It’s minute moments of monotony that leave my mind journeying on the edge of future realities. But before this vision of foresight can bloom, I’m found glancing behind me. 

In the past I’m peering, lost in the loathsome reality of a year gone by. 
My heart trembles; trembles in the terror of this tainted tornado of darkness that taunts me time and time again. 

I’m desperate for assurance that this darkness won’t leave me for dead, or pull me into this hopeless hell again. I want to know I won’t live defeated, won’t live in the delusion of darkness. I’m desperate for assurance that this demented reality of depression doesn’t have to be my reality; that past realities don’t have to be future realities. 

A quiet whisper penetrates my pensive thoughts. 

It’s a man God brings to my mind. Jacob—a name meaning deceit that defined his own destiny. And it’s his defensive disposition that dictates his refusal to admit his disfunction. 

So he struggles against himself. This senseless search for something that satisfies stresses his sanity. This chaos is completely out of his control. And God meets him here in this hopeless hell. 

It’s then he wrestles; he’s wounded, and he’s worn. His earnest endeavor to be enough has left him forever in failure. But it’s a quiet question that gives away his guise. 

“What is your name?”

This question breaks him. Finally, his fragile facade crumbles at his feet. Exhausted eyes lift to meet His. 

“Jacob,” is his anguished answer — deceit, darkness, disfunction. 

It’s now he embraces his brokenness, now he braves the beast he has become. The blame is rightly burned into his own blighted soul. He owns his mess. 

And that’s when the beauty breaks through this brokenness. 
God’s wild whisper resets reality. 

“No. Your name is no longer Jacob. No longer are you deceit, darkness, depression. No longer are you failure, facade, fearful. I have redeemed and renamed you. Your new name is Israel, for you have wrestled with God and with men, and have prevailed. You are overcoming, secure, solid. You are destined to conquer.” 

He looks me in the eye. Epiphanies echo in my mind. 

“You too. You are no longer held by the demented reality of depression. Depression is no longer your name. I have redeemed and renamed you. I have named you hope. I have named you fearless, faithful, freedom. I have named you bold, brave, blessed. I have named you solid, secure, selfless. You are destined to conquer.”

I look Him in the eye, catch His last loving whispers: “Remember, child. Remember who you are. Remember your name.”