Forty years of walking with Jesus is a testimony of His sustaining grace, and yet the struggle you describe often feels heaviest in hearts that have pursued Him longest. When the weight of depression settles in and motivation drains away, the temptation is to grit through it in our own strength, to muster up resolve and push through as if our endurance were the measure of our devotion. But that internal battle, the one Paul lays open in Romans 7, is meant to exhaust every resource we have so that we finally cry out from the end of ourselves.
You want deliverance. That is not a selfish prayer; it is the very thing God invites you to seek. The problem is that we often try to conquer our darkness by sheer will, and when we fail yet again, the depression deepens. We think we should be better by now, stronger by now, past this by now. But God sometimes lets the struggle run its course, not because He is cruel, but because He will not share the glory of victory with our flesh. If we could fix ourselves, we would boast in our own discipline. So He waits until we come to the place Paul reached: “O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death?” That is not a cry of hope lost; it is the beginning of deliverance.
Your prayer for relief is already the Spirit’s work in you, turning you away from your own resources and toward the only One who breaks chains. When you feel the familiar weight settling in, instead of rallying your willpower, let the heaviness drive you directly into helpless dependence. Tell Him plainly that you cannot lift yourself, cannot think your way clear, cannot stir up a single ounce of spiritual motivation. Ask Him to do what you cannot. The deliverance Paul found came not from a new technique but from this shift: “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.” The Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead applies that same resurrection power to the deadened places within you.
Examine your heart gently in this process. Are you laboring under a sense that you must prove your faithfulness by never faltering? That your forty years must look a certain way, free of this recurring shadow? The works we do for God, even our inner battles, can become opportunities for the flesh to seek its own reputation. But the love of Christ constrains us, not the fear of failing or the drive to perform. If the motivation has shifted somewhere along the way from resting in His love to maintaining a reputation of steadfastness, the load becomes unbearable. Depression often moves in when our inner life has become a project we are managing for Him rather than a life drawn moment by moment from Him.
You will yet praise Him who is the health of your countenance. David spoke those words when his own soul was cast down, when it seemed God had forgotten him. He did not talk himself out of despair; he talked himself toward the only source of hope. Rehearse to your own heart the stories of His deliverance, both in Scripture and in your own decades with Him. Remind yourself, “I will yet praise Him.” Not because the feelings have shifted yet, but because He is still your God, and His faithfulness stands when everything within you faints.
You have not because you ask not, but also ask and receive not because you ask with wrong motives. So bring this request with a single desire: that He would be glorified in your freedom. Ask for deliverance so that your life, even your inner life, would magnify His power in your weakness. When He lifts you, He alone receives the honor. When He sustains you through the valley, the same is true. Let the struggle drive you back to the cross for your flesh, and let His Spirit fill the space where your own strength has finally surrendered.