Dangerous Prayers

Despite being raised in a Southern Baptist church, I've never really considered myself to be very religious.  Honestly, being raised in such a strict environment, listening to sermons of hell and damnation while being surrounded by hypocrites* made me hate the idea of organized religion. Oh, I still believed in God, but for almost 8 years I only went to church when I was visiting my family. I couldn't decide what I believed, and I didn't want any part of church.

During Jason's last deployment, I fell into a deep depression. It was a true depression- not the kind where you are weepy for a few days- but the kind where you just feel so empty and so lonely, it feels like you will never be whole again. And it's a feeling that goes on for weeks or even longer.

This was not the first bout of depression that I have experienced,  though it was the first time that I actually recognized what was wrong with me while I was going through it.  Other times I have been miserable but I haven't realized just how bad things were until I was over it.  My heart was just so heavy that there were times that I don't think I would have gotten out of bed that day if it weren't for Jackson. No matter what, I knew I had to be strong enough to take care of him.

One night things were so bad that I did something that I hadn't really done in years. I prayed.

I said a prayer asking God to help me. I needed Him.  There was a church that I had been thinking about going to, but for various reasons had not gone yet. This was a Saturday night, so I prayed that God would give me strength to get up and go in the morning because I knew that anything could be an excuse for me.  For one thing, I was unable to sleep, so when I did finally fall asleep I usually slept late. For another, I get incredibly anxious about new situations, especially about meeting new people.

And miraculously, Sunday morning, I was ready. I woke up on time. The sun was shining. Jackson was in a wonderful mood.  I was nervous about putting him in the nursery but he did well.  He cried when I left, but eventually calmed down and played with the other kids.  I sat down in my seat and asked God to please let Jackson behave because I needed this. I needed to be here, to hear this sermon, to hear this music.  I needed this peace. 

With the first line of the first song, tears began to fall silently down my cheeks. I haven't felt a rightness like that in a long, long time. The preacher spoke of dangerous prayers- of how asking God to change you can be the best thing that has happened to you but will not be an easy road. He talked about Saul and how in his search for God, he found Jesus, and became Paul.  And he told us to look at our own lives and what is wrong with us.

"Is it a marriage or another relationship going bad? an addiction? emotional problems? financial problems? Well, when are you going to look at it and say "Enough is enough."? When are you going to ask God to change you?"

That day I looked my depression in the face and said enough is enough.  I asked God to change me and I have seen changes in my life and my attitude in these last few months. That day I felt better than I had in weeks, and within days I was lifted completely out of my funk. 

Depression is not something that I want to ever have to go through again, but I know that does not mean that I won't have to.  And yet, I'm glad that I did go through it because it brought me back to God. It makes me wonder how many desperate times I could have avoided if I had listened the first time He tried to call me back.

*In the next post I will talk about how I realized that I was the one who needed an attitude change and how I found a church that "fit" me better than the one I grew up in.