One of the most difficult things about pain is that it often makes God feel like a distant observer, rather than the closer-than-your-breath Father that He is. When the words don't come and the landscape of your prayer journal is as empty as your heart feels, finding the strength to try again can seem like an impossible task. In these times, let me whisper this reminder, it's just about giving Him something of your heart.
In the midst of depression it can feel like there's no end. The winter has come and it's here to stay; there will be no spring. Hope can seem like a long-lost lover you send letters to but never hear a reply. But you were made for more than this deathly winter of the soul.
Sometimes depression is a thief. A thief and a liar. It robs us of our identity and tells us we're not worthy. For me, it took away my ability to perform the way I always had. This ended up being a very good thing, but it left me with the miserable gut ache of identity crisis. I wanted to become reacquainted with myself, and as John Calvin said, "Without knowledge of self there is no knowledge of God." More than that, I wanted to know God, and for this thirsty soul, that happens through words.