Now that I think about it, my last post talked about how distant I had grown from my Savior. I wish I could tell you that this one isn't similar, but unfortunately I can't. This time it was worse. Until this last Sunday I was in an even worse spot than I was in the spring. I could not bring myself to pray. I never thought about God except to ask why he had abandoned me (in my flawed opinion). When I did think about my faith all it did was bring tears to my eyes, so naturally I ran away from that idea. The issue with that plan is that everything else brought tears to my eyes anyway. So that kinda backfired. The simplest explanation for my lack of faith is this: depression.
It comes back every few years. Sometimes every few months. Not that I'm raising the white flag or anything, but I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be fully free. The intensity varies. This fall was probably the worst outbreak I have ever had. And the worst thing about depression is that it has a knack for robbing me of all the things that might heal me. It's hard to reach out to the people that love me. Some of the people that love me hardly even want to reach out to me because I'm not myself. Most importantly, since faith is an abstract concept and abstract things are typically just out of my reach when I'm in the depths of the disease, I can hardly access faith at all.
Several things over the past few weeks have helped me turn around, and I've begun the struggle back up the hill. Sometimes I slide back, but I have slowly begun to regain my footing with more assurance. And finally, last Sunday, I found my faith again.
Or rather, my faith found me.
The church I have gone to during this time of wandering since graduation has been a constant blessing. Somehow here, more than anywhere else I've worshiped in my lifetime, I hear God's voice speaking directly to me, often with exactly the thing I need to hear most. This past Sunday was no exception. It was, in fact, the most potent example. It's not too often that a pastor preaches on the Old Testament reading for the day, but that day it was the passage about God's role as a potter, with me as the clay (Isaiah 64:8-9). To summarize it neatly, I was reminded not only that I am a work in constant progress, but also that making pottery is not easy. Sometimes to make a strong pot a potter uses less water (typically used to make the clay more malleable) and has to use a heavier hand. Even though I already knew it, I needed that reminder that God has never promised to be gentle, at least not in the way I would perceive it. I, much like clay, am resistant. I don't often cooperate. But what truly hit me, and made me stop in my tracks, is that no matter how much I resist or how awful or useless or worthless I think I am, God has promised to work on me until I am complete. He has saved me for a reason, and he loves me enough to keep at it.
Yesterday I was reading a Nicholas Sparks book (it turned out pretty lame, which I expected, but it was entertaining at least). Unless you live under a rock, you probably know that Mr. Sparks frequently writes incredibly sappy love stories. The kind that they make into tragic movies that leave your girlfriend/wife/mom/sister crying, probably because somebody dies or (crying doesn't always make sense) because everything works out really well. However engaging and nice his books may be, I've never looked to Nicholas Sparks for any great wisdom. Imagine my surprise then, when I found a quote yesterday that was actually incredibly deep, and really made me think. Are you ready? Here it is:
"Love, after all, always said more about those who felt it than it did about the ones they loved."
Although it seems odd to apply a Sparks quote to my awesome God, in this case it seemed fitting. The fact that God loves me says little about me. I am still broken and my sinful nature still fights against God's love every day. God's love says everything about how wonderful He is. In the Concordance in the back of my Bible, there are almost three pages of tiny print pointing to passages that use some form of "love". In the past, when I would try to find a verse or passage, I sometimes found that fact annoying. I was on a mission, and I didn't want to skim through all those entries to find what I needed. Today, once again, I found myself searching through that section. To be honest, I never found the exact verse I was looking for. Instead I kept getting "distracted" looking at the multitude of passages that have aided and consoled me across the years. Verses and chapters that speak of the depth and nature God's love, and the example it should be for our love to each other. It finally hit me how completely awe-inspiring it is that "love" is one of the biggest sections of the Concordance. I have heard the phrase "God is love" so many times, and never truly grasped what that meant. Love comes from and leads back to God. The truest, deepest, and most unconditional love we will ever have is that which is given to us freely and abundantly by God. A love so strong that he stands by us in all our trials, no matter how much we tell him we don't need him. A love that bears the insult of every sin and every slight, and still accepts us with joy when we realize how wrong we were. A love so deep that he gave up His Son, extending His own self to us and holding nothing back.
"Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another." (1 John 4:7-11)
This is my fairytale love. The love the stretches across all boundaries and all time and comes to me in big miracles and small whispers. My prayer is for the strength to accept it and give it to others.
