Holy, Wholly, Holey

The long dimly lit road of clinical depression seems to never end. Even on the darkest of days the simple act of breathing is an act of hope. The “dark night of the soul” is how I often refer to my walk with depression.

Ann Voskamp publishes a blog entitled A Holy Experience and she recently wrote concerning mental health: Our Bible says Jesus said, “It is not those who are healthy who need a doctor, but those who are sick.” Jesus came for the sick, not for the smug. You can read her wisdom here. 

I still believe that life should be lived as Eucharist theology…hearts are made to be broken and loved in all that brokenness. 

First Corinthians 11: 23-26 reads, “Let me go over with you again exactly what goes on in the Lord’s Supper and why it is so centrally important. I received my instructions from the Master himself and passed them on to you. The Master, Jesus, on the night of his betrayal, took bread. Having given thanks, he broke it and said,

This is my body, broken for you.
Do this to remember me.

After supper, he did the same thing with the cup:

This cup is my blood, my new covenant with you.
Each time you drink this cup, remember me.

What you must solemnly realize is that every time you eat this bread and every time you drink this cup, you reenact in your words and actions the death of the Master. You will be drawn back to this meal again and again until the Master returns. You must never let familiarity breed contempt.” 

Yes, brokenness, doesn’t that describe all of us? Broken in one way or another, yet some seek to sit at the Master’s feet hoping to be healed. While others turn away.

The psalmist wrote, “Scorn has broken my heart and has left me helpless; I looked for sympathy, but there was none, for comforters, but I found none.” 

- Psalm 69:20 (NIV)

What happens when the healing doesn't come? Do we lose faith and turn away? Some do. Some do not. Some stay the course in spite and despite the lack of “a cure”. They become a living witness to those of us who recognize their struggle. 

They are numbered among those who by the mere act of putting one foot in front of the other continue on and praise God even when the pain and depression washes over them like an unholy wave. In them I see grace, every day, grace. 

We hear their chorus of “holy, wholly, holey” for they are indeed sanctified, complete(ly) and worn. May we lift them ever higher through the act of prayer.

Even so, Amen!

Wishing you everyday grace,

Tamara