Golden Moments

(As ever, posts of this nature are written in a bad moment and published when I’m well again. Bear that in mind.)Β 

The calendar that hangs on the front of my bookshelf tells me that these are golden moments that the darkness cannot steal. I’ve been looking at those words the last few days and wondering if these moments are the sort of moments I IMG_8940wish would be stolen. I don’t want them. Truly. These moments feel more like darkness than golden and if I could leave them on the gutter like an old TV to be stolen, I would. In a heartbeat, I would.

But from the safety of my bed I spoke to some friends. Their words were the golden moments. Their gifts were simple – one brought with them a plate of lunch and sat on the floor, dealing well with my despondency. Another brought herself, knocking on the door minutes after my text message that said “are you around?” and when I told her to come in she sat with me and we wept together because all we wanted was Jesus to come. We spoke about hymns and longing and she prayed for me, because today I do not know how to pray for myself.

Another friend kept messaging me, asking if I was okay, and reminding me that she was there and she cares. Yet another said he missed me in class and asked how to pray for me, but I didn’t know. I’m certain he still prayed.

These are golden moments that the darkness cannot steal, because God in his infinite grace has given me friends who would bring the light into the darkness when I cannot see it myself. They spell their love and care out with ginger tea, and make me feel known by searching for New York Breakfast tea even though there was none to be found. They speak to me in the words of Scripture that are true always and forever. And they respond to e-mails that affirm that God is not disappointed in these days of mine, God is not disappointed in me when depression has me in a vice grip.

I am still loved. I am still His. He will not let me go.

It’s in these moments that I remember that He is more than my emotions and He is more than my bad days. He is greater and He is stronger and He gives grace to us in so many ways, but most of all in Jesus who will sustain me to the end by His blood shed on the cross.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say exactly. Maybe I’m trying to echo Horatio Spafford’s words.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

It is well.

And these dark days have golden moments that the darkness cannot steal. I’m sure of it.

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