Have you ever known the terror of depression but you keep on without getting help?

The Private Terror in “Paradise”

The days progressed as we clung to our perch in south Florida. Steve was leading an evangelism team, leading an adult Bible fellowship in our home church, and planning his next preaching opportunity in central Florida. Every night and early morning we faced our private terror.

Terror is exactly what it was becoming. Steve looked so full of fear and in such agony. I could hardly bear to look at him. In fact, the phrase that kept coming to my mind was from Luke 16:23: “In Hades he lifted up his eyes, being in torment.” That’s exactly how Steve looked. I remember standing over him while he sat in one of our kitchen chairs. He looked up at me with that “beyond pain” expression. I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “I could whip you right now, couldn’t I?” He nodded, knowing he was weaker than I. This time we both cried.

More of the classic symptoms cropped up. Of course we didn’t know they were the classic symptoms. Steve began to walk and walk, around and around the neighborhood. He paced, wringing his hands and rubbing his head. This is called psychomotor agitation.

Mornings were always worse, an effect called diurnal mood variation. He cycled up a bit at around two in the afternoon and could almost function for a few hours. He used these precious hours to plan his next ministry opportunity. He was mostly using old material now because his concentration was gone. How could he expect to prepare new sermons and new presentations when he could hardly make a decision?

Years later I came across an interesting side note in a sermon by Charles Spurgeon. He was preaching on a Sunday night in 1869 and was horribly depressed. He states,

"My brethren, I am quite out of order for addressing you tonight. I feel extremely unwell, excessively heavy and exceedingly depressed, and yet I could not deny myself the pleasure of trying to say a few words to you. I have taken a text upon which I think I could preach in my sleep; and I believe that if I were dying, and were graciously led in the old track, I could with my last expiring breath, pour out a heart full of utterance upon the delightful verse I have selected. It happens to be the passage from which I first essayed to speak in public when I was but a boy of sixteen years of age; and I am sure it contains the marrow of what I have always taught in the pulpit from that day until now. The words are in the second chapter of  the first Epistle of Peter, and the seventh verse, Unto you therefore which believe he is precious.

He went on to preach a wonderful sermon on the truths of that text. It was comforting to think that even so powerful a preacher as Spurgeon sometimes was so sick that he had to speak on something familiar. One time when Steve was horribly depressed, I hugged him and told him, “I always wanted to marry a man like Spurgeon—I just hadn’t known exactly what that meant.”

Steve preached one of his “familiar text sermons” in central Florida on the way down to West Palm Beach. Such preaching opportunities are called “pulpit supply.” Churches sometimes ask prospective pastors to fill in when they are without a pastor. It is understood that no strings are attached. Then if the congregation feels that God would have them pursue the man further, they ask him to return to candidate. On this Sunday, Steve preached, spoke with many people, and basically hid his depression from the church. I was amazed at how well he handled himself when I knew the full extent of his pain.

When that weekend was over, we proceeded down to West Palm, to a place of safety, tucked away from wondering eyes and questions. This isolation was so hard for me. If Steve had been diagnosed with almost anything else, or if I had even feared that he might have a heart condition or cancer, I would have gone to friends, praying acquaintances, or anyone else who would sympathize. I wanted to physically throw myself on the shoulder of someone who would have cared about us and our children. But I couldn’t. It was all too confusing and scary. Bloem, Robyn and Steve. Broken Minds Hope for Healing When You Feel Like You're Losing It. (Grand Rapids, Kregel Publications (2005) pp38,39 

The above paragraphs were taken directly from Steve and Robyn's book (picture is on the left,} The book is published by Kregel Publications of Grand Rapids, Michigan.  If you would like to order this book; in paper back, a signed copy  by

the authors, please go to:heartfeltmin.org/join-us.html  You will scroo' down to the donate button and put in $11:00 + 3 dollars shipping, for a total of $14.00.

 If you would like to buy it in kindle, please go to https://www.amazon.com/Broken-Minds-Healing-Youre-Losing-ebook/dp/B004EPYNLE/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=