K.J. Ramsey is a writer, therapist, and author of an upcoming book, This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers (Zondervan, 2020).
Recently, she started a conversation on Twitter that broached something of a third-rail in the Christian mental health conversation – do depressed/anxious Christians have an obligation to attend church every Sunday?
What if doing so sends them into further mental darkness?
Because it often does.
There are lots of reasons for this, which we get into during the interview, and believe me, it’s a thing.
Now church, of course, shouldn’t be about us. But if it provokes even deeper depression, or panic attacks, or spiritual disconnection, then is it a “do it every Sunday anyway” thing?
We don’t expect people with the flu to show up on Sunday, why do we demand that those in deep depressions shake it off and come?
Would we expect someone with pneumonia to show up to church at 9 AM if it’s going to make them more likely to wind up in the hospital?
Because that’s often what it does to depressives, mentally-speaking.
That sounds hyperbolic, but no, mental health is physical health, and believe me, church can sometimes send a depressive closer to his or her breaking point.
Churches don’t really like to talk about it, because church survives on people showing up and, for many Christians, it’s incomprehensible that something as beautiful as the family of God, gathering together, could actually send a Christian into deeper despair. But oh, it can.
Thankfully, K.J. is willing to broach the topic, and here’s our recent conversation, which has been edited for clarity and brevity.
HEINZE: We don’t hear a lot about the fact that church can be very difficult for people who struggle with depression and anxiety.
Why is it so tough?
RAMSEY: Church can be a painful place for people who struggle with mental health because many Christians are not comfortable with the reality of ongoing difficulty.
Our churches often disciple people to expect a reality where all pain can be annihilated, and that’s not the reality that we live in.
When you’re in the midst of a community of people that believes all weakness or pain should be overcome or put in the past and your own pain is not past-tense, you feel isolated, and worse, ashamed of who you are and where you are.
As Christians, we’re gathered around the cross and the resurrection. But the tone of our churches is often much heavier on the resurrection than on the cross and the fall.
It’s not just a theological issue; it’s an issue of the way our life together feels. Our expressions of worship and sermons, our embodied presence together, and the way we talk to one another are so positive in tone that there isn’t much space for the sadness and uncertainty that so much of us actually carry with us into our gatherings.
HEINZE: There are a lot of Christians who say, “Sure, put the lament in church. After all, David wrote songs of lament.”
But then those Christians note that nearly all of David’s Psalms end on some positive note. Therefore, they claim that all of our songs at church should, as well.
RAMSEY: I think if lament always ends in a place of victory, then we will place expectations on God and ourselves that our lives always have to feel victorious, for pain to always be buttoned up.
If we place an expectation on ourselves that all pain ends in praise, we’ll make ourselves sick.
So that’s what I think about that. I think the Kingdom of God is already, but not yet. There has to be room for pain to not always end in praise.
Our lives have to hold onto the abiding presence of pain and disease and depression, anxiety, and also the abiding and in-breaking presence of the goodness that is here and is going to come in wholeness someday.
So our presence when gathered together has to hold the tension of the kingdom.
It has to have space for the ambiguity and uncertainty that we haven’t yet seen Jesus face to face, and we haven’t experienced the full resurrection and restoration of our bodies.
HEINZE: So would that church actually last?
People go to church in America with an expectation of, “I’m going to feel better if I go to church today.”
If a church doesn’t emphasize positivity, would they – to be crass — go out of business?
RAMSEY: I don’t think they would.
Our souls long to be seen in our darkness, as we are.
I think people long for a church that would make greater space for lament and uncertainty.
The American church bows down to an idol of positivity. We often unwittingly order our services and life together around the trajectory of the American dream of life continuously getting better, and that attracts people to a certain point.
But everyone’s life is going to involve some measure of pain and suffering and mental health issues; so you’ll come to a point where that narrative is no longer sustainable or life-giving.
If the church can offer a presence that goes to the lowest places of our pain and the height of the resurrection that’s coming, I think the church would find people are longing for that.
HEINZE: Practically-speaking, how would the songs and services be different?
RAMSEY: There need to be songs that aren’t all upbeat. There need to be songs that speak to the reality of ongoing suffering and discouragement.
There needs to be more space for silence.
I think silence is one of the biggest ways our souls can be shaped by God in the middle of uncertainty and powerlessness.
I personally am a big fan of liturgy — having an order and aspects of our service that enable us to participate with all of our senses. That’s a really important function of the church – to disciple us as whole selves. Taking communion, audibly speaking during a responsive reading, to hold hands at the end of the service and say the Lord’s prayer together…
In one church we were members of, we stood in a circle during communion and could all see each other. In a circle like that, you can’t hide that you’re not doing well, which is scary and hard but also really beautiful.
There are so many ways we could invite one another to use our whole bodies and selves to worship God and be met by him in all of who we are, instead of just receiving something and hearing truth.
HEINZE: Now, if you could put your therapist hat on for a second. I’m going to use myself as an example, but I know there are a lot who feel like this.
When I go to church, I often leave more depressed than when I came. I’m immediately met with the smiles and the coffee and there’s a massive disconnect between what I feel and what the church sounds, looks, and talks like.
If, week after week, a depressed or anxious Christian leaves feeling worse than they did before, what’s a depressed Christian to do?
RAMSEY: I want to first affirm that experience with church being triggering, because that’s a reality that so many of us face – whether it’s because of depression or any kind of ongoing suffering.
It is so hard to come into a church and feel like you are instantly met with shiny, smiley faces whose lives don’t look like yours. It is so defeating and it is so triggering.
It’s not all on you to make the church a safer place.
To start with the part that’s not your responsibility: pastors and leaders and mental health professionals in the church have a responsibility to make the church a safer place for depressed Christians by making small and large changes to make it less triggering.
I just hope and pray there are more leaders who will take the time to read interviews like this, and listen to podcasts on mental health and, even more than that, listen to the people in their midst who are struggling.
As a therapist and as someone who suffers alongside you, I think we have a responsibility, as we are able, to keep showing up.
Sometimes it is too triggering to be in the midst of the body in certain seasons. Sometimes we can’t show up. Sometimes it is too much and we need time away from the gathered body of Christ in worship services so that we can come to place of homeostasis where our bodies feel safer and at peace and able to participate again.
Sometimes the traumatic circumstances in our lives are met with the trauma of going to church, and we need room to gain calm so that we can be a part of the body in safety and security again.
So there’s that.
But then there are many seasons in our lives where we need to do the courageous work of showing up and letting the body see us as we are, to come and push ourselves a little bit, to see past the shiny smiley faces and let them see our downcast faces, the faces stained with tears…to see that the people we thought were so shiny and happy are just hiding hidden pain, that every person there carries pain with them into the church service.
I do think we have to challenge ourselves to show up. Sometimes we’ll be met with things that are painful and will make us feel further isolated. And those are moments to remember the solidarity of Jesus Christ, who himself was misunderstood by those closest to him. He stands with us when we feel isolated in the presence of other Christians. There’s an intimacy there that can be beautiful and life-giving.
We can come to church with a tiny seed of expectant hope that we might be met with somebody who sees us, and will hear us and will understand and love.
I’ve found in my clinical practice and in my personal experience, sometimes we are surprised by the goodness that’s there, the people we meet, and the things we experience.
I’d encourage other weary Christians to not give up, to try, and to speak up. Sometimes that involves advocating for yourself and doing the hard thing and going up to the pastor and saying, “This is my experience, and I don’t fully feel safe here.” It takes a lot of courage.
HEINZE: Yeah, no one wants to be a prayer request.
RAMSEY: You don’t want to be the ongoing prayer request.
HEINZE: I read a book where the author included an anecdote about a lady who was dealing with chronic illness and had people come up to her, over and over, and ask, “How are you doing?” And she felt pressure to say she was doing better, that the suffering was drawing her ever closer to God. It was exhausting for her to feel like she had to continually affirm that suffering was bringing her closer to Christ.
If you’re dealing with a chronic illness and saying, “Actually I’m really starting to struggle to believe that God loves me,” people will wonder what you’re doing wrong to not let this suffering be drawing you closer to Christ.
RAMSEY: I identify with the story so much.
I can’t tell you how many times, over the past decade, I’ve had people come up with pity eyes and say, “How are you feeling?” The expectation is that you’ll be feeling better. That’s what they want to hear. We expect all difficulties to be short-term, so we check on each other with the expectation that things are going to improve. It’s so awkward, because some things might not improve fully.
So what I do—I’m kind of a bold person—I think the church is too nice. So I like to be willing to be honest with people, when I feel capable and when it feels worth it. I will be honest with them and say exactly how I’m doing. I’ll say, “I’m not doing better. Here’s what happened this week” or that I’m struggling with why God is allowing me to suffer like this when I’ve already suffered so much.
I think it’s just really important to be willing to be honest. When Christians who are suffering are honest with other Christians who maybe aren’t suffering so intensely, we’re actually discipling them to have a broader embrace of what reality is.
We’re discipling them on how to be honest with God and other people. Sometimes our honesty is a gift that other weary Christians and I give to the world.
And also, I gauge whether it’s worth it. It’s not always worth it. So sometimes, I will say very little in response to people because I have a sense they’re not safe or they don’t really want to know. I’m always checking with my own body and soul about how I feel, how safe I am, and how much energy I have. I want to honor where I’m at. If I don’t feel up for being that honest, then I honor that. It’s really important to honor our own need for safety.
HEINZE: Final question: Who is your favorite Christian author and Christian book, and favorite secular author and book.
RAMSEY: I love that question. She’s not well-known in the evangelical world for some reason, but Kathleen Norris is my favorite of all and her book, Acedia & Me is about the noonday demon, about melancholy, and she talks a lot about depression. She has really steeped her life in the contemplative tradition—especially the Benedictine tradition. Her work is beautiful and earthy, and I love it so much.
One of my favorite fiction writers as of the last couple years is Fredrik Backman. He wrote the novels, A Man Called Ove, Us Against You, and Beartown. His stories bring a lot of hope and comfort. They’re very quirky and sweet and describe the web of how we’re all connected to each other. They’re delightful.
WC: Thanks so much.
By the way, K.J. just wrote a great piece on lament in our church services for Christianity Today. Read it here.
K.J. Ramsey (MA, Denver Seminary) is a therapist, writer, and recovering idealist who believes sorrow and joy are necessary friends. Her first book, This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers, releases with Zondervan May 2020 and is available to preorder now. Follow her writing at kjramsey.com and on Instagram and Twitter.
