When I was a kid I used to hope that a rock slide would take out the road to camp so that we could all stay there longer. Now I just wish that the last week of camp was next week. I've traded Seven Brides for Seven Brothers for simple procrastination.
But I am tired, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.
The reserves have bottomed out, for all of us.
And you can pour out like this - if it is only for a season.
In my mind I know that the season needs to end.
But in my heart I will mourn it's passing a little bit.
I am home feeding the introvert that needs a quiet living room free from people and noise, while my co-workers are celebrating the end of the season. I've been surfing the web and social media and news of Robin Williams death, blogs on discouragement are cropping up. Discouragement, depression, the words ring a bell and tie into my thoughts.
Division,
Discredit,
Discouragement,
(there was a fourth "D" word that was given out at the beginning of the year in training, and I am too lazy to go retrieve my notebook and too tired to remember it.)
I could talk about how insanely fun camp has been. The things kids say, the practical jokes, duct tape, Pjs, costumes, face paint, and unexpected hugs that mean the world to you because they came from that one kid who has been distant and troubled all 8 weeks of camp, the one whose tough shell makes him hard to love - yeah, I got a hug from that kid today.
But in my very last post for this year I'm going to talk about the dark side of camp. Because it is real.
Division - it has been there. Not where I thought it would be, nor as strong. For the most part the staff gets along well, and the issues between two different aged camp programs have been handled between the leaders with only a few ripples from what I could see. Both groups seem to recognize the needs of the others and will often work together for the sake of the campers. Resources are shared, pathways are adjusted, bumps ironed out, understanding has been given, communication kept up, unkind remarks swallowed. The two camps work well. But there has been a skirmish going on between two parties where the unkind words and thoughts have not always been held back, on either side. And it hurts. It hurts because I see the struggles. And yeah, it stings a bit to watch. Because deep inside I know we are batting for the same team.
Division - it has hit us, but I will also say- that it has been a minor skirmish - not an all out war.
Discredit - When this was presented at the beginning of the year, it was stated that all it takes to end the work at camp, is for us to loose a camper. In a society that is media driven and prone to sensationalism there is truth in this. And several times this year I've watched situations come so close to unfolding, situations that could do irreparable damage. Some we have little control over, some bear re-thinking how we do things in the future, others will crop up that no one could have seen coming. The older I get the more I realize that there is this odd tightrope walk to life - doing what you can to reasonably keep your charges safe, and then trusting God. Trusting that God will keep the part that you can't cover (and that seems to get bigger every time I think about it) and trusting him when things go wrong to help you find the right path forward.
Discredit - I don't know if any darts that the Devil threw hit the bulls-eye and sunk deep, but I know that they were thrown this year, and if they bounced off - I'm thankful for a camp that does what it can on the tightrope and a God who fills in the vast space beyond that.
Discouragement - I've been here, part of me knows it is a weakness inherent in my "artistic personality". It is a stereotype, but there is a reason for the idea that creative people are prone to moodiness. The times when trying to find the good and the neat are really difficult because your mind is spinning on other deep issues, chewing at the things that are wrong, building the negatives into fortresses, worrying at concepts like a dog on a chew-toy. The days when the neat stuff with campers and staff just doesn't shine as brightly, the days where you skip worship time and hide, because of the shadows on the inside.
Discouragement - yeah, some of those darts have hit home, and I am pretty sure I am not alone.
Eventually, I've found the sun to shine brighter, for the meaning behind playing with legos and marbles with a couple of five year olds to come back into startling focus. The bug song to come on in the big room and to be drawn back into corporate worship because I find it comforting to know that God loves us stinky, squashed, creepy bugs with a big big love. To hear little voices singing Bible verses, and to find hope in that even if they have the words terribly mangled.
Yet I know that not every journey in depression is short. And I am aware that transition times, especially off of these spiritual high places are often places riddled with discouragement. When the reserves have been used, when you have poured out until there are only fumes left. When you have gone the distance, and then gone the distance again because God had a plan you didn't see. When it is over. The enemy is still on the prowl.
I remember coming back home from camp as a young teen. Back to stacking up the wood in the woodshed and mowing the lawn for the neighbors. Back to life that didn't resound with praise choruses and challenge with meticulously prepared messages. Back to the normalcy of regular old life. And I would fall into depression then. It would last for weeks, sometimes months, not days.
Depression isn't just a bout of discouragement. It is deeper, longer, stronger.
I fear I may walk a variation of that path again. It wouldn't be the first time.
I don't believe in coincidences. I don't believe that it is a coincidence that a celebrities death has sparked a surge of articles on this topic right at the time that a mountain top experience is about to drop me back to the valley below. No - I don't believe that it is all centering around myself- but that God is weaving a story where many threads touch and intertwine. There was a reason this topic is on my heart. And perhaps by opening up a bit, I can help others.
I've battled depression. It comes back to be battled again. And again. I've come perilously close to loosing the fight and ending my own life. I've walked that path. And while it has been a long time since it has been that bad, I do not have the confidence to say that it never will be again. There is no "cure" for depression, though there are tools that can be brought to weigh in the battle.
Some of those tools are medical
some of them are social
a few of them fall under life experience and maturity
some are physical
some are mental
and some may be spiritual
I want to share some tools that have helped me in the past and that I am throwing down here on paper to help reinforce the next few weeks. One is a Bible story, but I want to be clear on one thing. Depression doesn't go away just because you read a Bible story, or claim a verse, or read your Bible and pray daily.
Christians commit suicide just like other people do. (That includes practicing Christians.)
If the path gets really dark I pray you will look for every tool, every weapon that can be brought to bear, and that you will enlist the aid of family, friends, angels and strangers alike to give you aid.
I am drawn to the story of Elijah on Mt Carmel - a public challenge, a miraculous answer from God, revival on a national scale. You'd think that would be enough right? Nope - it all gets followed by a deluge - a miracle storm ending a season of drought with Elijah racing Ahab down the mountain. Elijah wins - he was on foot and Ahab was in a chariot. God used Elijah to show up the king time after time on that one day.
And after that great spiritual battle - Elijah is spent. He is drained, He is afraid. He is discouraged. He is tired. He is on the run.
And God sends respite, and care, and rest, and time away.
And
He
still
talks
to
Elijah.
He doesn't give up on him. He doesn't get mad that Elijah got worn down. He sent the still small voice.
It is a really cool story. I still don't understand all of it. And for me, it is encouraging. Encouraging because the Bible is about real people, and real people get discouraged. Real people battle depression. And they keep battling it. And sometimes they fail.
And God still talks to them.
Even when they cannot hear the still small voice.
Maybe my hope is not rooted in the ones who are hearing, but the one who is still trying to talk.
Another tool that I found particularly meaningful in some of my darkest days was a song.
The promise in this song became my own. The fact that another Christian had walked those steps, and not one who was spiritually immature, or weak, or turning their back on their faith, a real genuine Christian just like me (well, immensely more talented) a real Christian had been to the edge. And their visit there helped pull me back.
There are some lines in that song:
And realize that though my world
Might seem so torn apart
Most often it is joy that breaks the heart
Maybe it is easier to pick out the light when you occasionally sojourn in the land of the shadows.
Maybe it isn't a waste of blog space to look at the dark side of camp on the last week instead of writing about getting to play in costumes today (and yes there is a lot of funny stuff there - love love love being a stormtrooper - but you loose a lot of credibility when you have to sidle up the stairwell doing the "wide step waddle"), and yes explaining that I was not dressed up as Olaf - that too.) Or about how incredibly amazing my co-workers are (and they are. in so many ways that it boggles the mind.)
Maybe the fact that God seeks to be with us in the dark places, that he cares about us when we aren't paying attention to him because we are too wrapped up in our own troubles, maybe that idea will be helpful if you look back at your own view on the four "D's" that the adversary pulls out of the quiver and uses to wound us. In looking back at the battle scars and even the open wounds that have yet to heal.
My friends, we are all looking to a change. It may have rest, it may not.
But it is still the battle field.
God-speed and good hunting.
No comments:
Post a Comment