Peace Be With You - My Contribution to Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depresion

 Available here on Amazon

The following is my chapter from the book, Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depression. I have avoided posting it in completion because as with any writer, my hope is that everyone I know will buy the book in it's entirety. My hope still lies in your purchase or download, but in light of the recent suicide of Robin Williams and the vital discussions that have developed, I thought it critical that I share my experience with this debilitating disease. Although I encourage you to purchase the entire book, I hope that by sharing my contribution to this project, it will offer comfort to those who like me, live with and battle depression. I also hope that it will shed some light on what it means to suffer with depression for those on the outside. Not Alone is a collection of honest and raw stories from a community of writers that have all dealt with depression and learned how the light of faith can intertwine with darkness. The stories give a glimpse into the depressed existence, while revealing a rich and loving community of Christians . I hope that you enjoy my contribution and find encouragement. 

Chapter 19

Peace Be with You

By Jake Kampe

The stigma of depression in our culture makes it somewhat of a taboo to discuss. Christians who deal with depression are often ostracized, ignored or accused of having weak faith. I’ve even heard some imply that I cannot truly be a follower of Christ, let alone a pastor since I deal with depression. “You know, Jake, depression is a curse from God,”  has always been my favorite explanation. A very interesting concept, considering the depth of depression that King David suffered, and yet what was he called? Oh yeah, “a man after God’s own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14 NIV). I confess that I’ve felt abandoned by God, felt that I had pissed Him off, even felt that He was punishing me for one of my many screw ups in life. But I never felt that God had somehow divinely cursed me with the burden of depression.  

To say that I have lived with depression is an understatement. To say that I’ve seen glimpses of Hell is much more accurate. To say that fear is a companion emotion of depression is not quite the right description. Terror that has brought me to the brink of contemplating suicide is much more illustrative. When I meditate on the landscape that has been my journey through this world, depression has been right there with me, every step of the way. You might say that it’s been an unwelcome traveling companion. As far back as I can remember depression has made itself comfortable with almost every aspect of my life. During major life decisions, crossroads or milestones that have occurred in my life, depression has been there, reminding me that I have to engage in a consultation before proceeding. 

   

When I was very young, I vividly remember periods of unusual depression. I may not have realized the full magnitude of what was taking place in my psyche, but the seeds were being planted, the soil was being cultivated, and roots were beginning to form. The dark cloud of despair was beginning to form itself around my soul and would eventually contribute to molding me into the person I am today. Depression was introducing itself and settling into a comfortable place that would eventually develop into a long stay.  

I live with depression;  I also live with peace. The two go hand in hand, and although they do not live side by side in complete unity, they’ve learned to accept one another. Peace usually dominates the relationship these days, but occasionally depression takes the upper hand. Depression knows peace’s weaknesses and although peace is much stronger, wiser and rational, occasionally depression outsmarts peace and takes temporary control of the household. For a brief period of time, depression wreaks havoc and can quickly destroy a lot of what peace has built. The relationship between the two has not always been this way. Not so long ago, depression was the dominant force in the relationship. In fact, there were long periods of time when peace was forced to leave. Remaining in isolation and forced seclusion, I wondered if peace would ever return. 

  

Being part of a church always provided me with some much needed normality. I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, and the traditions and rituals brought comfort and stability into the life that seemed to be becoming more unstable. Most people were always loving and caring, especially during the traditional greeting of “Peace be with you.”  I’m sure that in many instances it’s extended with a certain amount of ritual and habit, but to me it was warm and comforting, especially from those older than me. “Peace be with you, Jake”  they would say, warmly shaking my hand. “Yes!”, I thought to myself.  “Peace be with me.  Please, God”.

               

As the years passed, I became increasingly isolated and began to reject most attempts of friendship and expressions of love. Throughout junior high and high school, manifestations of depression resulted in bouts of anger and frustration. In my attempts to control the debilitating and helpless effects of depression, anger became my weapon of choice. Anger was more controllable. Anger was my decision to unleash and more controllable. It was mine, and in many ways it kept me warm from the chills of depression. 

             

As I grew older and settled into college life, depression became deeper and more real. I began to see that depression often distorts reality. Not only does it seem to affect the emotions of one’s internal make up, it also emotionally manipulates the external. There is no physical manifestation of the changes that depression initiates. No one else can see what the mind’s eye witnesses. But nonetheless, for the person dealing with the onslaught of severe depression, things just don’t seem the same. Reality becomes twisted, contorted and dreamlike. Nightmarish, unreal and even sometimes hallucinogenic was my reality.  

Toward the end of college, I felt as though my life was in full blown crisis. Regular cocktails of anti-depressants, downers, marijuana and alcohol only numbed the pain that was hiding just below the surface. The temporary alleviation of suffering created a false reality that only isolated me further. “Nothing seems real to me anymore” , I remember telling my therapist at the time.  He immediately said with a calm certainty, “Then Jake, you need to be in a place where things can feel real again.”  What was he saying? Did I need to be in a hospital? Institutionalized? Was I that bad off? I don’t remember much of those days, but I remember that moment very well. It was a sobering realization that my life had spiraled out of control. One question remained: Where was God in the midst of this downward journey into an unknown abyss?  

As I sought healing in my faith, even attending church, spending time in prayer or reading scripture became an uncomfortable experience. I suppose that even my image of God was distorted, but ironically my faith grew deeper. My convictions to know Him deeper and serve Him were growing as well. But like a car stuck in the mud, the more I spun the wheels of effort and faith, the deeper I seemed to sink. My prayers became mundane, spiritless and forced. I would frequently find it hard to focus on God and my anger and frustration soon became directed more toward Him. I began to envision God mockingly holding the key to my healing. Dangling it just beyond my reach, He would grin as I reached out.

If God loved me so much, why was He allowing me to suffer such a hellish existence? If He was real, why was He so apparently unwilling to lift me out of this despair. What possible good could my depression be accomplishing for Him and His Kingdom? Hebrews 13:5 & 6 says “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you”  “Really, God? Then where are you? Are you hiding from me? Playing games?” “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10 NASB). “Then what is this miserable pit in which I’m living?” “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning”? (Psalm 30:5 NLT). “Interesting, because the only morning visitors I ever had were fear and panic, God. Where is this joy you promised I am supposed to have?” “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you?” (John 14:27 NIV).  “Bullshit!”                   

But life continued on and I eventually met my wife who got to experience my ordeals first hand. In reality, I know that there were times when she contemplated leaving me to escape the nightmare that we now both shared. But by God’s grace, she remained by my side, as faithful and understanding as she could be. Ironically, in the long run depression strengthened our relationship, and we grew closer. My two sons came into the world and we began to build the family and life we had longed for. Despite the added stress and responsibility, becoming a father actually helped me deal with depression. Maybe it was because the focus shifted more from me and toward others that I loved. Maybe it was because I was learning and growing spiritually. Maybe it was because God was showing me that my life was actually blessed, rather than cursed. Either way, my children were a turning point for me. A much needed light in a long period of darkness.  

  

I awoke early on Easter Sunday of 2000 with a full blown, unexpected and unprovoked panic attack. In a cold sweat and with heart racing, I got out of bed and went for a walk just before the sun came up. As I walked, I began to pray. As I prayed, my pace increased to a run. As I ran, I began to scream at God in anger. As I screamed, I fell on the grass and broke down. I cried out to God, “Please, God! Stop this! Please! Free me from this hell that I’m in! I can’t do it anymore! What do I do? What have I done wrong? Please help me!”

God’s response? Clearly and almost audible, I heard Him say, “Be obedient, Jake.”  “What?” I thought to myself. Be obedient?”  At this point in my life, I had developed a regular prayer life, was involved in church, read my Bible and jumped through every freaking Christian hoop I could think of! How else could I be more obedient? “Be obedient to WHAT, God?” I cried out. He softly responded, “Just be obedient. You’re not being obedient.”  “I give up, God. You’re not going to help me. You’ve abandoned me. I guess I’m on my own!” I punched the ground and wept as the sun came up. “He is Risen!” I couldn’t have cared less on that Easter Sunday.             

Ironically, I look at this as my moment of healing, but there’s nothing magical that happened in me. No immediate change occurred in my soul, but as the days passed I meditated on what God meant. I realized that obedience had nothing to do with my feelings. It had nothing to do with my actions. And it really had nothing to do with me at all. What God revealed to me was that even though depression had taken over my life, it didn’t get me off the hook. He still wanted me to live as His child, free from darkness and fear. Depression and fear have no place in Kingdom of God, so I needed to show others just the opposite, even though I didn’t feel it. As I began to basically “fake it”, something interesting happened. I began to feel it. As others perceived me as being healed, I essentially was. As I became obedient, God did as well and peace found me again. That was over twelve years ago and although I still struggle with depression, it doesn’t control me. 

As bizarre as it may seem, I’ve found a way to thank God for depression. I see that it’s helped me become a better husband, father and even a better minister. I’m now able to not only sympathize with people, but I can also empathize. I feel the pain that others feel and it becomes real to me; so much so that I find myself wanting to avoid it. “God, please don’t make me go down this path with this person. The pain is too real. It’s too familiar.” But each time He reminds me that I’ll be OK. “Go with them. Feel their pain, Jake. This is not your life anymore, but you have to feel it with them now. It’s essential to your connection with them.”  So, I feel it. It hurts. My heart begins to race and I feel a cold sweat break out over my body. But I feel it with anyone who needs me to join them and I offer peace to be with them. As I feel their pain, I also feel peace rise inside of me, and as we share this common duality of emotions, the Kingdom of God becomes just a little more real for both of us. Peace be with you.        

Living Psalm 88: A re-post from 1/23/12

I'm living Psalm 88 today.  No other explanation could paint a clearer picture of the depths of depression that I find myself in. Read Psalm 88. Psalm 88 is a Psalm of lament. It's a picture of despair that seems to have no end or resolution. At the time of his writing, the Psalmist knows nothing but sorrow and is consumed by overwhelming grief. It's the only Psalm that apparently does not end with some kind of resolution between God and man. It ends as it starts, with the Psalmist engulfed in utter desperation and lacking of any hope. No light bulb goes on. No rainbow springs up in the distance to lift his spirits just a bit. No ray of light to illuminate the darkness. Silence. He turns to God in his pain, in hopes of an answer for the dark state that he find himself in. Silence. God doesn't reveal a nugget of theological truth that causes him to break out in songs of praise and thanksgiving. There is no reason for his pain. No explanation for the silence from God. No answer for the perpetual anguish that the he finds himself in. No hope. This is what depression feels like. 

Depression is very heavy on me today. I live with depression. Not as much as I did many years ago, but I still struggle with depression from time to time. That time is now. It always comes back with a vengeance. Depression sucks. I have no inspiration to write today and motivation is non-existent. I'm writing this in the hopes of you extending me grace. My mind is consumed with a fog that is going to prevent clarity and attention to grammar. That is one of the side effects of depression. The fog consumes, thick with confusion. I'm currently unable to keep a coherent thought within my mind. It would be a nightmare to have a cup of coffee right now. So please forgive me if this is not a literary masterpiece. My minds races with dozens of thoughts that are overwhelming me, and yet I can't focus any single topic. 

It seems that a lot more people have been seeking to know what depression is all about these days More people who don't deal with depression are seeming to be asking more questions and trying to understand how this disease effects others. Maybe more people are dealing with depression in those close to them. Maybe it's just becoming more common. Maybe the stigma is waning a bit and the discussions are opening up. Recently someone asked me to describe what depression is like. What better time to describe the pit than when you find yourself at the very bottom of it, right? I usually don't share this side of me. Usually I just isolate myself. You won't hear from me for a while. My blog will not be updated and I'll draw inward. But here it is. Full color. High def. No editing.       

I didn't sleep well lst night. Most of the night was filled with nightmares and dark dreams I woke up this mourning at the end of a particularly eerie dream. You know the kind that leaves you feeling icky the next day? Nothing really specific about the dream seems to reveal anything to me. The setting was just dark, funky and gloomy. That feeling seemed to have attached itself to me when I awoke. It's been stuck on me, clouding everything I've attempted to do today. Yeah, I've put on a smiley face and tried to "fake it until I can make it", (I hate that expression. No doubt invented by some chipper motivational soul who means well, has no comprehension of what it's like to experience depression for even one day). Was it the same one who coined the phrase "Too blessed to be depressed"?  That makes me nauseous.

Depression is unmoving. It just sits there, like oil stuck to the sides of and old steel drum. Water just beads off of it. I could scrape it out, but it would just make a bigger mess, and I've convinced myself to just deal with it. As always. You've mourned the death of someone close to you, right? Remember that feeling? That's depression. No, I'm not being melodramatic or exaggerating. That's what it feels like, but with no explanation to it's cause. Mourning for no one. Nothing. Just mourning.         

Anxiety and panic usually begin to set in when I'm in the depths of depression. I feel the urge to run. I feel the urge to drive somewhere, but have no destination. It's like running or driving down a tunnel that has no end in sight. You can't see anything from the right or left and all you can hear is a deep droning sound. My ears are ringing, even as I type this and my heart is racing just a bit more. All I can think about is what others think of me. How apparently incapable I am to function at full capacity. I beat myself up, and any previous victories that I've had quickly become failures in my mind. I discredit anything I've accomplished and assume that I've just fooled myself through my entire life up to this point, as well as everyone else. I'm not a writer. I'm not a minister. I'm not a good husband and I've failed as a father. I know. In reality, none of this is true. But in the midst of depression, it's extremely difficult to see anything else. Reality is twisted and distorted. Warped. You wonder who this person is as you gaze in the mirror. I wonder who this is typing these words.

Another companion emotion of depression is anger. Anger comes in waves and in many ways more welcome than depression. Anger feels more controllable and more powerful. Depression just makes you feel weak and out of control. I often get angry with God, and today is no different. I feel like smashing my fists through a wall, in hopes that He'll see how much I hurt. As if God needs a physical demonstration. I walked this morning, feeling isolated and alone. Almost an hour I walked with my dog Dexter. He pants. I pray. I talk out loud and sometimes raise my voice at God. People must think I'm mentally ill, and maybe I am. I just wish that one of them would stop me an ask what's wrong. Do you ever just long for someone to put their hand on your shoulder and say, "It's OK."? Never underestimate the power of the human touch, especially when you feel nothing. I feel cold and completely alone. The clicks of Dexter's nails on the concrete remind me of a clock. The seconds ticking by, reminding me that times stands still while in the depths of depression.   

Recently, I told God that I hated Him. Not because of who He is, or what He's done in my life, but because of what He seems to have not done. I assume that God can handle me saying that. Teenagers often tell their parents that they hate them, right? They come back and apologize and mom and dad know they don't mean it. I told God that I didn't mean it. He knows. But I felt it. I wanted Him to hurt like I'm hurting. Maybe I feel hatred toward God because I feel hatred toward myself. What is self-love? How are you supposed to love yourself when all you want to do is flee from the person you've become? It's a paradox.   

This morning I read the words of Psalm 88. I'm living Psalm 88.But in the midst of depression, I hold onto faith. Faith in a God that has pulled me out of deeper pits. Although I feel life ebbing away, I know that it will be restored just as quickly as it's slipped away from me. I take solace in knowing that things have been much worse and I survived. Like the Psalmist, I'll continue to call on the Lord "every day" and keep bringing my petitions before Him. I'll shake my fists at my Maker and raise my voice to Him. But I trust Him. I know that joy will come again, because I've tasted it before. I've reveled in it. Possibly, that's why the depths of depression hit me so hard. When you've tasted the goodness of God, and been taken to higher planes of living, the distance back down is even further. We fall, but rise again. I will. I always do.           
     

Lenten Reflections: Withdrawl

"Again Peter denied it, this time with an oath. “I don’t even know the man,” he said."

Matthew 26:72

Fear = Withdrawal  

Peter withdrew when anxiety level peaked. Hiding in the shadows of a cold and dark courtyard, he protected his ass before Jesus even had the chance to defend His. He reacted. He withdrew.



One

Two

Three

Run!

Isolated. Alone. Afraid. Peter stood on the outskirts, weeping at his own cowardice. What could bring him back to himself again? What could ever bring redemption? 

"You are the Christ, the Son of the living God."

"Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you."

"Put your sword back in it's place, Peter! You've got bigger battles to fight, and they're not against any man!"

We love our weapons. Our confidence soars when we've got a powerful armament. But when left nothing but ourselves, our instincts leave us vulnerable and in panic.We look out for number one because we believe that without a weapon, we can never stand to defend number two.  Sometimes Christ just calls us to stand.

"Yes, I know Him! He's my friend! He's my Lord! And if I could make my way through that gate, I'd be standing at His side. I'll die if I have to!"

Don't be so quick to judge Peter. He's a soldier and a coward. He's a CEO and he's homeless. He's a cop and a thief. He's a freedom fighter and he's a terrorist. A saint. A sinner. He's you. He's me.

Lord, just as Peter withdrew, we withdraw as well. When we feel our hearts race with panic, we run. We withdraw from You. We withdraw from ourselves and our relationships. Call us back, Lord. Let the rooster crow. Engage us that we may be engaged with You. Amen

 

Best Day Ever

Yesterday was a good day.  In fact, it just might have been the best day ever.  That is, unless you were to consider today, which consequently was the best day ever.  And if we happen to meet somewhere tomorrow, I will declare with certainty, "Today is the best day ever!"  Let me explain.  In order to keep two nine year old boys occupied for the afternoon, and also keep my sanity, I decided to take my youngest son Lucas, and his best buddy Braden, to Putt Putt Fun House; our local Arcade/Miniature Golf/Laser Tag/Bumper Boats/Bowling/Pizza Eating/Rock Climbing/Over-Stimulating/Sugar High Inducing....well....Fun House. It originally only offered miniature golf, back in the 80s; hence the name Putt Putt Fun House. They had go carts at one time, and it was a great place for dates in high school, but I digress.

Putt Putt is the only place in town where you can spend $10 worth of game tokens in order to proudly redeem your winnings for $1 worth of prizes and feel like a champion and millionaire, all at the same time. Yesterday was no exception. Since I only allocated them a few bucks each, both boys decided early on that it would be more efficient to combine their prize tickets in order to redeem a higher quantity and quality junk, and since they are practically inseparable these days, I agreed that it would be a safe transaction. After about 20 minutes of Las Vegas style junior gambling, they made their way to the ticket calculating machine to see how much Lady Luck had graciously bestowed upon them. Their excitement increased as they fed stacks of orange tickets into the hungry mechanical cage cashier. When they began to realize that they were going to end up with an excess of well over 2000 tickets, they high-fived each other, agreeing that sharing in the glory was much better than individual acclaim. So far, it was a pretty good day!

 As the ticket feeder produced a grand total of 2289 points with much pomp and circumstance, Lucas suddenly declared, "This is the best day of my life!" The best day of his life? Really? Have I done so badly a job as a dad that this is his best day so far? I mean, we just got back from a week long vacation, two days of which were spent at one of the biggest water parks in the country, and this is your best day? Are my son's expectations of life really that low? What will his worst day look like? Do I suck as a dad? "This is the best day of my life!" Wow! "Lucas, my son. I love you! But you really need to get a life! Please! Before you get too old and the best day of your life ends up being......"
There I was, watching my son have the best day of his life, when as always, when I let my guard down,   some deep theological truths hit me between the eyes through the simplicity of life. As always, I realize that the complexity of life does not always make us more efficient, more profitable, better or happier for that matter. When you get right down to it, contentment in life comes in the brief moments when we simply breath in and out and realize that this is all we have, all we need.  In reality, this was the best day. Through the eyes of my son, I was transported into a radically different view of life, and it was the best day of our lives. Right there. Right then. Why? Because it was the only day we had access too, right at that very moment. How could it not be the best day?

This is how kids look at life; from day to day, hour to hour, second to second. Their minds don't jump ahead at how things could be better, because they usually see what is before them as the best. They don't lament and ponder why yesterday wasn't as good, because yesterday was the best up until now. And if it wasn't the best, they've already moved on because that's just how their minds work. They see life at it's best and I think this is exactly what Jesus was getting at when He said, "I'm telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God's kingdom. What's more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it's the same as receiving me." (Matthew 18:3-4 MSG)  According to Jesus, the best is the Kingdom of God. Kids see the best. They see the Kingdom, and through their eyes exists a doorway to God's Kingdom that comes to as close to fruition as we can get. The Kingdom of God is here. It's the best day ever.

Living in the moment is not an easy concept for us to grasp, especially as we grow older.  Our lives continue to accelerate as we tirelessly strive to find the best.  Tomorrow will always be better than today, and today does not ever seem to be quite as good as yesterday.  How often do we contently rest in the realization that the best is here and now, realizing that the moment is literally all we have.  As much as we would like to, we can't exist one second in the past or one second into the future.  We exist moment by moment.  Why are those moments not considered to be the best, regardless of circumstances?

As I reflect on the simplicity of my son's words yesterday, I'm reminded that God expects no more from us than this.  After all, He taught us to pray for our "daily bread".  Not complain about the dry bread from yesterday, or anxiously fret because we may not have bread tomorrow.  And as He stands by, watching us count up our winning tickets and redeeming them for junk, I think He simply longs to hear us declare, "This is the best day of my life!". 

Change, God and Mama Dove

As I walked out of the house this morning, coffee and laptop in hand, the warm humid air hit my face, revealing that another South Texas Summer is quickly setting in.  As I wiped the almost instantaneous sweat from my brow, I glanced up at the large palm tree to the left.  As has become the routine lately, I anticipated my eyes meeting those of my new friend; "Mama Dove", as we've affectionately called her.  About two feet above eye level, resting in the nook of a couple of dead branches, are usually the small dark black eyes that cautiously watch my movements as I pass by.  There was more nervousness in her glances when we first discovered her, but as the days passed by, she soon relaxed, realizing that neither me nor my family were much of a threat.  There seemed to be a silent trust that had developed.  She seemed to know that we all knew what she was up to and appeared to be comfortable in her new temporary home.  I began to enjoy greeting her as I came and went.  "Hey, Mama Dove!  How are those babies doing?  When's the big day?"  Over the last couple of days, by her relaxed glances, it was almost as if she was sharing her experience with me.  I enjoyed having her around. 

But this morning, instead of seeing her welcoming face or tale feathers, depending on her position of choice, I saw only an empty nest.  I would have assumed that she was simply making a food run, but apparently nesting doves have a very specific routine, and those don't take place until evening, as the sun begins to set.  After setting down my coffee and backpack, I walked outside and into the garage to get my ladder, still expecting her to swoop down any second and assume her maternal post.  But as I set the ladder near the tree and made my way up toward the nest, I quickly realized that it was empty and the realization of what was going on set in.  She was gone and the eggs had hatched.  Nature had upheld it's end of the bargain and the anticipation of life finally came to fruition.  The wheels on the bus go round and round.  

There are literally thousands of birds born each and every day.  There should be no reason that I lament the absence of Mama Dove and the two eggs that she patiently and dutifully watched over for so long.  But as I picked up one of the shells that I found on the ground cover below, I felt a little sadness at the change that just occurred.  Something that I had come to depend on, look forward to and even enjoy, was removed from my life and I felt the subtle sting of "change".  And change can suck sometimes.  None of us really like it, but it happens none the less.  And this little window into nature revealed that change occurs in all aspects of life; even those that seem to have nothing to do with us.

Mama Dove's big change had become a small change for me.  The system of God's creation transpired in this little birds life and by chance, and blessing, I was able to be a part of it.  Nature has no time tables.  Nature has no schedules.  Nature has no dependence on anything other than itself and it's self-reliance, and this got me thinking about a much bigger picture.  These small pictures of nature, God's sovereign creation, reveal to us just how little control we have to what happens to us.  Mama Dove's eggs would hatch, whether she wanted them to or not.  And as long as she did the job that God created her to do, everything would go as planned.  Why is that simple concept so difficult for human beings to grasp?

All of nature, besides man, seems to have a trusting grasp on the perfect flow of nature and the creation that surrounds them.  Just because we might have superior intellects, does that give us the privilege of worry and the authority of control?  Just because the mind delves into reason, does that allow us to usurp what God has already perfectly set in motion, without flaw or glitch?  Or could it be that we are the flaws and glitches to the process?

I wonder is God has been revealing Scripture to me, just outside my front door.  Has He been whispering to me through Mama Dove, " Jake, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; what you will write today or who you will minister to; or about your body, what you will wear; or about your hair and how it's falling out.  Is not life more than food, books, hair and the body more than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; look at Mama Dove; she doesn't sow or reap or store away in barns, in fact, she just sits there all day long, 24/7, and yet I feed her.  Are you not much more valuable than her?  Is not your family?  Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?" - Matthew 6:25-27 (Paraphrase mine)                               

Interview With Joy Wilson and the Not Alone Project

Visit author Joy Wilson at her website:  joyleewilson.org/wordpress/  

Interview With Jake Kampe, Contributor to Not Alone
 
I had the privilege this year of being a contributing author to Not Alone: Stories of Living With Depression, written by people who have suffered from depression.  We have openly shared our stories so that other people with depression will know that they are not alone in their pain.
I’ve had clinical depression all my life, and know the pain and isolation it causes.  I know the shame of crying uncontrollably in public for no apparent reason, panic attacks, fear of falling into a black, bottomless chasm and never coming out again, despair that just won’t go away. There is often a stigma associated with this disease, because our symptoms aren’t rational or predictable. So we hide behind a façade whenever possible, and suffer in silence, never knowing that many people around us have similar feelings.

I first met Jake Kampe when he e-mailed me after reading my essay in Not Alone.  I learned he was a fellow contributor, and we discovered we shared the same feelings and many of the same experiences (which is the point of the book).  I asked Jake if I could interview him, so you can hear his story of hurt and hope.

Tell us a little bit about your spiritual journey, and why you decided to write your story for Not Alone?

First of all, I’m fairly new to the writing scene, so basically I write for anything, everything and anyone that will let me.  The mere fact that anyone sees any value in what I have to say is amazing.  I’m often my worst critic and regularly have to convince myself that I just might not be as full of crap as I imagine.  But I realized that I “needed” to contribute for me more than anything else. Revisiting some of the darkest places in my life was a confirming indicator in how much God has given me and how far I’ve come.  I’m the kind of person that doesn’t necessarily see things as they are within the moment.  I live much of my life in a retrospective perspective, which is probably why I am such a nostalgic person.  By the way, did you know that “nostalgia” was once thought to be a mental deficiency? Makes sense.

I’ve dealt with depression and severe anxiety for most of my life.  It sucks.  The darkest periods were during high school and college, and if it wasn’t for God and my extensive collection of Smiths CDs, I probably would not be writing this today.  As with anyone who has lived with depression, the journey has been extremely difficult and filled with a deep darkness that most people cannot even imagine.   I can remember many times crying out to God, especially when I became involved in vocational ministry, Why?  What possible good could come from this?  What is this accomplishing for Your Kingdom, God? I’m utterly useless!”  As hard as I tried, I could not see how God would use my experience of personal hell to further His message of being the light of the world.  For me, the light was flickering.  I felt like a hypocrite, a failure and at the very least, a weak Christian.  I frequently found myself angry with God and cursed Him often.  Instead of seeing the God of love that I now know He is, I only envisioned a vindictive God that I wanted nothing to do with, or at the very least saw Him as a divine practical joker.

Once I began to find healing, more stability and a semblance of peace in my life, I soon began to see things with a bit more clarity.  When I began to accept depression as part of my life, it was as if a fog had been lifted from my vision of the world and I began to see reality for what it really was. I think that’s one of the more sinister weapons that depression uses most often: the inability to see things as they are.  Reality becomes warped and distorted, creating a deeper spiral of darkness that just feeds on itself.  Things don’t look the same, smell the same or sound the same.  Reality can become almost hallucinogenic in the deepest times of depression.  The mind feeds on itself in this vicious circle of demoralizing thoughts that screw up the mind, body and spirit.  But as the fog clears, questions such as the ones I asked God begin to find the answers in the realty that once seemed so elusive.

Why do you think it’s so hard for people with depression to talk about it?

Because we’re chicken shit. We’re so caught up in this societal “appearance” game that we’re terrified to look weaker or more inferior to someone else.  Instead of embracing that depression is part of who we are, we hide it, ignore it and push it deep down inside.  What we don’t realize is that we’re subconsciously hindering aspects of ourselves that enable beautiful qualities that culture and the Kingdom need to see lived out.  People with depression have great empathy for others, they love deeper, hurt more and care about the world around them.  Those are qualities that are nothing to be ashamed of.  The world is in short supply of people that love painfully.

Depression has historically been considered a weakness.  It’s only been in recent years that people are finally realizing that it is in fact an illness.  Just as someone with cancer would seek medical treatment, someone with clinical and/or chemical depression must do the same.  A person with a broken arm gets a cast.  The heart attack victim has surgery.  The one with cancer is treated with chemo.  Unfortunately, most people who have not experienced intensive chronic depression cannot understand from their limited perspective.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but we live in a culture in which one usually has to physically see something before believing in its reality.  So it is with depression.

The same issues exist within the Church, and unfortunately maybe even to a much higher degree.  As I stated in Not Alone, one questionably well-intended friend once enlightened me that depression was a curse form God, and that I needed to repent of some sin in my life that was keeping me in bondage.  Luckily, I dismissed his advice and rested in what I knew was true.  God may have allowed me to remain in depression, but I never felt that He “made” me depressed.  We serve a God love.  Just read through 1 John 4:7-21.
I think that this kind of perspective comes from a warped view of the Gospel, wrong theology and basically just wrong thinking.  A life of following Christ has never been promised to be free of pain and suffering. In fact, we should expect it and maybe even welcome it.  Christ promised that we would have trouble in this world (John 16:33).  He states very clearly that one of the requirements of being His disciple is that we deny ourselves and pick up our own cross.  It is only then that we truly follow Him.

Carrying a cross is not easy.  It sucks.  It’s painful, embarrassing and difficult.  But suffering is an essential part of being a Christian.  In fact, many of the early Church Fathers considered it to be a spiritual discipline.  Imagine that concept being taught in today’s “Dr. Phil” society.

What has having depression cost you?

Well, let’s see.  If I add up the cost of hundreds of therapy sessions and medications alone….Hmmmm….Now that’s depressing.

When I look back in retrospect, I can see that depression has cost me a lot.  But it’s all relative.  It has to do with how you define “cost”.  Surely, I’ve missed out on a lot.  Depression causes deep fear, which held me back for quite a while.  Who knows what I could have accomplished much earlier in life had depression not been such an intricate part of my journey.  I might have decided to go into seminary in my early ‘20s instead of my ‘30s, or been the pastor of a mega-church (cringe!).  I might have written dozens of bestselling books.  I might have never met my wife and had the two amazing boys that I have today.  I might have never had the chance to meet you and the incredible people I know through the Not Alone Project.  I might have become an arrogant, cold, unloving, shallow, superficial person.  Everything I loathe today.  I’d say that maybe it’s cost me a lot, and maybe that’s a good thing.

Why do you say that depression can be a blessing?

I think I may have already jumped ahead and talked a little about this already, but I soon discovered that depression was somewhat of teacher to me.   And from its intensive education, I learned not only how to deal with depression in my own life, but how to minister to others suffering from the same demons that I once had.  I learned that I had been blessed with not only sympathy for others, but also empathy.  I hurt when others hurt.  When alking with someone with depression, I feel the pain that they feel.  I see what they see.  I hear what they hear.  And I find myself not wanting to travel down the dark road with them.  I think to myself,”Oh shit!  This is too real!  I can’t go there!  Too many familiar things in this story!”   But I go with them.  I take their hand and jump down that spiral of darkness just because they need me to.  I’ve learned to trust that God will not allow me to stay there anymore.  His hand pulls me back out, once the communal suffering is complete.  Kind of like a lifeline for a climber, descending into a deep crevasse.

I’ll be honest.   If could go back in time, and had the ability to change my life experience, I would not change anything.  As strange as it may sound, depression has been one of the greatest blessings in my life, because it made me into what I am today, and I like who I am.  Depression refined me, sculpted me and transformed my life.  Sometimes I see my life as a clay vessel, with God as the Potter. He created a vessel that for all practical purposes looked OK from an outside perspective.  But after careful analysis, God realized that what He had made was not quite what He wanted it to be.  The only way to transform a clay vessel into something new is to break it down.  It’s smashed into many pieces; the pieces are then crushed into smaller pieces and then ground into a fine dust. Water is again added and clay forms once again.  The Potter then begins to mold and shape the clay into the perfect vessel that He always intended to make by pushing, squeezing, stretching and cutting.  It’s not comfortable.  It doesn’t look pretty.

At last the vessel is as it should be, but still not complete.  For if it is used without being exposed to the heat, it will sag and wilt into a useless lump.  The furnace refines the vessel so that it can be used in fulfillment of why it was created. The fire is intense and burns away any material that is not mandatory to the vessel being hardened.  It’s ugly, chaotic and painful.  But when complete, and the vessel has been cooled, it’s now ready for use in the most essential way possible.

If there’s one thing you hope people can take away by reading your story, what would it be?

Like the title of the book says, you’re not alone.  That seems to be the essential message of all the authors and what we all tried to communicate.  Reading through the entire book, it’s as if a common thread of empathy runs through the pages of this community of people.   As a collective voice, we join together and agree that we share the same experiences and long for others to join the group.

My greatest hope, my humble prayer, is that people would see that recovery is not only possible, but a much fuller life is possible as well.  There were times in my life when I literally accepted that my life would not get any better.  I was convinced that my mind and psychological condition was beyond repair. I was broken and regardless of how much progress I might make, I would never have the life I had always hoped for. I resolved that I would probably never get married and subsequently never have children.  In the worst case scenario, I feared that one day my mind would just snap under the pressure of depression and I would have to be locked up in a nut house (I can say “nut house” because I consider myself a nut).

But man!  God not only blessed me with recovery and peace in my life, but He has given me more than I ever expected!  I got married to the same woman who suffered through the deepest and darkest days with me, I have two beautiful boys and God opened the door for me to go to seminary and dedicate  he rest of my life serving Him in vocational ministry.  Over the last 5 years, He also added writing to my life and ministry, which has opened even more doors of peace and joy.   How cool is that?  And it just continues to get better with age!  People ask me if I’m “healed” from depression and without hesitation, I tell them no, because I’m being healed every day.  I have peace, but just when I think my healing has come to fruition, God reveals something new and beautiful to me.  Peace grows deeper, and peace is an awesome gift of God, isn’t it?

Peace be with you!

Peace Be With You - Excerpt from Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depression

Toward the end of college, I felt as though my life was in full blown crisis.  Regular cocktails of anti-depressants, downers and alcohol only numbed the pain that was hiding just below the surface.  The temporary alleviation of suffering created a false reality that only isolated me further.  “Nothing seems real to me anymore” I remember telling my psychologist at the time.  He immediately said with certainty, “Then Jake, you need to be in a place where things can feel real again.”  What was he saying?  Did I need to be in a hospital?  Institutionalized?  Was I that bad off?  I don’t remember much of those days, but I remember that moment very well. It was a sobering realization that my life had spiraled out of control.  One question remained: Where was God in the midst of this downward journey into an unknown abyss?  

Even attending church, spending time in prayer or reading scripture became an uncomfortable experience.  I suppose that even my image of God was distorted, but ironically my faith was growing deeper.  My convictions to know Him more fully and serve Him were growing as well.  But like a car stuck in the mud, the more I spun the wheels of effort and faith, the deeper I seemed to sink.  My prayers became mundane, spiritless and forced.  I would frequently find it hard to focus on God and my anger and frustration soon became directed more toward Him.   I began to envision God mockingly holding the key to my healing.  Dangling it just beyond my reach, He would smile as I reached out.

Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depression

Many of you know that I had the opportunity to contribute to another book called Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depression.  It's a collection of essays by a community of authors that tell their stories of how they've dealt with the varied aspects of depression in their lives.  In a very candid and raw fashion, each person breaks the silence in hopes of diminishing the stigma that exists in our culture today.  And by sharing these stories, we've attempted to offer hope to those that suffer today.

In contributing to this project, I quickly found that it was much more difficult than I had anticipated.  Reliving some of the experiences with depression caused me to face some things that were not very comfortable.  As I wrote, it was as if a dark cloud settled over me and I felt my overall mood shifting.  It made me realize how powerful these emotions are and how I will most likely carry them with me for the rest of my life.  It also revealed to me how God has been with me throughout my suffering.  As somewhat of a divine counselor, He not only guided me through the most difficult times of my life, but He strengthened me, taught me and shaped me into who I am today.  So, although my memories of depression conjure emotions that I instinctively attempt to repress, I realize that they are assets as well.                


Depression is a very real experience for many people living in today's culture.  Because of the negative connotations that come with it, depression is usually not something that we freely discuss in everyday life.  The causes are too numerous and varied to mention here, but they can include such things as abuse (both emotional and physical), chemical imbalances, death of loved ones, divorce, rejection and various family issues. There is no one reason that a person might suffer from chronic depression, but one thing is for sure, our fast paced and demanding society definitely contributes to some level of depression in everyone.  It can leave the person feeling isolated, secluded and alone.  People that deal with chronic depression usually hide the effects and do their best to cope with it in isolation, never knowing that the person sitting right next to them in Starbucks very well might be equally suffering.  So they remain silent, hiding away, believing that no one could ever understand what they feel, believing that no one cares.   

For those dealing with depression, Not Alone is a collection of stories that will resonate with the reader with words of hope, comfort and empathy.  Whether sharing the first initial discovery of depression, how they sought help or giving words of hope that depression can be managed, the authors all tackle the lie that you must suffer in solitude and isolation. With courage and honesty, these stories give a glimpse into the mind of the depressed individual. While you will not find a cure for depression in these pages, you will find a sense of community. You might find yourself thinking, "That's EXACTLY how I feel!"  You will find words of comfort. You will find support.  And when all is said and done, you will find that you are Not Alone.

Flood

Do you have recurring dreams?  "Clean" recurring dreams?  Be careful now!  A common one for me are floods.  It’s almost a direct correlation to what’s going on in my life at the time of the dream.  Dream of floods = Overwhelmed with life.  The subconscious takes me to aquatic symbolism as I feel wave after wave crashing over my head.  The more I struggle, the deeper I seem to slip beneath the surface.  Without words, I can hear myself calling out to God, raising my arms upward in hopes that His grip will meet mine.  I taste the saltwater.  It burns my throat.  The smell of the ocean penetrates my nostrils and as I reach the point of submission, I suddenly wake up.  Not wanting to connect the dream to my reality, I get out of bed, go about my day and try to forget.  At least for the moment, my head is above water.

The floods of life come unexpectedly, don't they?  We never expect when the storm surge is going to hit.  One minute, we’re safely aboard the boat that is our normal life, navigating the waters, confident, commanding the vessel and comfortable with our destination.  And in what seems like an instant, we get knocked off the deck by a rogue wave that leaves us dazed, bewildered and sometimes unconscious.  The ocean takes us under and with every amount of strength we can muster, we fight to reach the surface once again.  Panic stricken, we helplessly grasp at the liquid that surrounds us, hoping to take hold of something that seems physical, normal, solid.  And when we realize that the fight is useless, we submit.  At least that’s what I do in the dream.  I never drown.  I never reach the shore.  And I never seem to get back on the boat.  But upon waking, I realize that the dream is over and the flood has ended.

I love the wording that Eugene Peterson uses for Psalm 18:16 in The Message. “But me he caught—reached all the way from sky to sea; he pulled me out of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos, the void in which I was drowning.”  I guess there are times when we just walk around in a dream.  The flood rages around us and pulls us under.  We struggle.  We fight.  We breath in ocean.  We spiral in the undertow.  And then we submit.  We surrender to the flood.  And we wake.  But one thing I've learned from these dreams is that all of my struggles are pointless when you get right down to it.  No matter how hard I try to control the elements around me, I continue to sink.  I continue to be overwhelmed until all of my strength is gone and I give up.   

I'm learning that life can be chaotic, out of control and sometimes really sucks.  It's filled with disappointments, struggles, tragedies and Happy Meal Toys that serve no purpose what so ever.  Some things in life just cannot be defined with a perfect A + B formula, especially in faith.  And I'm learning that's OK.  When we stop trying to make sense of everything that won't fit into our perfect life "box", we begin to see God for who He really is: mysterious, uncontainable, a little chaotic and in many ways, undefinable.  But that's His problem, not ours.  He just wants us to be who we really are: little children; confused, frustrated, rambunctious and always filled with wonder and awe.  (See Matthew 18)  Children accept life as it comes to them and God as He is.  Sometimes it's not without a little rebellion, but when we quit fighting, quit struggling and finally just submit, that's when He shows us who He is.  The flood stops.  We're back on the boat.  And we're again confident and comfortable at the wheel.  But there's still that question of purposeless Happy Meal Toys.