Overtaken
O, Lord, sometimes I feel so far away.
Your presence seems a dim reflection.
I've fallen and instead of taking your hand to rise
I crawl around in the dust,
digging a muddy hole where I begin to drown
in sorrow and sadness, darkness and despair,
a loneliness so deep that it drains the life from my body.
Exhaustion settles in as my new companion,
steadfast, loyal, always there.
Its hard to think, hard to move.
Responsibilities come and go unmet.
A new companion comes to visit: depression.
Depression and exhaustion claim sole possession of my time.
One by one other friends are forgotten, ignored, avoided
as depression whispers in my ear,
"He doesn't really mean that. She's just being nice.
You know she would really rather be somewhere else."
Still too stubborn to admit anything's wrong,
I try to climb out of the hole I dug.
I only manage to pull mud and filth down on myself
as depression whispers, "there's really no way out.
You're struggling for nothing. Its not going to get better.
Maybe you can cover it up."
Desperately I pull hand after hand of dirt down on me
to cover my condition.
I'm isolated now in a filthy grave of my own design
as the mud begins to harden.
No way out on my own. O, God, how did I get here?
It wasn't always like this.
I remember the warmth of your presence.
The delight in your eyes when you looked at me.
I remember that rainbow, those flowers, that butterfly.
Little gifts, little reminders of your love.
O, God, get me out of here. I'm tired, I'm dirty, and
I REALLY MISS YOU!
O great. Now its raining.
As if this dry junk wasn't bad enough.
Now I'm probably going to sink even deeper than. . .
Wait, wha. . . what's that?
God??? What are you doing here?
Yeah, I remember asking you to help me,
but you're getting all dirty.
This is my hole.
You don't deserve to be covered in my filth.
**********************************************************************
I lay panting beside the hole.
God gently cleans the dirt from my body.
As he clears my mouth and nose of the mess I begin to cry.
Why did you do it, God?
You already saved me once before.
You watched me dig this hole.
WHY GET ME OUT???
"you're mine," he whispers as he gently places me on my feet.
"I love you, I created you, I died for you.
Do you think after all that I will leave you
stuck in the mire and muck when you fall."
And thinking on that, it doesn't take a genius to realize
that here is a friend more faithful, more loyal than even Depression.
Depression, weak and fading, tries one more time
to pull me into the pit with caressing whispers and clever lies.
But this time God stands between me and the pit
and buries Depression where he can hurt me no more.
The whispers still come, but they hold no power.
Instead, God's peace settles over me like a warm comforter
and once again His presence fills my heart with joy.