Saturday, September 22, 2018


Where I once saw sunshine and butterflies, the world I lived in drastically changed as I opened my eyes to a bleak, cold world.

Hope seemed far away.
My bones started to dry up, thirsty, but unwilling to drink the Water of life.

My armor weighed heavily on my shoulders.

I removed it, closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

But the day demanded I function.

The day demanded I be a daughter, a student, a friend, a human being.

Therefore I put on a mask and pretended that everything was okay. But through the dark covers I enter in solidarity.

I collapse and fall with tears that served as my food day and night.

I am hopeless.

I lay in bed watching the ceiling, waiting for God to come back.

Waiting for Hope.

As hope is being seeped by the darkness, I am left alone with nothing but emptiness.

My eyes turned dull as I search for reason in the sky.
My eyes are bleak as I'm weary from hiding the anger inside my soul.

I walk with heavy steps approaching my destined places accompanied by swirling thoughts of mistakes and regrets coupled with repressed anger caged in my mind, screaming to be out.

In all these, I search for God. I search, I cry, I die a little inside.

When will I see the sun? I listen to songs and music of hope and beauty but all I hear is noise.
I read the Word but all I perceive are plain words waiting for interpretation.

As days go by, I let the devil win again and again and again. I repeat the words,
“I fight from victory. Jesus has already won the fight.”
But my faith and actions believe otherwise.

It seems strange when revelations come. Some you remember vividly, others you can’t catch a whim of remembrance. What is still vivid, is the revelation that I have laid my armor down signifying my surrender. I have stripped myself bare, unaware, vulnerable to every attack.

With every blow, from the devil I crash down. Hard. 

Weary from the fall, I open my eyes and see the armor laying beside me. Shiny and safe.

Jesus whispers, “Pick up your armor.”



I reached my hands and grabbed the armor of God and put it on.

With weak knees, I was able to stand firm as I buckled the belt of truth around my waist.
I arranged the breastplate of righteousness in place.
I wiggled my toes into the shoes that comes with readiness from the gospel of peace.
I put on the helmet of salvation which filled my mind with hope.
The armor still fit me perfectly, they belong to me.
I took up my shield of faith which immediately extinguished the flaming arrows of the evil one aimed at me.
Nearby, the sword of the Spirit was on the ground. I grabbed it and I was ready to fight.

I fight with the Word of God.  
I regained strength, hope and peace.
Most of all, I regained the truth of how much God loves me. His love lifted up my soul and made me live again.
I drank from His well and ate the Bread of life.
In the wilderness, I was fed.
I was healed.

Days would come when it gets too much to fight.
Tears continuously fill my eyes, that I cannot see clearly.
I rest, but this time I don’t lay my armor down.
I keep hope in my chest.
I tell God, “Let me rest and tomorrow I’ll try again.”
I flung my sword in different directions and forgot to use my shield against the evil one, as I continue to fight out of breath.
Close to giving up, I wondered why I wasn’t crushed to death yet.

I looked back to see a scenery that caught my breath.
Thousands of angels and the mighty King, Himself, Jesus is fighting for me.
Is fighting with me.

But with every fight I have a choice.
Whether to trust Him to fight for me or to do it on my own. By grace and mercy He still fights for me.

This time I tell him to fight for me as weariness is overtaking.
He offers a place of comfort at the side, where the Holy Spirit counsels my tired heart.
Jesus knows I’ll come back again.
But today, I might as well rest and keep the Spirit company as He teaches me about the God I serve,
And as He heals my wounds of depression.

Scripture References:

Ephesians 6:10-17
Psalm 42:3
2 Corinthians 4:8

This blog post is inspired by these songs:

Show me - Audrey Assad

Warrior Is A Child - Gary Valenciano

Battles - The Afters

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10 comments

Know these feelings well! Thank you for the reminder!

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Yes, we so often try to fight the battles that are meant to be fought by our God on our behalf, Rachel. Thanks for sharing so vulnerably and inspiring us to let the Lord be our Defender in the fray!

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So eloquent and beautifully written. I have been where you have been, I could totally relate to the experiences you describe. Today I still experience depression at times but I’m grateful to say that my message is Psalm 40:1-3 “I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.”
I just wrote posts on my blog about anxiety and depression and will be posting part 2 about depression on Wednesday. Check out my blog
https://shannonstedman.com
Thank you for sharing! Blessings to you!

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Thank you for taking the time to read, Peggy.

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Love your comment Beth! Surely Jesus is our Defender.

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Shannon, I am grateful that you shared your experience. Yes, Psalm 40 is one of the passages I run to in difficult times alongside Psalm 42. I will definitely check out your blog. Thanks again for sharing.

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beautifully written! Our vulnerability is beautiful because of what that means about our God. Thanks for writing this!

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I'm so thankful we can come to God just as we are-even in our brokenness.

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