Longing & Hope

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I’m Rev. Jess Chancey, back again to fill in for John while he is on vacation.

This week has been one of those difficult ones in the life of a hospital chaplain, lots going on at work, lots of pain and loss to bear witness to. And, to display a little of my notorious vulnerability, I’ve been wrestling with depression again. If you’re a fellow sufferer, some of what I’m feeling may sound familiar to you. And if you’re not in a place where you can hear an honest description of depressive feelings and symptoms, please press stop on this podcast now. Also, if you don’t have someone to talk to, please look into counseling. There are many therapists who offer sliding scales or charity care, and there are virtual and telephone options, so don’t let money or distance be a barrier to you. I talk to my therapist every week. I also have a spiritual director and a very sturdy self-care practice.

Lately, one of first things I noticed is that I’m not sleeping right. I can’t fall asleep or stay asleep at night, I don’t want to do anything but sleep during the day, and my brain starts to act like a broken record with all the lies I’ve internalized in my life. Lies like, “I’m worthless.” “No one loves me.” “I’m unlovable.” “I’m alone.” “I will never be happy or feel joy again.” None of these things are true, of course, because depression is a lying liar who lies, but still, they’re just stuck in my brain like the worst earworm ever. But part of the reason I love my ministry so much is that my ability to help others is unavoidable evidence against the idea of my worthlessness. I have a purpose, and I was called to it by God.

One thing that keeps me afloat during my darkest times is that call. It’s God that keeps me going. Today, as I’m reading the lectionary, I’m struck by how much I resonate with Psalm 42, which has long been one of my favorites, because when I feel detached, I really get that deep longing, like a deer longing for flowing streams. “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.” I certainly know the feeling of my tears being “my food day and night.” And then I love in verse 5, when the psalmist asks the question that bugs my depressed self: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?” And the answer the psalmist is able to give themselves is not an answer, but a reminder. “Hope in God.” “My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you.”

I remember God. And when I remember God, I get a fresh injection of hope to keep me going, to call me back into my life’s work, to make my contribution to God’s world. I know that I can truly trust in God’s love, that it’s a risk-free investment. No actuarial tables to examine, just faith in God’s khesed, that steadfast love that will never let us down. It doesn’t cure my depression, this injection of hope each tie I remember to think of God. I do use and value medication and the aforementioned therapist. But without this hope, those wouldn’t cut it either.

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise Them, my hope and my God.” I do hope, and I shall again praise. Perhaps you can take a moment to read through Psalm 42, slowly and mindfully. May it inspire you to move forward in hope, on this, our journey into the mystic.