When your soul is wrapped in silence, when joy becomes a forgotten memory, and the days bleed into nights with no sign of sunrise—know this: God has not walked away. He is not frightened by your depression, nor is He distant in your grief. He walks softly where others retreat. He sits beside you when even your voice gives up. His presence does not always roar—it often whispers.
In Scripture, we see that even giants of faith were swallowed by sorrow. Job cursed his birth. Elijah begged to die. Jeremiah wept endlessly. And Jesus, the very Son of God, confessed in Gethsemane that His soul was “exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death.” Grief is not godlessness. Depression is not defeat. If Christ could tremble in agony, then your pain is not a betrayal of faith—it’s a part of your humanity.
Yet our churches often paint smiles over wounds, forcing believers to mask their pain. But a faith that refuses to acknowledge the valley is not strong—it is shallow. Real faith dares to stand still in darkness and say, “I know my Redeemer lives.” You are not less spiritual because you’re struggling. In fact, the battle may be proof of your deep connection with divine truth.
African wisdom reminds us, “Even the lion weeps in secret when the jungle gets too loud.” Depression does not discriminate. It attacks prophets and prostitutes, kings and cleaners. It has no respect for anointing or age. So, don’t be ashamed of your tears—they may be your truest prayers. And if anyone tells you otherwise, remind them that even Jesus wept.
Mike Murdock once said, “What you survive is proof of what you can conquer.” Your brokenness isn’t a burial; it’s a bridge. Sometimes, God doesn’t take away the pain—He walks through it with you. And healing may not come in thunder or miracles. It may arrive as therapy, medication, or simply the courage to wake up tomorrow. Don’t despise the process. Heaven often hides in the ordinary.
To the widower in silence, to the mother who lost her child, to the addict battling relapse, to the pastor considering quitting—God sees you. His silence is not absence. His stillness is not disinterest. Sometimes, the teacher is quiet during the test. He bottles every tear. He holds every sigh. And when no one else understands, He remains the God who knows.
Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” This is not just poetry—it is a promise. Christianity is not a contest of perfection. It is a journey through valleys, deserts, and storms. Some days you will dance. Other days you will crawl. But as long as He is with you, you are not defeated—you are simply healing.
Grief and depression are not signs of failure—they are invitations to meet God in deeper places. You may feel lost, but Heaven knows your name. So cry, if you must. Rest, if you must. But never forget: even in the darkest hour, you are not alone. In grief and depression, God is there—closer than your breath, stronger than your despair, and more faithful than your pain.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
08152094428 (SMS Only)
