Saddleback Church’s Kay Warren lost her son to suicide eight years ago, and since then, has devoted much of her time to raising awareness of mental health in the church through the Saddleback’s Hope for Mental Health Initiative.

Last week, she spoke about mental health at the Evangelical Press Association Christians Media Convention, and delivered this vital message.

Warren, according to the Christian Post:

“Nobody wants to be thought of as having a mental health challenge…..Mental illness is part of our body; it’s part of the physical part of our body. And when you can let people know that it’s not a sin to be sick and your church is a … safe place to bring your brokenness, then we’re beginning to remove the stigma.”

Now…. as we know, Jesus broke health stigmas left and right, and yet the Christian church (particularly the evangelical Christian church) seems to be one of the final institutions in the United States, still stigmatizing mental health.

There are plenty of reasons for this, but a particularly pernicious one is that we’ve preached a Victorious Christianity where our spiritual salvation isn’t just about spiritual salvation, but some kind of “physical-life-salvation,” about the American Dream and living “your best life now.” It’s heresy.

And it’s very difficult for Christians, struggling with depression, anxiety, OCD etc., to feel welcome in these kinds of environments and why should we?

If Christianity is defined by Victory in Life, then I’ve shown up at the wrong building.

And that’s exactly how a lot of us feel.

The Christian Post notes that a 2014 poll found 25% of Christians had either stopped attending churches or switched based on that church’s attitude towards mental health.

In his book chronicling his own battle with depression and anxiety (read our interview here), Christian philosopher J.P. Moreland wrote about delivering a guest sermon at a large California church.

During first service, he explicitly mentioned he took antidepressants and then frankly discussed the reality of depression.

Before second service, an elder pulled him aside, and strictly warned him not to speak about it again.

Moreland, of course, was never invited back.

But I’m sure that his courage changed the life of some poor travelers that morning, who might have called their doctor the next morning.

(Speaking of which, here’s a psychiatrist and therapist near you).

One final note: Warren also pushed Christian churches in another really important direction — we need to provide referrals to qualified mental health professionals in the area.

That’s absolutely critical.

Pastors have degrees of divinity, not psychiatry. They’re very different fields. We wouldn’t expect a pastor treat a knee injury.

The greatest thing a pastor can do is talk publicly about their own struggles with mental health (see some courageous examples here, here, here, and here), and refer patients to professionals.

Oh, and as a bonus, a pastor could hang up the picture below in their office.

It’s an MRI showing a key difference in the cingulo-opercular network of the brain between folks who have OCD and those who don’t (based on this study).

Imagine a Christian struggling with OCD, visiting her pastor, scanning the wall, and finding this, framed. Woohoo!

That might sound weird and completely inappropriate to alpha happy Christians.

But to me, to us, to the weary, to the “weird,” it sounds like home.

And it’s all in the Greek, and the only reason we rarely hear this is because our translations do such a woeful job of the Greek word ekthambeisthai.

Tim Keller, writing in Encounters with Jesus, of Christ’s time in Gethsemane:

*****************************************************************************************************************************

“Matthew indicates that as Jesus was walking away from the larger group of disciples with Peter, James, and John toward the garden for prayer, ‘he began [emphasis mine] to be sorrowful and troubled’ (Matthew 26:37).

This change happens as he is in en route — it almost seems to descend on him in real time. Not only was this mental agony so enormous that he thought he was going to die, but according to Mark he was astounded by it.

Mark uses the Greek word ekthambeisthai, which means to be moved to an ‘intense emotional state because of something causing great surprise or perplexity’.

Some English translations mute the meaning of this term and just translate it as ‘deeply distressed’ (as in the NIV).

I wonder if that is because we have a feeling that if Jesus really is who he says he is — the infinitely preexisting Son of God come to earth — he couldn’t be thunderstruck by anything.

How could the Second Person of the Trinity, who even in human form seems to anticipate every eventuality, be shocked?

But he is.

He’s reeling, dumbfounded, astonished.

As he is on his way to pray, a darkness and horror comes down on him beyond anything he could have anticipated, and the pain of it makes him feel he is disintegrating on the spot.”

*****************************************************************************************************************************

Wow, yes, as Keller says, I’m surprised by that and I think most Christians would be, too.

But if Jesus empathizes with all our suffering, then wouldn’t he also know about the surprise of suffering?

When you’ve been through something terrible and you know that you’re going to suffer it again tomorrow, you don’t necessarily feel better, but it does help to know what’s in store.

But when you think it’s going to be a blue-sky day, and you’re hit with a shocking phone call that your child has cancer, what do you do with that?

It’s both a new and surprising suffering, and that’s the worst kind of all.

Keller points out that the Greek seems to indicate that, although Christ knew he would suffer, he was just starting to truly understand how terrible it would be.

And if you’re going through some new suffering that shocks you, Jesus knows exactly how that feels.

We often use the word “surprise” in a positive way, but surprising suffering is as deep and disorienting as it gets, and the one who loves you to the end knows just what it’s like.

So just pray, “Jesus, you know what this is like.”

And he will nod, and he will stay with you — the parent who never leaves his child’s bedside because that’s where his heart is.

In his book, Encounters with Jesus, Tim Keller flags this sermon from J.C. Ryle, and here’s a $$ quote from the Anglican bishop.

Ryle’s whole sermon here, and a choice bit below. (but after you do, please read my disclaimer below it).

“Now assurance goes far to set a child of God free from this painful kind of bondage, and thus ministers mightily to his comfort.

It enables him to feel that the great business of life is a settled business, the great debt a paid debt, the great disease a healed disease, and the great work a finished work; and all other business, diseases, debts, and works, are then by comparison small.

…..Assurance will help a man to bear poverty and loss. It will teach him to say, “I know that I have in heaven a better and more enduring substance. Silver and gold have I none, but grace and glory are mine, and these can never make themselves wings and flee away. Though the fig tree shall not blossom, yet I will rejoice in the Lord.” (Habak. iii. 17, 18.)

Assurance will support a child of God under the heaviest bereavements, and assist him to feel “It is well.” An assured soul will say, “Though beloved ones are taken from me, yet Jesus is the same, and is alive for evermore. Though my house be not as flesh and blood could wish, yet I have an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure.” (2 Kings iv. 26; Heb. xiii. 8; 2 Sam. xxiii. 5.)

Assurance will enable a man to praise God, and be thankful, even in a prison, like Paul and Silas at Philippi. It can give a believer songs even in the darkest night, and joy when all things seem going against him. (Job ii. 10; Psalm xlii. 8.)

Assurance will enable a man to sleep with the full prospect of death on the morrow, like Peter in Herod’s dungeon. It will teach him to say, “I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for thou, Lord, only makest me to dwell in safety.” (Psalm iv. 8.)

Assurance can make a man rejoice to suffer shame for Christ’s sake, as the Apostles did. It will remind him that he may “rejoice and be exceeding glad “ (Matt. v. 12), and that there is in heaven an exceeding weight of glory that shall make amends for all. (2 Cor. iv. 17.)

Assurance will enable a believer to meet a violent and painful death without fear, as Stephen did in the beginning of Christ’s Church, and as Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer, and Taylor did in our own land. It will bring to his heart the texts, “Be not afraid of them which kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do.” (Luke xii. 4.) “Lord Jesus receive my spirit.” (Acts vii. 59.)10

Assurance will support a man in pain and sickness, make all his bed, smooth down his dying pillow. It will enable him to say, “If my earthly house fail, I have a building of God.” (2 Cor. v. 1.) “I desire to depart and be with Christ.” (Phil. i. 23.) “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.”11 (Psalm lxxiii. 26.)

Reader, the comfort assurance can give in the hour of death is a point of great importance. Believe me, you will never think assurance so precious as when your turn comes to die.

In that awful hour, there are few believers who do not find out the value and privilege of an “assured hope,” whatever they may have thought about it during their lives. General “hopes” and “trusts” are all very well to live upon, while the sun shines, and the body is strong: but when you come to die, you will want to be able to say, “I know” and “I feel.”

Believe me, Jordan is a cold stream, and we have to cross it alone. No earthly friend can help us. The last enemy, even death, is a strong foe. When our souls are departing there is no cordial like the strong wine of assurance.

Amen.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t add this. Medication also helps.

I like that bit by on assurance by Ryle, and perhaps you did, as well.

But I also want to remind you that if reading that passage does nothing for your depression or anxiety, for your spirituality, then it is not that assurance does nothing for you — it is that your depression and anxiety work against your assurance.

Of course, you’re still God’s child, but if you have a mental health disorder, it’s far harder to feel assured of anything.

Which is why I always urge people to take care of their mental health for their spiritual health.

When your mind is working as intended, then it’s much easier to really believe that God’s promise is for YOU, and not just someone else.

I recently spoke with Diana Gruver who’s written about famous Christians with depression, and one such was the poet and hymn-writer William Cowper, who believed Christ’s redemption applied to everyone but him.

And when you’re depressed, that’s the kind of self-loathing that can make it impossible for us to feel anyone could love us — much less the perfect, sinless Christ.

Once you manage your depression, assurance becomes a much more beautiful thing because it doesn’t feel foreign. When you feel, “Ah, this actually is for me, too,” then well, everything gets better.