Tag: depression

Time for…rest

Reflections based on Psalm 23:1–4.

In all honesty, these last few weeks have been incredibly difficult. As I’ve said before, life in lockdown has been so much busier than usual, there have been some huge challenges with people and particular situations, and I have also had my first birthday without my mum. All of that has meant that I have reached way beyond my capacity – emotionally but also physically. Last week my body started fighting back, with a notable upsurge in the degree of pain my head and neck have been in and regular nosebleeds (frustratingly often when I was trying to get to bed).

As well as taking the emotional difficulties to God to work through daily, I started trying to get to bed early. But, even when I did, I couldn’t sleep. It was a very frustrating week! Thankfully, although emotionally quite painful, my birthday also included some lovely times of celebration with friends and family. It was so wonderful to host my family again for the first time in a number of years (although I said to my husband afterwards that I’d forgotten what hard work hosting is! Lockdown has obviously gone on for far too long!).

When this week started, I could sense something had shifted. I realised that I had become engulfed in swirling waves of depression and darkness: my responses to things were not usual and I was becoming very negative. But, on Monday, that fog began to lift. Yesterday, I even felt a bit of relief from the head and neck ache – although that was short-lived. However, the sense of hope was quickening within me again.

As I started pondering a short message I will be sending to a women’s group that I should have been speaking to in person next weekend, I was drawn to a couple of verses in Psalm 23. But, after he had given me what he wanted me to say to them, God then reminded me of what it says at the start of the Psalm. That he ‘makes me lie down’ and ‘leads me’. I was struck afresh by how active those descriptions are – the first sounds a tad aggressive even (well, authoritative is perhaps a better word). But then that may be in response to my own actions…

I know I started lockdown with all the best intentions – helping my husband with the huge learning curve of getting church online and producing content each week, supporting our kids not only with online learning but also their spiritual health, keeping the groups I’m involved with in church connected via different online meetings and special events and being in daily contact with my family as we had just lost our mum/wife, as well as dealing with a heavier (but enjoyable) workload (which included finishing the book on marriage my husband and I have written).

It wasn’t really a surprise that there was a physical and emotional cost to what I was doing. I should have read the warning signs earlier but, even when I had, there was little I could suddenly drop.

I did enjoy a wonderful online retreat, led by the amazing Sharon Brown, in which I had space to process grief but also hear from God about my need for rest. But, as sometimes happens, directly after that, there seemed to be a kick back – life was suddenly more challenging and I found my journal littered with questions for God about why he would tell me to rest, when he knew what was going to happen!

I know that all I need is found in God, and he is always with me, but there are times when circumstances can seem completely overwhelming, even when we are doing all the ‘right’ things, connecting with him regularly and looking to him for direction and guidance day by day.

Fast forward to this week. When I can actively see his hand at work. Many of the evening activities that we had planned got cancelled and, just yesterday, I turned to my husband and said: “Maybe we are supposed to just rest in the evenings this week.”

It certainly feels like God has suddenly stepped in and said: “Enough is enough. Just rest.” It doesn’t mean that everything has stopped; I still have lots of work to attend to, and my husband is planning a new preaching series, plus writing his own preach for this weekend. We are also constantly discussing the next steps for the church, now that lockdown is beginning to ease. But, in the midst of all that, it does feel like God is beckoning us to lie down in the green pastures he has prepared for us. That he has refreshment for our souls.

I am reminded that Jesus was busy, but never harassed. He had found those “unforced rhythms of grace” that I long for at times (Matthew 11:28–30, The Message). He could sleep in peace on a boat in the midst of a raging storm (Matthew 8:23–27). The outer circumstances that can so often cause stress did not faze him. He also knew how important it was to take time away with his Father to be refreshed.

These are all things I know, and try to practise purposefully in my own life. But I am glad to know that, when my own efforts fall short, I can rely on the Lord my shepherd to step in to look after me; to make me lie down in order to rest.

Reflection: What about you? Does this resonate with where you are at? Is God leading you beside quiet waters today? Make sure to follow wherever he leads…

On wearing masks in ministry

After far too long a break, I am delighted to welcome another guest contributor to the Stories of authenticity blog series. Mark Meynell has written an incredibly honest, and exceedingly helpful, book on his own experiences of facing depression. He has kindly provided an excerpt from the book here, which looks at when it is appropriate to wear a mask – and when it is really unhelpful to do so. It is an interesting discussion around the whole subject of mask-wearing, particularly for those leading some kind of ministry, and he handles it with real wisdom and insight. He introduces the excerpt below:

I have been in Christian ministry for 25 years. And in common with practically everyone else alive, I have worn masks. Not literally, of course. At times, a mask has been the means of self-preservation, at others a ministry preserver – and even an act of generosity and service. In other words, masks can and should have their place. To some extent. But they are also detrimental to psychological wellbeing and community life. They conceal rather than reveal. They can do even more damage to the wearer than they do to those who only encounter the external presentation.

I found myself thinking a great deal about this as I wrote my book on the experience of depression in ministry. I realised it was a recurring theme and that I was never going to improve until I faced up to what I had instinctively done since before even becoming a teenager, and then dealt with it. So here are some of those thoughts from the early pages of the book, taking us back to the glory days of ancient Greek theatre…

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Imagine some great theatre, a monumental seashell carved out of a Mediterranean mountainside. At the base of this banked semicircle is the circular stage, backed by a great wall of doors, alcoves and openings on multiple levels, from which actors playing gods might intervene in the drama. All the main action takes place on the central stage, however. The genius of these buildings is that the sightlines and acoustics are perfect, despite being open to the elements. An entire audience can see and hear everything. Because all the actors wear identical clay masks, however, the one skill they never require is facial expression. Their movements are rigidly stylized as well. Instead, they must rely entirely on the script and their vocal skills to move audiences to tears or laughter. But this they consistently achieve.

The purpose of these masks was to focus an audience’s attention on the charactersand not the actors bringing them to life. The effect, I suppose, is a bit like movie stars hidden by layers of prosthetics or digital animation. The mask also reminds the audience that this is make-believe; it is pretence; it is in fact a lie. All acting is lying. But here is the great paradox of drama: if these lies are acted convincingly, truth (whether about reality or relationships) gets conveyed powerfully.

We are perfectly familiar with this, and, in our entertainment-obsessed world, we applaud those who can pull off the widest range of parts.

But should we always be so impressed? The ancient Greek word for actor was hypocritēs (ὑποκρῐτής), which, at first, only implied someone who explained or interpreted something. But by New Testament times, it was more negative. It suggested someone who was untrustworthy. They pretended to be one thing while underneath being something else; they presented a good front to mask their reality.

Of course, it needs to be recognized that this is not always negative. Temporary masks have their place, and nearly all of us make use of them. On occasion, it may even be right to use them. We really shouldn’t blurt out every thought that pops into our heads. That usually does more harm than good. Self- control is an important virtue, and so this type of mask is as much for others’ protection as anything else.

At other times, it is neither appropriate nor necessary for those around us to be aware of every vulnerability or anxiety. A mask is thus a form of protection, necessary to shield emotional wounds from being aggravated, or from being exposed at an inappropriate moment. It is an act, in some ways – ‘I’m fine,’ we say – a pretence that all is well. That is not a lie as such, but an act of self-defence. As one good friend remarked to me, ‘fine’ can actually serve as an acronym, standing for ‘Feelings Inside Not Expressed!’. It is an understandable mask, and if we never made use of it, we would probably never escape those after-church conversations that already seem interminable enough.

MINISTRY MASKS

This mask is particularly important for those in Christian ministry. As we seek to pastor and love others, especially the vulnerable, there are times when we must swallow our pride or irritation, ignore our own needs or pressing concerns, for the sake of the urgent or important. We must show consistency and integrity, of course. But when I climb into a pulpit, I may be feeling 1,001 different things, most of which would be irrelevant, inappropriate or unhelpful to mention.We have a duty to teach what is true and healthy, even if we might wish to be miles away. We act out of Christian duty, which invariably conflicts with our emotions and passions. This is true even in normal family life, where it might be necessary to park a discussion or argument because of something more pressing (such as friends coming for a meal). Unsurprisingly, it is necessary in upfront ministry as well. This is not avoidance, but finding the right moment (unless, of course, we don’t return to it).

In the strictest sense, that could be defined as hypocrisy. We are pretending. We are acting. But because of the complexity of human nature, there is a sense in which none of us can avoid being hypocritical to some degree. None of us ever has perfectly aligned motives or desires. Even Jesus found himself in great conflict in the Garden of Gethsemane – his deepest fears were militating against his determination to do his Father’s will (Matthew 26:36–46).

What matters, I suppose, is how regularly this happens when doing our duty. No-one can be expected to hold in constant balance their duty and passions, their beliefs, feelings and actions, their words and deeds. Being ‘out of sync’ is not hypocrisy – only the pretence of always being ‘in sync’ is. And this is where we begin to home in on what Jesus was so critical of. He lambasted the Pharisees for their claims to perfection and their subsequent self-righteous contempt for others:

You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness. (Matthew 23:27–28)

WHEN THE MASK BECOMES A HABIT

The issue is how honest we are about our weakness and flaws. Self-defence masks are like that. They are not Pharisaical, they rarely claim perfection, nor do they make people self- righteous. The problem comes when wearing them becomes a habitual, or even permanent, way of being. This was what happened to me. Since childhood, I had developed self-defence habits that kept me going temporarily, but which proved unsustainable long-term. It was as if the ancient actor’s mask had become glued to my face. I played a part – of the approachable, sorted, though emotionally up and down, friend, and later pastor. So, for example, after I first mentioned my depression diagnosis in public (during a question and answer session at a church retreat), a friend came up to me in shock. She remarked that had she known there was a church staff member with this diagnosis, she would never have guessed it was me.

But this mask was artificial. It concealed reality and inhibited support. Nobody who’s ‘fine’ needs help . . . right? So the mask inevitably started cracking, revealing that things really were not right.

Mark Meynell is Europe & Caribbean Director for Langham Preaching (a programme of Langham Partnership), and a part-time Chaplain in Whitehall. He is married to Rachel and they have two (almost) grown up children, He is the author of a number of books on various subjects, and is currently working on his first novel. This excerpt is taken from When Darkness Seems My Closest Friend, published by IVP.

 

 

 

‘My journey from desertion to redemption’

I am pleased to welcome David Mike to the Unmasked: stories of authenticity blog series today. He has faced great difficulties in his life and bravely shares his mistakes, as well as what he has learned, with us. Do check out his book…

DOWNFALL

In 1987, at the age of seventeen, I swore in to the U.S. Army, fulfilling a childhood dream of mine to become a soldier. Two years later, I found myself sitting in a jail cell facing thirty-eight years in prison. After going through a relationship break-up, I began to start hanging out in nightclubs with some fellow soldiers. It was in a moment of depression that I ended up taking a hit of ecstasy. After the first time, I immediately became addicted to the drug and the release from reality that it gave me. I deserted my Army unit and lived on the run for six months. My only source of income was from selling the very same drugs I was using.

After finally being captured by the Army’s Drug Suppression Team, I was court-martialed and stripped of my rank. I also received a dishonorable discharge and a five-year prison sentence at the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, KS. I had nothing left, not even my own pride.

GRACE AND REDEMPTION

During my time in prison, I had an encounter with God. I read Classic Christianity by Bob George that defined grace and forgiveness. It was all new information to me. I was raised in church but never really understood what these words meant. This book really resonated with me and I learned more about the way God sees us.

Romans 8:1:

There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus

I was not a disgrace to my creator. He no longer saw what I did in the past because he took care of the penalty for me. He nailed it to the cross.

Even though I had a dishonorable discharge, it could not define me. My identity was in Christ. To Him, I was perfect and holy. It didn’t matter that I was in prison, because:

John 8:36:

So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed

Freedom.

Not the freedom I tried to take for myself.

Not the freedom that I would be eventually awarded by the Army.

Not the freedom that this current life was about to offer me.

But real freedom.

Released from the bondage of sin, my own thoughts, and the brokenness of my own flesh.

By God’s grace, I had been forgiven and I had been redeemed by my Savior.

LIFE AFTER DISHONOR

At the three-year point in my sentence, I was offered parole and was released.

As time passed, I tried to get on with my life. I did the best work I could at the at my job and stayed out of trouble. Life was not perfect or easy and I still suffered from my human identity. This meant that I made mistakes from time to time. No one ever gets it right, only one man did and He was God so there’s that. So, I tried to be a productive member of society, a role model to the students that I taught in a hair school, and a good man.

On September 11, 2001 the world changed forever. After the attacks a huge wave of patriotism swept our nation. War was imminent and everyone backed our service members no matter what branch of service or what job they held. It was amazing seeing how much love and respect was shared with anyone wearing a uniform.

GUILT AND SHAME

It was at this time I became very unsettled. My father, brother and sister were all veterans and my youngest brother had just signed up just months before the attacks. As America hailed and praised our men and women in uniform, I began to develop a deep sense of guilt and shame about the actions that led to my incarceration and dishonorable discharge.

This feeling wouldn’t go away and it cut deep into my soul. It was hard to go to work every day feeling like that. I was feeling like there really was no significance to what I was doing. That in the grand scheme of life, I was irrelevant. Men and women were going overseas to fight and die for a cause.

In no way, shape or form did I ever want to leave my family to go to war. It was in knowing that even if I did want to, I was blacklisted from serving. The time that I spent in the Army was good for nothing. The worst part was, every time someone said to me, ‘Thank you for your service’ it dug the knife in even deeper. They meant well, but I just couldn’t shake these feelings.

This same thing would happen around Veteran’s day and Memorial Day. Holidays honoring those who serve or have served and for remembering the men and women who died while serving in our country’s armed forces.

A reminder that I live in a country that was fought for with blood, sweat, tears and lives. I know that I walk around every day with the freedom that was provided for me. My heart is heavy and my head hangs low because I was discharged from the Army with dishonor. My selfish actions are to blame and I accept full responsibility. Having failed my family, my country and God miserably, I deserve the death that each military grave represents.

Yes, I know now that I am forgiven, and I know that God doesn’t look at me this way. However, it seems, the consequences of my past still haunt me year after year. The enemy likes to attack me with guilt and shame, so it rears its ugly head from time to time. Remembering the truth of who we are in Christ is the only way to dispel the lies that we tend to believe about ourselves.

SURRENDER

In an ongoing process of spiritual maturity, I came across the concept of surrender and dependency. I am very aware that I can not do things on my own. As humans we tend to mess things up when left to our own devices. So releasing the thing that we can not deal with, to God, is our only option. Being dependent on Him to do the work in us when we have hit a limit, gives us the freedom to become who He wants and designed us to be. We need to rest in the promises that God gives us in His word that He has our best interests in mind. Just, knowing that I am forgiven by God’s grace is not enough. I need to surrender my past to Him and rest in my new identity daily. My conviction does not have to define me. I have to leave my old identity and accept my new one.

1 Peter 2:9 (NLT):

For he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light

You do not have to be defined by your past, you have been forgiven and can have a new identity in Christ.

WRITING

Several years ago, I felt called to write my story. It started out as a blog at dilemmamike.com. Eventually the blog posts were compiled and turned into a book. That process released so much pain of my past, as a huge weight felt like it had been lifted off of my shoulders. What happened next, as I shared my story was unexpected. During the three years that I blogged, people started following along. I began to receive messages about how my story resonated with them.

Some mentioned that they went through a similar situation and that hearing my story made them feel like they were not alone. One woman even said that she read my blog to feel sane and to keep from using drugs. It was awesome to hear people say they were touched by God through reading about my messy past.

Others mentioned that a family member or friend struggled with addiction, incarceration or both. For them, reading my experience, gave them a better understanding of their loved one. Again, I had no idea that putting my broken past out there would help anyone. It was very humbling.

DISHONOUR BOOK

Once the book was released, a new opportunities arose. I was able to get copies of my testimony into the hands of inmates. There were many requests from people, to mail copies of my book to incarcerated loved ones. Just like the life-changing book I read in prison, God was now using my book to do the same for others. I love hearing the stories that people share with me after reading my book.

I have been able to share my book with people struggling with addiction or just trying to deal with the shame and guilt with their past.

After the release of my book, I was able to speak to several churches, schools and organizations. This whole thing has been so surreal.

If I never told my story, these things may never have happened.

Maybe you don’t think you have a story.

We have all struggled with something, are struggling right now or will struggle in the future.

Someone out there needs to know that they are not alone.

Share your experiences.

Is there something going on in your life right now or something that you have overcome?

You can share God’s love

You could be the person who leads others the light.

 

Take off the mask, you might be surprised what happens next…

 

 

David Mike is a Christ follower, husband, father, blogger, author of Dishonor: One Soldier’s Journey from Desertion to Redemption and cosmetology instructor in Omaha, NE. David is passionate about sharing the message that we do not have to be defined by our past and that God can use our kind of mess for good. You can follow David on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram

Giving it all… whatever the consequences?

It was only a few years ago that I fought against my husband’s calling. I didn’t want to become a pastor’s wife and, at the time, wrapped up in my own depression and sin, I didn’t love the people he felt called to. I certainly didn’t want to be involved at all…

But then God did a deep work in me, and made me view the church as He does – full of wonderful, complicated, imperfect individuals who are each on their own journey with Him. I began to love with His love and count it a real privilege to be serving among them.

Today I realised that I was beginning to lose some of that viewpoint. As I struggled with frustration and annoyance it suddenly dawned on me that I was getting upset because of things that were having an impact on me – on my time, on my pocket and on my emotions. But if, as the song I’m listening to says, I’ve ‘given it all to Him’ then those things aren’t my own anymore are they? So, however what I am doing is received, whether my efforts are appreciated, my time and point of view respected, shouldn’t matter. I should be continuing to give my all because it isn’t about the consequences, it’s about offering myself as a sacrifice daily to my God and King. And if part of that is pouring myself out for those in His church, then so be it.