Years ago, while battling severe depression, I came across the story of Elijah and the ravens for the first time.

Elijah was one of God’s prophets, and scholars often believe that he experienced depression throughout his ministry.

During a severe famine in the land, and after a difficult mission in which Elijah found himself hunted down, God instructed him to hide in the Karith Ravine, east of the Jordan River. There, God promised to take care of him. The ravine’s name comes from the Hebrew root Charith or Cherith, meaning “to cut away.” It signifies a time of separation for Elijah—cutting away from ordinary circumstances, a time of isolation and hiddenness. And it’s precisely in that cutting away that Elijah learned to depend fully on God’s provision through the ravens.

The text says that God commanded ravens to bring Elijah food. The ravens brought him bread and meat every morning and evening, and Elijah drank from the brook.

In His infinite wisdom, God could’ve chosen any creature to provide for Elijah. He could’ve sent doves or Harry Potter owls. But instead, He chose the raven—the most unexpected creature. A scavenger, often viewed as a symbol of neglect and carelessness, a bird known never to return to the same spot twice. Yet, God used this unlikely creature to bring about restoration and provision for Elijah.

It’s a powerful reminder that God is in the business of using unexpected elements—things we often overlook or people we might be tempted to write off. New graces and fresh mercies appear all the time, and it’s essential to train our eyes to see them in the unlikely things, to encounter the miraculous amid the mud.

…

This morning, a new layer of this story came to me that I had never seen before.

It’s the ravens, yes, but also the ravine. In my own depression, I started looking for the ravens—the unexpected blessings that came to me when I didn’t know where to turn. But I also began to understand the deeper significance of the Karith Ravine itself. This place of cutting away was where God didn’t just provide but taught Elijah to trust in the process.

…

In my own life, I started counting the ravens, just like Elijah:

The fresh autumn breeze, the peaceful night, the church service message, the text at 11 p.m., the acquaintance reaching out.

These were my ‘ravens’, unexpected blessings that kept me moving forward, providing what I needed to get through that day and night.

Right now, there are ravens in your story, even if you can’t spot them just yet. In your dark trenches, in your endless valleys, God is working. There are unexpected elements—things and people you might not even notice—that He’s weaving together to bring you through. Raven after raven, each one another sign of His provision.

One day, you might look back and remember these things—the cracks in the ceiling where the light poured through. One day, these ravens could be the evidence that you once walked through dark woods but came out on the other side.

Train your eyes to see the ravens, friend. Count them, whether you see them or not, because God is in this place. He’s coming through.

p.s.

A note for when the depression comes in waves.

p.p.s

A version of these words were originally published in my book Fighting Forward. You can find it here.