I know and I believe that all these words come down to one word, a name, the name of a Person. Jesus. The name that is more than sound or signs. The name that expresses His Person. I believe in Him.
I know He brings healing and peace, that He has conquered death, and that He draws especially close to us through our own pain.
Ten years ago, on October 17, 2005, my friend died. Really, he was more like a brother than a friend. He died by his own hand. But he had been so terribly sick with mental illness that I don't believe he was able to understand or judge what he was doing. And I can entrust him with firm hope to the unfathomable and inexhaustible mercy of God.
So why won't I stop grieving?
Why can't I stop grieving? Why is there still so much dark pain, so many lacerations in the heart after so long? They're covered over and bandaged and dulled. But why do they still bleed?
I have no words to answer these questions. I have no words. Not now.
Jesus promises that we shall be consoled, but a large part of that may have to wait until we are all together, finally, with Him.
Jesus promises that we shall be consoled, but a large part of that may have to wait until we are all together, finally, with Him.
Until then, we won't stop bleeding. And we won't stop fighting this monster that they call "Depression." We won't stop speaking out, opening up about our own sufferings, and putting ourselves on the line for other people's lives.
