December is almost here. This is a month filled with birth. Birth of my Savior. Birth of my father. Birth of my brother. Birth of my mother. Birth of, well, me.
While this should be the most joyous month, I always end up depressed. Scientists will blame the lack of Vitamin D, which is a joke -- I am outside more during the winter than the summer. Let's see 70 degree weather versus 100? Let me think...
I digress...
I need to get over myself.
"In this hour of doubt I see
who I am is not just me
so give me strength to die myself
so love can live to tell the tale."
Every winter I am depressed. I spend hours crying in my room wanting to be alone. I bake myself silly and wonder why nobody loves me. Blah blah blah.
It's plain selfishness, you see. It's the echos of a girl who was once lost. And the Enemy loves to remind me of who I used to be and I fall prey to it every time. I believe it's truth; I believe the Deceiver.
Pastor Matt said that there are two kinds of Christians: Those who are so proud that they don't see why the need God, and the others who are so insecure that they cannot accept that someone loves them. I am the latter.
I was called out today by the Spirit. As I sat crying outside, listening to my neighbors rock out to Eminem and blaspheme God, feeling sorry for myself, I was shown how selfish I have been acting. It's been all about me. How I feel. How sad I am. Woe is me. Me. Me. Me. And then I realized: What can I do for God's Kingdom when it's all about me? How can Christ's light shine through me when I am covering it up with forgiven regret?
I've decided tonight is the first night where I take a stand against my depression and say, "You have no power over me. I have a God who is stronger than you, and who loves me - ALL of me. He forgives me for my past; He is with me now and He will never leave me."
Tonight I will die and let Christ live through me. "Who I am is not just me..." Christ you live in me and I will surrender to your glory; and for the first time, winter will be a season of freedom and joy.
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