The Deepest Gloom

This morning I read Psalm 107, and I remember.

I remember what it was like to battle depression all those years. I remember the doctors, the therapists, the medication, and the despair. I remember the mornings of waking up and thinking, “I cannot do this anymore. I cannot do this another day.”

I read Psalm 107 from my old green Bible and my handwriting from that time:

I cried out; God saved.
I cried out; God led.
I cried out; God sent forth his word and healed.

It’s a beautiful, wonderful life. We are so satisfied. We are so filled with good things. We are healed.


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