BEATING THE BLUES

The great world's altar stairs
That slope through darkness up to God.

-Alfred Lord Tennyson

I came home from work one evening a few years ago and realized that I had gone flat. I thought it was just a blue Monday, or a bad case of the blahs and a good night's sleep would set things right, but I was wrong.

The days that followed were a descent into a very dark place. I woke up morning after morning in the grip of melancholy, struggling to pull myself out of my gloom. I felt as if I were half­p;way up the side of a bottomless pit, hanging on for deep life, my handholds precarious, afraid to move for fear I would plunge into an abyss below.

Work became painful duty, a desperate effort. People with problems were a bother; friends with sunny, cheerful dispositions were a special trial. I found myself wanting to get away from everything and everyone---take early retirement, build a cabin in the woods, or get a permanent job in a lighthouse. I cared for nothing. I enjoyed nothing. I had nothing to live for and I could think of nothing for which I was willing to die.

Oh, there were flashes of delight---occasions that led me to think that I might be out of the doldrums, but then I would slip again into the old groove of my misery. Each time I moved closer to despair. I could deal with the dreariness; it was the hope that was hardest to bear.

Friends suggested that my joyless state was the result of stresses, losses, or that I was getting a little long in the tooth-but so what? What could I do? I sought good counsel. I read good books, but like Al Capp's Joe Bflstx, I couldn't get out from under my cloud. Nothing served to displace the darkness. Every day was a new shade of blue.

I was encouraged, however, by the thought that even the best get depressed: Charles Spurgeon, John Bunyon, David Brainard, Søren Kierkegaard---all suffered bouts of melancholy.

William Carey, that rugged old warrior, had his own dejections and defeats. On one occasion he wrote in his diary: "I am defective in all duties. In prayer I wander and am formal. I soon tire; devotion languishes; and I do not walk with God."

But of all examples, Elijah's depression is the most poignant. Here's a man who stepped directly from the wondrous heights of Carmel into a steep, black canyon of despair. Israel's historian tells the story:

Now Ahab told Jezebel everything Elijah had done and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. So Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah to say, "May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them."

Elijah was afraid and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there, while he himself went a day's journey into the desert. He came to a broom tree, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. "I have had enough, LORD," he said. "Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors." Then he lay down under the tree and fell asleep (1 Kings 19:1-5).

Exhilarated and adrenalized by his success on Mt. Carmel, the prophet "outran Ahab to Jezreel," a distance of about twenty-five miles. As Elijah ran, illusions of grandeur danced in his headthe death of state Baalisma court chaplaincylegislative prayer breakfastsanother opportunity to vindicate God's honor and make His mark on the world.

But Jezebel had another idea.

Dream on, said Israel's murderous "first lady." Then she sent a messenger with this bit of terse verse: "May the gods kill me / If I don't kill you / By this time tomorrow!"

Elijah's snappy rejoinder was to turn and flee. "Elijah was afraid and ran for his life" (19:3). The text may also be translated, "Elijah saw! He got the picture!"

Fueled by raw fear, Elijah picked up his heels and raced all the way to Beersheba, a distance of about seventy miles. The prophet's long-distance retreat made the New York City Marathon look like a jog through Central Park. When he finally ran out of gas, he took shelter under a broom tree, dropped from exhaustion, and prayed that he might die.

"I have had enough, LORD," he said. "Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors" (19:4b). Enough, Lord! I'm a failure! I'm washed up! I'm dead meat! I quit!

Elijah's come-down is classic: Over-adrenalized, over-extended, and emotionally depleted, brooding over his feelings of inadequacy and apparent failure, he collapsed into self-pity, withdrawal, and self-destructive thoughts.

Every one of us must stumble into such trenches along life's winding way. Sometimes without warning, discouragement creeps in silently on little cat's feet-like fog off the bay. Time and pain wear down our resolve. Broken in spirit and bruised beyond repair, we get weary of soul. We ask ourselves, What have I been spending my life for? Who is any better off from all my effort? We find no pleasure or consolation in God or in his work.

These days bring with them an abiding sense of utter failure. Our yoke seems unbearable, our burdens heavy beyond endurance. And what makes our difficulties even more grievous is that we feel such terrible loneliness. No one seems to care. No one shares our outlook. Even God seems to shun us. And so, like Elijah, we cry, "It is enough!"

Sometimes our dark moods are nothing more than physical and emotional depletion. Like Elijah we've been running scared, over-doing everything, committing ourselves to more projects and plans than anyone could ever do. We try to be all things to all people all of the time. We string ourselves out, expending all our time and energy, adding our will to God's, trying to doing extremely well what he never intended for us to do at all!

We over-adrenalize our bodies giving them no chance to recover. We give ourselves no margins in which to adjust to unexpected emergencies. Over-worked and under-slept, we finally reach our yield point and we fold. Our bodies can't take it anymore. Unlike that battery-powered bunny, we just can't keep going.

It's good to know that our melancholy may be nothing but natural weariness. We're too inclined to make something profound or "spiritual" out of it, thinking that somehow we've gone wrong. We keep forgetting that we're only human; that "we have this treasure (Christ's divinity) in vessels of common clay (our humanity)" (2 Corinthians 4:7). The treasure is the only enduring element; the rest of us is frail and easily gives way.

"Fatigue makes cowards of us all," Vince Lombardi said. We start to lose focus and lose our grasp on reality. We implode-withdraw into a state of self-condemnation and apathy. We lose focus and concentration. We say things we would never say if we were fresh and well-rested. We make unwise decisions based on feelings of inadequacy-and sometimes those decisions are irreversible. We mortals should never trivialize our weariness. God doesn't.

Elijah lay down under the tree and fell asleep. All at once an angel touched him and said, "Get up and eat." He looked around, and there by his head was a cake of bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again. The angel of the LORD came back a second time and touched him and said, "get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you." So he got up and ate and drank (19:5-8a).

God understood Elijah's weary despairand let him sleep.

Sleep is God's gift to his weary servants: "He grants sleep to those he loves" (Psalm 127:2). Being spiritual doesn't necessarily mean expending effort in contemplation and prayer; it may mean eating supper and hitting the sack.

God sent his angel to Elijah touch him. No lecture, no rebuke, no chiding-only a gentle touch from one of the Lord's tender angels, awakening Elijah to find food and drink. He commands his angels concerning us; to keep us in all our ways (Psalm 91:11).

God finds us when we're down and out, when we have nothing left to give. He comes to take away our weariness. He never awakens anyone to disappointment, but to the good things Love has prepared.

John, who learned God's love on Jesus' breast, tells in words so simple and direct: "We know and rely on the love God has for us" (1 John 4:16). I go back to these words again and again.
Perhaps the best way to know God's love is to experience it in times of declension and deep discouragement, when we feel most undeserving of it. "His lovingkindness is better than life" (Psalms 63:3).

Strengthened by food and rest, Elijah "traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God. There he went into a cave and spent the night" (19:9). In the strength of God's angel food, Elijah journeyed into the wilderness to Mount Horeb (Sinai), the mountain of revelation, where God always spoke his mind. There the Lord addressed the deeper elements of Elijah's discouragement.
And the word of the LORD came to him: "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

He replied, "I have been very zealous for the LORD God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, broken down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too."

The LORD said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by."

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

Then a voice said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" (19:9b-13).
"The Lord is going to pass by," Elijah was assured, and so he looked for signs of God's passing. First came the hurricane blast of wind storm, so powerful it splintered the very rocks. As the wind died down, a mighty earthquake rumbled across the landscape. No sooner had the dust settled from the earthquake when a firestorm descended out of the clear blue, searing all in its path, devastating in its heat.

Yet in each of these mighty displays, God was conspicuous by his absence.

When he finally did pass by, Elijah saw nothing, felt nothing.

The only evidence of God was a still, small voice-a nearly inaudible whisper.

You never know about God. He may appear in extraordinary and melodramatic ways---in hurricane, earthquake, and storm. But that's not his typical style. He seems to prefer much less obvious, less theatrical methods. God's heroics, when they appear, are rarely as expected. He works in quietness, his Spirit gently wafting like the wind, here and there, touching one, touching another, working in silence to get his work done. The obvious is usually spurious. God's best efforts are rarely seen. That's the word from Sinai.

The problem with Elijah was that he had wholly unrealistic expectations of God. He had seen the Lord manifest himself in stupendous display on Mount Carmel. He expected a repeat performance---that God would make short work of Jezebel, blasting her off the face of the earth with a fireball. But instead of a lightning bolt, Jezebel got God's forbearance and Elijah got a contract on his life. It was more than he could process at the time, and the disappointed prophet collapsed into depression.
God's way of correcting Elijah's perspective was to bring him to the place of revelation, which is what he must do with us again and again. It's in that quiet place that we hear God's voice. That's where we hear the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. That's where we get our erroneous zones corrected; that's where we get real.

Folk Christianity---that perspective nowhere taught in the Bible, but generally believed---says that everyone is a winner, no one gets Alzheimer's, no one dies from cancer, no one fails in marriage, no one falls to mental illness. Everyone lives happily forever after.

But that's not the way it is.

Life is difficult.

"The world is painful in any case; but it is quite unbearable if anybody gives us the idea that we are meant to be liking it," Charles Williams said. When people tell me that life is hard, I reply, "Of course it is." I find that answer more satisfying than anything else I can say. Every year confirms my belief that life is difficult and demanding and sometimes the harder tests are further along. Any other response is unrealistic.

Here I'm reminded of Roy Hobbes, the protagonist in the movie and novel, The Natural, and his memorable line: "Life just didn't turn out the way I thought it would." It rarely does. We lose our jobs; we lose our health; we lose our children, one way or another. Our stocks fall, our retirement plans fail, our dreams go belly up, our best laid schemes, "gang aft a-gley." We labor long hours with only fragmentary results. We're disregarded and ignored, slandered and maligned; we get trampled on by insensitive people. Some days we fall flat on our faces. Our best efforts are a disaster, our best foot forward becomes a bitter embarrassment. As my friend, Fred Smith, says,
"Anything is possible with God; even failure."

But not to worry: The events that we call tragedies, set-backs, and failures, are opportunities for God. He knows how to draw glory even from our ruin. "Not to be downcast after failure is one of the marks of true sanctity" (Dom Augustine Guillerand).

The hour of deepest humiliation, when we feel defective and utterly disqualified may be the hour that God uses us in unparalleled ways. Years of "wasted" effort may be the years when God plants an eternal harvest; though we have fished all night and caught nothing, the Great Angler is still "double-baiting his hooks."

There's more going in heaven and on earth than we can ever know! Though we think our efforts have been in vain, there's something in the wind. God's Spirit is wafting about, deftly and tenderly touching others, touching us, making us more like him than we ever thought possible, using us to influence others in ways we never imagined.

Matthew Arnold has written,
We cannot kindle what we will
The fire which in the heart resides;
The Spirit bloweth and is still,
In mystery our soul abides.
But tasks in hours of insight will'd
Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled.

 With aching hands and bleeding feet
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;
We bear the burden and the heat
Of the long day and wish 'twere done
Not till the hours of light return,
All we have built do we discern

The Suffering Servant

It may surprise you to know that our Lord had his days of deep discouragement.

Peering down the centuries, Isaiah uncovers the heart of Christ during one of those dark periods of his life when he wanted to give up:
"I have labored to no purpose; I have spent my strength in vain and for nothing" (Isaiah 49:4b).
He had done what he was called to do. He had faithfully carried out his mission and-it was all for nothing! Or so it seemed. He had preached his heart out, extended himself, discipled and counseled faithfullyand for what? To be despised and rejected of men. The crowds were turning off, his disciples were disenchanted and drifting away.

But then, the Lord said to our Lord,
"It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept. I will also make you a light to the Gentiles, that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth" (49:6).

The Servant thought his mission was to gather Israel (49:5), but God had something greater in mind. He wanted the world-Russians, Romanians, Hungarians, Arabs, and those from Idaho. And he wanted men and women from twenty centuries or more. The Servant's rejection, though it seemed to be failure, was in fact a necessary component of that greater plan That's what enabled our Lord to set his face like a flint and go to Jerusalem to be despised and rejected and die.

Perhaps, you've served a congregation faithfully only to be turned out in the end.

Perhaps you're a parent who has poured your life into your children, only to have them turn against you.

Perhaps you've given your youth and your heart and soul to your marriage, only to have your spouse walk away.

You've done your best, you've given your all, you've gone the extra mile, but God has not come through!

It's good to acknowledge our pain, just as the Servant acknowledged his. We're not stoics seeking to be pure mind and suppress all emotion. There's no virtue in the stiff upper lip. But when all is said and done, at the end of the day, at the end of years, we have no one to whom we can go but our Lord. As the Servant put it, "What is due to me is in the LORD's hand, and my reward is with my God." God is able to do "exceedingly, abundantly above anything you could ever ask or imagine." He is at work, if not in the strong winds then in the gentle zephyr; if not in the earthquake than in our heartbreak; in crowds or lonely hearts; in multitudes that we see, in those like the seven thousand who were known to none but God.

The "wind blows where it will." We can't control it; we can only believe that it is true. That's the perspective that Elijah learned in that quiet place; that's what we learn.
So let the noise subside,
And listen deep inside;
He will speak; he will speak.

But it won't be an earthquake;
And it won't be fire;
Or the whirling wind;
Taking you higher.
It will be a still small voice;
And you'll have no choice;
But to hear; but to hear.

-John Fisher

One Way to Get Going

Elijah missed the message: When asked again, "What are you doing here, Elijah," he simply rewound the tape and repeated himself, "I have been very zealous for the LORD God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, broken down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too."

The Lord said to him:
"Go back the way you came, and go to the Desert of Damascus. When you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram. Also, anoint Jehu son of Nimshi king over Israel, and anoint Elisha son of Shephat from Abel Meholah to succeed you as prophet. Jehu will put to death any who escape the sword of Hazael, and Elisha will put to death any who escape the sword of Jehu. Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel-all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and all whose mouths have not kissed him" (19:15-18).
God's word was insistent: "Go back! You still have work to do!"

There were things of great importance for Elijah to accomplish: He was to anoint Hazael, the Syrian king who unwittingly became Elijah's ally in the struggle against Israel and Ahab (2 Kings 13:22). He was to anoint Jehu king over Israel, the man who eventually brought the evil Jezebel to her well-deserved end. He was to anoint Elisha, his companion in ministry and ultimate successor.

Furthermore, God assured Elijah that he was not alone. In fact, he was part of a significant whole, a faithful remnant much larger than the prophet had even dreamed. There were yet thousands in Israel---"all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and all whose mouths have not kissed him."

Looking back on this whole account, I'm encouraged that even when Elijah couldn't master his emotions, even when he had no strength to climb out of his dark mood, that not even God insisted upon it. Nor did God's patient word to his servant immediately take hold. As with Elijah, our emotions may be beyond our control. Black moods and the vice-grip of melancholy may continue long after the causes of depression are removed. Sadness needs its time to be.

No, Elijah wasn't asked to alter his mood, but he was asked to choose. He was asked to exercise that part of him that remained fully operative: his will. A century ago, British minister Francis Paget said this: "It may be impossible at times to feel what one would; it is not impossible to will what one should; and that, if the will be real and honest, is what matters most."

John White writes:
There is no place for giving up. The warfare is much bigger than our personal humiliations. To feel sorry for oneself is totally inappropriate. Over such a soldier I would pour a bucket of icy water. I would drag him to his feet, kick him in the rear end and put his sword in his hand and shout, "Now fight!" In some circumstances one must be cruel to be kind. What if you've fallen for a tempting ruse of the Enemy? What if you're not the most brilliant swordsman in the army? You hold Ex caliber in your hand. Get behind the lines for a break if you're too weak to go on and strengthen yourself with a powerful draught of Romans 8:1-4. Then get back into the fight before your muscles get stiff!
We can get back into the fight if we will.

And therein lies the rub.

Do we really want to deal with our discouragement?

Blue moods can initially be pleasurable; pandering to our misery and nursing self-pity feels good for a season, but like all illicit pleasure the after-taste is bitter. Sowing to one's own flesh inevitably leads to corruption (Galatians 6:8-10).

Somewhere along the line, we must decide that despair must go. We must not be passive and wait for it to go away by itself. We must learn to battle fiercely against discouragement. And most importantly, we must stay near the place of revelation, sit at our Lord's feet, and listen to his words. He reminds us there of the things that matter:

It's there, at his feet, that we get his perspective. It is there we regain our focus. It is there we re-establish our priorities. In that quiet place we hear again the words so recently covered over by our pain: He who has called you is faithful and he will do it!"

We must get up and get going. There's always something God is asking us to do, something as simple as fixing our face or fixing a meal. He only asks us to do what he empowers us to do. We must shake off our lethargy and, like that other cripple whom Jesus restored, get up from our beds and walk. It's necessary for us to take that first step, for God "will carry us in his arms till we are able to walk and he will carry us in his arms when we are weary and cannot walk; but he will not carry us if we will not walk" (George MacDonald).

Hard to do? You bet it is! Like plunging into an icy stream. But it can be done. When we choose to do his will, God gives us what we need to comply. Our feelings may lag; our dark mood may linger, but God will indeed carry us in his arms until we're back on our feet.

As Scripture affirms, "So Elijah went from there." (19:19).

He made his choice. He got back into the action. Will you?

David Roper