Pondering the Black Dog

I’m supposed to be finishing my sermon for tomorrow about Mary pondering all that had happened (Luke 2:19), but first I needed to write down what I’m pondering myself.  It’s been a rough couple of weeks, not because of the usual pastoring stuff, but because of depression.  Another pastor (I don’t remember who) calls it his Black Dog that follows him around.  I just thought it was funny back then.  Now I understand more what it’s like to have this…thing…that’s hard to explain and hard to deal with.

On the heaviest days, I had to stop reading the Advent devotional I’d been reading since November because it was too nice, too happy, and not speaking to my hurting soul.  Nothing was gritty and real enough for me.  It’s a little better the past few days, and I’m wondering how many people desperately need something that speaks to their souls, but what we do and say in church doesn’t always resonate with the…I don’t know what to call it.  Reality? 

What we tell ourselves about depression is that our brains are telling us bad stuff that isn’t real.  But the depression is very real.  I know that in depression the temptation is to quit jobs, quit on people, quit on whatever is too hard to do when just getting out of bed in the morning is excruciating.  The verse that has kept me going is my old friend Galatians 6:9, the first verse I ever memorized: “Don’t give up.” 

One thing I’ve learned that I’ve gotten so wrong before is that, at least for me, talking about it is not always helpful. It’s way too hard to go there on days where I need to just keep on keeping on…and though I didn’t know that I was heading here, #keeponkeepingon has been in so many of my social media posts this past year.

I don’t know whether I’m learning anything helpful for pastoring people with depression, except maybe that there’s not really much we can do.  Just be there for each other, I guess, and don’t expect so much from each other.  Like Job’s friends when they first came to sit with him.  They were silent for seven days waiting for Job to process his grief.  No conversation happened until Job was ready to speak.

On those days when I’m just keeping on keeping on, I’m thankful for meetings on Zoom because it’s much easier to just be there without having to be “happy.”  But, surprisingly, even on Zoom it’s possible to be empathic about people. And I’m thankful for the Facebook comment this week that said, “I saw your heaviness the other day and I’m praying for you.”

I’m thankful for the graciousness of people with whom I’ve interacted in these past few weeks.  I know I’ve been harder to deal with, more prone to snarkiness and cynicism, more likely to be harsh.  I’ve been asking God to help me with that, but I think it still sneaks through.

Maybe one of the reasons I sometimes like Christmas more than Easter is that we primarily focus on the name for Jesus “Emmanuel” which means “God with us.”  Even when I haven’t had the ability to figure out how to pray or even think much about God’s presence, God was still with me.

Thanks, God.

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Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash