Today I live in the wasteland.
This was not always the case.

There was a time that I had a good, well paying, job as a scientific resource manager. I lived in a nice house in the suburbs. The large backyard opened on open space and was landscaped with beautiful trees. The view was bucolic and restful. I had a wife and two of the best young stepsons you could wish for. We seemed to end up either in Hawaii or the beaches of Southern California at least once a year. I was well respected at my church and considered a lay leader on the path to ordained ministry.
And I was clinically depressed and suffered from anxiety disorder. I was taking SSRIs, bourbon, and therapy in regular doses.

Today I have lost all these things; but, most importantly, I have lost the need for the meds and therapy. (I’ve kept the bourbon. I haven’t achieved Christian Perfection quite yet.)

One thing I have gained is a small measure of hope.

I live in a 1950s trailer with a roommate and often his two kids. I have a near minimum wage job and live paycheck to paycheck. Our landlady wants to raise our rent 80%, which we can’t afford. The chances of a beach holiday are a joke. It’s snowing and cold right now. My married life, family (All my family is dead or estranged from me, the black sheep loser),  and future ordained ministry is ancient history. I cook meals provided by foodstuff from the food bank. And yet I have been released from therapy and I do not need meds for anxiety and depression.

As to hope, the real hope that has been a part of my freedom from depression and anxiety, I have learned one thing and that one thing have helped save my life.

Hope is not about me.

I was a slave to my desires. I desired an important and well-paid job, a wife, a nice home, recognition as a spiritual leader and a secure future. This was all about me. There was no hope there. Hope is not about what we desire but what God wishes for us and God seems to offer His hope through relationship and community.

I finally found hope where I didn’t expect it. I first touched hope in people who took me in when I was homeless. I tasted hope in a brother who helped me find a job when I had nothing. I started to understand hope when I saw God working through others and me in community. A friend called me, his neighbors had been evicted and their life was being carried to the sidewalk by the sheriff. One phone call to another friend and their things were moved to a storage unit, they were offered another way than homelessness. Friends of mine have an autistic child. I have been able to suggest some new venues to lobby, in our state, for more help for families with autistic children. In these and other efforts I have been a small part. But, each time, I have been blessed to see hope in the eyes of my brothers and sisters.

Hope is not about me and what I desire. It’s about God working in my life. It seems that this hope is always in relationship and community. It’s not about getting what I want, be it gross or sublime, but about seeing God’s hand in my life as I relate to my brothers and sisters.

Jesus promised us freedom from slavery to this world. What’s always confused me is that we live in a free country. We can buy a nice house and car, we can take vacations of our dreams, we can raise a nice family in peace… I’ve always wondered what Jesus was talking about. What’s this ‘lilies of the field’ stuff, and why am I clinically depressed and suffer from anxiety?

Real hope and real freedom comes from God. When you see the Holy Spirit working through you. When you see hope through your brothers and sisters. When you give up trying to do it yourself. You may be living in the wasteland, but you are as free as those lilies; no need of SSRIs and therapists.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 26th, 2009 at 1:19 pm and is filed under Doug, body of Christ, hope. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.