Regaining my footing

I finally have hard proof that my depression has nothing to do with bad things that happen in my life but is a habit of mind. Yesterday some wonderful blessings came my way, bona fide gifts from the Lord, and I was happy and praising God out loud in my car all the way through the Ohio Turnpike.

This morning I am filled with anxiety although nothing has outwardly changed. The jig is up: This feeling is no reasonable response to legitimate problems; this is a rut of the soul, and spiritual recalcitrance.

The only thing for it is to do what the Bible teaches but what we never do---spiritual warfare. I almost blush to dignify it with the term. This small overcoming I am called to should be a common discipline by now, and the term "warfare" reserved for the battles my brethren wage in the gulags of North Korea. But one has to start where one is, I suppose.

To the Psalms! That's what they are there for, to teach me how to pray and to fight my way out of stinkin' thinkin' and back to truth. Does the Lord reign? Yes. Does he love me? He let his Son be executed for me. Has he been good to me? Undoubtedly, I have a history with him to prove it. Will he be good to me tomorrow? Come on, I am his child.

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