There's a fine line between conviction and condemnation.
"I want you to seek out a clinical psychologist. Your depression is making you feel sorry for yourself."
My heart felt like an invisible hand were attempting to quiet it as it pound through my sternum. After bashing my church, skeptically looking at my personality results, suggesting tact was really a lack of assertiveness, and disregarding my own attempts at mental wellness, he drops the D-bomb on me.
I had been aware of my tendency towards melancholy since Sophomore year of high school. There was a reason sought out a mentor, Bekah, checked into a counselor for awhile, read books on conditions, and sought out strong friends. There was also a reason I got the heck out of dodge, moving to an unfamiliar place to force myself out of my comfort zone, show myself I could succeed independently instead of allowing myself to feed off of the superiority I downright harvest in Kewaunee. I haven't been studying the book Spiritual Depression for three months for jollies. There is a reason this blog is titled "The Unfortunate Facts of Being an Earthling" instead of "Golly, I Love Life." This world is broken, I am broken, and I recognize that. I'm not about to lie to any of you.
So when he so blithely commands that I see a clinical psychologist, that I have clinical depression, I could not help but think, "Well, no shit Sherlock."
That's why I'm in seminary. To grow and armor myself so I don't allow it to seep into any ministry I go into. I focus on the humor in these unfortunate facts because light does shine through the cracks. And I thank all of you for your encouragement, letters, and the occasional package (thanks Megan).
I don't think it's wrong to yearn for community, or to be honest when you feel stuck, or recognize that some classes you just don't have a voice in yet. When I told my roommate, Caitlyn, how the assessment went, she laughed. "You? Not assertive enough?" Then she prayed over me, asking God to refill me with love, and assurance in my calling. And as the day went on, the dark clouds lifted, one by one.
I don't want to outright dismiss what the counselor had to say. Perhaps I should check into a psychologist, just to keep me accountable of my head. But I can't let this assessment allow me to forget that I received a full ride here for a reason. God wouldn't be leading me into ministry if he thought I'd royally mess people up. Dr. Quicke wouldn't tell me I had a "brilliant interview" if he thought I was incompetent or self-serving. And I wouldn't be sticking this out if I felt sorry for myself every day. I listen to show tunes, for crying out loud.
Ah, the joys of clinical skepticism.
Where do you see God working?
In my mind, bolstering it against condemnation.
What do you hear God saying?
Ephesians 4:29-32
How do you see God working?
With my support network outside of seminary, reassuring me I'm not crazy.
"I want you to seek out a clinical psychologist. Your depression is making you feel sorry for yourself."
My heart felt like an invisible hand were attempting to quiet it as it pound through my sternum. After bashing my church, skeptically looking at my personality results, suggesting tact was really a lack of assertiveness, and disregarding my own attempts at mental wellness, he drops the D-bomb on me.
I had been aware of my tendency towards melancholy since Sophomore year of high school. There was a reason sought out a mentor, Bekah, checked into a counselor for awhile, read books on conditions, and sought out strong friends. There was also a reason I got the heck out of dodge, moving to an unfamiliar place to force myself out of my comfort zone, show myself I could succeed independently instead of allowing myself to feed off of the superiority I downright harvest in Kewaunee. I haven't been studying the book Spiritual Depression for three months for jollies. There is a reason this blog is titled "The Unfortunate Facts of Being an Earthling" instead of "Golly, I Love Life." This world is broken, I am broken, and I recognize that. I'm not about to lie to any of you.
So when he so blithely commands that I see a clinical psychologist, that I have clinical depression, I could not help but think, "Well, no shit Sherlock."
That's why I'm in seminary. To grow and armor myself so I don't allow it to seep into any ministry I go into. I focus on the humor in these unfortunate facts because light does shine through the cracks. And I thank all of you for your encouragement, letters, and the occasional package (thanks Megan).
I don't think it's wrong to yearn for community, or to be honest when you feel stuck, or recognize that some classes you just don't have a voice in yet. When I told my roommate, Caitlyn, how the assessment went, she laughed. "You? Not assertive enough?" Then she prayed over me, asking God to refill me with love, and assurance in my calling. And as the day went on, the dark clouds lifted, one by one.
I don't want to outright dismiss what the counselor had to say. Perhaps I should check into a psychologist, just to keep me accountable of my head. But I can't let this assessment allow me to forget that I received a full ride here for a reason. God wouldn't be leading me into ministry if he thought I'd royally mess people up. Dr. Quicke wouldn't tell me I had a "brilliant interview" if he thought I was incompetent or self-serving. And I wouldn't be sticking this out if I felt sorry for myself every day. I listen to show tunes, for crying out loud.
Ah, the joys of clinical skepticism.
Where do you see God working?
In my mind, bolstering it against condemnation.
What do you hear God saying?
Ephesians 4:29-32
How do you see God working?
With my support network outside of seminary, reassuring me I'm not crazy.
