psalm following an overdose

24 06 2013

Our faith has to be real, sometimes gut-wrenchingly real. We have to look it in the eye and stare it down and not be afraid. Questions unspoken become questions too big to speak. Never let them. How can I talk about Jesus who brings sight to the blind whilst one of us slowly loses theirs? How can I teach sing silly songs about Jesus healing a disabled man whilst one of us learns to walk with only one leg left? How can I talk of peace and healing whilst some are in the depths of  depression? How can I talk of new life when so many mourn the death of their children? 

This is how.  Because God is real and it’s not all about me. I can’t explain everything, and I don’t need to. This is not my faith. It is our faith. So, I learn from you. You learn from me. We question together, we cry together, we laugh together, we rest together, we continue clambering up the bloody mountain of faith because it is real, not because it is easy, or just because it is there.

The following is a poem, a Psalm, written by someone we know the day after she took an overdose, last week, 25 years into her journey through depression. She has given me permission to share it with you because we thought it needed a wider audience. That faith can withstand this astounds me and blesses me and confuses me and gives me hope. This is church, this is discipleship, this is our cry, and we cry it out together.   

My Psalm Following an Overdose


Are you my God?
I hurt so much inside.
Like my whole heart will just bust.

Are you here?       
For me?
For my family? 

To me, all seems bleak.
No point in this…
No point breathing….
Or living.

I hide indoors too scared to go out
Too scared to stay in.
Safe?!   Really?!

I won’t deny you’re in my life.
I can’t do that.
But I ask, I scream, I cry…

Once, I thought you’d freed me.
Unlocked the chains that held me.
I feel more in bondage now than ever.
Did I go back into that prison out of choice
Or did you make me go in?
Putting a new, stronger, lock on? 

I love you.
I do think you love me,
Well, most of the time!

I see you there though, just sitting by,
Watching me being punished,
Hurting, crying, screaming, “JESUS, HELP ME”

 You don’t listen………………. Why?

What have I done to be so tormented?
I want to die but you don’t allow that.
Will my life be one of torture or
Will I get a break?

 So I have no choice but to sit
Or scream or cry or…..?

‘til you’re done with me, I suppose 

© Anonymous 2013




3 responses

24 06 2013

God loves when we are real. This is real. God be with you and “Anonymous” whom God knows very well and loves with all His heart.

25 06 2013

Thank you for sharing this; prayers for the poem’s author.
I agree, it needs a wider audience.

25 06 2013
neil stewart

nice one vic

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