“When you were depressed,” she asked, “did you lose your faith?” Her lip trembled, a dam holding back the depths.
I’ve been filled with those waters before. I slumped crumpled on the shower’s floor and heard them spill out of me in deep groans and bellows. I cried out to God “Why have you left me? Why are you letting this happen to me?”
It was India that did it. But not by itself. I’d already traveled so many miles through slums and over garbage dumps before India. So much anger and sorrow had built up, drop by drop, that should have been let out from time to time. But I held it in because…
What right does a wealthy white man from America have to feel sad when so much of the world is powerless, suffering and poor?
And good boys don’t get angry.
And how can a leader lead with a limp?
India was the last drop. The dam didn’t hold.
“When you don’t let out these feelings,” the counselor said, “they’ll come out sideways.”
Spilling sideways in the shower, I let God have it. Up to the ceiling shot my raging raving doubts. And down the shower drain spun the illusion of strength. The waters ran hard, ripping a canyon through me, leaving me faithless and feeling cut off from God for weeks.
To bring us closer forever.
But leave me scarred.
She looked down waiting for my answer – her lips trembling and her hands shaking.
“Yes, I lost my faith,” I confessed. “I couldn’t pray. I couldn’t read the bible. I lost God.”
For a week the disciples told Thomas that Jesus had slipped the chains of death. “He was here!” they said, “Right here with us, Thomas!”
But Thomas didn’t believe. Couldn’t believe?
Then Jesus appeared.
“Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” (John 20)
Thomas touched the holes left by sacrifice, slipped his hand into his friend and savior’s side. He ran his fingertips across victory over death.
Then Thomas set off for India – the farthest journey made by any of the twelve who believed. All across India he preached the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the dead – what he’d seen for himself.
“Mar Thoma” the churches are called. I’ve seen them, stood in one. Far flung places of worship planted by a man given faith by scars.
“It helps to know you’ve been there and made it out,” she said.
As we talked I wrote her name on my hand in permanent marker. The kids check my palms for names when I come home. I tell the stories behind them and together we pray for them before bed.
For two women in Texas who touched my scars and believed, we begged God to help their unbelief, to reach into the black blanketing depths and lift them out. “Fix their brains,” a little one prayed, “like you fixed dad’s, so they can feel more than sad again.”
And make them messengers of hope to the ends of the earth…or wherever they limp to.
Kristin says:
I’ve been encouraged and challenged by your blog for a couple years now, but, goodness, your posts have been so powerful the last few weeks. God has obviously filled your mind and heart in a new way because it’s overflowing here. Thanks for being real and sharing.
Barbara says:
Now *this* would have been a conversation I would have loved to have had with you when you were at our church. “Fix her brains, so she can feel more than sad again.” I remember that place. That’s a prayer full of Wisdom, right there.
donna says:
Amen
brad says:
Feel more than sad. Beautiful.
Kelli says:
Your writing is anointed right now, friend. This is beautiful.
Zoë says:
Thank you so much, Shaun, for reminding me that God can use my brokenness. I am good at forgetting and slipping back towards old lies about myself (like today). But God has plans and I must trust.
Isn’t Thomas’ story amazing?! If that’s what *he* went on to do, then there’s hope for all of us 😉 Thank you, too, for allowing your brokenness to help make you the man you are today, with so many inspirational words. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Aimee says:
This is beautiful, Shaun! Thank you. This whole year has been a similar journey for me and my family!
Here’s some of that story… not sure that I will ever be able to articulate everything that’s in my heart. Perhaps I’m not supposed to…
http://mamaof2greatkids.blogspot.ca/2012/08/in-his-time.html
Danny Meeker says:
Shaun, this is beautiful. Thank you for baring some of your scars to us. I know that for myself I have tried for so long to hold the dam up. In some ways I’ve gotten so adept (to my own detriment) at holding the dam together that I do it without thinking and it takes conscious effort on my part to release. I think that we, in western society, especially in Christian subculture that we need to have everything put together. We focus so much on ourselves and hiding our own scars that we forget about Jesus and His scars. I go back to thinking that I can fix things myself (one more brick in the dam) and that through my own cleverness (another one), goodness (yet another), or strength of will (laying some mortar now) will allow me to remedy a situation or person. My pastor’s wife made an observation this week that this is like taking our light (which is supposed to be shining on Christ) and shining it on ourselves. Somehow we have to learn to let go of the notion that we can fix our own, or anyone else’s problems and give them to Jesus and follow His leading.
Kim says:
Powerful words! I’m sharing this on FB right now!
Bonnie says:
I’m going to echo what others are saying. Your posts have been on fire for the Lord. Every emotion has been stirred in me. Thanks for keeping it real and raw and alive.
shayne says:
Thanks for opening up the sluices and spilling over on us, friend.
Nicci says:
Thank you so much for sharing your heart! Your blog is a constant encouragement! God is using you, my friend, here and there. I have felt this on my last 3 trips to Ethiopia (most recently in June) and God continues to fill me up each day so that little by little I can “feel more than sad again.” Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Sandy says:
I’m wrestling. How can I live the way I do? It was mentioned in my church that if the world were a village of 100 people, 50 people would be malnourished. That is 50% of the population. It used to be so easy to justify. How can I justify anything I have besides the bare necessities? I won’t fit in with my culture. I probably will be resentful of everyone around me. Self righteousness comes to mind.
I’ve read through your archives and one line haunts me – love the poor and the sick and the hopeless more than your own happiness – . What does loving the poor more than your own happiness look like? How do you let your anger, confusion not consume?
amy says:
Thank you for sharing your scars and for praying for these precious women.
Vicki says:
One word I seldom use, because (IMHO) it has been so overused, for so long, now, is “awesome.” I reserve its use for things that truly fill me with awe, like the Grand Canyon, and the way God can take a broken life and transform it into a useful vessel for Him.
This blog post is one of those, for more reasons than I can even identify–and I wouldn’t want to try, for fear of reducing it.Thanks, Shaun.
Also sharing on FB.
Angie says:
Scars are such powerful things-show where we’ve been and what we’ve been through. Yet our first instinct is to cover them up.
Thank you for sharing yours.
Through your scars others find the beauty of peace and grace.
Vicki says:
*and Niagara Falls!
Kathy Schwanke says:
This is beautiful. Thank you.
NancyTyler says:
I’ve been contemplating my own set of scars lately, thinking about what I wouldn’t have done and who I wouldn’t have known or been able to minister to without them. I’m so thankful there was a purpose in the pain.
Amy says:
I have some of those scars,
Amanda says:
I needed this today. Thank you.
Charity says:
Love this. Really love this. Thanks for sharing.
Reminds me of one of my favorite verses:
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” 2 Cor. 1:3-4
Matthew W says:
I’ve been through so many bouts of depression – ranging from shallow to deep and from short to long – that I’ve ceased to believe that there will be an end. It may lift… but that just starts the counting of time until it comes back.
Amy Hunt says:
Amazing. Grace.
Truly, there is no other description. I’m in awe–over and over again–and my faith strengthened, every time I *see* that it’s true, He uses All. For. Purpose.
Your truth-telling is your worship. You honor Him and you bring Him to light. Well done. Might He bless you, richly, in your faith.
Kris says:
Healing, encouraging words here. Thank you….
Kathy says:
My prayer for my husband has been that his wounds will heal into beautiful scars. We are in the shower right now, crying and screaming out to God. So loud, so often, I wonder that we have a voice left at all. I am grateful HE sends thumbprints like you to encourage my hope. HE is good, regardless of whether we rise from the shower floor today or a year from now. Blessings! And thank you.
JavaJoy says:
Kathy- on my worst days, Hebrews 12:11 and the preceding 5-6 verses were the only thing that kept me hopeful. Looking back, I do know now that it was all worth it and my faith is so much stronger for it.
Carrie says:
It is hard to dig deep when you’re at the bottom of the pit. It seems impossible and not worth it.
I wish I would have had this 4 years ago when I was drowning in it. Today, I’m just opening up to close friends when in truth, my parents don’t even know of my struggle.
Your heart is big, open, compassionate, faithful and loving. God never leaves us. We just close our hearts at times and he waits patiently for us to open them back up. And how amazing is that, that he even cares?
Rose-Marie says:
I don’t comment very often here, but just have to say this: when you feel the burden of caring for someone or something so much that it hurts and angers, Jesus wants to carry that burden too. ‘Fix his brains’, that’s one I’ll be praying over a friend. God bless you
Kit says:
Thank you for sharing this. I am here right now. It’s been a lot longer than “weeks.” Too long– I have not approached things well. Trying something new now and I’m hoping God will “fix my brains.”
brad says:
Shaun, wanted to circle back around and thank you for this. I’ve known for years that I battle with depression. Only recently was I able to realize how bad it was and how it has adversely affected my family. As it relates to your post…I just never wanted to own up to how broken I am. How trapped inside I am sometimes. The screaming matches with God. Things I could never say to someone else, but it comes out in my music…to the point of embarassing my family at times. I appreciate you sharing your testimony here and I admire your ability to do so. Thanks for opening up. It helps.
Vicki says:
Brad, I just want to encourage you to let your family see–maybe before they hear it in your music! Maybe they do. And maybe they’re beginning to understand that opening up through your music is both healing and worship–even if it’s full of hurt. You are offering it up to God.
I never knew I had, should or could have boundaries until I was 40. Then I had to learn that enforcing them was up to me. Ironically, I’ve been learning, in the past 12 years, that living transparently is good . . . although we still need to be selective about sharing some things with just everyone.
Except. I think. In your music. I have heard my pastors share things about themselves, in sermons, that I would never have heard from a pastor, 30 or 40 years ago. Or maybe I just went to the wrong churches. I like where I am, now; hearing and seeing someone I look up to living in transparency serves as a model to me; it gives me permission to be open, truthful, admitting my own brokenness.
I’m guessing your music serves the same purpose for at least some who hear it. Bless you. Don’t quit.
brad says:
Thanks Vicki. I appreciate the encouragement.
Zoë says:
I hope I’m not overstepping myself, but wanted to say that, for me, Celebrate Recovery changed my life and allowed God to reach in and set me free. Sometimes we have been through so much, or screwed up so much, that we need a really intensive approach. CR did that for me. I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for CR. People might look at my life and think ‘there, but for the grace of God, go I’. I’m now able to say ‘here, with the grace of God, go I.’
God bless to all who have commented, and all who wish they could comment but feel they can’t.