I don't know why I'm doing this but I just decided I need to write. I'm going to be more vulnerable than is probably suitable for a blog but then again, the real world is full of some who are community to you and some who are more comfortable judging you. And frankly, it matters not to me anymore.
During Christmastime every year, I not only reflect on what's important, but I also annually feel a deep sense of pain. I, like many of you, struggle with depression that never seems to go away. It waits in hiding for weak moments, and then preys on me with dark thoughts and accusing words. All I know to do, is not to take pills, but to meet it head on and process the pain, admitt that I'm hurt and then move on, not to look back. I woke up this morning in pain. Memories of a thousand times my brother beat me bloody because he was mad that my Dad wasn't around. I idolized my Dad and brother, and have harbored such hatred for them throughout my life at times, sometimes uncontrollable. Having spent the last few days with my brother and his family (i see them about once a year) it brings all these memories up again. And then he starts to bully me, over and over like we were kids. I have no respect for him. I have nothing in my heart for him and inherently it means that I don't even comprehend the love of Christ. He doesn't respect me, he only thinks of himself, I have no value in his world. Some wounds just don't heal.
I have to tell my Dad as well that I can't make it to his other daughter's wedding ( i missed one already this year because of another committment) because its another commitment I made for a ministry event. I have already been told that my younger half sister will be devastated if I don't come. The guilt has already been set. This all seems unfair. I never gave them a guilt trip when I spent my entire life without a Dad to hug, touch, talk to, receive from, be encouraged by, disciplined by etc. etc. When I spent my teenage years feeling utterly alone and desperate, telling myself in the mirror that tomorrow really was worth waking up to and that the jars of pills should stay unopened tonight. When I excelled on the sports field but my Mom had to work all day and go to school at night cuz he didn't have the pride to keep a job or his marriage, so I walked off those fields triumphant in the eyes of the spectators but alone the moment I realized that none of them came to see me. I picked up my stuff, drug it to my car and knew that I was alone. Those fields, during game times, were the only moments I felt good about myself. I miss those days. So do I deserve a guilt trip for being the man that my Dad never was or will be? I'm keeping jobs, keeping committments, being responsible, putting others before myself, living to be all that he never was. But yet I'm the bad guy, again alone.
I feel pain within me, and I see pain around me. I really don't know how to function without pain, it makes me feel alive, let's me know that I'm living. And it must be in some twisted way an idol that I can't rid myself of. I long for Kingdom Come and a world where there is no more pain, no more dying, no more tears, no more sickness, no more being alone. But we are not there yet and so I look within, put my head down and take another step forward. I will not let the enemy and my depression pull me down, but I will take the time to feel the depth of my wound. If it wasn't for the sake of others, I'm not sure I would keep fighting. But since Christ came for the sake of the world, his call is what compels me.
"Pain is God's megaphone for a deaf world." - C.S. Lewis
Are you listening, Chris?