We’re nearing the end of Mental Health Awareness Month. One of the things I’ve read and heard from multiple sources is the idea that our culture has pathologized normal human experiences in many ways, and the church is not immune from such perceptions. We know we live in a fallen world with broken bodies. Yet instead of accepting that fact and finding ways to cope with our own brokenness and support others in their brokenness, we look for diagnoses and treatments that will take away anything that we think is less than ideal. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) has grown from 130 pages in its first edition to almost 1000 pages in the fifth edition. Normal experiences of grief, anxiety, or just being a little different from your peers are now seen as something that needs to be fixed.
I’m not saying that mental illness doesn’t exist. I know it does because I take medication for it every day. (I will say that the medication doesn’t remove the problem, it just makes it more bearable.) I also know that God uses all kinds of difficult experiences to draw people closer to Him. I’m regularly reminded that my weakness is meant to make me rely on His strength; my sorrow presses me to go to Him for comfort; my anxieties cause me to pray for His guidance and provision; and my quirky way of seeing things allows me to serve God in ways that others can’t.
Jesus Himself was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Is. 53:3), and He sweat drops of blood in Gethsemane as He knew what was ahead for Him (Luke 22:44). I heard someone say that if we could have seen Jesus’ face as He told His disciples “Do not be anxious about tomorrow” (Matt. 6:34), we would know that this was not a harsh command to be obeyed, but a gentle, loving reminder that God is in control. I was reading one resource that was trying to make the point that depression is not always a result of sin, but they went on to heap guilt on those who “refuse to take the necessary steps to find healing in your life” (supposedly based on James 4:17). Such a statement is not in line with the gentle correction that comes from those who love God and love one another.
One podcast from Russell Moore and Curtis Chang urges us to use our feelings of anxiety as a pointer to what things we fear losing in the future, so we can learn to give those to God. Sometimes we allow anxiety about the future or regret and sorrow about the past to keep us from living well in the present. Sometimes we need help through medication and counseling to be able to better handle the things God allows to come into our lives. Those can be part of God’s common means of grace in this broken world.
If those in the church were more willing to talk about their struggles with anxiety, depression, feeling out of place, and yes, even sin, perhaps we’d all become better at encouraging and supporting those who need a listening ear or a hug. We were never meant to go through this life alone, nor to stoically pretend that everything is sunshine and flowers all the time. (There’s also poison ivy, which I’m also taking medication for!)
May we be the hands and arms and eyes and ears of Christ for those in need.
“For everything there is a season... a time to weep, and a time to laugh, and time to mourn, and a time to dance... a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose... a time to keep silence, and a time to speak...” (Eccl. 3:1-8).
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© 2023 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture
are ESV and all images copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do
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