Thank you, God, for the Tunnel! By Alan Anderson

Writing prompt: Share a story of when you found it difficult to give thanks in your writing life. What did God teach you through that experience?

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and

saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18 NIV)

Our prompt for October caused a phantom memory from the last decade of the 1990s to revisit my mind. This post strays a bit from our prompt. The following words are about when I believed God was distant and the church I was part of didn’t care. This was a painful time of searching, of questioning and evaluating the meaning of my life. It was a time of feeling lost and not knowing where God was. My life, my world, my soul was falling apart. This time in my life also set a direction for my writing!

Entrance into the Tunnel

In this period of my life, I was working full-time to support my family. I was a co-pastor of a church that held to a firm stand on doctrine and theology. I was also studying for a Master’s degree by taking a course or two each year at seminary. There had to be more to life than all this busyness and church performance. God was not very clear in this picture. Life was imbalanced, and something had to give.

I found myself in a depression, or what I call the Tunnel! I discovered that depression was not what many Christians wanted to hear about. In my experience, they would do all they could to avoid hearing of me being in a Tunnel. Depression meant you were weak, or had wandered from God, or were out of His will! Life appeared to be populated with more judges than healers. This was a tough experience for a pastor who had to face a congregation every Sunday. My conclusion? You are on your own, dear brother!

Escape from the Tunnel

My wife, Terry, thank God, was my confidante throughout my Tunnel experience. She let me know I still had someone in my life who cared. She listened without trying to fix or ignore me. Her support was the motivation for me to ease myself out of the Tunnel and for me to write about my experience. My wife’s support and writing saved me from depression’s iron grip!

Writing was also where God spoke to me, and I could then speak of God. Sometimes, I sensed He was in the shadows of the Tunnel. He was near and had never left me, and I learned He understood depression. God was not afraid to embrace me in the Tunnel! He heard the prayers of my stammering soul.

In much of my writing, God may not be apparent to readers. God may not be apparent in depression either, but He is there! After being in darkness, light shines even brighter! This helps me to focus on what other people might experience in their lives and give them hope.

Thank God for the Tunnel! There in the dark and fog, survival in the Tunnel became possible for me when I evaluated the meaning of my life. Thanks be to God for my life, as simple as it is! I am grateful for my wife and family, for there I know those who truly love me. I am grateful for faith in God despite the human imperfections of His Church.

For readers who may relate to the Tunnel, I trust you can also relate to God because the Tunnel need not win. Even in the threat of soul-crushing depression that assaulted me, I knew God had not left me. This is the reality of my deep thanks to Him!

Here are a few humble lessons I gleaned from my time in the Tunnel to share with you.

1. Practice stillness. There is no need to rush through every day.

2. Listen to stories people may speak from their darkness. The darkness can be crippling. They may need help to find God’s light.

3. Be gentle with those in the darkness. Listen to their words even if they stumble. This may open them to hearing your quiet words.

4. We listen to show we care. Our words don’t have to be loud to make a difference.

5. My depression had a purpose. God did not leave me.

In Deroche, a small farming village area of British Columbia, Alan shares his home with his wife, Terry, and their poodle, Charlie. Alan and Terry are grandparents of six grandchildren plus five grandbabies in heaven. Alan enjoys walking on the dike near his home, with trees all around and where he finds inspiration to write. In summer, however, he loves to hide in the shade from the warm summer sun. Alan is more of a friend of fall. He has occasionally written articles for FellowScript Magazine and is a regular contributor to the InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship blog. Alan’s website and blog are https://scarredjoy.ca. He also writes on Substack.

To Dance In My Seasons by Alan Anderson

For everything, there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:… a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…-Ecclesiastes 3: 1-4

I am struck by a question our writing prompt asks this month. “How would you describe your season at this time?” I’m sixty-five years old as I write this post. When I consider life is made of several seasons, I estimate I’m in mid-Autumn. 

My spring season has long past but I have memories from those early days. Ah, the memories so varied and real. I remember as a little boy sliding down the stairs of our house to rush into the kitchen for breakfast. I remember at nine years old seeing my grandpa collapse and soon die in our home.

When I became ten years old I remember the ocean liner sailing us to Canada from Scotland. I remember the first time I tasted a peanut butter and jam sandwich for the first scrumptious time. I remember my parents surprised me with a dog for my birthday. I loved her until her final day. I remember graduating from high school and being glad these years were over.

 

My summer came on with no fanfare. I was now confronted with the reality of adult life staring me in the face. I became a Christian at twenty-one and enrolled in Bible College the next year. In 1978, I married my darling and two years later; I became a dad. I devoted a number of years to bi-vocational pastoral ministry. When depression came upon me I wandered for two years in “The Tunnel” unsure of which way to go. A few years later, I served as a chaplain in healthcare and loved those I called, “my teachers.”

Now in my mid-autumn season, I expect new adventures and experiences. Looking back, however, there have been life-changing challenges since autumn came. I said farewell to both my parents as their winters ended. I cried when five of my grandchildren went to heaven without ever enjoying the kiss of spring. Yes, times of tears have not escaped me. As my autumn season drifts by, I am all too familiar with a time to mourn.

I also glory in my autumn season for times of dancing. With my transition into autumn, I waltzed into the arms of the InScribe Christian Writers Fellowship. InScribe helped save my words. My words now have a place for nurtured and to dance. Through our InScribe family, I became a blogger. This gave me the confidence to begin my blog, Scarred Joy. Autumn is where I have sent more of my words out into the world.

When I think of winter, I hope it is still a long way off. In winter I may encounter creaky and stiff joints longing to write or do other fun things without challenges of the body. For now, in my autumn, I am content with life, at least for the most part.

 

When my season turns into winter, I hope I accept it well. I hope I embrace my old age without grumbling. I hope I still take pleasure in seeing young women being courted by young men. I hope I still embrace happiness at seeing children run and jump and giggle. I pray my darling will still be with me as we look back at the decades we enjoyed together. I don’t want us to be parted and yet I know heaven is across the horizon. For now, I continue to dance in life with my beloved and our season is sweet.

https://scarredjoy.ca/