Xvangelical: Wrestling Thru My Soul’s Darkest Night

I was reminded this week of a circumspect trod I once took upon a treacherous path.

I’ve experienced it.

I often wondered before, if some of the rock-bottoms I’ve experienced were it.

And, no, I’m not talking about this … even though I love The Rock!

My marriage has been on the rocks a couple of times. Terrible things happened with my kids that sent me spiraling. These things, at separate times, sent me into bouts with the darkness. I was left cascading down the treacherous falls of anxiety-driven depression on each occasion.

Yet, those moments in time were unmatched by this one.

This darkness seemed endless and terrifying.

I lost the ability to even really feel.

The mental health community, I would later understand, refers to it as being disassociative. My connection to this life was waning. Many in this condition become suicidal. Such wasn’t the case for me and I’m thankful!

This was a strange era for me.

My journey began inauspiciously, so much so that it seemed “normal” to be on my path.

I’ve walked through my political journey in a series of articles already so I’m not going to rehash that arduous saga. You can read about it here, here, and here. My life was already stretched thin before the political dimension expanded it to near breaking … maybe some string theory was in play … who knows?!

All I remember is that my full-time job and bi-vocational pastorate were quite taxing for a devoted husband and father of three who took on MMA to be in better health. I was so fortunate to develop some inspiring life lessons during that time.

The invasion of the political kingdom into my life eviscerated my inner peace. From the Fall of 2015 til November or 2016 I challenged U.S. Congressman Rick Crawford for his AR1 seat only to fall short of most of my campaign’s goals and the final vote tally.

My Libertarian campaign garnered the highest vote percentage and vote total for any preceding candidate, so it wasn’t a total failure. Yet, missing the 35% thresh hold for which I had hoped was devastating considering the vast amount of door-to-door campaigning I did.

Almost immediately afterward I began pondering on a run for Arkansas Governor on the Libertarian ticket. Another couple of years of campaigning later, and near-miss of the 3% goal and 2018 culminated in a very deep and dire depression.

I guess that I needed to get to this dark night. My running and roaming soul just wouldn’t allow me to stop shy of the mark.

I made the decision, that winter. I would never run for political office again. I had already ended my era as pastor. I don’t know if the depression stemmed from the loss of the pulpit, both religiously and politically, or if it was fomented from the chaos already festering within my soul, or if the loss of time that could have been spent with my family was sinking in … probably a lot of all of it contributed to that darkness.

I began pouring myself into my family. My relationships with them grew. I was finally the undistracted husband and father my family deserved.

I also began writing.

Initially, my focus was on my book. Once it was complete, I began blogging. I was taking on the political realm trying to be genuine, to be a “real” source of news. I quickly discovered that folks just don’t want real news. The “folks” prefer news that makes their “team” look good and all others look evil.

During that time, I spent my mornings writing political articles covering the Presidential Election in 2020. As SARS-CoV-2 emerged, I put a lot of that information into my blog as well. I wanted to be a unfiltered source of information about the emerging pandemic.

I didn’t have an agenda.

I still don’t. Well, I do, but it’s not what most people want from my life. Oh well, I stopped living “for” them a few years ago so no worries.

My devotional life was in the tank. I would read my bible, just to check it off the list. I rarely prayed. This was my story from 2015-2020. My dark night lasted THAT long. It permeated every aspect of my existence.

My only joy was my family.

My faith was dormant. I trusted Christ. I just wasn’t able to understand why I felt the way I did. This depression, this dark night, was very real and very scary.

I was numb. Going through the motions. Not really living. I was unmotivated and disconnected.

I threw myself into pleasures. The things that brought the most pleasure to my life were family, food, and fun. My life began to revolve around those things.

As my emotional and mental distress mounted I sought more of those pleasures as a salve for my soul. My relationships with my wife and kids grew, which was beneficial, but my wholeness and wellness was staggering behind, lagging like a sprinter who pulled a hammy mid race.

The darkness was strangling me. My wife would often remark on how she missed me. I was an empty, and seemingly endless, void of a human being. My identity was being shred so unrecognizably that I couldn’t piece myself back together.

My whole life I always feared quicksand. I didn’t realize it was a reality more spiritual than physical. I was sinking, emotionally, and the only solid grab I had available was my family.

At this point, my lowest rock bottom, I found a Rock, but it certainly wasn’t in the way I would have expected.

I was overly cynical. Church was difficult because of the betrayal I felt.

Yet, having studied and written on the Sermon on the Mount, I was frustrated and angry at how little American Christianity lined up with what Jesus said and how judgmental folks in it were of anyone who dared call those view into question.

American Christianity is powerless and empty.

I committed myself to reading, at least, my verses for the day on my Logos and Bible apps. This was the sum of my devotional life for a few years as I spiraled into the pit. A dream I had as a teenager was playing out in my life. I guess I’ll share that one soon on this blog.

I began to find some solace in just being. Moments began to matter immensely. I didn’t want to miss a single one. Slowly, I was rebuilding my mental health. I began seeing a therapist. I was turning around, but it was still a slow process.

I hadn’t fully purged the political from my life.

A friend of mine suggested a book that changed all that for me. It was written by Keith Giles. It was called Jesus Untangled: Crucifying Our Politics to Pledge Allegiance to the Lamb. In the book, Giles makes the case that American Christianity was too entangled in politics to be any good for Christ’s kingdom.

The theme was very similar to the book I had written myself, What He Said: Living the Sermon on the Mount, Transforming American Culture. He was right, as best as I could tell. He’s written an entire series of “Jesus Un-” books that are all thought-provoking.

After the official 2020 political campaign ended, I refocused on my spiritual development.

Then it happened in late November of 2020.

It didn’t seem fair, but it is what it is.

I caught SARS-CoV-2 (aka COVID-19).

I was terrified. I knew what the virus was capable of from taking Medcram Continuing Education courses online. My wife was confident that I would be alright … I wasn’t.

I knew that the virus capitalized on weakened immune systems. While I was taking all the right supplements (which I’ll detail in a future post) I wasn’t sleeping much and was in the high-stress of peak season at work … one of the biggest peak seasons we’ve had since I began with the company 13 years ago.

I hadn’t been working out, was overweight to obese according to BMI, and knew I could be in for a rough ride. My health care professional recommended that I take 10,000 IU of Vitamin D (up from the 4,000 IU I was already taking) and continue the 2 G/day Vitamin C and the Zinc regimen I was already on. I was prescribed a steroid and an antibiotic.

My courses on the virus helped me understand the best treatment protocol. I was also taking NAC which has been shown to help reduce respiratory virus symptoms with influenza so I was banking on it giving some aid with SARS-CoV-2. I also knew that the more time I spent up and moving, the better my immune system was going to work.

In order to do that I took two, 30-minute walks outside every day. I was able to bask in some sun and get the cardio. I also got up and walked around my quarantined master suite in my new home (we had lived there less than a month at this point) every hour. I continued working from home because we were too busy for me not to be.

I was quite angry with God at this point.

It did not seem fair that someone like myself who took every precaution would catch this virus while so many others who played games with it and diminished it lived virus-free.

We would later learn that my younger son picked it up from the football team and brought it home. So, my precautions worked, it was the unmasked time at home with my family that led to my infection. Now, because of quarantine, they were taken from me.

That was the most bitter and jagged, little pill I’ve ever been forced to swallow.

I was alone. I was anxious. I was NOT in control.

The first mental connection in my mind to this feeling was crying myself to sleep after breaking my arm playing baseball. It was a circumstance outside of my control. So was the current one.

I made a request from my prison cell for my devotional notebook. You see it in the picture at the top of this post. The date on the cover read 11 May 2015 in blue … but I quickly noticed there was nothing of substance in the journal early on so in frustration I angrily ripped those pages out. The uneven remnants of those pages serve to remind me of the frustration I felt with myself.

I found the starting point for the journal and wrote 12 March 2020 in black.

It was depressing to see entries on only three dates. 12 March 2020, 13 March 2020, and 3 July 2020. The first centered around my experience with brain-spotting while the second was an attempt to figure out why I cried at an odd place in a show called Dispatches from Elsewhere.

The entry from July was asking God to help me be more merciful and compassionate. On the next page in the journal I had charted out the table of nations from the book of Genesis.

You see, a couple of days before I tested positive for COVID, I had decided to restart my journaling. I decided to call that day, “Day 1”, because my goal was for this to be a new beginning.

I was clueless as to just how rocky that ride was going to get. Below is that “Day 1” post:

17 November 2020

“2 Kings 1:9-12 – I deserve to be struck by lightning for how commonly and disgustingly I have treated the presence of God in my life. I have disrespected and disdained the presence of God. You dwell in me. I need to live that reality and cease dragging You through the drudge that my life often is. You deserve better out of my life.”

Re-reading those words for this is a painful experience. I’m reminded of how ashamed I felt about who I had become. Unworthy. I was unworthy.

I felt as though I deserved God’s harshest judgement. My life didn’t hit the mark. I was disappointed and dismayed at how negatively my depression, the darkness, had affected my life. I despised the cynic I had become. I loathed those who could so easily “worship” during the song service at Church.

Now, I had an entry for 18 November 2020 as well. I’ll share my favorite thought from it that helps illustrate the battle going on inside of me between my faith and my doubt.

18 November 2020

“… I would love to meet one (a true prophet of God). But, if I truly believe the Word then I need to realize that I may see one every time I look in the mirror …”

I would become ill that evening and tested positive the next morning. My thought was based on Moses’ statement (Numbers 11:29) coupled with the truth that all believers are filled with the Holy Spirit.

I would regain my journal a week later after a fretful weekend of adapting to the new normal of quarantine and loneliness. The fortunate distraction of working through an excessively busy payroll over the first half of the week helped keep my mind off of the virus.

It is longish, but I want to share the first post, because I’ve not missed a day of journaling since. Hopefully this will invite you in to my mindset at the time.

25 November 2020

“I know, it’s been a few days. I tested positive for COVID-19 last Thursday, the 19th, and have been on home quarantine. I honestly forgot that I was starting new journaling. Praise God in Jesus Christ that I’m a week in and have only faced mild symptoms. Low-grade fever that comes and goes, occasional cough, sinus congestion and drainage, occasional diarrhea (first couple of days), occasional fatigue (very rare, usually in the evening as my low-grade fever breaks). Been causing short, evening naps that make it hard to return to sleep. Some pressure in my left ear. I’m thankful that of this point this virus hasn’t been as bad for me as it has been for so many. The isolation has been rough. It works against my depression and anxiety. My wife has been a rock! I’m so SO thankful for her. I’m also thankful that no one else in my household has contracted the virus. I’m praying such continues.

My reading today was so personally challenging. Reading Ahaz’ story in 2 Kings 16, in which he was threatened and turned to Assyria rather than to God was such a cogent message for where Evangelicals in America are. We chose the Assyrian Way (altar) of Trumpian politics in order to fight the perceived and real threat of progressivism. I believe the price is going to be paid in a lost generation that has been sent the clear message that Trump’s altar > Christ’s altar.

Which led to my reading in Galatians. Liberty isn’t about my choices & decisions impacting me alone. My every choice involves and impacts another. In Christ, we may individually come but we are joined to the community of His body. It is a form of collectivism, which the American way calls us to reject. My choices impact others. Paul made that case regarding liberty in Galatians 5:13-15. If we are truly set free in Christ, it is for the sake of being able to love unselfishly and to serve others rather than ourselves.

Trumpism is the opposite of that mindset. It is the Damascas Altar that led Judah away from devotion to God. They made the same sacrifices, just on the “new” and “better” altar found in Damascas. They hired Assyria to take on their enemies, yet their compromises led to their ruin.”

I know, it was lengthy, but it is revelatory of my spirit was in that moment. Avoiding posting to my blog about Trump being the Damascas altar took a lot because I love the Church and we need the warning. However, I chose to quit getting into things political, even though spiritual implications were in play as well.

The darkest day was yet to come.

Thanksgiving Day transitioned into a Black Friday in our home.

My wife spent all of Thanksgiving Day preparing an abundant feast for us. It was delicious! Her effort for us made me feel extraordinarily special. I never let her cook me a meal. I always help. Usually, I’m the one cooking. It was a different experience for me to be completely uninvolved in the process and just be fed.

I felt useless and valued simultaneously. Check out my plate! The pic doesn’t include the pumpkin cheesecake my mother-in-law whipped up for dessert! Ham is my favorite Thanksgiving meat.

However, that evening my wife felt ill. At bedtime she texted me that she was running a low-grade fever.

My heart sank!

My entire goal had been keeping this virus as far away from her as possible. She is an asthma sufferer and has tachycardia. She and my younger son tested negative for the virus when they tested after my positive. She had been in close contact with me and my son had been coughing for several weeks.

I didn’t sleep well that night because I was sick. I was responsible for my wife’s illness. I beat myself up.

The next morning, Black Friday, I awakened to an escalating fever and extreme fatigue. I felt horrible. So did my wife. She was running an off-and-on low-grade fever with nausea, fatigue, and diarrhea.

After my morning walk I went to the clinic for a check-up because I felt terrible. Praise God, my lungs were clear! My blood pressure and heart rate were up but that is typical with a viral infection. I was on day 9 from my positive test, day 10 from the onset of symptoms.

I knew that this was the make-or-break moment for the virus. Things were either about to shift dramatically downhill or just as quickly improve.

My wife went and got another rapid test. It was negative. But her symptoms prompted them to do a send off test that we would get results from in a few days. I hated that I didn’t check on her more that day but I was overcome with fatigue.

I fell asleep around five that evening, fully clothed, and only awakened later that evening as my wife wanted a check of my stats. After doing that I immediately went right back to sleep only to awake the next morning.

That Saturday was the first time, since I caught the virus, that I contemplated what my death would mean. I shouldn’t have googled for articles on the trajectory of the virus. I scared myself! I felt ages better that day, still feverish, but the fatigue had resolved.

I felt well enough to think deeply that morning for several hours before jumping into solving a Hunt-A-Killer case called Empty Faces: The Mine. I’ve yet to finish solving this one because I want my wife to help me.

My deep thinking lingered on my death.

I figured that my wife would be fine without me. Often I feel that she doesn’t really need me anyway. I feel as though too frequently my struggles with anxiety and dream-chasing serve as more of an irritation in her life. Maybe she would be happier without all the things that perpetually captivate my mind distracting our world.

(She has informed me often that this isn’t true, just FYI) However, I was very concerned about my kids.

My oldest son once described me as the “heart” of our family. Since we’re fans of This Is Us I was aware of the dramatic and lasting impact that the loss of a father can have on a family, especially on the children. My journal reflects some of those thoughts but I’m not going to share them here.

We spent that weekend apart … I was quarantined on one end of the house and my wife on the other. Our teenagers were left with the responsibility of keeping the house together. We’ll just say that it was a mess once my fever broke for good and I left quarantine. I spent that entire day cleaning, after sanitizing my quarantine area.

Eventually, my wife symptoms disappeared. Her send off test came back negative as well. She left quarantine at that point and we were together for the first time in two weeks. I was so thankful!

While thanking God for our healing I was still grappling in my soul with what I was seeing in my faith and in the church as a whole. We desperately need renewal, revitalization, and renovation.

This wrestling is where I began slithering out of the miry pit of my despairingly dreadful depression. My faith reawakened. My renovation was beginning.

I guess my years-long bout with depression culminated in my infection with SARS-CoV-2 and became one of those things like Joseph endured. It was meant for my harm but instead served to benefit my walk with Christ. My anger at God evaporated into a shower of gracious understanding.

Our Lord has a knack for over-turning the tables of oppression in our lives.

The horrible consequences of our sin bring pain, suffering, and oppression into our lives in a variety of forms. He has a special knack for transforming those things into growth in grace and faith for His people. I thank Him daily for allowing me to survive the virus and for giving me the squirm I needed to escape the abyss of depression.

Like Jonah, I cried out to the Lord from my deepest darkness only to be surprised that His presence was there all along. Jonah 2 is his praise song to God. Mine is quite similar.

Today’s post isn’t so much a self-help column as it is an open window into the darkest night my soul has endured. The goal is to give you hope. I’ll leave you with the following passage:

“And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

-Romans 5:3-5 NRSV

Grace and peace!

If you liked this post, you just might enjoy my book, What He Said: Living the Sermon on the Mount, Transforming American Culture.

You can also follow along with me on my journeys through men’s mental health issues and Christian renovation at the links below:

That’s Me in the Corner – My journey through men’s mental health issues

Xvangelical – My journey through Christian renovation