Many years ago, I was hit by an aggressive wave of depression. It was so crippling that I found it hard to breathe properly. I felt smothered. Completing even simple tasks such as preparing dinners and caring for my young children became difficult. I was always thinking about death and the futility of mortal life.
There had been a history of mental illness in my family when I was growing up, and I was afraid I was losing my mind. I knew suicide wasn’t the answer, but I didn’t know how to live with this mental blackness.
One particularly difficult afternoon, I ran into the backyard in an emotional panic and paced back and forth. I cried, “Father, I have prayed every day. Why is this not healed?” The answer came immediately: “Because you are seeking, but not striving.”
