On Infertility

For those who aren’t familiar with the exact definition, infertility is the inability to become pregnant after a year of trying.

One year.  

This definition implies that medical professionals and society expect a healthy couple to conceive with relative ease and celerity, and this does seems to be the case for 90% of the female population (womenshealth.gov).  Unfortunately, the other 10% of us have difficulty getting pregnant… including me.  

This can be a difficult topic to write about.  Even when feeling at peace about it, remembering and writing about previous emotions brings on the tears, and I find I have to stand and walk a bit to find my calm again.  It has likewise been hard to know quite how to pray about this situation and hard to know whether, and how, we should act on it.

Joel and I have had six lovely years of contraceptive-less marriage, and my periods continue to appear like clockwork.  We’re still young—just barely under 30.  I got a clean bill of health after my Pap, and Joel has a healthy sperm count.  We’re both a bit heavier than we ought to be, but not to the point of obesity.  We exercise fairly regularly and eat healthfully (well, I do—and I can sometimes convince him to do the same).  We don’t smoke or get drunk (I don’t drink at all).  I take the recommended vitamins, and we make the most of my fertile time when our schedules allow.  But each month brings another disappointment.

Thankfully, that’s all it’s been lately—a mild disappointment.  But about two years ago, I was an emotional mess.  My inability to conceive consumed my mind and left me feeling defective, even worthless, despite knowing in my head that my worth comes from Christ alone.  Grief over my barrenness was compounded by Joel’s disinterest—even relief to not have a child.  I knew we weren’t trying as hard as we could have (I didn’t want to press the issue with Joel’s attitude of “if it happens, I’ll be a dutiful father, but if not, great!”), yet without contraceptives, I thought we still had a good chance.  ...It didn’t happen.

After a few months of praying for Joel to want a child, and then praying for either a child or peace without one—and after a mildly embarrassing emotional breakdown in front of a sweet prayer warrior from our church who agreed to pray for us—God gave me the latter.  

I have greater peace of mind now, but that’s not to say I don’t still have good days and bad—days when I can easily look upon children and new mothers without a thought to myself, when I can consider my potentially childless future with stoicism or even contentment… and days when the same things send a dagger of grief through my heart, and I burst into tears at the thought of an infant I may never hold.  However, since then, the months have passed with only the occasional pre-menstrual tears and postmenstrual let-down, and I quickly regain my equilibrium and faith.  

Then, on our anniversary earlier this year, Joel’s gift was the announcement that he’s ready to really try to have a kid.  I actually cried with joy; Joel looked rather nonplussed.  In the half year since then, we’ve increased our efforts to conceive ...with the same result.  Infertility.

I’m rarely sure how to pray about our lack of a little one.  Of course I should always pray “Thy will be done,” and I continually pray for contentment in all circumstances.  But does that mean I shouldn’t also pray for a child?  I consider how “Isaac prayed to the Lord for his wife, because she was barren. And the Lord granted his prayer, and Rebekah his wife conceived” (Gen. 25:21).  They were childless twenty years and only received their twins by prayer.  Centuries later, Hannah prayed so fervently for a child that the priest Eli thought she was drunk, but God heard her distress, and after she promised to give her firstborn to serve the Lord, He gave her Samuel plus five other children (1 Sam 1-2).  

As one continues to read through scripture, one sees that from bold, specific prayers come curses and blessings, healing and deliverance—this from the petitions of ordinary people as well as prophets and kings.  However, we know we receive only what we ask in Jesus’ name—i.e. on His behalf, or according to His will—hence part of my dilemma.  Are children God’s will for us?  Isaac surely knew that God planned for him to have a child because descendants were part of God’s promise to his father Abraham.  But Hannah couldn’t have known the Lord’s will in her case, right?  How many others prayed for children and never received them?  Then again, our Lord prayed for his cup (his death) to pass him by.  He still had to face it, but apparently there was no harm in his asking.  But then again, we must ask and not doubt (Matt 21:22, James 1:6), and I don't know God's will enough to not doubt I'll receive children.

Aside from concerns about the Lord’s will, I also wonder whether my motives for desiring children are good.  Though our culture no longer expects couples to get pregnant in the first year of marriage, enough of a undercurrent remains in the questions that people ask newlyweds to eventually make a childless wife feel she’s defective somehow—psychologically if she doesn’t want kids (yet or ever) and biologically if she wants them but can’t seem to have them. Considering this cultural pressure, do I wish for children selfishly, because it’s cultural expected, or out of an honest, natural, or godly desire for them?  Do I think a baby will make me feel more emotionally secure?  (What a joke that would be, considering some of the hurtful things children say!)  Still, I wonder if it’s my mind, biology, or spirit longing for kids.

Thinking along these lines, do I really want a child?  On the one hand, I consider all that work and stress and expense and disruption of raising a child, and I wonder if I really want to bring a child into a Fallen world where he or she will face untold heartbreak and hardship.  On the other hand, I consider all that love and joy and laughter and hope, and I consider how much I'd like to bring a child up in Christ’s footsteps, to be a light to the next generation.  My opinion just will not remain consistent.

Should Joel and I truly set our hearts on having a child, we then face the question of what to do if our infertility continues.  Is childlessness a sign we’re not living within God’s will properly or not praying properly?  But then, we live in a Fallen world, so infertility may be merely a symptom of that and not an indication of God’s disfavor; in addition, plenty of rebels against God have no difficulty getting pregnant, and Job and the apostles are examples showing it is not correct to equate temporal blessings with one’s spiritual status.  
Again, could childlessness mean God is preparing us to adopt or foster a child?  Should we seek professional help to conceive a child, knowing God has given doctors the wisdom and skill to help people such as us, or should we accept on faith that God knows best and go on as we have been?  Admittedly, without children, we have more disposable income to give to charities and more time to invest in building up the church.  Is our faith and handling of this undesirable situation meant to be an example to unbelievers?  Could God be preparing us for some some great upheaval in our lives that a child shouldn’t go through—whether an all-consuming ministry or death?  Does God have a specific plan or work in mind for us, or does it not matter where we live and what we do because He can make use of us regardless?

Am I overthinking this?  

Probably.

Infertility poses an endless cycle of currently unanswerable questions and difficult decisions.  I find that I've come full-circle, that I’ve known nearly from the beginning what I should do: I shall pray for both a baby and peace without one, and for the ability to hear and heed God’s direction when He gives it.  Then I’ll trust the Lord to bring us what He knows is best.

On Transformation

Upon a person’s conversion or rededication to Jesus, outsiders and even the convert himself might easily think, “well, now the hard work’s done!”  Certainly the hard work of salvation is done—and has been done for two thousand years.  And certainly accepting Jesus and receiving the Holy Spirit is glorious and fills our lives with inexpressible joy.  However, not only is it grossly untrue to presume our life path will now be swept clear of all difficulties and work (cf. scriptures), but that attitude can harm the faith of all concerned by setting up unreasonable expectations destined for disappointment.  The persecution of our Lord and the early Church reveal the truth that “in this world [we] will have trouble” (John 16:33).  This we could perhaps weather with inner peace.  However, conversion also begins the painful, chaotic transforming of our souls to resemble Christ’s, and many find this internal process far more challenging than external difficulties.

No matter how far we were from Christ before, beside the emotions of joy and relief, the experience of being born again may feel somewhat frightening, even traumatic—to die to ourselves and be emptied of what was once our very identity for the sake of starting a new life in which we follow Jesus and are identified with Him.  Everything changes: the values that define us, our cherished ideas about the world, our habits of thought and deed, our understanding of who and whose we are—and for our pains, we get our pride torn to shreds as we confess we are not as independent and inherently good as we like to think—that we do not belong to ourselves but must give up our right to ourselves to God.  Although this transformation continues our entire lives, it can be most traumatic when the Spirit first begins to make us His own.  

Everyone who belongs to God has experienced some form of this transformation, whether abrupt or gradual, soul-wrenching or merely pin-pricks.  We all likewise know the pain of “cognitive dissonance” between the World’s attractive ideas and our inherent sin nature, which we must uproot, and the perfect will of God, which He wishes to plant in us.  God must have his way with us, like a potter molding clay or a silversmith refining metal; the process hurts but is necessary for us to be conformed into the image of Christ.

Are you still being transformed by God’s Spirit?  Or do you resist the hands of the Potter in favor of being conformed to this world?

On Cooking with Creamer

Taken from an Amazon.com item

During visits to the gas station as kids, my brother and I loved to sneak the free International Delight creamer cups from the coffee area.  We had our parents’ bemused permission, though they usually limited us to one creamer per kid.  Over time, we tried out each flavor, just drinking them straight.  French vanilla quickly became my favorite, and I chose that exclusively.  Of course, with maturity, I restrained myself more... which meant taking one only on “special occasions.”  This changed when I began drinking black tea: I started buying the large bottles of I.D. French vanilla creamer at the grocery, as well as gas-station-sized individual cups to keep at work since fridge space is limited.  
             Of course, I'll still sip French vanilla creamer straight from time to time—usually from a shot glass now—and I can't resist licking the residue in an individual cup after I pour the bulk of the creamer into my tea at work.  However, having all this creamer on hand, I have by experimentation devised several other methods of creamer consumption, some common and some relatively novel.  Behold:

1. Tea (as noted before) (35 calories for tea with one TBSP of creamer)

French vanilla best complements Tazo Organic Chai and unflavored black teas such as English Breakfast.  It tastes amazing in peach black tea, too, but sadly the brand I tried is apparently no longer producing it, and local stores only sell peach herbal (rather than black) tea.  I will note that Earl Gray and many herbals taste better with an unflavored creamer, if any, though French vanilla does alright in a pinch.  However, French vanilla does not at all suit the two teas I’ve tried that use yerba mate.

 

2. Cocoa (roughly 80 calories when made with water)

Fill a mug a little over halfway full of water or milk, and add roughly ¼ part French vanilla creamer.  (Take care to leave enough room in the mug for stirring in the cocoa powder.)  Heat till hot in the microwave, and stir in one heaping spoonful (exact amount to taste) of cocoa powder.  Variations: optionally sprinkle with cayenne pepper, with cinnamon and/or nutmeg and cloves, or a drop or two of peppermint extract.  Enjoy!

3. Fudge in a Mug (180 calories)  

One might alternately think of this like a thick fudge frosting.  Whatever it is, it’s delicious (assuming one likes chocolate).  In a mug, measure 4 TBSP powdered sugar, 2 TBSP cocoa powder, and 1 TBSP French vanilla creamer.  Stir till well-blended, heat 8 seconds in a microwave, and stir till smooth.  Enjoy!  

Note: if the fudge sits out or in the fridge a while and becomes dry and hard, add a little more creamer, reheat, and stir.  To make an 8x8 pan of fudge, change the TBSP measurements above to cups and repeat the heating/stirring as needed before pouring it into a pan to cool.  This variety of fudge will stay softer than most baked recipes even when cool, though it can become unpleasantly hard and brittle when dried out, so cover excess with plastic wrap.

4. Peanut Butter cream treat (2 TBSP peanut butter = around 300 calories)

This, with perhaps a side of salad or tea, serves as dinner sometimes when I’m too lazy to cook, or as a snack between meals.  With a spoon, scoop a large dollop of peanut butter into a mug (2-4 TBSP worth).  Add French vanilla creamer to taste (I use roughly equal parts PB and creamer), and stir till blended.  Note that stirring takes a little while—it’ll look like it won’t blend, then it’ll look chunky, but eventually it will become smooth.  

5. Icing/Frosting

For icing, eyeball a mixture of powdered sugar and a little French vanilla creamer.  Stir in more of one or the other till you have the desired consistency.  Optionally add peanut butter or cocoa powder or some other complementary flavor.  To thicken icing into frosting, add half as much butter or shortening (or a mixture of the two) as the sugar.  (Butter provides flavor, but shortening won’t slide off the side of a cake in warm weather.)

6. French Vanilla Pumpkin Pie

I’ll mention this, though I fear I can’t give you the exact recipe since I can’t recall exactly how I made it.  Perhaps I’d needed a substitute for vanilla or evaporated milk, or simply wanted to experiment with adding French vanilla creamer.  Whatever we did, we liked it.  :)

7. French Vanilla Milk

Many nights, Joel and I will indulge in “milk-caps,” sometimes with plain milk, but other times with a dash (or more) of creamer to make it dessert-like.  I find this variation superior, though generally comparable, to the aspartame- and vanilla-sweetened milk my little brother and I liked to drink as kids.  

8. French Vanilla Ice Cream

French vanilla creamer could substitute for part of a traditional ice cream recipe in a crank-operated device.  However, I also discovered how to make a simple, personal-sized version, though I can’t recommend this treat as much as others since it requires so much time to prepare.  However, if you crave ice cream but not a trip to the store, here’s what you can do: Fill a mug with your desired mixture of milk and creamer.  Stick it in the freezer for about ten to fifteen minutes, then stir.  Return it to the freezer and set a timer so you can stir it every five minutes for perhaps a half hour until you achieve the desired consistency.  To create chocolate ice cream, first heat the milk and creamer and mix in a spoonful of cocoa powder (it mixes in best when it’s warm).  Let it cool, and then commence the freezer/stirring procedure.

       9. French vanilla creamer as Pancake Syrup

Who needs maple syrup, corn syrup, or honey on their pancakes?  Instead, try soaking them in French vanilla creamer.  This combo is especially tasty when using a Belgian pancake mix.  For a little more stick-to-itiveness (or stick-to-your-ribs-ness), make the peanut butter cream treat above and slather that on your pancakes!

     10. Strawberries and Cream
Instead of dipping your strawberries and shortcake in raw sugar, whipped cream, and the like, try coating them in French vanilla creamer—or if you like your cream thicker, sweeten some heavy whipping cream with French vanilla creamer instead of sugar and vanilla before turning on the mixer.

Tell me about your own creamer-inspired recipes in the comments below!

On an E

English needs to add a new word to its dictionaries.

Yes, I know, English surely could use several new words, each designed to convey in one word a concept that currently requires a whole sentence—or a little-known foreign expression—to communicate.  However, I have only one such concept on my mind at present: that wordless, high-pitched noise of delight or exaltation best resembling the sound of the letter E.  One hears it emerge primarily from females who are in a state of excitement.  Por ejemplo…

My best friend whom I’ve not seen in years arrives at my door?  Eeeee!  I just bought the sequel to my favorite book and sit poised to read it?  Eeeee!  I just wrapped my hands around a mug of hot tea and took a sip of vanilla-y-chai bliss?  Eeeee!  I just got off work and get to stay home the rest of the day?  Eeeee!  I see a kitten acting adorably at the animal shelter?  Aww!  I get to keep said kitten?  Eeeee!

For a visual example of this phenomenon, enjoy these panels from a page of Girl Genius (see the full page at girlgeniusonline.com):

Of course, “eeee” already appears in writing—mainly on casual message boards and Facebook posts from what I’ve seen.  When uttered aloud—or when written in a clearly enthusiastic context, such as in the comments under a much-anticipated online announcement—this sound needs no explanation; one can hear the excitement in the speaker’s tone or due to the context.  Unfortunately, the sound is trickier to communicate in prose.  Even in dialog, the sound may require careful word choices or even extra words of clarification lest a reader first assume a character to be shrieking in fright.   (As an example of how not to write an "eeee" of excitement, "Nina opened her mailbox.  'Eeee!' she exclaimed.")

This conundrum is especially felt in narration—when referring to the sound rather than actually having a character utter it.  What does one call this sound?  For example, say one wishes to write something such as “I watched the kitten snuggle the teddy bear and felt like ‘eeee’ing.”  Awk-ward!  Consider also “A long, high-pitched yet silent ‘eeeeeee!’ of joy filled my mind”?  Five words could be eliminated from that bulky sentence if we had a proper word for the sound: “A silent [word] filled my mind.”

If you haven’t guessed the word I have in mind, one might now reasonably ask what this new word should be. 

Humor me as I first rule out existing dictionary words.  “Squeal” may come closest to describing the sound, but the word puts me in mind of a shrill, piggy noise, not necessarily made in delight.  My thesaurus offers several unsatisfactory alternatives, among them cry, moan, and wail (which have such sad connotations), scream (which implies fear or anger), yell or holler (as in “hey, you!”), yelp and squeak (noises too short for an “eeee”), howl (we’re not imitating a wolf!), squawk (nor a chicken), and finally shriek and screech (it’s nothing so discordant).   Certainly, one might refer to the instance when one might make the noise as “geeking out” or “a fangirl/fanboy moment,” but those terms alone don’t necessarily mean the individual made the sound; one can geek out in other ways, as well.

Clearly these won’t do.  Thus, I submit that English dictionaries should accept the word “squee” (with optional extra E’s when uttered).  This onomatopoeia sounds much cuter than “squeal” and expresses the speaker’s sense of delight more accurately than “squeal”’s synonyms.  If that’s not argument enough, it’s already in popular use!  It acts at various times as an exclamation, a noun, and a verb.

• The amusing photo website I Can Has Cheezburger has a “Daily Squee” …um, category?  Subsite?  Page?  Thingy.
• Kaja Folgio from Girl Genius & Agatha H. fame wrote on her latest blog post about the Seattle Steamposium’s voluntary decision to create a Girl Genius cosplay category for their costume contest, after which she wrote,

Excuse me while I squee a bit…

Squeeee!

Okay. I’m good.

• Tvtropes.org has a page defining “squee” as a sound made by fangirls, and the site postulates that it’s a portmandeau of “squeal” and “glee.”  (Reasonable.)  It also includes examples of instances of the sound in games, comics, online, etc. (warning—not all of them appear to be clean).
• Squee! (with the exclamation mark) is the name of a two-woman company designed to assist budding entrepreneurs. 

Plenty more examples may be found on DeviantArt, blogs, and social media sites.  Wikionary even has a definition of it!

            Get with the times, Dictionary.com (and your varied sources, too)!

Interesting Note: I’ve also found in researching this that “Squee” is the name or nickname of several people, real and fictional.

On Loving Nature

Something about the natural world turns practical people into poets.  I marvel when others speak lofty praises about the mountains, gush about the ocean, and babble about rivers.  Is there something I’m missing?  Does my brain not fully translate the input from my eyes?

People tell me pictures and films aren’t the same as The Real Thing.  Certainly one doesn’t get the sounds and smells and feel of the place, or the full panorama and color quality.  Yet to my eyes, the Grand Canyon looks exactly like the pictures.  The experience of being there added nothing but a few photographs of my grumpy expression.  

Rivers tend to be muddy and dull, or else furious and noisy.  Their primary interest for me lies in the changes in sandbars over time and the wildlife and trees on its banks.  

Rocky mountainsides, and those sparsely forested or covered in pines, are frankly rather ugly—in an interesting way, at times, but still not much to look at.  

Hawaii was lovely, and visiting was an experience I’ll never forget, but aside from certain pre-planned events, it made sense to me to enjoy the experience from the lanai overlooking the beach; I preferred to read a book rather than sightsee, considering it was a vacation and that is the sort of activity I found most restful.  

As for the ocean, it’s just is the ocean—not unlike a gigantic lake with extra waves and inhabitants.  Its existence is a matter of fact to me, not something I naturally marvel at.  My eyes aren’t drawn irresistibly toward it; it holds no allure for me as others claim it does for them.  But then, I don’t care much for water sports, either, and I prefer mammals and wood over fish and coral.  (Who doesn’t like dolphins and whales?  But they’re nowhere near as cuddly and gorgeous as cats, domestic or otherwise.)

I think I do appreciate nature, and I’ve tried my hand at nature poems many times over. Unlike the proponents of "grand vistas" such as mountains and oceans, however, my eyes favor rolling grasslands beneath an immense sky, faintly-trodden paths in a deciduous forest, brooks and small waterfalls, and a well-tended garden.  I’ve written before about the comforting sound of rain, the textures and colors of the clouds, the ever-changing majesty of trees, the pristine beauty of a snowy landscape.  These things have more to engage the eye and appreciation, more inherent beauty.  Perhaps familiarity makes these things more precious to me, just as it makes mountains and oceans more inspiring to others.  Or perhaps it’s just a matter of taste.

Similar nature posts:

On Winter, On an Evening Sky, On a Summer Afternoon’s Walk, On Clouds, or On Art vs. Science, On Trees, On Various Thoughts on a Watery Day, On a Serene Summer Rain

On a Hairy Issue

      How often do we look in the mirror and think, "Meh, it'll do," or "Darn bedhead," and proceeded with our day giving little thought to the peculiarities of hair?  How strange that we have so little hair on the rest of our bodies, but our head hair grows continuously.  How interesting the way culture's views on hairstyle have changed over the decades and centuries, and sometimes cycled back around.  How fascinating that we gain impressions of people's personalities, cultures, and worth based on their hairstyles.  How amusing that we use hair about as much as facial features to recognize individuals.  How odd the way some people will devote hours to fiddling with their hair—daily, weekly, or for special occasions.  How contentious, the various religious perceptions regarding hair—hiding it, dressing it, cutting it in peculiar ways... something utilitarian may be seen as a hair vanity—even religious tonsure, though it poses as the opposite.
       Have you've ever examined your own "luxurious locks" (a phrase, by the way, that dates back at least to 1855).  Have you spent much time contemplating hair generally?  Coloring, curling, straightening; split ends, burning, breaking; up-dos, crew cuts, mullets (shudder); hair genetics, hair vs. fur, Guinness hair records; hair loss, hair treatments, hair as deer-repellent... and English has numerous hair idioms and expressions, not to mention the ones in other languages!  Clearly this topic has much more range for exploration and discussion than one might think.  Let your hair down and have some fun researching.

On Natural Godliness

Several thoughts crossed my mind as I read Oswald Chambers’ August 21 devotion “The Ministry of the Unnoticed” from My Utmost for His Highest.  He writes, “. . . The true character of the loveliness that speaks for God is always unnoticed by the one possessing that quality. Conscious influence is prideful and unchristian. If I wonder if I am being of any use to God, I instantly lose the beauty and the freshness of the touch of the Lord. ‘He who believes in Me . . . out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’ (John 7:38). And if I examine the outflow, I lose the touch of the Lord. …If we are conscious of our influence, it ceases to have the genuine loveliness which is characteristic of the touch of Jesus.”

I can attest to the truth of this in my own life.  Excessive introspection eventually throws off my perspective and relationship with the Lord—and thus with other people.  This happens because introspection is self-centered, not God-centered.  When I focus on God, instead, the rest (acting right) comes naturally! 

However, the Lord doesn’t always transform ingrained habits of thought overnight; in such cases we may need to keep an eye on part of our inner self until we can trust ourselves to act or react in a godly way.  I would argue further that, on a few occasions, it does help to take a step back to reflect and re-evaluate ourselves from God’s perspective, just to check that no worldly lies have crept undetected into our thinking.  Generally, though, Chambers has the right of it: we need not monitor our inner self as constantly as some do (particularly introverts such as myself).

When I first read Chambers’ words, though, I couldn’t help but think that we’re human, and from time to time we do lose touch and act out of selfishness rather than love and obedience.  If we are conscious of these mistakes, but remain unconscious when we do right, won’t this produce poor self-esteem and despair of pleasing God? 

After some contemplation, I could see that if we remain introspective and only sporadically connected with God, this could be the result.  But with the ideal relationship that Chambers refers to, our focus would return to Christ after we repent of our error.  With our eyes heavenward, we would spare no thought to ourselves, good or bad.  Our self-esteem or self-perception (when the issue comes up) would be based on who we are in Him, not what we’ve done or not done. 

For people who are deeply concerned with the minutiae of their thoughts and actions, worried whether they’re doing enough to please God, triple-checking that their behavior comes across as properly loving and godly to other people, this message is freeing and simple: don’t tie yourself in knots; love and seek and obey the Lord, letting Him fill all your vision.  Then God’s loveliness will shine naturally—and unconsciously—from you onto those you interact with, no introspection required.

“What does the Lord require of you?  To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

On Christians and Depression

Note: I've been planning this post since attending a mental health training seminar last year and have finally gotten around to finishing it.  :)

 

“Rejoice in the Lord always,” Paul wrote, adding, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content… I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Phil 4:4, 11b, 13).

What hopeful words!  And indeed, as Christians, we believe we have the greatest hope and helper in the world!  “What right, then,” some believers cry, “has a Christian to be depressed?  Such a person must not have been a real Christian to begin with.”  

Consider, O zealous Christian, that we live in a fallen world and that all, even the saved, are in need of grace—from God, from our fellow Man, and from ourselves.  Christ never promises a life of ease, free of pain and illness after we accept him (John 16:33), but He promises to be with us through it (Heb 13:5b).  So it is with depression.

Consider Elijah--soon after his great victory over the prophets of Baal, he fled Jezebel and became so depressed that he asked God to end his life (1 Kings 19).  Hundreds of years later, Paul wrote, "we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself" (2 Cor 1:8). If these giants of the faith could despair, surely it is entirely possible for a believer to hope in Christ for eternity, yet find hope and love obscured in every other quarter.  The depressed Christian may even be leaning heavily on the Lord all the while; His grace may be the only thing keeping them moving from day to day.  Yet, for whatever reason, despondency persists.  Living, and the idea of "running the race" (Heb 12:1; 1 Cor 9:24), can seem a drudgery.   

(Photo by Sander van der Wel via Wikimedia)

The uninformed also need to understand that clinical depression is quite different from temporary grief or sadness.  It's deeper and more persistent, lasting months or years.  It may certainly start with the usual causes: the death of a loved one, a physical incapacitation, or some other severe trial—but it can also start simply from the common but unabated stress of responsibility and life.  It may be rooted in—or may later cause—a spiritual withdrawal from God, insecurity with one’s identity in Christ, unreasonable expectations for oneself or for other people or events, an unforgiving spirit toward oneself, unbiblical priorities, and a skewed perspective of the world that casts things in a more negative light than they deserve.  Negativity becomes habitual, creating a cycle that's hard to break and leading a depressed person to the lowering expectation that he will always feel this bad, that there's no way out.

Skeptics of clinical depression may choose at this juncture to quote Lincoln: “A man is about as happy as he makes up his mind to be.”  To a great extent, that is true; we don’t have to stick with our gut reaction to events but can consciously choose to perceive them in a more balanced way.  Unfortunately, biology may hinder our mind’s will.  It's well-documented that in clinically depressed people, neurotransmitters fail to transmit the chemicals that influence happy feelings, making it even harder to break the cycle of depression.

Mildly depressed people can certainly slog through their emotions.  They can make themselves eat healthfully, exercise, hang out with friends, pray fervently, relax with music and tasks they used to love, and try to view themselves and their failures in the light of grace.  Sometimes that’s enough to bring them back into emotional equilibrium.  But other people may still feel weighted with lead, their joy muted, especially if they don’t find much affirmation and support from the people around them, or if affirmation is counteracted by criticism from another quarter, including within themselves.  At some point, the struggle to act happy and be happy may seem too futile to continue.  The person may withdraw more and more from society, and at the worst points, a person may not have energy to do anything more than cry in bed or contemplate suicide.  

Even after hearing about the depressed state of mind, some people think censuring will benefit a depressed person!  They think all the person needs is a swift kick in the pants.  Really?  The worst things to say to such a person are “get over it” or “try harder” or “just do ___ and you’ll feel better!”  As if the solution is simple!  It’s likewise counterproductive to shame a depressed person for taking medication or not taking medication, to remind them others have it worse, or to say that they should do things they enjoy and think of happy things.  The implicit or explicit criticisms that the person is not good enough or not doing enough only reinforce the web of depression around them.

More than anything, a depressed person needs affirmation of unconditional love—from their friends and family as well as from God.  They need to hear that their loved ones know who they are, and that they value them despite their failings.  They need to be reminded of reasons to hope and live.  They also desperately need encouragement that these feelings won't last forever.  As George Washington Burnap first said about "the grand essentials to happiness," they need "something to do, something to love, and something to hope for."

Remind the depressed person of Paul's words when he was in a similar situation: "Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again. You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many" (2 Cor 1:9-11).

If you know someone with depression, pray for them constantly and invite them to pray with you.  Keep inviting them to go out even when they turn you down, and keep visiting and letting them know you care.  Figure out their love language and give them what input they need to feel more emotionally secure.  You can care without enabling, and you can tell them specific things that bother you, but be aware that your words have power to hurt or build up (see James 3).  Be gentle with your tough love, and most of all patient.  Trust “that in all things—” including depression “—God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Rom 8:28).  "Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer” (Rom. 12:12).