I've been dealing with depression on and off for probably the last 18 years. It was set off when I was taking a huge load in college at APU, enrolled in their strenuous 4-year nursing program, plus working part-time, and then driving to and from campus 2.5 hours each way. In a matter of a month and a half, sleep-deprived and stressed out to the max, I lost it. I became unrecognizable to even myself. I stopped eating. I stopped sleeping, and...I went crazy. There's no delicate way to say it. I lost my mental capacities, and my parents had to help me get through even the basics of day-to-day living. They took me to a psychiatrist, who wanted to check me into the loony bin. I'm glad they didn't; I would've been terrified. The psychiatrist put me on horse-sized Xanax pills that knocked me out, and I basically slept through the next month. When I finally woke up, I was me again. I guess they call it sleep therapy.
The psychiatrist basically said what I had was post traumatic stress disorder, which is something that Vets went through when they came home from the horrible nightmare of Vietnam. I let myself get so exhausted and stressed that I gave myself incredible anxiety, which led to sleeplessness and then ultimately to insanity. Scary. I was at a place where I never want to be again. Never. I'd rather die than go through that again. I don't remember much from that time except that I thought everyone had been raptured, and I had been left behind and the only way I could get out of the hell-hole I was in was to look up. Literally. So that's what I would do, look up all day. Yeah. Crazyiness.
But ever since '93, when I lost it, I have struggled with depression in one form or another. I took medication for four years, but the doctor I saw was treating me with medication for manic depression, which is in our family, and I'm not completely convinced it was the correct diagnosis. I was manic after the episode, but I think my body's hormones were out of wack, and they overcompensated for the severe low, which swung me into a severe high. I've never had mania since. Of course, the Lord may have healed me from manic depression (at a random church I went to once with a friend in '96, somebody actually prophesied over me that He would cut me off from the curse in my bloodline), but I haven't been on medicine at all since November 1997.
There are times, though, when I really have felt like I could use anti-depressant medication. I've never taken anything for it, I don't think. I might have been given Prozac, but I think that was during that crazy phase and never since. I'm not against medication. My grandpa was a doctor, and he, of course, was big on medicine, and so we always medicated everything when I was growing up; it was like our default, shoot-from-the-hip reaction to every disorder. My grandpa himself (manic depressive) actually took Prozac and called it his happy pill. I'm just hoping to not have to take medication; I don't want to if I don't have to.
Recently I came across Psalm 143, and it hit me between the eyes. It's a psalm of David, and it's uncanny how the enemy resembles depression in these verses -- "The enemy has chased me; he has knocked me to the ground and forces me to live in darkness, like those who live in the grave....come quickly, Lord, and answer me, for my depression deepens; do not turn away from me, or I will die....rescue me from my enemies, Lord; I run to You to hide me....because of Your faithfulness, bring me out of this distress." All the parallels hit home for me, so I've started to memorize it.
Then the Lord began reminding me that we "wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6:12) and that the "weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty in God for bringing down strongholds" (2 Corinthians 10:4). And also Ephesians 6:17 calls the Word of God the sword of the Spirit. Our battles are not in the flesh, but in the unseen world that wars above us, and the true weapon is His mighty Word.
Today I read Hosea 1:7, "But I will show love to the people of Judah. I will free them from their enemies -- not with weapons and armies or horses and charioteers, but by my power as the Lord their God." If we rely on His strength, memorize His Word, and quote it when we are fighting those wicked powers in the heavenlies, for whatever "battle" we are facing, then He will help fight the battle for us.
These are the true weapons against the true enemy.
And I have been quoting Psalm 143 when I rise each morning, saying it to Him as my prayer, asking Him to fight the battle for me, and I have been noticing a difference; I am fighting less. In fact, for the past week, when I started this, I haven't been depressed once. I know; it's only been a week, but before that I had been struggling with it day in and day out for the last few months.
I am not advocating that someone walk away from their medication, not without the support of family and medical personnel. But it doesn't hurt to try memorizing scripture even while medicated; let Him help fight the battle for you.
It's now occurred to me that this applies in every area of our lives, and that we are shortsighted when it comes to the power of His Word to fight every battle in our lives. It's truly put a new perspective on scripture for me. And it's not like I haven't heard about the power of memorizing scripture before, but I guess this is where His Word finally pierced to the joints and marrow of my being.
