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Last night I received a call from a good friend whose son suffers from chronic depression. He was not taking his medications and was sinking into a darker place than the one he usually inhabits.
After the call, I sat and let tears run down my cheeks. Another friend of mine has spent much of her income on medications and counseling, often doing without when disabilitly payments didn’t cover the costs. Why are some of us afflicted with a disease that makes the moment by moment choice of life so conscious and excruciating? Life dishes out enough pain and suffering to challenge all of us. Why do some people have to face its difficulties already burdened? It’s the Job question, I guess. Nothing new, but suffering is not rendered easier by its constancy throughout human history.
I have a friend who is writing his fourth volume of poetry. This one is based on Job, and I emailed the poet this morning requesting a preview: “I could use a few of your Job poems. Can you send some along?”
I hope he does. In the meantime, I gathered myself up and drove to my parish for morning Mass. Eucharist strengthens me when the only prayer I can utter is “help!”
The first reading was from Jeremiah and could sound offensive if one didn’t know, as the celebrant reminded us, that the people of the Old Testament attributed life’s happenings to God’s actions. Jeremiah was no different: If Israel was suffering under foreign powers, it was because God was punishing them for their sins. God made all these terrible things happen.
As I listened to the reading proclaimed I thought: I came to Mass for this? To hear that we deserve what ever suffering we experience and that God is its source? Not exactly uplifting. Of course, God was not the source of the pain and the following verses offered hope: God offers the hope of coming close, of being held and healed.
The second reading had Peter doing fine walking on water until he lost focus on God and began thinking of the absurdity of what he was doing: People don’t walk on water. Impossible. Then he sank.
After spending time in prayer, Jesus had come to his disciples huddled on a floundering boat in the middle of a storm. He had called to Peter and impulsive as he was, Peter jumped out of the boat and started walking.
Following that first impulse to trust God With Us is not easy for me to do. Like Peter, I start thinking and begin to sink.
Holy One who is always with us, help my friend trust in you to love her son through his lifetime struggle. Help me trust in your love, too, so I can offer hope to my friend and to those who struggle with depression. You cry with us. You invite us to come close. You promise to be with us and to provide life and healing.
Help me to stop thinking so much and to trust more.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
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