My Father,
I write to you because there is a lot going through my mind.
“This is my Letter To God — I Am Barely Holding On“
Being a man of faith, a lot is expected of me. While I preach your words in public, behind closed doors, depression has me in a chokehold. I am trying to fast and pray, but I am finding it so hard to bring it all to your feet.
Am I even allowed to feel this way? I open my mouth and sing of your praises, and yet I cannot believe I am plagued with such a feeling. I am trying so hard, but the weight of responsibility sits so heavily on my shoulders that some days I can barely stand under it.
I have no one to talk to. What would I even say, and to whom would I say it? I have counselled many people through this very thing, and yet when the sun goes down, and I lie in my bed, it is there waiting for me. Some mornings, it becomes so hard to get out of bed. I cannot cry. I cannot appear weak. What would people think? I know I am human, but people can seem unforgiving and hold me to a standard that leaves no room for moments like this.
While I lift your name in public, I can barely worship you at home. Who am I to continue this work you have given me? I am beyond honoured to carry it, but right now I need your help. I need your deliverance. I need your comfort.
I feel like I am beginning to break, and it is getting harder to keep up the façade. They are starting to see through the cracks. Do I leave it all? Do I take a break? But what about those who need me — what about the people you are going to reach through me?
I am sorry that I feel this way. Ours is a small congregation, and I am one of the youth pastors, but I do not know how much longer I can keep this up. I do not want to pour this poison I have bottled up inside me onto the people I am supposed to serve. And more than anything, I do not want to fail you.
I love you — even in the seasons when I can barely pray. My hope is that one day I will write back a letter far more encouraging than this one. A testimony that proves you are real in every season, even the darkest ones.
Teach me, Lord. Mould me in your image.
Yours faithfully,
________David
Want to write your own letter?