the susie solution

One of my favorite descriptions of what Jesus is like is found in Isaiah 42:3:  “… a bruised reed He will not break, and a faintly burning wick He will not snuff out …”

Applicable to many Christians at times in their walks, even more do these express vividly the comforting reality of the life of we Christians with mental illness.

So often in acknowledging, and even daring to express, a sense of hopelessness, we feel that we are betraying our faith.  Not infrequently, this sense is compounded by the well-intentioned words of exhortation that to our desperate ears sound only as a further accusation of guilt.

It is not by our choice that our wick is burning but faintly – sometimes so faintly that even we ourselves cannot see its glow.  Though all the world misunderstand, Jesus doesn’t.

In the midst of the darkness, even when our mind cannot even remember what light looks like, engulfed as we are in a whirling void of darkness, what matters is not that our wick glows but faintly – what matters is that it glows at all, and that Jesus sees it, and cherishes it.

Countless times in my dark hours, I have been exhorted to “Hang in there” or to “Hold on”.  Little do those offering those sentiments realize what a burden it actually places on those of us who are so soul-weary that we are beyond even that simple action.  A song released by Casting Crowns offers a beautiful line of encouragement, “ … stop holding on and just be held.”  Even when we cannot hold on to Him, He holds on to us.

There comes a point when it’s ok to let go and to simply let ourselves fall into the Father’s hands.  Our emotions may continue to rage, but somewhere inside, faith knows that our salvation, our security, and our peace come not from our own ability to keep our flame high, but from His tender care of our faintly burning wick.

The last couple of years have seen my wick waver a lot.  In the last 6 months or so, it has sometimes sunk low.  In the last month, it has not even been visible, as I have been overwhelmed by a swirl of intense events with long-lasting consequences, struggling with a sense of utter despair, seeing the tunnel grow ever longer and darker, and with the feeling that any light at the end is only a train coming the other way.

And yet my wick still glows somehow.  Circumstances have not improved much, and I still look with dread on the days to come, and yet, in the midst of these howling winds, He has cupped His hand around my soul, and coaxed that smoldering ember into a tiny, dancing flame.

If you, too, are fighting the darkness, it’s alright to cease.  What does it matter if the darkness thinks it has won?  You haven’t fallen into darkness, you’re resting in the hands of your Father – whether you feel Him or not.  Stop tiring yourself out trying to hold on.

Just let yourself be held.  Maybe He’ll calm the storm around you.  Maybe He won’t.  Maybe He’ll give your emotions a glimpse of hope.  Maybe He won’t.  Our spirits are not captive to our circumstances, our emotions, or our minds.  Though all externals that we see and understand be in chaos, yet our innermost selves, though they be hidden from our eyes, are at peace.

We are held by the One Who never gets weary of holding us.

Stop holding on.

Just be held.