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.        

The Funk

Philippians 4:4 says, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” You know, if someone approached me today and said that, I just might have to…….well, let’s just say I would not receive their chipper greeting with equal glee. You see, I’m in what I call "the funk". That's just a cute way of saying that I'm depressed. Depression sucks. Most of you know that I've dealt with depression for most of my life and for the most part, I've overcome it. Overall, I have a relative amount of peace in my life, but not today. Every once and a while, "the funk" revisits me, and sometimes it's just as hard as it ever was before. I feel like I've been transported in time to who I was 20 years ago.

I’ve been finding it very difficult to write, so I'm sure this will not be a literary masterpiece. I can't stay focused. I've been unmotivated and have no creativity. So, why not write about "the funk"? The funk is my reality. Quite simply, I am "the funk". If you looked up “funk” in Webster’s Dictionary, you would see a picture of my smiling face, taken on a day when I wasn’t in "the funk". But as for now, as I write this blog, I’m definitely in "the funk". I’m not alone in my funkdom, am I? I mean, we all slip into the occasional funk from time to time, don’t we? We can be the most positive people on earth, but not immune to falling into “the funk”.

In reality, I think depression is just part of our human chemistry. Part of the cycle of living life. Part of the way God has wired us. I envision it as somewhat like a car engine. You can take obsessive care of your car, in terms of preventative maintenance, wash it every week, wax it and spray that smell good stuff in the interior, but eventually something will snap, break or crack, causing the engine to run a little less smoothly, and just overall feel kind of sluggish. Funky. You might just get some bad gas, and the car sputters and kicks as it longs for fresh fuel to course through the system. In some ways, the car is just trying to tell you something. I think our bodies are no different, and “the funk” may actually have a very useful purpose. Whether physically, emotionally or spiritually, depression gets our attention. Our spirit is telling us something. In a deeper part of our soul, an indicator is being activated, a light is blinking, and the alarm is sounding. “Check Engine”. Our attention is targeted. No distractions.

Recently it has become very clear to me how many distractions I encounter each and every day. When you think about it, we live in a culture that constantly inundates us with distractions. It’s almost as if we’re over-stimulated children on sugar highs, doing our best to keep up in a classroom with no rules. We’re exposed to much, but hear very little. And at least in my case, I think this is why we slip into "the funk" from time to time.

Have you noticed that when you're depressed, it becomes very difficult to keep your attention on anything outside of yourself? Distractions become minimal as we become inwardly focused and the details of life become secondary. Things that once caused us to “Rejoice in the Lord”, suddenly become dull and cloudy. Living life becomes kind of mundane and even insignificant. Depression sets in like an early morning fog. It blurs. It distorts. Like Superman fraught with a necklace of kryptonite, “the funk” sucks the life right out of us.

Scripture illustrates stories of many people that found themselves in “the funk”, and they turned out OK. But the most powerful examples are found in the Psalms and David, “a man after God’s own heart”. David didn’t just wade through “the funk”, he dove in head first and swam though it, his head submerged from time to time, wondering if he would eventually drift below the surface and never surface again. Listen to what David said about his time in “the funk”, as well as other Psalmists.

"My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught” (Psalm 55).

“My soul is in anguish…I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.” (Psalm 6). 

“Troubles without number surround me;” (Psalm 40).

“Out of the depths (funk?) I call to you, O Lord;” (Psalm 130).

“Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in the miry depths…I am worn out calling for help…I look for sympathy, but there was none,” (Psalm 69). 

Psalm 88

These are just a few examples, but can you relate to any of these words? I can, and although I don’t have all the answers right now, I’m glad to say that God has my attention. And as I begin spending a lot more time in prayer asking, “Why?”, God seems to remain silent. After a couple of weeks of silence, my prayer has changed to something a little different: “What?” “What can I learn from this, God? You now have my complete attention, so what do you want me to learn from this “funk”.

And do you know what I’ve found out? Nothing. I’ll let you know when I figure it all out. But the point is, God has my attention. The distractions have been clouded out as the “check engine” light flashes. The alarm system has worked as it should have and caused me to realize that there is something causing my engine to run a little sluggish. And you know what? It’s OK. The funk will clear and I will soon “Rejoice in the Lord” once again. If not, you’ll be treated to some dark blogs for a while.

(Photograph - Angus Campbell)

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.           
     

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.  

Pain

Yesterday was a very difficult day for me.  I found myself having to make a decision that was very painful, but realized that there was no other option in the scenario I faced.  Because of this decision, I'm experiencing somewhat of a loss, so in many ways I feel as if I'm mourning.  Throughout the day, I made my way from distraction to distraction in order to try and alleviate the pain I was experiencing, but nothing seemed to fill the void that had been created.  The pain has been deep.  The pain has been real.  And it appears that for now, the pain cannot be avoided.

Pain is one of the byproducts of decisions we make.  Right or wrong, most of us make decisions that eventually shake us from peaceful apathy, and create a series of events that cause pain in our lives, as well as others. When the full force of the pain is overpowering us, sapping our strength, making us ill and sometimes rocking the very foundations of our lives, we seek relieve in any form it can be found.  Some of us find consolation in prayer, some in exercise, some in talking with friends, some find the edge taken off by alcohol, drugs or other forms of self-medicating.  But one area that I have found peace in is music.  I have very little musical talent, but have always been consumed by the music of others that have the gift of touching the heart, stirring the soul and calming the storms that rage within me from pain.

Since yesterday, I've found comfort in many artists that I've found healing in over the years.  One in particular caused a profound effect on me.  It caused me to close my eyes, drift away from the pain I felt, if only for a moment, and imagine a world that did not exists at the time.  I found solace in not only the words of the song, but also in the haunting melody that seemed to lift me from the pit I was in.

It's no surprise to many of you that know me, but I'm a pretty emotional person.  Most of the time it's a blessing, but from time to time, like today, it can be a burden and a curse that weighs me down and causes me to question why God made me the way I am.  I guess that's why I relate so much to the life of King David.  Reading through each Psalm that David wrote, you can hear every human emotion in vivid description and eloquent poetry.  David was by no means afraid of expressing his emotions, regardless of how high the mountain top might have been, or how low the pits of despair may have found him.  David was an emotional man, and through that emotion came incredible creativity, imagination and strength.  One of those areas of creativity came in the form of music that he had been gifted with at a very young age.

In 1 Samuel 16, we read a story of a man named Saul, who was the first King of Israel.  Saul had been faithful to God but made a series of bad decisions that began to effect his mental state.  The Bible says that an evil spirit came over Saul, because God's Spirit had left him.  We can probably assume that Saul was consumed by overwhelming fear and depression.  We know nothing about what alleviated the pain that consumed Saul, except for one thing: Music.

1 Samuel 16:23 says, "Whenever the spirit from God came on Saul, David would take up his lyre and play. Then relief would come to Saul; he would feel better, and the evil spirit would leave him."  Think about these words for a moment.  Saul is struggling through the shear agony of depression, fear, panic, anger and frustration.  The choices of his life have overwhelmed him as he realizes that God has all but left him completely.  He's drowning in his sorrow and helplessly grasping for a life ring to save him.  And when the waves are about to crash over him one last time, he hears the sweets sounds of David's harp.  They call to him from above the surface of the ocean, he is captivated by the enchanting melody and is swept to place of peace.  A place of escape from his pain.  If just for a brief moment, the music from David's harp, soothes his anguishing soul and bring the relief he longs for.

You may not connect with music in the way I do, but chances are there is something that touches your soul in the same manner.  Whatever it might be, realize what David's harp is for you.  Who is a "David" in your life that can come beside you and easy the pain that can come from life's journey.  We live in a chaotic world, don't we?  To think we can escape pain is unrealistic at best.  My pain will soon dissipate.  I will rise above the waves that have crashed over me for the moment, and at least for the time being, David's harp sings melodically to me, as I close my eyes and rest, and let the peace envelop me, if even for one brief moment in time.  God has placed a healing refuge in my life and I thank Him.  I thank Him for the melodies that dull the sharp edges of pain.                               

I Am a Rock

As a kid, I grew up listening to folk music. Simon and Garfunkle, Bob Dylan, John Denver and Peter, Paul and Mary were standard sounds pumped though our “high fidelity” record or cassette player. Saturday mornings were always accompanied by my Mom cleaning the house, the smell of breakfast wafting from the kitchen and the sounds of 60s revolution in the background. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes I did my best to drown out the sounds from the living room stereo. Usually that came from dueling sound systems as I assaulted my parents ear drums with anything from The Smiths to Black Flag. But well into my 40th year of stumbling through this life, I find myself looking back on those days with a comforting nostalgia.

Now that I’m older, I have a greater appreciation for these artists. In fact, I’m a huge Bob Dylan fan. One of the best days of my life was taking my dad to see his aging folk idol at the Houston Rodeo in 2002. Dad’s reaction? “Wow! He sucks in his old age!” But you know, when hearing these artists today, my mind quickly drifts back to a much simpler time. Last week, as I fumbled through the radio stations, I heard Simon and Garfunkle’s classic, “I Am a Rock”. As I hummed along, I was surprised that I actually knew all of the words. But for the first time, I caught myself really listening closely to the lyrics of this song and what the artist had to say.

“I’ve built walls, a fort deep and mighty, that none may penetrate. I have no need for friendship; Friendship causes pain. It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain. I am a rock, I am an island…If I never loved I never would have cried…hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me.” Too bad they didn’t have Paxil or Effexor back in those days, huh?

As I wrote in my last blog, we all experience dark times in our lives. We all experience “the funk”. How familiar does this sound? You have a bad day at work, reprimanded by your boss and given a hard time by co-workers. On the way home, you’re pulled over for speeding and given a ticket. When you finally return home, the stressful reality of family life sets in with a greeting of screaming kids, clutter and a to-do list that looks more like a three page essay. At this point, the only thing you want to do is crawl under the covers and shut off for the remaining hours of the day. The thought of confronting anyone only makes you more frustrated. You don’t want to talk to anyone. All you want is isolation. “I am a rock.”

Jesus said in the gospel of Matthew, “Anyone who listens to my teaching and obeys me is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won't collapse, because it is built on rock. But anyone who hears my teaching and ignores it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand. When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will fall with a mighty crash." After Jesus finished speaking, the crowds were amazed at his teaching."

So, when I isolate myself in my pain, am I really a rock? Am I an island? Do I have no need for friendship because friendship will only cause pain? “Friendship causes pain,”. Hmmmm. You know what? I would have to agree 100%. Friendship does cause pain, and that pain comes from the responsibility of loving one another. But it’s worth the risk. “Love one another.”

(Art by Ben Davies-Jenkins. "Golden Isolation"; oil)