B-log

Read part 2, part 1

Though I was shocked and surprised by my sudden joblessness, I was even more so by the the emotional turmoil that followed because of it. After and amidst the anger and bargaining, came the recurring battles against depression. It was here where my needs were greatest, my pains deepest, my doubts most daunting, and my faith most fulfilled.

If anger is the roaring rapids in a river of uncertainty, depression is the dangerous drowning whirlpool at the bottom of a raging waterfall.  

Losing my job put me in to a free fall. I suppose it had a lot to do with that I had so much of my identity wrapped up in being a pastor. Having that suddenly stripped away or invalidated was painful, but not nearly as much as the rejection that followed. Splashing into the suction of depression could have caused me to give up. Instead, because of the grace of God, it caused me to fight for my life.

While I’d like to say that this fight was like that scene in Rocky IV where the Italian Stallion chops down the Russian Drago with a flurry of relentless body shots, it was really nothing so heroic (nor patriotic). I’m Irish, I haven’t been in a fist fight since 1992, and I long ago made a practice of not picking fights that I had a high probability of losing. Contending for my own personal faith was a quiet contest waged within the confines of my spirit, amidst the square circle of my mind, and against a foe who is not of flesh and blood.

While I’ve been sad many times throughout my life, I’ve only experienced true depression two different times. The first time came when someone I greatly respected (but who really didn’t know me or know much about me) attacked me on a very personal level and said mean-spirited, arrogant, ignorant and hurtful things to me about me on a personal and professional level. I later understood that those statements were projections stemming from that person’s own self-inadequacies, but it was the first time in my life that an attack like that had injured my soul. My second experience with depression was a result of being laid off.

In both instances, I was fortunate not to be pulled down into the whirlpool to a deep, unrecoverable despondency. I attribute this to the mercy of God and for his provision of Kelli, as well as some precious friends and other family who have been and continue to be incredibly supporting and encouraging. 

It intimidates me to think about writing these words, but I feel compelled to because it’s the aspect of joblessness and setback that often goes unaddressed. Consequently, people experiencing depression settle into isolation and silence, where the darkness and despair become overwhelming, leading them to lonely, desperate, and sometimes tragic decisions.

This is what depression was like for me. 

• My skin tingled, mostly on my arms and legs, and not in a good way like I was anticipating something good about to happen. It was anxiety, like the dread of the unknown was dragging its bony finger down my spine, sending unpredictable currents of fear and worry through my nervous system.
• It was as though my emotional reserves were stored in my kidneys, and depression was Mickey Ward landing a match-ending shot that dropped me to my face (for those of you who don’t get this analogy, watch here, and jump to about 1:25 to see the effect of a vicious kidney punch). The result…just like the fallen boxer, I didn’t want to get up off the floor. It was by sheer force of will and by  leaning desperately on the encouragement of others and faith in God that I was able to stand and persevere.
• I could not intellectually reconcile my depression. This was significant for me, because I place such a high value on logic and the thought process. This is also how I know my situation was a “soul wound,” and not just a circumstantial set-back. 
• It came and went. I describe my experiences with depression in this season as a tide that rose as a flood tide, but graciously fell as an ebb tide, too. I know that others experience a flood tide of depression that doesn’t ebb, leaving them in dark waters of misery. Most of the time, I’ve been good. Some of the time, I’ve not been so good, but I’ve been able to manage it. Occasionally, I’ve been pretty down. Those rare-but-real low points usually were the result of receiving news of rejection from places where I had just “known for sure” that God was leading (in my own, wrong, sense of “ideal opportunity for Big Mac”).
• I questioned everything. It was in my own deep waters that I questioned God. While I can say I never asked God, “Why me?” (because I have always assumed “why not me?”), I asked God plenty of other questions, such as:
  • Why? What is your purpose in this?
  • How Long?
  • Do I have a ‘blind spot?’
  • Was this my fault?
  • Am I being punished, or disciplined?
  • Could I have changed the outcome if I had done something different?
  • Did I make a mistake coming here?
  • Is this the end? Do you plan to rescue me from this fire?
  • What does my life mean to you?

and on it went…

It is God’s answer to this last question where people make important decisions to either persevere or to give up.

I want you to know that I questioned living because of my extended unemployment. I want to be clear that I never contemplated suicide. My own mom and my paternal grandpa each took their own life, and I’m all too familiar with the pain and calamity that results form suicide, inflicted upon those who are left behind. So when I say I questioned living, I didn’t consider ending my own life. But I questioned whether or not I was a failure. I questioned whether or not I could or would ever be able to provide for my family. I questioned whether or not I was fit to lead my family or a group of Christ-followers. I questioned what could be God’s purpose in leading me to this place of dejection. I questioned whether I was going to doubt my doubts and believe my beliefs. I questioned whether I could trust again, after my trust had been betrayed. 

It’s important to me to be transparent that I questioned living because I have come to the opinion that, in depression, most people question living. And when they don’t find satisfying answers to their most important questions, some of these people make grim (even deadly) decisions that are wrongly and sadly based in their own limited understanding.

So here’s the deal. I have a relationship with God. He is my Savior. He is also the ruler of my life. But he’s also my daddy, forever. And as his little boy, I don’t know any other way to go, or any other thing to do, than to run to him when my soul has been crushed. And I cry out to him, because he’s told me it is safe and right to do that when I hurt. And I can ask anything. So I do.

The deepest theology I know is that which I have experienced in this season (and affirmed by Scripture). It’s this: God loves his children. He doesn’t always give us the answers we want. He doesn’t even give us answers we understand. He doesn’t even promise to give us answers.

But he does promise to give us himself. He has given me his Spirit. He has given me his mind. He has given me his patience. He has given me his peace. He has given me his presence. He has given me faith. He has given me a hope that is greater and longer and wider and deeper and more lasting than my greatest concern, my longest fear, my widest worry, and my deepest depression. He has given me himself. 

And he is enough.

Two last things in closing this…

First: This doesn’t just “wrap it up in a bow.” Life is messy and depression makes it messier. I’ve had to revisit my beliefs every time I’ve felt that dark tide rising, and shine the light of God’s truth on those murky waters. Sometimes I saw it coming and other times I was surprised that I was suddenly chest deep in a rising chill. But I will tell you that God is able to bring order to my chaos and has faithfully led me through it.

Second: Kelli has been precious to me in this process, and God has used her to bless me in unimaginable ways. She has been a tireless encourager, a life-giving supporter, and a faith-building partner. She never nagged and always motivated. She expressed support and belief in me that I invested in when my own accounts were empty. She offered real-world, tangible help and never complained. She never added to my woes and always lightened my burdens. She prayed for me, prayed with me, and when necessary, prayed at me. She corrected my wrong-thinking and inspired me to continue leading my family with faith and consistency. While you can’t have my Kelli, I sincerely hope every one of you has a Kelli of your own and you listen to her (or him, if the case may be), and be likewise blessed.

Coming next: The final part of my narrative, where God has led me to the placid lake of acceptance, and the priceless things I’ve learned through it all.