That Wall Called Prozac

 

 

 How is it that sadness is the very doorway leading me to deeper gladness?  O, mystery of my soul.  

Optimism and energy, I find, are so different from deep joy and rest.  And yet, I know in that dark passageway

 which led me here, I begged to escape.  I wanted anything but to be in the shadows.  My soul was pressed upon, 

confused, attacked.  Then, like a child being born, the burning pain transforms into the birth of a new thing: a

 closeness and clinging to the true Life.  

Oh, is there any other way? Is the Garden of tears the only path back to the Garden of Communion? 

Prozac has provided a wall for me, these past six years.  Guarding me from agony, and keeping me stepping forward

 on the straight and narrow, in gratitude to God.  

A blessed wall.  But a wall, to be sure. A wall which has kept away arrows of the enemy that lie viciously about my

 worth and my life.  It has protected me from many weeks of “clouds” filling my mind with dark and hopeless whispers.  

Of course, this has been a beautiful gift, this wall!  And yet…

And yet, the wall has also kept something else out. Sort of like antibiotics exterminating indiscriminately. Or like the 

walls of Thneedville, hiding desolation as well as air and beauty.

For even as the arrows are blunted by my wall, so too the song of life cannot be heard so clearly, nor the salve or sweetness

 be felt so acutely.  

I plod forward and I hear the words of life, but they fall from my ears, these walls keeping them from ministering to me as

 richly as before.  

Then the walls fall.  Not of my choosing. I would forever choose that cocoon of comfort and rest.  But apart from my will,

 they crumble, brick by brick.  And the only way is forward.  And suddenly, I can see that my soul is in the midst of lions, 

I see fiery beasts appear to my right and to my left (ps 57).  Their teeth are spears and arrows.  They set nets, they dig pits.  

And the way, once lovely though perhaps rushed and distracted, is now treacherous.  

I cry out: O God, break the teeth in their mouths.  Tear out the fangs of the young lions, O LORD.  Let their arrows be blunted

 in mid-air.  (Ps 58)

And in these cries, in my distress– I see his promises come to pass.  He does break their teeth.  He does blunt their arrows.  My

 cries shift: My God is great!  My God is mighty!  His love is steadfast and true!  Oh, how did I miss the song echoing through 

these woods?  The majestic worship strengthening my soul?  

Ah, it is the wall.  The wall has kept this song from my ears.  

It has kept my cries from being deep and real and desperate.  It has kept the song of deliverance, as well, from reaching my soul.  

What should I do?  Do I pursue a different wall?  A lower wall?  Or no wall at all? 

Lord, lead me in the way everlasting.  My spirit is willing but my flesh is weak.  I cry out, with Peter: “I will never desert you!” and hours later I trip up triple-y, overcome by suffering and fear of suffering.  

Give me truth that blunts the arrows.  Put a shield about me, as I take steps one at a time, day by day. Renew my spirit within me.  Shine forth.  Put your song of deliverance in my mouth.  

I am weak, but you are strong.