The weekend was magical, and I remember thinking how ironic it all was.
Because this world is hell most days.
It seemed weird that a celebration so grand could be happening at the same time as other hellish happenings taking place all over the world.
Maybe as I grow older I'm becoming more aware of it, just how much hurt exists in my own life and in the lives of those around me. This past week seemed especially rough: first, Michael Brown, an unarmed, black teenager in Ferguson, MO was shot and killed by a police officer, a scenario that is being accused as racism. The situation is terribly sad, and awful events have unfolded revolving around the shooting since it happened.
Then, each day it seems as if another sweet, innocent child is screaming or injured or murdered or worse in Gaza, and with every international update that I see and hear about, the only words I can utter are "Jesus, have mercy".
We have news about Iraq, which is hard and disheartening and all sorts of messy.
And now a celebrity, our beloved, funny, inspiring Robin Williams, is reported to have committed suicide.
When will it end?
When will this world, full of weeping and anger and gnashing of teeth, finally rest in the peace that it was made for?
I don't have that answer, but I do have another question: when will we start loving the hell away?
After hearing about the death of Robin Williams, I've been thinking a lot about it all. Various words are floating around the media these days: depression, anxiety, suicide, and all I can think about is how I hope Robin Williams is finally at peace.
Because if it's true what they're saying, if he struggled with depression and anxiety and other terrible illnesses, then I'm certain that he didn't have peace here. When depression is your struggle, then peace is hardly your company.
We can't save Robin, but we can honor and respect him. We can watch his movies and appreciate his talent, and we can sit around with friends and family and tell stories of how his life touched many of ours.
We can think of him in love, because even if he wasn't your favorite actor, he is still a human being and worthy of love.
We can pray for his family, because I'm sure they are absolutely grieving, hard and loud.
And they should be. They've lost a precious soul.
We can think on him fondly, because he did amazing things like support St. Jude's Research Hospital to help fight cancer in children.
Robin Williams, you made me happy a million times over. You gave me hope with your inspiring performance in Dead Poets Society, and you made me cry from laughing so hard in Mrs. Doubtfire. You brought Peter Pan to life in a new way when you battled Captain Hook, and you made me stand up and cheer when I watched Goodwill Hunting.
You are a fantastical genius, and I hope we can honor you as such. I hope we can respect and thank you for using your life and gifts to touch so many others.
And we can do one more thing: we can stop victim blaming people for battling depression and start approaching it like the illness that it is. Depression is not a fault to be ashamed of; depression is a sickness that anyone can have, that many people do have, and it is not an illness that is beyond hope.
If you or someone you know is battling depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts: you are not alone, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.
This world is really hard, and if you're weary or tired or over it, then hear me out: I understand completely. I get it love, I really, truly do. This world is too. damn. difficult.
I wish we wouldn't sugar-coat it. I wish we'd stop pretending not to see, and I wish we'd stop turning our heads the other way. The darkness around us, around you and me, is real: look at it and see, don't pretend it's not there.
It's sad. It's terribly awful, and I wish it would all just stop. I wish peace would come, and I wish death would cease, and I wish the only tears cried were happy ones at joyful happenings rather than the ones that come from places of anguish and hurt and brokenness and pain.
Solutions are hard to come by. I don't have every answer, but I do know one truth: when we begin to love each other, the forces of hell tremble a little bit.
When we stop living in fear of the darkness around us, we begin to seek hope and peace and all sorts of life-giving solutions. We begin to humanize each other, because we see that every human life is worth loving. We see that we are all made to love and be loved.
I think we should share our stories, too. Someone else might need to hear what's happened to us, might need to hear what battles we've overcome or what freedom we've experienced. Someone might need to hear our stories, because it might be their story, too. We are made up of more than just cells: we are depth and breath and all sorts of spirit. We are made of stories, and when we begin to share those stories, we begin to grow.
We begin to feel as if we aren't alone.
And with our words and experiences, we begin to fight the darkness.
Pull up a chair, and I'll share a bit of mine. Just a short bit, because my time and space is running short, but here it is, a short but authentic story for you: I battled depression all throughout high school. There are various reasons for why this is true, but those details aren't all that important right now. What matters is this: I was depressed, and it took me a long time to recover. I struggled with stress and anxiety, and I had suicidal thoughts more than once. My healing was a process, as it always is, and it involved me eating differently and setting healthy boundaries and confronting inward struggles and going to counseling.
Counseling is the best thing in the world, and I think we should all be going on the regular. It's fantastic to sit on a comfy couch and cry your eyes out if you need to or spill your guts to someone not involved and not be judged for even one second. Therapy is exactly that: therapeutic, and let me tell you right now, my counselor was far more intelligent than I ever could be. She saw things that I couldn't from my perspective, and she was able to tell it to me straight, which was exactly what I needed. Plus, she brought me chocolate one time.
So that was cool.
I've never taken medicine for my depression, but I know people who have and do. I hate the stigma that surrounds this sort of thing. Medicine is a god-given resource, not a hell-sent temptation or sin. Medicine is what heals people, medicine is often how God works in our age and time of science and smarts.
Medicine is way cool, and if you want or need to take some, then don't be ashamed. Take it and be healed.
Many see depression as a spiritual sin, and I cannot say I believe this is true. Is depression a battle? Yes. Are there dark forces at work? I'm sure, because depression is from hell, and it is certainly not anything good. Depression must be some sort of darkness, but saying that someone is depressed because they aren't praying enough, aren't spiritual enough, or aren't having enough faith is inaccurate, unloving, and emotionally abusive.
God works in wondrous ways, and sometimes that may be through some sort of divine healing, but sometimes it's not. Sometimes, if not usually, God works in more practical ways, through medicine and science and the love of other people.
When I was battling depression, I wasn't cured by someone praying healing into me. I'm sure God works in these ways, and if that's how it happened for you then I am so, so happy. Let's not limit God though, can we do that? Can we expand what God can do to every realm of this world, to every part of our lives? Can we believe that God can work through miracles as well as natural, ordinary, scientific means? Can we pray, because prayer unites us, but can we think too, because thoughts are important? Let's be feelers as well as thinkers. Let's be scientific and spiritual.
And let's stop trying to find answers for every damn happening, every single question. Sometimes things happen, and we can't always understand why. All we know is that love still wins, and hope keeps on existing.
Because that's how God worked for me. God weaved Jesus love through the words, hands, feet, and skills of other people, and those people gave me resources that paved my pathway to healing.
That's it, for now. That's my story that I want you to know, because I want you to know one more truth: you are not alone.
You are not alone, you are not weird or wrong or terrible or at fault. You are strong. You are great. You are able to overcome this shit that's wearing you down.
You are a human being, and you are a life worth living, saving, hoping, and holding onto.
I hope you know this. I hope you know that no matter what hell is breaking loose around you, no matter how real the darkness is, there is always hope. There is always a reason to live, and if we have to put a word on it then we'll call it this: love.
For me it comes back to Jesus, because I am a Christian and He is why I faith it. He is my belief and hope and light and love. He's the example that I try to follow, He's the light that I want to be like. He's the love that I think this world needs so desperately, because He is hope and peace and all sorts of amazing. He is resurrection and power and strong, strong, freedom.
He is love, and I think love is what we need. Love is all that we can hold onto when this world is insane and we find ourselves madly grasping the air for something solid and good.
Love is all around us. Love is real and hard and all sorts of beautiful, and if there's any force more powerful than darkness, it is this: love. It's the one concept that blows my mind more than hell: the love that makes up heaven.
I've seen it. I've tasted it. I've experienced it full well, and I want you to take part in it, too. Love is all sorts of goodness, and it takes many forms. Love is when I hold my sweet baby nephews close, their arms around me tight and their cuddles sweet and soft. Love is when I laugh, deep and loud with my sister on a beach, the sand warm and tickly beneath our toes. Love is when my best friend calls me from several states away, just to catch up and hear the latest news. Love is banding together with people that believe in love, too, and it is us praying real hard so that something inside us changes and is transformed. Prayer motivates us to love even more.
Love is friends and family eating breakfast for dinner, and we're all there to celebrate the marriage of two of our favorite people.
Love is a child being saved from the abyss that is the sex-slavery industry. It's 2014 and forced prostitution, forced child sex, is still a thing.
Love is when my professor advises me to preach, because even though I'm a woman he believes in me, strong. He looks past my outsides and sees my heart, and he encourages me to use my spiritual giftings.
Love is white privilege humbling down to admitting past wrongs, and love is taking that privilege and setting it aside for the sake of other people. Let's feed this hungry world and stop complaining about first-world issues, for we're all in need of nourishment and there's more than enough to go around.
Love is speaking up and out, against racism and sexism and homophobia and misogyny: all of these awful, awful, terribly degrading systems of oppression that are still alive and running today. I'm so, so over them; can we send these demons back to the hell in which they belong?
Isn't this world hard enough without us engaging in power struggles and making it even harder? Isn't there enough hate? Enough hurt? Enough blame?
The darkness is real, but the light can shine through us all.
I'm finished pretending otherwise.
When the walls come tumbling down all around us, when the gates of hell are swinging wide and demons seem to be running rampant, I'm not sure we can explain it all away.
I'm not sure we're supposed to be able to.
We're only supposed to love.
*If you or someone you know is battling depression, anxiety, or suicide there is help and hope. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255
