I attempted to stuff my depression into the racks of the church coatroom before
straightening my face into a well pressed smile.
You, who did not hide your sorrow from your Father,
had the usher bring my cloak of despair back to me.
Shoulders drooped as I slipped into the putrid pew of religious repetition
believing faith wasnâ€™t ready to share my coarse reality. But scripture shook me
awake. The world needs my tears, struggle, and depression.
Believers sing the blues too.
I confess, I struggle to accept Your ways.
Bones, broken with grief, scream to give in.
But, You give sanctuary to my lament.
Questions are met with open goodness.
I am reminded, God put on the cloak of humanity
to understand me.
And, when I wear depression into the sanctuary,
It is an open invitation for others to be real with You.