I would ask whoever's reading this if they ever have one of those days where everything seems to go wrong, but I've never been a fan of questions with obvious answers. Plus, when your attitude is stuck like mine is today, the last thing you want to hear is someone say they know what you're going through. Be warned...that's the easiest way to get sarcasm-ed into unconsciousness when I'm cranky.

Okay, maggots. I Kings 18 and 19. One of the most useful passages I have ever found for dealing with depression. Don't kid yourself. Everyone suffers with it from time to time. The twit-witted pill-popping docs that got their medical license from a box of cracker jacks seem to think that jacking with the body's seratonin levels is a good idea. I want to see a doc that won't prescribe pills until diet change, hydration, B12 and omega 3 supplements, light exposure, and exercise haven't worked. But ANYWAY. The fact is that it happens to everyone. As I have so efficiently demonstrated in this blog already, one's first inclination during the "poor me" phase is to say or think that no one else has ever suffered like you in the entire history of the world. Ugh. The last person that actually had the chutzpah to SAY that around me got their hides nailed to the wall.
Sorry, guys. See, anger turned inward is depression. Right now, I'm on anger turned inside-out and diagonal, then tied into a slipknot.
Depression is a perfectly normal response to a valley in one's life, or even just a spiritual attack. In the passage in Kings, Elijah had just won a great victory for God. Somehow, Satan convinced him that, even with the backing of a God who thought enough of him to send fire down from the heavens onto his altar, he needed to fear for his life.
So the pressures of the world got to him. Think about that scene on Mount Carmel. All those prophets running around, gouging knives into their flesh to make blood run, some possibly passing out, screaming, setting things on fire. The cacophany must have been absolutely deafening and jarring to the nerves. And this went on all day and into the evening. The smells of blood and sweat and rotting meat all would have blended together into a cloud of nausea. The ridiculous spectacle had gone on long enough for Elijah. Finally, he finished repairing the Lord's altar that someone had trashed. He dug a trench around it while everyone watched. Just like always, everyone thought he was crazy. No matter how many times what he said turned out to be right, no matter how many miracles God worked through his ministry, he was always just crazy Elijah. Finally, the trench was deep enough to hold a few gallons of water. The offering was divided and placed into the altar's top. People jeered at him as he began to douse the entire setup in water. Crazy old Elijah. Of course the Lord would respond to his cry. Of course the offering would be set on fire. But these people still wouldn't believe. This day would not end happily, no matter how careful he was, no matter how many miracles happened. He and his servants finished pouring the water, and Elijah prayed a simple prayer. Fire came down from heaven. Of course it did. It consumed everything in its path. Of course. Then, only then did everyone fall face down and believe. Only then was God a God of nations. It took God performing like a trained monkey before they would believe. And so, it was time to do what had to be done.
"Seize the prophets of Baal. Don't let anyone get away."
The scene of slaughter was hideous. The smell of death was on the wind, and human screams ripped through the air like cracks of thunder. When all was done, a cold fear gripped the company, and they did what any animal with three brain cells would do. They ran. They ran into a safe place, and when they arrived, Elijah told them to stay. On he walked, into the desert, now crazy old Elijah again. The next group he met would probably think he was nuts too. It didn't matter. He'd probably wind up having to kill them too, just like the prophets of Baal. Now, not only did people think he was crazy, they also hated him.
On he walked, through the dryness, scarcely conscious of the blisters growing on his feet. His legs went numb, and on he walked, praying that his breathing would stop, that his heart would still, and that he would fall away into the blackness of death. Finally, he stumbled and fell to his knees under a broom tree, the scratchy branches providing mediocre shade against the searing heat of the day, and he slept.
In times like this, God is gentle. He knows our hearts can't take much more. The human frame He built from dust is only designed to stand so much despair before it ceases to function. So He let Elijah sleep, only letting His angel wake the man when food and liquid became a necessity. Then, the angel cradled and fed the half-insensible man and let him fall back to sleep.
When he woke, the last leg of the journey was a little easier. Numbness carried him to Horeb, the mountain where God was said to dwell. Elijah went into a cave and waited, miserable, not even caring if God would exact justice on him for his lousy outlook, just hoping that it killed him so that he could see an end to this suffering. While fire burned and the earth shook outside the cave, Elijah waited.
Then, he heard it. The still, small whisper that signaled the approach of the Creator of time and space. Elohim was coming. Chills of awe and fear and wonder racked Elijah's body as he covered his face and left the darkness of the cavern. God's voice was so soft, so undemanding, with a note that said He had seen and understood everything Elijah had been through, inside and out.
"What are you doing here, Elijah?"
Elijah's composure broke, and everything he had suffered came spilling out through choking and tears and shame. Abba waited patiently for him to finish, then began giving him instructions. Elijah could scarcely believe his ears. God was telling him to go anoint one who would put to death those that threatened his life. And not only was he not the only crazy man that followed El Shaddai, the followers were seven thousand strong. He was not alone in his service. He would follow the Lord's voice, and he wouldn't be put to shame, at least not in the eyes of those who mattered. God had been preparing the way all this time, and was not even angry at Elijah for his momentary wavering in attitude. Instead, He had gently lifted him up and shown him that things really weren't all that bad.
And that, ladies and gents, is the Elijah prescription for depression. Rest, eat, pray, and listen. Better than Zoloft, huh?