“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” says Juliet to Romeo, arguing that names can be arbitrary and the essence of things–such as a sweet fragrance–is what defines them. In Romeo’s case, even though his last name marked him as Juliet’s family’s rival, she loved him just as deeply as if he had been called something else. That’s what makes this play such a tragedy, because something as simple as a surname drives two young lovers apart into their respective graves.

As I pulled out some cooking supplies from my refrigerator, preparing to make dinner, I discovered that Juliet is not wrong. Looking down at the bright orange bell pepper I was holding, I could just as easily have called it a rose, for that is what its underside looked like to me: something plucked from a garden and savored because of its beauty. Yes, I know that people generally do not eat roses and do eat peppers, but the fact remained that I had been given pause by what my eyes could see. And I had to ask: why am I continually on the lookout for beauty? Why do I feel blessed when I see it, even in so humble a form?

Maybe it’s because there is so much ugliness in the world. It’s hard for me to watch the evening news because it is so often such a depressing and alarming way to end the day. These days I prefer to read periodicals on my phone, where I can better control which articles I choose to engage and which I leave by the wayside. (Hint: my favorite news sources abound with good and insightful essays, not just negative content.) Thinking of the title of C.S. Lewis’s autobiography, I yearn to be Surprised by Joy, encouraged to action that is life-giving, even if it’s just trying out a new recipe. Essays that offer hope and understanding regarding autism are especially important to me, as I am always keeping my eyes–and ears–peeled for anything that might help my son, now almost fourteen, in some way. He’s another one that could have been so easily labeled something other than autistic, such as clever, ebullient, sweet, and curious.

Lately I notice that when left to my own devices, my mind definitely wanders in a negative direction. I find myself dwelling on old, unpleasant conversations, on regrets and disappointments, on things I wish I had done differently, even on traumatic events. And I wonder why this should be so, when my life has been blessed with abundant resources, myriad friends and supportive people, many opportunities to grow as a person, and overall good health. Why does my soul gravitate towards darkness when I am drenched in light? Why does it take the sight of an oddly shaped vegetable to shake me from my stupor?

I carry a mental health diagnosis, and I suppose you could say that “people like me” should expect these dismal symptoms, that it’s all part of the package. But I am not satisfied by this answer, mainly because Scripture exhorts us all to set our thoughts in a positive vein, not just those of us listed in the DSM 5:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worth of praise, think about these things.

(Philippians 4:8, ESV)

Such an exhortation suggests we have some choice in what we ponder, no matter our labels, and where there’s a choice there’s a chance of sinning against God or walking in alignment with His will. Sure, our personal makeup and histories may make it harder or easier to obey the “Think upon these things,” command, but we are the ones still in charge of putting one foot in front of the other while traveling our mental highways.

More seriously, this must mean that we are obligated to get help if we are negative thinkers. We cannot simply let this pattern go. Besides letting the enemy of our souls run amok in our minds, we veer away from whatever we are supposed to be doing with our lives to fighting battles that are completely hopeless if fought alone. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to inadvertently choose to be on the wrong side of a fight if I can help it. And I sure as hell (and I mean that literally) don’t want to give in to spiritual forces that only mean me harm. And there’s one more damage that negative thinking inflicts. When we are being ground underfoot mentally by the devil, we can’t show up for others who are counting on us in the same way. Part of us is so consumed by our own inner conflicts that our advocacy for others is compromised.

When I consider the apostle Paul’s life, I marvel that he could write the words of counsel that he did. Before becoming a Christian, he had persecuted believers brutally, even to the point of death. Talk about carrying regrets around from your former life. As for trauma, he had been arrested and beaten several times, even stoned by a crowd and left for dead. This didn’t seem to phase him. Or maybe it did, which is why he wrote those words in Philippians. Maybe he was speaking to himself as much as to anyone else. Maybe his mind wandered into dark places too.

I’m curious as to why the first item he lists is “whatever is true.” I suspect Paul believes that much of the darkness we dwell on isn’t even true. We are spinning our wheels, wasting our time and energy, on false impressions of how people may regard us. Then we go about trying to “fix” the problem that isn’t even a real problem instead of grabbing hold of the goodness that God offers at every turn. Maybe our ruminations about what others see in us can be replaced by thankfulness that God accepts us exactly as we are. I suspect we would have to find a verse in Scripture that says something about that so that we have something concrete with which to counter the lies in our heads.

Currently, this verse from Psalm 94:19 has become a favorite of mine:

When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your comfort delights my soul

So often my dark thoughts are anxious thoughts, not just ugly ones. I worry most about bad things happening to my son, because his developmental deficits leave him vulnerable to the outside world and bad actors who could seriously hurt him. I imagine my limitations as a parent should something truly terrible occur. Since he is a mostly non-verbal person, my son would not understand what I might try to say to explain things or otherwise comfort him. The psalmist reminds me that it’s not my comfort that my son really needs, but God’s, and God is not limited the way that I am. Through His Holy Spirit, God can reach right into my son’s soul, and my husband and I have the power to access this divine intervention through prayer.

I guess that’s what it really boils down to, believing that God is the true subject of my life, not me. Long ago, my former Hebrew teacher and I were discussing how and why God is always in the background of Biblical narrative, driving what unfolds in any given story. You just have to remember to look up from the action, or behind it, to see what I mean. For instance, Tamar gets pregnant with Judah’s twins after only one encounter with him (Gen 38). In the Joseph story that surrounds this fortuitous event, Joseph keeps rising in authority even though he falls first into slavery (Gen 37) and then into prison (Gen 39). Let’s not forget God providing a ram just when Abraham is about to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac (Gen 22). And that’s just the first book of the Bible. It’s like the opening of our text is teaching us how to read all that comes after. Look for God when things get puzzling, dire, or fortuitous in a most unlikely way. I guess the same could be said of our own biographies. Train your mind to look for God in the twists and turns of your own story. Chances are He’s right in the thick of it, in the basic but beautiful thing you hold in your hand.

I think that when I die, I would like my headstone to read “She rested in the light.” My closest family and friends would recognize what a true miracle that statement would be—that I finally had found my rest despite many mental and emotional struggles. When I watch my son walk through his days, I desire to be more like him: present in the moment, content so much of the time, joyful over simple things. I want to give my thought life over to what gives life, rather than what saps it away. Can this really happen? I’m not entirely sure, but I’m promised again and again in my sacred text that this is God’s desire for me, and what God desires, I have a good chance of getting. So says this verse, another favorite:

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

(Matt. 6:33)

May we all find rest in the light, well before our dying day. Join me in making the wager that it is possible for those who believe. And even if it were not true, I still think that the positive narrative is the better narrative to live in, don’t you? After all, love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Cor. 13:7).

God’s love, however it is called, shows up in unlikely places, and never fails.

Thank Heaven.