Sunday, April 12, 2009

The One Who Carried me

During my first year of college, in the spring of 1982, I went through a period of depression when I thought that it might be better to die than to go on living.  I remember walking up University Ave. to the bridge over I – 25.  For a long time I stood watching the traffic going under the bridge.

Most of my life I have struggled with looking inward and selfishly not looking outward.  This was no exception to that.  I could not understand what God wanted with me.  It was a long walk back to the Baptist Student Union.

When I got back to the BSU I sat alone in the large classroom there and began to write out my feelings on paper.  It took the shape of a kind of poem.

Sometimes in the deepest darkest valley
Where no light can be seen
And no hope can be found
When all seems lost
And nothing can be done
I find myself

At one time I saw from the Mountain top
This road that I now cannot see
I looked and I saw

But now who will show me the way
Who will take my hand and lead me

My friends don’t understand
And I to scared to try and let them know

They look at each other and say
Why doesn’t he smile

Oh if only I could tell them
If only I could bury my head in their shoulders
And cry my despair

But no – I’ll hold on,
Because I know they are tired of hearing
My complaints
And my whimpers.

And now . . . as my last smile fades slowly away . . . . . . . . . . .

What’s this?
A hand
A nail scared hand
A strong sturdy hand . . . . . .

And now
Now I can see the road again!

Yes, I guess I knew all along
That even when my closest friends
Couldn’t see my hurt and despair
That the One
The Precious
I Am
Would hold my hand


This was an amazing event in my life.  It was like a light came into that classroom and lightness filled my being.  When my focus moved from me to God I was strengthened and able to find peace of mind and soul.

When we look at the darkness around us we cannot find peace – everything is dark and empty - our way is lost and we do not see God.  But when we look at Jesus – when we look at the cross – when we see the empty tomb, then we are strengthened, encouraged, and we have direction and joy.  Jesus Christ can and does meet our needs but we have to look at Him and not ourselves to get it.


Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you
rest. All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am
gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves.
For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
-Matthew 11:28-30 HCSB

2 comments:

Unknown said...

Thanks for sharing.

Grant Crito Munro said...

It's amazing what writing one's thoughts down will do for one.

I have heard people talk of suicide as a selfish thing, but it is not even that. I find this thought hard to put down, but to kill oneself is, frankly, stupid because there is so much joy when one decides to live for others, to make others happy.

I once read a sermon by George W. Truet which said that the reason why John The Baptist sent his diciples to ask Jesus if he was the Son of God was because he was idle--- being in prison and not being able, perhaps, to be active. Paul and Silas(?) really knew what they were doing when they sang hymns in prison. And those who live for others will be most happy.

You should look at reading Spirits In Bondage: A Cycle of Lyrics, by C.S. Lewis(before he became a christian). I think it does an excellent job of exploring the human condition and how, though the author probably could not see it at the time, God has left us hints and Dreams, as it were.

I always have to make a qualification after that. Here it is: that we are dreamers only in so much as we are sleepers. We see but through a glass darkly. The dreams we have, I would say, are as varied and as easy to describe and retell as the dreams we actually have- those nightmares, happy dreams and totally bizzare dreams- all about impressions. If the nihilists are "right" they can only be so right. If all that I know and know "for sure" is all there is, then I will live for dreams because dreams are solid even when we cannot define their elements.

Perhaps this stems from Lewis' Till We Have Faces, which I would also recommend to you. Those two books are my favorite books, obscure and unheard-of though they be.

Sorry my comment was so long,

William Zachary Chadwick