When the Evenings Get Darker

When the Evenings Get Darker

      My oldest son and I have been going on evening walks in the woods near our home.  These walks have become precious to me because not only am I building up my physical health, but I'm also building a healthier relationship with my teenage son.  I'm constantly amazed that he wants to spend time with his dad.  I know this probably won't last forever, but for the time being I'm going to treasure it.  We started our walk a little later last night then normal.  It didn't seem like a very big deal but after about a mile in I noticed that it was noticeably darker.  It wasn't because of cloud cover, it was simply because we are drawing closer to Fall.  We did finish our walk.  We did 2.25 miles, but the last half mile or so required us to be use a flashlight to navigate our path.  The evening getting shorter is a reminder that Autumn is coming.  My pumpkin spice loving friends are starting to buy their latte's, pumpkins will start gracing front porches, and ill lived mums will start making their grand arrivals.  Most people love Fall, and I don't blame them.  I love the change from the dog days of summer to the cooler, crisper days of fall.  I'm excited to wear flannel and hoodies again.  But, secretly, I also dread the fall season.  It's one step closer to time change, which means one step closer to less daylight, which means my mental state will probably take a hit.  I suffer from SAD, also known as Seasonal Affective Disorder.  What does that mean?  Well, it means that my energy and motivation takes a dip in the late fall and winter....but it also means that I struggle more with depression and anxiety.  So, yes, I'm looking forward to certain aspects of Autumn, but other things make me wish that summer would just stay.

      For most grieving people they openly admit that there is something about the changing of the seasons that can stir things inside them.  The days become shorter (and the nights literally and figuratively become longer). The mornings arrive a little later. The evenings begin to get dark before we're ready for them. The trees slowly lose their leaves, and the warmth and light of summer begin to fade.  For some people, it's a beautiful transition, one that I totally get.  Who doesn't love a drive to see the leaves change or a visit to the pumpkin patch or even better yet, a corn maze.  Apple cider, pumpkin pie, and hot chocolate become a part of your diet for several weeks.  But for others this change of season hits harder.  

      I was recently sharing this with a friend of mine and they looked utterly confused.  First they didn't understand that the change of seasons can affect someone's mood.  They used the word 'bogus' and the phrase 'made up.'  They said it was created by doctors in order to medicate people.  Yeah, not that brightest of news from a 'friend.'  I think that's a general view of people regarding mental health.  We blow it off like it's fake, made up, or only weak people suffer with it.  I've had some well meaning Christian friends of mine say "Matt, if you just prayed more or read your Bible more, then you wouldn't be depressed."  Well, I do pray, I do read my Bible, and I am depressed from time to time.  It's not because of a lack of faith.

      A change of seasons has always been hard for me, but adding grief to the mix, well that's like adding gas to a fire.  It amplifies the sounds of grief and depression.  Maybe that's you.  Maybe you've noticed it already. You feel a little more tired. A little less motivated. You don't quite have the same energy you had a few months ago. The darkness seems to arrive too quickly, and with it can come memories, loneliness, and sadness.  And if that's you, I want you to know something, it's okay to not feel okay all the time.  Others will try to make you feel like you need to be okay.  For that matter you will try to deceive yourself into thinking you need to be 'okay' all the time, but you don't have to wear a mask trying to hide it. See, grief doesn't follow a calendar.  It doesn't announce itself.  It doesn't say "Hi, my name is grief, I've come to disrupt your Tuesday."

     It's can be frustrating because this change of seasons can make us feel like we are losing headway.  The summer is usually easier emotionally.  We go on vacations, we are able to go outside, we are busy with activities, and to be honest we are more proactive with our grief in the summer season. We may think we've been doing pretty well, and then a particular song, smell, date, holiday, or season brings something back.  It could be the first cool evening, or when the leaves change to orange, or when a plethora of huge holidays appear on the calendar.  Suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, something that felt completely ordinary changes to something incredibly significant....and hard for you.

      And sometimes we can become frustrated with ourselves.  I've been there.  No one tells you about how frustrating grief is.  It doesn't follow a straight line.  Nothing about it is linear.  I've said this before, but it feels like a toddler finger painting.  You've probably asked yourself, "Why am I feeling this way again? I thought I was doing better."  But here is a major misconception about grief and healing.  We think that healing means that we stop missing someone, but healing doesn't mean that you stop missing them. Instead tt means that, over time, you learn how to carry the love and the loss together.  They find a sacred balance.  Well, not always a balance because at certain times one dominates the other. 

      So if the shorter days are making you feel a little heavier, don't beat yourself up over it.  I know, easier said than done.  Let me give you the advice that I constantly give to myself from the end of September until the start of March, give yourself grace.  The days may be dark and longer, but darkness doesn't mean that God has left you.

   As Christians, we sometimes unintentionally give the impression that sadness is a spiritual failure.  Raise your hand if you've ever believed that lie?  Maybe right now you are muddled with those thoughts.  We tell ourselves that if we simply prayed more, trusted God more, or had enough faith, we wouldn't feel depressed.  But Scripture gives us a very different picture.  I love the Bible because it doesn't gloss over the failures of God's people.  It showcases people who struggled, battled, fell into sin, and yes, even people who felt down and depressed.  David cried out to God.  Elijah became overwhelmed and wanted to die.  Job experienced profound sorrow.  Even Jesus wept.  Faith does not make us immune to sadness (read that again).  Faith gives us somewhere to take our sadness.  One of the passages that I use most often is Psalm 34:18 says that God is near to the broken hearted.  God doesn't tell you get yourself together and then come to me.  Instead He simply draws near to the brokenhearted.  There are seasons when our prayers may be confident and joyful.  And there are seasons when our prayers may be little more than, "Jesus, help me get through today."  Both can be prayers of faith.

      I don't want this next statement to sound sacrilegious, BUT sometimes we need more than a Bible verse.  Shots fired and now someone might come to the conclusion that I don't believe in the fully inspired Word of God or that I don't believe in the sufficiency of the Scripture.  Nothing can be further from the truth.  There is an important distinction we need to make as Christians. Not every experience of depression is simply a spiritual problem.  Our minds and bodies are connected. Sleep, sunlight, activity, relationships, physical health, and many other factors can affect how we feel.  Sometimes we need prayer.  Sometimes we need a friend.  Sometimes we need to get outside and get some sunlight.  Sometimes we need to talk with a pastor.  And, hear me out, sometimes we need to talk with a mental-health professional.  Sometimes we even need medication.  There is no shame in any of those things.  Seeking help doesn't mean that you don't trust God.  God can work through prayer, Scripture, community, doctors, counselors, medication, and many other means of grace and care.  Faith doesn't eliminate the medical field or professionals.  If you need help, reach out.

      It was last December when I felt the dark clouds of seasonal depression creeping in.  It came later than normal.  I assume it was because a few weeks earlier I got engaged and was living on an emotional high.  I sat on my back porch, looking at the last few weeks of fall.  I wrote in my journal, the darkness doesn't have the final word.  It does have a word.  Sometimes loud, sometimes quiet, but it does have a word.  But I refused to give it the final word.  The days were getting shorter, but the sun hadn't disappeared.  And the same thing can be said spiritually.  There are seasons when I don't 'feel' God's presence.  There may be days when worship feels difficult, prayer feels empty, and getting out of bed feels like an accomplishment.  But God's presence isn't determined by our emotions.

      The light is still there, even when clouds keep us from seeing it.   The Apostle John reminds us in his epistle"And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not (John 1:5)."  Friend, if you're entering a difficult season, don't be ashamed of it. Don't compare your grief to someone else's.  Don't assume that having a difficult day means you've gone backward.  And don't believe that because you feel sad, God must be disappointed in you (I still wrestle with that to this day).  Maybe this season is simply an invitation to slow down.  This is a season to acknowledge that it hurts.  It might be a season to stop isolating yourself, to invite someone to sit with you in the darkness.  It might be a season when you dial a mental health professional and ask for help.

      And to remember that you don't have to manufacture your own light.  Jesus is still the Light.  Even when the evenings come earlier.  Even when grief feels heavier.  And yes, even when your heart feels weary and tired.  He is still there.  He's been there all along.  And if you're walking through a darker season right now, take it one day at a time.  You are not weak because you're hurting.  You are not faithless because you're grieving.  And you are not alone.  The darkness may be real, but you know what else is real, so is the Light.