When Jesus asked the crippled man lying near the pool of healing waters, “Do you want to be well?” I thought, What kind of question is that? Of course he does, I answered. That’s why he was there day after day, for years, thirty-eight of them. Other people crowded ahead of him every time and he didn’t have a chance. Surely Jesus could not find fault in that.
But then I looked closer at this handicapped man. I saw him shrug his shoulders when people pushed him aside. He crawled back to his familiar spot to wait for the next time when an angel would stir the waters, but he knew it would be no different than all the times before. He had accepted his fate. He had become comfortable in his pitiful condition.
After all, what could he have done?
He could have shouted, “Wait! It’s my turn!” Or perhaps he could have asked someone to help him reach the waters in time.
Jesus knew the man’s heart and his very thoughts. Did he want to be healed? Or was it easier to stay in the same condition? He had no responsibilities.
He had the perfect excuse—he blamed others.
I can relate to him because I have done the same thing. When I have been wounded by someone’s words, and those arrows have pierced deep into my heart, I don’t plead for the Lord to remove them. I don’t beg Him to bind up my wounds so that I can sing and laugh and praise His name.
No, I would rather moan and groan and say, “Woe is me. Do you see what this person has done to me? He has damaged me beyond repair. The ache and unfairness of it all will always be there. I’ll just sit here and do nothing because there is no hope. I can never forgive him.”
Folks, this is the devil speaking, not the Lord. Do I want to be healed? I have no power to do it on my own. How then? Only by releasing all of my brokenness to the Lord. Every stinking bit. No half-way business will do.
If I can give all my fears, failures, and wounds to him, He will heal me. A simple solution, but it is not easy. I would rather keep my damaged self, blame the one who hurt me, and use it as an excuse for not living in the Lord’s Light. How much sense does that make?
It doesn’t. I want to be well. Thank you, Jesus, for your healing touch.
Give the broken pieces of your heart to the Lord. He can create a glorious mosaic.
Read the story of Jesus and the lame man in John 5:1-18.
Have you ever suffered from depression? I have and here are a few things I have learned along the way.
It can feel like falling into a deep, dark pit filled with quicksand.
Depression can hurt, not only emotionally, but physically.
It can affect my ability to think clearly.
I may become restless, unable to sleep, and lose interest in my usual activities. I may lose hope.
Winston Churchill suffered from clinical depression and called it the “black dog.”
If you find yourself in the clutches of this disease, get help. And do it today. Talk to someone you trust. You may need to contact a trained professional. You could have a chemical imbalance, or perhaps you have suffered abuse, rejection, or feelings of unworthiness and have kept the hurt and anger inside yourself and it’s eating you alive.
I am thankful I no longer need medication or counseling, but if I should again, I would gladly accept whatever it took to help me get well.
Thirty or so years ago I was depressed and didn’t realize it. My doctor at the time, bless him, did. I was so ashamed. I didn’t even share with my husband that I had begun taking medication. Actually, I didn’t tell anyone. What would people think?
I am a Christian and I thought I should be able to handle whatever came my way. I was wrong, on many counts. Because I am human, I cannot handle anything on my own. The good Lord did not create us to journey through our earthy lives alone. Now I cry out to Jesus and lean on Him. He has never failed me.
Today, I sometimes will see depression lurking in the shadows ready to pounce. I am most vulnerable when tired or sick, or even more so when disappointed in circumstances not unfolding like I had planned. Imagine thinking I am the one in control. That’s when I pray the hardest and try to give everything over to the one who knows my every thought and fear and insecurity, yet loves me anyway. Yes, mess that I am, Jesus loves me. He loves you. That makes all the difference.
He (the Lord) will rejoice over you with gladness. He will quiet you by His love. He will exult over you with loud singing.
This page is dedicated to my inspirations and those who have enriched my life along the way.