Lately, the word clothed keeps coming to mind. I am not sure why, but it has been on my mind more often than not this week. When I think of clothed, I get an ache in my body, but again – why. So, as I sit here on the couch, at two o’clock in the morning listening to worship music, I finally allow myself to meditate on it.
A part of me has given up. I have given up on trying. I had made progress in battling depression, but it has gotten worse and I am tired now. Really, really tired. I feel completely clothed in darkness and in my pain. It wraps me up and binds me in. It hurts. No matter where I go, left or right, front or back, side to side, it is always there. I am tangled, trying to get out – scream– but the more and more I try to run, the thicker and darker it gets. I am clothed in my shame. I am clothed in my guilt. I am clothed in my past. I am clothed in my scars. I am clothed in all the things I have learned not to show. If you only knew what this heart has gone through and what these eyes have seen. The constant cycle of – don’t tell anyone, hide it all. People will think this and that about you – repeats over and over in my mind.
Stop, just stop.
Oh, the power in His name. He eases this anxious mind and weary heart. This is not what Jesus wants for me, this deep bondage and sadness. He sees me and says: you, my daughter, come to me. I am here. He takes clothed and uses it to cover and purify me, even when I say, no, I don’t deserve it.
So, as I continue to recover in my depression, weather I like it or not, I am clothed. Unraveling the darkness one twist at a time and being completely wrapped in peace and love from head to toe.
I will rejoice greatly in the LORD, My soul will exult in my God; For He has clothed me with garments of salvation, He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness, As a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.