The depression in my spirit mimicked the weather that day: dark clouds and falling rain. A heavy sadness spawned a flow of tears almost as constant as the rain. The pain was relentless: an emotional ache analogous to a raw wound on the body where the flesh beneath the skin is exposed. Yet a concentration on Scripture offered perspective, which is simply the capacity to see issues clearly, to distinguish the temporary from the eternal, the important from the trivial.
I thought about the sovereignty of God, and how nothing can happen to me without His permission. As David put it, “my times are in Thy hand” (Psalm 31:15a). I remembered Romans 8:28: “and we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” I recalled Jesus’ own emotional pain in the Garden of Gethsemane just prior to his arrest (Mark 14:33-35), as well as Hebrews’ assertion that “in the days of His flesh, He offered up both prayers and supplications with loud crying and tears” (Hebrews 5:7). And the words of Psalm 30:5 sustained me: “weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.”
I didn’t feel like a winner that day in the fight against despondency. Yet God’s Word buoyed me against the large waves of depression. The experience generated this poem.
Like Falling Rain
My tears descend like falling rain.
Their constant flow reveals the pain
of much regret; of fragile heart.
I cannot stop them once they start.
With every drop there is an ache.
I did not know one’s heart could break
so many times in just one day.
Despondency won’t go away.
I shout! Yet God seems not to hear.
He leaves untouched my hurt, my fear.
Where is the God of Abraham?
Where’s El Shaddai? The great “I Am?”
Like falling rain hope, too, descends.
Are there not any dividends
to faith within the here and now?
Will God assist me? When? And how?
Does He not care when what I feel
makes dying grow in its appeal?
Though it’s racked by doubt, my mind turns
to God’s Word. Here is what it learns:
He gave His Spirit. He is near!
In time He’ll wipe away each tear.
Though I do not know how, or when,
My lips will smile and sing again.
Christ understands the tears I shed.
He also wept before He bled.
His cross absorbed His tears, and mine.
Heart-rending pain serves to refine.
God never acts except from love.
My darkness was designed above
For fruitfulness, and for my gain.
It’s grace outpoured, like falling rain.
When have you come to the conclusion that a burden or source of pain was “God’s grace outpoured”?