Darkness Falls

I suffered deeply Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Six days.

For six days, I was in a place so dark I thought I would never be able to escape it.

I cried to myself.  My body wracked with convulsions from sobbing each night.  All I could do was imagine my mom wrapping her arms around me, telling me everything would be okay.

I just want to die, I thought.  The more sadness I felt, the harder I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing away all confusion.

For the first time in a long time, I really wanted to die.

Ravaging, angry thoughts swam through the holes in my mind.  In my tears and desolateness, I was transported back to a very similarly troubled time.

During my high school years, I fell in love with the movie What Dreams May Come with Robin Williams.  It was utterly romantic to see life after death, to envision Cuba Gooding, Jr. leading me through a new world.

But there was a much deeper, darker side.

The suicide side.

The last time I truly thought about suicide was as a teenager in California.

I lived in a house with two parents who fought constantly.  With his gun in tow, my father would often lock himself in the master bedroom and threaten from behind a locked door to commit suicide.

Witnessing this for years in addition to months of rejection and high school heartache, I went rummaging through his closet one day.  There, I found a briefcase.  I remember delicately lifting the top, and removing the revolver from its padding.  I rubbed my fingers over its glazed indentions in admiration and apprehension.  It was the first time I had ever held a gun.

How easy, I deliberated. One sliver of metal could remove me from all my pain.

Terrified of my own thoughts, I placed the gun back in its case, and sat silently, almost breathlessly, on my knees.  Wide-eyed and in shock, I hid the gun back in its closet, hoping my father would never discover my private calculations.

Something happened this weekend.

I pushed God away.  I relinquished my strength and fell into the whispers and lies of the dark.

Spiritual warfare is very real.  How much better the Devil would be if one of God’s soldiers was no longer around to fight the battle.

But even in my darkness, surrounded by my own demons, God was there for me.  Even when I pushed Him away, even when I felt like He was absent, He didn’t let me go.

I listened to Beth Moore a few months ago, she said, “The enemy has a lot at stake at making you think you’re nuts!  He can mess enough with us that we question our own sanity.”

God’s love is more powerful than anything.  Thinking back now, through that blur of six days, I do remember spots of sunshine.  A hummingbird, a hug, a friendly Christian’s unexpected love.  God was there.

He will always be there.

No man shall be able to stand before you all the days of your life; as I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you (Joshua 1:5).

He will be the sure foundation for your times, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge; the fear of the Lord is the key to this treasure (Isaiah 33:6).

We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope (Romans 5:3-4).

Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places (Ephesians 6:12).