I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
("Hurt," by Nine Inch Nails)
In the past, I have been guilty of writing in an attempt to please or convict my readers. Today, however, I repent of that arrogance; I write this post as a reminder to myself. There are some things which should not be forgotten; some things are too precious to lose. My life is one of those things. Christ raised me from the dead--for I was dead in my transgressions and sins--five and a half years ago. And for five and a half years, Satan and his hit-men have been bent on murdering me.
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." (John 10:10, ESV)
From August to November of 2010, my life descended into what I can only call the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I was consumed by deep, dark depression. It began as an aching loneliness that would not be dispelled; I felt isolated even in the midst of my closest friends. Accusations from my Enemy flew fast and thick, and I did not even recognize them; I hung my head in shame and believed the Father of Lies. My thoughts were confused; though I knew my depression was irrational, I suffered from the inability to carry a continuous train of thought to its logical conclusion. I began to dread each morning, when I would be required to put on at least the semblance of life and go through the motions of the day. I grew to fear the fleeting moments of happiness I experienced, because I knew that they would not last, and then my despair would be even blacker than before.
I became angry with God; I was doing all that He required of me. Even in the depths of this oppression, I prayed. I studied His word. I served His people. When I prayed, I would plead for deliverance, and there seemed to be no answer. When I read my Bible, to my dismay, I found none of the familiar hope and comfort. Often, I would lay my pen down on my half-finished journal entry, sobs wracking my body, and turn off the lights in my dorm room and wait for sleep to take away my pain for just a little while.
In the darkest, loneliest, most hopeless hours of that season, I turned to a pin, a needle, or even a thumbtack; the sharp pricking of the palms of my hands--that physical pain--somehow numbed the deep anguish of my heart and soul. I was terrified of the "last resort" of self-harm; I hated it. I confessed to a friend immediately, and sought help. I knew that my Enemy was devouring me, and I didn't know how to escape.
One night, I penned a desperate prayer, begging God to rescue me--or at least answer me--as I cried before Him, unable even to form coherent sentences. I resolved to lie quietly in the dark until He did so. I lay in bed for what seemed like hours, tears still streaming down my cheeks, before a snatch of a song began to play in my head. I fixed all of my attention on that thought, clinging to it the way a drowning man would cling to a life preserver:
When the rain's blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I would offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel My love
When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel My love
I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
There's no doubt in My mind where you belong
I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling down the avenue
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel My Love
The storms are raging on a rolling sea
And down the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing like Me yet
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you happy, make your dreams come true
To make you feel My love
("To Make You Feel My Love," by Garth Brooks)
I wept at the words as scenes and images I recalled from The Passion of the Christ flitted across my mind. My Savior was cradling and comforting me; He was speaking tenderly to me--whispering, I love you, I love you, I love you--and soothing my wounded soul. The weight of oppression was immediately lessened by this simple yet profound reminder of the depth and breadth of God's love for me. I realize now that there is no pain without purpose in the life of a believer; though that season of my life was the darkest I have yet experienced, it served as the catalyst for the most intense period of spiritual growth I have yet experienced. God wanted to get at and work on some of the deepest parts of my soul; He turned the oppression that Satan meant for evil and used it to accomplish that great good.
My growth continues, and lessons learned in the Valley of the Shadow of Death are serving their purpose even now. God has been revealing to me, at various times and in various ways--through scripture, through books picked up "by chance", through conversations with friends and strangers--about the unconditional nature of His love and grace, which is so hard for me to accept. God is developing in me a healthy self-image and self-love, and is filling me with a deep passion for my purpose. I am grateful for the fullness of life to which He has called me, and in which I am learning to live in freedom and joy.
After all this has passed
I still will remain
After I've cried my last
There will be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today
Someday I'll hope again
And there will be beauty from pain
("Beauty From Pain," by Superchick)
"I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free." (Psalm 119:32, NIV)
