Testimony: Miracle of Acceptance

I started attending church regularly in the fall of 2002. Things were getting rough in my life. That's probably what compelled me to get back to church. As my finances, business, and personal relationships deteriorated, I clung to the idea that the answer was somehow in church and worship.

I don't think it was faith at that point, (more like desperation), but something kept me coming to church. I came to rely on the fellowship with a very special combination of people in my class, my deacons, and others I met through church. At times those were the only 2 hours a week that I was not racked with worry, fear, and self-recrimination. Sometimes I was even then.

I want to tell you that once I started attending church regularly things started getting better and I was able to work out all my problems.

I want to tell you that...but actually, things got worse. As I sought answers from God, the devil seemed to double his efforts. I wanted to get my life, my family, and my resources under control, but I was feeling more and more out of control. Every day seemed to bring a new problem or issue that ultimately resulted in loss for me or pain and illness for those I cared about.

Then the thing I feared most started to happen. I started to give up.

Not the logical side of me. Not the part that had always been told "you can do it if you try hard enough". Not the part of me that wanted to be in control. I fought it courageously. Every day I told myself "you can do this". Every day I forced myself to get up, shower and go to work. Every day I put up a false front and attempted to do what people who are in control of their lives are supposed to do. And every day it got harder. Every day I spiraled a little farther out of control.

I prayed incessantly.

Lord, let me be able to deal with this.
Let me regain control.
Let me find my way out of this.
Let me help my friends and family.
Let me get back to where I was.
Let me, let me, let me...

I never gave up...consciously. But one day after struggling out of bed and driving to work, I parked outside the office of the storage unit company where I worked all day alone. As I sat there, a small, quiet voice inside of me finally made itself heard. It whispered simply, "You can't. Without conscious thought, I started the car and drove to my best friend's house. When she opened the door I said "I can't do it anymore."

That was June 16, 2003. At the end of the day on June 17th I walked off the St. Joe Mobile Clinic bus with a sheet of paper diagnosing sudden and severe onset of depression and a prescription for Zoloft.

Now if my counselor were in control of this story, this is the point where she would have me start repeating "I think I can, I think I can."

And if my long-time friends and family were in control of the plot, this is where they would have me shouting "Of course, I can, of course, I can."

Both well-intentioned, both ringing false in my heart, neither quite drowning out that still, small voice saying "No, you can't."

According to all the psychology self-help books I read,that is simply the voice of depression. In one, it was personified as my insecure inner child whom I could refuse to listen to because now I was in charge. I was supposed to be able to override that self-destructive voice by various methods, all of which ended up saying the same thing-"I think I can, therefore I can." "Of course I can, therefore I will."

I read a lot and tried everything. It helped to talk to my counselor. She was supportive and nonjudgmental. Her security was in no way threatened by my insecurity, which allowed me to admit my fears out loud. And every time I said "I can't do it, she replied, "You can do it." Was it the voice of depression or the voice of truth that whispered "You can't".

It was encouraging to talk to family and friends. They expressed love and concern that reinforced how much they cared for me and how much I wanted to be able to enjoy that love. And every time I said I can't do it, they replied, "Of course you can." Was it the voice of depression or the voice of acceptance that murmured, "You can't".

Finally, at the end of August I began to feel much better. I searched for work, enjoyed my family, reached out to my friends. I hardly worried at all.

So when did all this encouragement start to work? It didn't.

How did I finally get to the point where I could do it? I still can't.

The change finally came from my reaching out and confessing my weakness and fears to people who understood and actually believed me when I said "I can't do it". I told my best friend, my deacon, and some of my Sunday school and church friends. And every time I said "I can't do it.", they said "Of course, you can't,
BUT GOD CAN!"

It wasn't the voice of depression,
but the calm voice of sweet surrender that finally whispered,
"I give up. You can take over now, God..."

Good ending? Maybe in the movies...but that's not the end.

Everyday, somewhere, somehow, I try to take control again. And everyday in every way I battle the "Accuser" who squeezes in and attempts to take up permanent residence in those around me and, yes, even me, on a daily basis. And everyday I find myself realizing all over again that "I can't do it".

The good news is--I have been down this road before and I try not to waste as much time now before saying
"I give up. Could you please take over again, God?"

And I think He is rather amused at my inability to understand and the necessity of going through this over and over again as he patiently replies in the soft whisper I now recognize as the "Voice of Truth", the Counselor that he has left with us--"I've been waiting for you to ask!"

Have you been waiting?
...today is a great day to turn it all over to Jesus...

Listen quietly for just a moment... you may hear that still, small voice saying to you...
"I'm just waiting for you to ask."