Nobody.
Not my co-workers, not my friends, not my family, not my kids, not my husband…in fact, at first, not even me.
The only thing I did know was that something was wrong. I couldn’t explain it, I couldn’t describe it, and I didn’t want to acknowledge it. If I kept going along as though everything was fine, maybe it would be. But eventually things spiraled out of control. Everything became overwhelming. The smallest of things became insurmountable to me. I became enraged at things that normally wouldn’t have even bothered me. I wept for no reason at all, while at other times was completely numb.
I would go to sleep begging God to make the physical ache in my chest cease by the time my eyes opened in the morning. And when I woke the next morning, my heart would sink when the heaviness pressed even stronger. Getting out of bed seemed like an impossibility. Life had lost its color and I didn’t know why.
My husband and I had recently moved from California to Texas as pastors of a church. The transition hadn’t been easy. We had uprooted our two young kids, had issues selling a home that wouldn’t sell in a crashing real estate market, lived in an empty apartment in limbo for months, walked through staff turn overs and job transitions that had all added stress to our marriage. None of this was part of the plan. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to look. But, eventually things began to settle and I figured my erratic emotions would too. Soon, this dismal season would be behind me and would be a distant memory.
Life forged on. Our kids flourished in a good school, made friends and set roots down. We were finally able to sell our home in California and close that chapter for good. We bought a home in Texas and I was able put my gifting’s to work in design and decorating. My husband was pastoring and leading a staff into new territory. Life was exciting. So, why was I mine suffocating? Everything was finally falling into its proper place, yet my life felt like it was falling apart.
As a pastor’s wife I had a false idea in my head that I had to live up to some pretty perfect expectations. While some of these expectations had been placed on me by well meaning outsiders, most of them I had placed on myself. I had decided along the journey of “ministry life” that those of us in any capacity of leadership just sort of have it all figured out. And if we don’t, we don’t let on that we don’t! We just put on a good game face and fake it. This led me down a path of disillusionment, isolation, and failure. No matter how hard I tried, I could never live up to the perfect little pastor’s wife picture in my mind. And it started to take a toll on me. The enemy began to whisper little undertones of doubts. I began to question my abilities, my gifting’s, my calling, and my purpose. Where I once was secure in my position next to my husband, in my home, and in ministry; I now questioned it all. In fact, I didn’t even see a purpose in life itself.
What started as little whispers, soon turned into screams of torment in my mind. An occasional fleeting thought of what life would be like if maybe I took a break for a short season, turned into vivid imaginations of driving my car into the center median at 75 miles per hour. There were days I sat in counselors’ offices hearing the words Depression, Therapy, and Counseling and left with prescriptions in hand too overwhelmed to even process one word of what I had just heard. It was all too much to deal with. I couldn’t do this. I was supposed to have it all together. I felt completely empty. I couldn’t shut out the darkness all around me. I knew Jesus loved me. I knew it. But, I just couldn’t catch my breath. I felt like I was drowning. I was ruining my life. I was ruining my kids’ lives, my husband’s life.
After 14 months of this I was exhausted. I was hopeless. I was sick. I was depressed. I was dying. I felt alone. I had hidden this battle, but my husband had begun to see the effects depression had taken on me. He tried to help me, but couldn’t. I had become so resentful towards so many people that I had shut the closest people out of my life.
Finally, I woke up yet again with the weight of a hopeless life strangling me. I mustered up the strength to get my kids dressed for school, asked my husband to drive them that morning, and I kissed them. I distinctly remember standing at the door kissing my son on his cheek, then my daughter, then my husband. This was my way of saying goodbye for the last time.
I shut the door as they pulled out and decided to proceed with my plan to take my life. As I walked through the house I passed by my husband’s desk where his Bible sat. I had tried countless times to read words of comfort only to battle raging, screaming accusations being hurled at me from the enemy. But this morning, I decided I would try one last time. I opened his Bible to a random Psalm. The pages fell open to Psalm 18 and I began to read the words out loud.
“I love You O Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and the One who rescues me…
The hangman’s noose was tight at my throat;
devil waters rushed over me.
Hell’s ropes cinched me tight;
death traps barred every exit…
I call to God,
I cry to God to help me.
From his palace he hears my call;
my cry brings me right into his presence—
a private audience!
Earth wobbles and lurches;
huge mountains shake like leaves,
Quake like aspen leaves
because of his rage…
He steps down;
under his feet an abyss opens up.
He’s riding a winged creature,
swift on wind-wings.
Now he’s wrapped himself
in a trenchcoat of black-cloud darkness…
Then God thundered out of heaven;
the High God gave a great shout,
spraying hailstones and fireballs…
The secret sources of ocean are exposed,
the hidden depths of earth lie uncovered
The moment you roar in protest,
let loose your hurricane anger.
But me he caught—reached all the way
from sky to sea; he pulled me out
Of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos,
the void in which I was drowning.
They hit me when I was down,
but God stuck by me.
He stood me up on a wide-open field;
I stood there saved—surprised to be loved!
He reached from on high, He took me;
He drew me out of many waters.
He rescued me from my strong enemy,
And from those who hated me, for they were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
But the Lord was my support.
He brought me out into a broad place;
He rescued me because He was pleased with me and delighted in me.”
And there Jesus was, in the middle of my hopeless life. He had made my darkness His secret place. He had left His glory for my hell. He was enraged, but not at me. Not because I had listened and entertained the enemy’s lies, but instead at the enemy himself for what he had done to one of his children. Jesus rescued me. Me! But ME He caught! He rescued me because He was pleased with me. He delighted in me. He wasn’t disappointed in me. He wasn’t fed up with me. He didn’t shake His finger at me saying, “you should know better than to listen to stupid lies of the enemy!” No! He didn’t condemn me, didn’t guilt me, didn’t punish me. He rescued me. And all I needed to do was accept the rescuing. And what a beautiful rescue it was.
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Kim Dailey and her husband, Ben, are Lead Pastors of Calvary Church in Irving, Texas. She is a graphic and interior designer, but most importantly is married to her high school sweetheart and best friend of 23 years and gets to live out her most important calling of being a mom to her two children Kyla and Kade.
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