I am a melancholy. I know. I've tried to run from it. I don't always seem so in public because I was trained by ministry to be "on" for others, but I am a melancholy.
My favorite color is gray.
I love moody music (well, lots of music, but the moody stuff makes me creative).
I FEEL EVERYTHING to the depths of my spirit and will cry over someone else's plight as easily as my own.
And the personality tests say so, so - who argues with those, right?
Being melancholy used to be a burden. As a child I was hurt deeply and often by (possibly) well-meaning people who too readily shared their disapproval or simply did not share enough approval.
As a teen I developed my hatred for injustice and, because injustice ABOUNDS, I became a dark, brooding herald of all that went awry in the world. I was the face and the attitude for outcry in my circle of influence. And as ugly as it probably was on the outside - the inside felt more dismal still.
I was negative. I was a complainer. I was bitter. I was judgmental. I was scared. I was sad. And it was "everyone else's fault."
Then I met a man. Well, I had really met him YEARS before. I guess it's more accurate to say I got to know him.
Jesus had been in my life since childhood. I knew He was the means and the end to this life. But I had not answered the beckoning of the Spirit. He drew me - but I had not learned to submit to Him. At about age 18 I began to hear the voice of God in my Spirit - not just sense His presence, but feel direction. "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, 'This is the way; walk in it' " (Isaiah 30:21).
It did not happen overnight, but as I began to submit my heart, my will and ESPECIALLY my thoughts to the Spirit, He started to unwrap the gift of my melancholy. Yes, I said gift. (Psalm 68:18)
I began to see that my pain was a call to run to His arms - a call to love others as deeply as I needed to be loved (something I can only do by His power). Clouds lifted and I understood that my terminal burden for the brokenness and malfeasance in the world was a call to pray and act, not simply sulk, stomp my feet and give up.
And with each revelation came another beautiful tag: freedom, joy, life, breath, hope.
Sometimes healing is not a taking away, but a transforming. And we find that His grace is sufficient and His face is BEAUTIFUL and His love is enough.
However you were created (Psalm 139:14) and whatever your "gift" is - whether it feels like your oyster or your cross to bear - if you will give it to Him, daily, and seek His mind and His heart (Isaiah 55:9), He will reveal the joy of its purpose. And He will give you peace (Number 6:24-26) (Isaiah 26:3).
Gray is still my favorite color. :) And I have become increasingly aware of how it's naturally null shade tends to bring out vibrance in the colors around it: the verdant hues of the pines against a thundercloud; the brilliance of vermillion, gold, amethyst and salmon as the sun breaks through after a storm!
Whatever your "favorite color" - it was given to you by your Creator, and He alone can make you shine in the rainbow of His Promise. Chase His heart. (Philippians 2:12-16a) (Jeremiah 29:13).
Love to you.
Truth in love,
Tam
3 comments:
I love this Tammi... Thanks for sharing. As a fellow melancholic, gray loving, writer- i absolutely get everything you said. There is something to be said for that artist angst and the cycles it has taken us in throughout the seasons of our maturing.
Misty, I wish I could like comments on here :) lol. Blast you, facebook! You have ruined me for all other mediums.
This is so well-written. Thank you for sharing your struggles. Much of it is my own as well.
I loved the line about God not taking things away, but transforming them. That's a challenge, because it means accepting things I KNOW I'm born with, but would rather not have :)
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