Maybe the opposite of discouragement …

… isn’t encouragement.

But just plain courage.

There are days, seasons, when life becomes harder than it used to be.  It catches me off guard after a time, and I wonder, when did this whole thing become so much about me?  

It doesn’t matter what the change of circumstances — if there is even a change at all; sometimes, my hope bears fruit and sometimes, it withers in the grip of thorny weeds.  I don’t always know why, or how, and sometimes I’m just too tired to ask.

The problem I have found is that discouragement is, by its very nature, self-centered. Self-centering becomes self-absorbing, self-absorbing becomes depressing, because I know that such is putting trust in myself, a hurdle I have not reliably cleared — at least not with grace, or victory:  seeking my self in discouragement always yields disappointment.

They came to a place which was named Gethsemane; and He said to His disciples, “Sit here while I pray.”

And He took Peter, James, and John with Him, and He began to be troubled and deeply distressed.

Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death.  Stay here and watch.”

He went a little farther, and fell on the ground, and prayed that if it were possible, the hour might pass from Him (Mark 14:32-35).

And there is the glory that I behold in a Savior who was made like me in all things (Hebrews 2:17).  This, His discouragement, is the discouragement I feel, that any day I may be called to walk into death by darkness and that this cyclone of weariness is the only way that I will protect myself from the crash and burn of suffering.

This discouragement, His discouragement I feel, that the battle of the questions, the struggle of the failures, that it won’t have been worth it; that the raging storms of the earth and buildings collapsing on people and children, that the orphans who are just so far out of reach, that the famines and the bombs and the wars: that there is no point to my being here at all … Could there possibly be?  Never mind the cozy life that I live and the emptiness of love and the broken spirit and the messy kitchen and the friendships lost. My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?

And I don’t have any answers, none at all.  I do not know why or how and I do not feel more sure of anything by writing down my thoughts and grappling with what is true, what may or may not be certain.  But I find this one thing in my seeking, and that is that Jesus Christ prayed through those same fully human feelings in the garden; even through the death on the cross, He prayed to His Father, scouring eternity for a way out for His self. But when He found none, He showed us that in discouragement, there is somewhere else to turn beside inward. Replacing the agonizing of self was faith, come from somewhere eternal knowing the master plan, seeing the work of His prayers complete.

Words of encouragement at that point in time would have been nothing but a distraction from His Father’s business, even if they were well-intended and true.  I wonder how Jesus would have felt, prostrate and sweating blood in the garden, if Peter had come up and said, “Oh, Lord, all things work together for the good for those who love God.  Come on, let’s go get something to eat.  That will cheer you up.”  

Encouragement is just a sugar high if unsustained by the Spirit, by the Word of God.

Courage, however, is the Word of God, is Jesus, is our model of faith in times of deep discouragement.  Courage is the law and mercy and grace and captivity and deliverance and wandering and salvation all wrapped up in one package.  It is the snapshot of eternal love, found in 33 years of walking through dust, not yet to be seen again.  It is the sound of rushing wind, the Spirit of truth, left to be our help in times of need.

And this courage, this faith, it is what takes down the ugly giants of the world with one small stone, and leaves un-armored small souls standing to praise their God.  This is faith, the substance of things hoped for, found in our salvation:  courage to step out and take something to heart that doesn’t come easy or natural or maybe doesn’t even seem like it will fix the problem.  Courage comes through that channel of emptiness, the parted waters, between walls of old and new, a life lived pointless pitted against a life lived revived.  This, I see now, is courage.

The moments I feel forsaken and left for the dogs in my existential crises, this love-drawn courage turns my self-absorption into a Godly sorrow bowed not only before the cross but also on the cross, hung like my Savior, who sought the will of His Father above all discouragement.  Crucify discouragement with courage, rise again with the living hope that dissolves all self.