Jesus’ defeat of death has a perhaps unexpected perspective for those who suffer from depression. I have come to believe over the years that depression is death. Death creeps upon the depressed. I live death, breathe death. My life is stolen from me. I dream death. I wish death upon myself. Hell whispers to me.

Preachers preach life, they preach heaven. They preach the door opening to heaven being right next to us. I wish myself through that door.

But I trust Jesus, my rock and my redeemer, more than I trust death. As I resist my impulses to poison my body with cigarettes, to drink myself into a coma, to drug myself to sleep forever, to hurt myself, to bring death upon myself, I see the door to heaven beside me. I meditate upon that door as I wade through the death of my life.

I trust that Jesus would love me even if I opened that door for myself, I do not believe that he would turn his face from me. He knows the rest and peace and light I crave. But even as I resent every tether to my death in this life, my rock, my redeemer, my Jesus is more important to me now. I am broken but he is God, he doesn’t snuff out my tiny, flickering candle of faith. An elder from my church preached that my sad, angry, tiny candle of faith is peculiarly displaying the glory of God. I do not often doubt my God’s love for me, not anymore. But on Sunday this elder shone a light on me and said that he does not just accept me and love me as I am, more than that he delights in my praise of him, the praise that even when surrounded by saints and angels worshipping can’t bring itself to open its lips, the praise that is dim and flickering. I believe that he is good. He is more valuable than my life. He is more valuable than my death. He knows just what I need before I know it myself, though it hurts me to trust that. When he is ready for me to join him I will gaze upon his face and death will be banished from my life.

Death, where is your sting?

I cast my mind to Calvary
Where Jesus bled and died for me
I see His wounds, His hands, His feet
My Saviour on that cursed tree

His body bound and drenched in tears
They laid Him down in Joseph’s tomb
The entrance sealed by heavy stone
Messiah still and all alone

O praise the name of the Lord our God
O praise His name forever more
For endless days we will sing Your praise
Oh Lord, oh Lord our God

Then on the third at break of dawn
The Son of heaven rose again
O trampled death, where is your sting?
The angels roar for Christ the King

O praise the name of the Lord our God
O praise His name forever more
For endless days we will sing Your praise
Oh Lord, oh Lord our God

He shall return in robes of white
The blazing Son shall pierce the night
And I will rise among the saints
My gaze transfixed on Jesus’ face

O praise the name of the Lord our God
O praise His name forever more
For endless days we will sing Your praise
Oh Lord, oh Lord our God

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