The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon Me, because the LORD has anointed Me. To preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, to console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.
Isaiah 61
It's been a long haul, a long three years of feeling beaten down. There have been rays of light. In the spring, when I encountered a fellow Christian brother in the Cymric oil field who reminded me that I was not forsaken, this summertime with Pauly when I was reminded that although I want more than anything to do something for the Lord - that there's nothing I can do that might make Him love and appreciate me more than He does right now, for earthly reason. This fall, a recent listen to this Graham Cooke message about why broken and betrayed believers are so useful to God that helped change the way I was thinking about these circumstances I've been in; that I need to cooperate with God in my hardship so I can learn what needs learning when here, and to get moving on up and out of the here into the next there.
But, while there have been sparks, there hasn't been the securely tapped into the energy source feeling that we all crave. The long haul has been truly long - longer than this current depression, my entire adult life has been punctuated by bouts with clinical depression. Serious funks during my late high school years, suicidal shadowlands during my early college years, and after returning from Thailand in my late 20's, at 35, and here again, 15 years later.
This time through the wasteland, I was doing everything to try to naturally move up and out: eat right, sleep well and on a schedule, avoiding alcohol and sugar, exercising with real discipline, counting my blessings, diligently trying to worship. 5 months ago, I told L that I'd had it, I was at the end of the cul-de-sac of everything sucking and I was fed up with living like a sad sack. She agreed that I needed to get on some medication. So I did.
The same med I took in my 30's, which seemed a magic pill back then, this time, didn't go down well at all. I started with a weekend anxiety attack, curled up in bed feeling like the universe was pressing down on me. All the symptomatic you-may-experience-common-side-effects-like side effects were on me like a swarm of bees (sleepiness, nervousness, sleep problems (insomnia), dizziness, mild nausea, skin rash, headache, diarrhea, constipation, upset stomach, stomach pain, changes in appetite, decreased sex drive, dry mouth, mood/behavior changes, anxiety, panic attacks, trouble sleeping, feeling impulsive, irritable, agitated, hostile, aggressive, restless, hyperactive (mentally and physically), more depressed, very stiff (rigid) muscles, high fever, sweating, confusion, fast or uneven heartbeats, feeling like you might pass out, agitation, hallucinations, fever, overactive reflexes, tremors, feeling unsteady, loss of coordination, trouble concentrating, memory problems, weakness, drowsiness, dizziness - and a few that aren't on the pharmaceutical company's warning list: a sluggish inertia that isn't in my nature, and I experienced really bothersome TMJ and nervous tics, especially in my jaw muscles).
I let the initial dose clear out of my system and backed off to a quarter of the prescription - low enough to mitigate all the symptoms but just enough to keep me from dark thoughts, I thought. That got old. No real relief from the drowsiness and irritability, personality changes and muscle tremors, but no effect on the shadow over me. So I decided to just come off of the stuff, two and a half weeks ago.
If I fall back into the darkness, at least I'm not going to have all these wacked out side effects from the dope. I'm not going to kill myself. I'm just going to think about it every day 10 times a day, cry in my car and think that life's not worth living. But I'm not going to act on it.
After a couple of weeks, the weird feelings were nearly all extinguished, and I was back to my old baseline of wondering what's wrong with myself and reminding myself that there's too much good stuff in my life to kill myself - today. And, yesterday, I am having my routine commute and cry and asking God, "Is this my thorn in the flesh? Just the chain I will wear to keep me dependent upon You until I'm made new?" And, in that moment, my conclusion was, "Okay. It might be. I'm okay with that." No why me, no curse you God, no if only. Determination in defeat, resignation to solidier on.
I may have to wade through mud while others sprint on dirt, but I can wade. Slogging forward is enough, I'm not asking for anything more.
That was yesterday. This morning, I'm driving at 3am, through the back roads out of Tehachapi in the dark to get to Mojave. Listening to another Graham Cooke message and just soaking it up. He's winding down the talk with a closing prayer, then shifts from prayer to a prophetic mode, speaking in 1st person from God to the congregants. Everything he's saying is right on, and I'm in agreement, and so is the audience, with some amens and some clapping and general background noise from those gathered.
Somewhere in the mix, a woman's voice speaks out a single incomprehensible sentence in a tongue. Hearing it shot a bolt of electrical current down my spine, and made the short hairs on my neck shoot up. The same dread-fear feeling I've only experienced when confronted by demons. All my circuitry is buzzing, and I'm thinking, "What the what was that?" No sooner do I finish the thought, and she says another sentence. The same shock runs down my back. 10 seconds later, it all happens a third time.
Is that a demon speaking? I know what I feel when a demon is present, and there's something demonic here, in this. No, the words I heard aren't it, this woman's definitely speaking a heavenly language. So, I conclude that the jangled fearful vibe I'm feeling is just the vapor trail of a demon (or three) leaving. Leaving me.
The message ends, I'm driving in silence and I realize: I feel light, like a boulder has been crushing me down and now it's lifted and gone. Everything is all right with the world.
I pull off the road. The desert is dark, breezing and freezing, but the stars are shining, numerous and bright, like scattered diamonds on a jeweler's cloth. I stand in the wind, worshipping until I'm too cold to continue. Thank you God, for this wind of change.
I thought I was clinically depressed, suffering from a chemical imbalance that could be shifted back into the happy zone with a pill. But I had a Spirit of heaviness. No wonder then why the meds only gave me side effects with no relief from the root cause. I needed a spiritual solution; and isn't it just like God to use a 6-year old seminar on youtube - and not even the main speaker's message - just an anonymous woman's declaration in spiritual language taped only by accident in the background as the event was ending, to fix what has been broken in me for so long?
I love the wacky ways He works. So much fun! I only hope that the people sitting around that woman in church weren't thinking she was out of line for speaking in tongues without an interpretation. If I could meet her, I would hug her so hard her husband would punch me.
Chapter two, briefly. Part of what was in the Cooke message was an emphasis on having a prophetic word over your life. Everyone's life; my life, your life - everyone needs one. What am I to do God? What am I to be God? What is my identity and persona in You? These are the things to cling to when we find ourselves in hard circumstances. David is anointed king of Israel by Samuel, then goes out to the battlefield to find that no one has the backbone to face Goliath. David does have the courage however, because he has the life insurance of a prophetic word over his life. He can think, "I have been told by God that I'm going to be king, and I'm not in my kingship yet. So, if one of us has to die today Goliath, it sucks to be you."
What is it for me? This is what I asked God later in the day as I was driving for work in the desert. I know that I've had words spoken over my life in the past, but I can't reach back and touch them. I can't remember God. What are they? Is there a word for me? Is there a role for me? And what is it?
...Who Watches the Watchmen?
The Other voice was instantaneous, inexplicable and unexpected: Who Watches the Watchmen?
Uh, I do. I do God.
I watch the watchmen! I can live with that. I like that. I will. I can - I can watch the watchmen, whatever this entails.
I don't know what it means, exactly. I minister to the ministers? I've had a desire for that in the past, but no vision or plan for it. I can see how empowering those who are already doing Godly work is a great way to do without being the one who is on point, or starting something from scratch when there's maybe someone out there already doing something similar.
I know that to lead you have to bleed. Maybe I can take a bullet or two for those who are in leadership so they can continue their watch unhindered. Watch the Watchmen.
Whatever it means, I can't wait to find out. I'm free to explore it. Free from this sour shadow that's hung over me for so long, and free to redeem lost time as I watch for what's to come; what's already a reality in God's plan.
