Lunar Light, Saturn’s Strength
A Faith-Based Path to Mental Health Recovery
On the morning of June 19th, the moon and Saturn appeared in conjunction. If you look east before sunrise for the next few days, you can see them still as they now start to move further apart.
I find night sky conjunctions like this to be a symbol of a quiet promise that even when relationships seem too far apart, they can come back together. The moon, ever-changing yet constant, reminds me of Ecclesiastes 3:1: “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” The Moon and Saturn come and go in their closeness every few years, and when they are together, it’s pretty amazing to look at through a telescope.
I mentioned some weeks back in another post how I spent some time in a mental health facility. It’s not something that’s easy to share, but as time goes on, I find more reason to and gain strength in it in hopes it helps someone else. Mental health recovery is a jagged path, one I never imagined I’d walk. The treatment center was both a refuge and a battleground. Days blended into nights, filled with raw conversations, tear-streaked confessions, and the weight of my own mind turning against me. I felt broken, like a vessel cracked beyond repair. Yet, in those moments, I found solace in the unending strength of Jesus, whose love encircled me like the rings of Saturn; steadfast, unbroken, eternal. Psalm 34:18 became my anchor: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Even when I couldn’t feel Him, He was there, holding me together.
Saturn’s rings, those magnificent bands of ice and rock, have always captivated me. They’re a testament to resilience, orbiting in perfect balance, never faltering despite the chaos of the cosmos. In my darkest nights, I pictured Jesus as that same unending circle, His love a constant orbit around my fractured soul. John 8:12 echoed in my mind: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” His light, like the moon’s glow, pierced my despair, guiding me toward healing. It wasn’t a sudden fix; recovery never is, but a slow, steady journey of trusting His strength over my weakness.
Consoling others became my lifeline. In group therapy, I listened to stories that mirrored my own: pain, loss, but also glimmers of hope.
At my lowest, I thought I’d never rise again. The treatment center felt like a pit, its walls closing in. But God’s promises are sure, like Saturn’s rings circling endlessly. Lamentations 3:22-23 steadied me: “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning.” Each day was a chance to start again, to lean into His mercy. I began to see my struggles as a season, not my story’s end. The moon wanes, but it always waxes again. My heart, too, could grow full once more.
Now, as I write this, the stars above remind me of God’s vastness, His unchanging presence. Recovery isn’t linear; it’s a cycle, like the Moon’s phases or Saturn’s orbit. There are still hard days, but I’ve learned to trust the One who holds me in His unending circle. If you’re in a broken moment, know this: you are not alone. The Lord is near; His light shines in your darkness, and this season will pass. Hold fast to His promises, and let His strength encircle you like the rings of Saturn, forever unbroken.
Until next time, keep looking up.
-g