I was driving down Stroop the other day when I remembered a time in my life that I thought I had forgotten.

I was around 19 years old and I wrestled with depression, an eating disorder and my Nanny had just died.

I use to take power walks around the neightborhood to make myself feel better after binging on boxes of cereal.

This one time in particular though, I was walking less powerfully and more aimlessly.

And I wondered at all the tiny houses that lined the street.

I longed to know who lived inside of them and if they ever felt the way I was feeling.

I had the strangest and strongest desire to go knock on on of those doors-

maybe if I asked they would let me in, they might even offer me a cup of coffee.

Desperate.

Trapped inside myself.

On the outside looking in and on the inside looking out, I was a door without a handle.

It’s kind of what hopelessness feels like.

And I think it’s where people go to kill themselves.

 I was driving down Stroop forgetting the time but remembering the feeling.

I never killed myself because I didn’t have to.

I realized something on those powerless power walks that saved my life.

I was already dead.

And Someone else was living my life for me.

The revelation came as sacred as a sidewalk and as supernatural as a walk down the street.

I found that though I couldn’t go on, my feet kept pushing me forward.

Though my body was heavy with depression, my lungs were light with air.

My eyes smoked with regret, but my vision was on the future.

I was listening to that same old loop but I was singing out a new song.

Hands numb. Heart reaching.

My soul a graveyard but my spirit dry bones dancing.

I was dead but something inside of me was shouting out live!

Someone inside of me was saving my life so that I didn’t have to.

I was dead.

I had died over 2000 years ago. I was buried in a tomb with a man who loved me.

A man who was murdered for being God, for being Jesus, for being the one who saves.

For having the power to heal the sick-the power to forgive sinners.

And I rose again the day I believed that I was one.

But I had forgotten all this until I remembered.

I was dead.

But God wasn’t.

And I was never made to be a doorknob without a handle.

I was made to be a house where God can live.

And I am. I am temple.

And wherever I go, there He’ll be.

The revelation came as sacred as a sidewalk and as supernatural as a walk down the street.