I get it, sometimes the weight of it all seems a bit overbearing. . . sometimes you feel invisible . . . and other times you just wish you could disappear. Depression and trauma can be a bit like that, a sense that things aren't quite right accompanied by a sincere desire to make it all just "go away."
You smile because you know others may expect that . . . you say "fine" when asked "How are you?" simply because you don't want to "burden" someone with your problems. Like Elijah, you find a nice place to hide and to spend time perhaps licking or binding your wounds.
Yes, it is hard. No one denies that who has ever been there . . . but remember the end of the Elijah story . . . God is there in that darkness, in that damp cave, in that down time, in that overbearing wish that it would all just be "okay" (whatever "okay" means!). Yes, the God who suffers is there. Even (perhaps "especially") there in that dark place . . .
No matter how dark your Gethsemane, the Light of the world is there too. Jesus suffered outside the city, alone, forgotten, with a sense of utter abandonment . . . and he knows. He knows you are weary, he knows you are "fed up," he knows you are lower than you think you've ever been. . . and he cares. So do I. One step at a time, weary pilgrim, and you'll be home before you know it. Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning. I get it, but more importantly, God gets it too. May the God of peace soon crush Satan beneath our feet . . .
Thank you for reading!
