straight up NOT be having a good time. 

You've been here, right? Nobody likes that guy. What a downer. What a soggy bowl of limp linguini. 

But what happens when it's you one day?  What if you actually did have a toxic ex and some gaslighting kin and relation, and now your heart is constantly heavy over it? What if you really just need someone who will listen and empathize? Your whole life, you've avoided Sir Complainer, Drainer of Health, Downer of Heart. But each time you open your mouth, you have to swallow hard to not say "It's just not fair," "Why is it me who has to suffer", and "I can't believe she would do this to me". So you straighten your crown, smile for the people, and cry in the shower.

Hardly seems right. But what's a Stick in the Mud to do?

You know, I just wrote a blog post that was my little spotlight opportunity to complain about some of the recent hardships I'm enjoying. Thank you all for indulging me in that. Let me just encourage you to always seek some healthy way of getting your frustrations out. It won't be the last time you'll need to vent, trust me. 

If you're anything like me, you've been suppressing the sad boi routine lest you be heralded in your circles as the Man of Constant Sorrow, and not in the cool Dan Tyminski way. This recurring depression-and-no-one-else-to-appreciate-it routine has become your Thorn in the Flesh. 

There was once a very famous Thorn in the Flesh bearer who wrote about his experience thusly:

And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure.

For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.

And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.

Now let me just make this clear: I'm pretty sure ol Paul wasn't dealing with a former flame of his. However, he never specifically details what his Thorn is, probably because the specifics of it don't matter. The part that matters is what becomes of us when we are bothered, afflicted, oppressed, or in any other way bamboozled. 

I said in a previous post that there were so many lessons God was teaching me through heartbreak. Just when I think I've learned them all, a picture, a memory, a token of some sort crosses my periphery, and another exciting bout with the ol Black Dog begins. 

"...when I am weak, then am I strong." What does it mean? When the mood goes down and the proverbial plane begins to tailspin, it's hard to feel strong. If anything, depression feels like a pathetic weakness, especially to a man. I'm supposed to be the towering beacon of stoic strength and the embodiment of the "I don't give a feather or a fig" mindset. But when you see someone you completely trusted celebrating her engagement to someone else just under a year after she left you, there are actually a couple feathers and maybe a plump fig or two you could find in your heart to give. Where is my strength now?

My strength comes from the Maker of Heaven and Earth of course. Super easy to say. But it's only when your head is down, your feet are in the mire, and your eyeball condensation gets really bad (it's the weather, guys. Men don't cry.), you learn lessons like these in a way that'll stay with you awhile. There is no one else to trust than the LORD. There is no other deliverance from sorrow than He. Unless I claim these truths and run to Him, I'm never going to experience the strength that is made perfect in my weakness. 

There it is. My depressions, no matter how severe, are not only tolerable when Christ is at the center, but they are useful, beneficial, and even impactful. When pain or bitterness begins to grow in me, when that ol Black Dog is on my porch again, when my heart is in any way overwhelmed, I'm led to the Rock which is higher than I. I trust He's in control. I trust He's taking care of me. I trust He's worked everything out for my good. I trust He won't forsake me. I trust He will lead me beside still waters and restore my soul. 

And then, there's peace. The problem doesn't go away, but there's peace. I would've thought it impossible to have peace and depression simultaneously, but hey, if God made the platypus, is anything too complicated for Him?

I know this won't be the last time I get to feel the blues with a capital DEPRESSION. This may not even be the last time I feel bitter about someone. But each time, I'll learn a little more about how to rely on God alone for my happiness.  No longer will I wish for a certain event to become infested with rodents or for a certain cake to get stale. (Although, if somebody broke a nail before a certain event, it might bring a smile to my face.) I can take joy in knowing my Shepherd leads me to green pastures. Further, I need to not become vindictive and exact revenge against those who hurt me, because the Father forgives those who forgive others. See Matthew 6: 14-15. I'll write a post about that next, I think. 

Anyway, thanks for indulging me yet again. I send away the shadows of the dark now, hoping you'll come back to hear me out when they come back next time.