MONDAY MORNING LIFE
I’ve written often about my skirmishes with clinical depression. I became a full time church planting pastor at the tender age of 22, and when emotional clouds first gathered, they came without a forecasters warning. Back then, there wasn’t much conversation about depression in church circles. And for a Christian leader, emotional struggles were intensified by what felt like deafening silence. Not only did I feel bad, but I felt bad because I felt bad. The shadows were not brightened by the well-meaning counsel of a few Christian friends, who perhaps had previously hung around with Job. I was told to pray more, trust more, repent, get over it, and even encouraged to send a demon or two packing. Not helpful, when the season felt like every morning was Monday morning.
Honestly demands that I reveal that my excursions into sadness have not been limited to my distant past. More recently, I’ve navigated a season of bereavements, family health issues and some acts of betrayal from some fellow believers and leaders. These circumstances combined have forged a fist, a knockout punch that has not put me flat on my back, but has certainly left me reeling.
And so I have come to a rather uncomfortable conclusion: faith can actually contribute to depression rather than be a certain antidote for it. Before anyone is tempted to pick up a stone and lob it my way, let me explain.
Those who have no belief in a God don’t have to wrestle with the pesky question marks that faith invariably brings. If there’s no rhyme or reason for anything in the universe, if we’re all just blobs of flesh, the product of evolutionary soup and nothing more, then there’s nothing to be disappointed about when life is tinged or shrouded by tragedy. Armed with a worldview that we all just live in a maze-like jungle and our mission is to simply survive it and make the best of things, that soul is not disappointed because they have no expectations.
But for those who believe in a God who is involved, loving and interventional, it can be a tad more tricky. I admire the faith of Old Testament hero Elijah, not least because I haven’t raised the dead or called down fire from heaven recently. Yet he was to be found holed up in a dark cave of despair, his perspective warped by outraged disappointment, not only in life, but in God. Another prophet, Jeremiah, was having more than a rough day when he cursed the day of his birth, cursed the mother who bore him, and then accused God with the crime of deceit. We know well that life is harsh and that we shouldn’t be surprised at trial, yet deep down we don’t want to believe those sobering truths.
And then some live in church cultures where Christians are required to be happy and excited all the time, and especially on Sunday mornings. Thankfully, these days we’re having more authentic conversations about mental health, and the call for worship songs expressing lament have been many. But sad songs are difficult to compose, and tough to sing, especially when we’re all supposed to be consistently sunning ourselves on the happy beach called Victory. Imagine the worship leader introducing the song entitled, ‘I’m naffed off, how about you?’ That might not be everyone’s favourite.
Shame can be another challenge to our feelings of well-being. Christians are acutely aware of the call to holiness, and those serious about their faith seek, with God’s help, to align themselves to what He wants. But when failure comes, and we refuse to accept God’s stunning acceptance, grace and pardon, the burden will become crushing. Some believers have told me that they just don’t ‘feel forgiven’, as if genuine repentance should produce something like a 12 volt electrical charge that sparks between our ears, signalling that forgiveness has been granted. In truth, we accept grace in the same way that we came to Christ in the first place – by faith.
So if you’re currently limping along a sad pathway, and yours is a faithful hobble rather than a sprint in the race of faith, please be encouraged, and don’t give up. Jesus still lives up to His self-description: the Way, the Truth, the Life.
And spare a thought, and better still, a prayer, for those called to lead in God’s beautiful, bewildering family, because they are also human, and they might be limping too.