The month of May in the US is mental health awareness month. I’d like to complete this month with a personal reflection.
We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.
Romans 6:4
We should acknowledge a dark aspect of our Christian faith. The apostle Paul alluded to despair of life itself. Jesus pleaded sorrow to the point of death. The life to the full promised to Jesus’ followers isn’t as much happiness as it is completeness. In this life, through Jesus we have a framework that safely allows us to experience the heart wrenching lows like Jesus wailing over those mourning for Lazarus, and the joy filled highs as Rhoda finds Peter alive at the door.
In baptism we share not only the resurrected life of Jesus, but the pain and anguish of death and burial. Mental illness is part of this pain. And like any illness, sometimes like a cold, a couple days in bed takes care of it. Sometimes, like a broken bone, it’s more serious, requiring hospital care. Sometimes, like diabetes, the illness is chronic, requiring vigilance, long-term treatment, and sometimes a no-holds-barred intervention.
In the resurrected life there is the hope of God. In our allegiance to him through baptism, we join him in his work of restoration. In this work fathers have a sacred calling. There is the hope of a father who drops what he’s doing to be present on the other end of a two-hour phone call because he’s unsure of the outcome if he ends the call before she’s ready. There is the hope of a father who places no judgement on his daughter who could not muster the will to do the work to pass a class. There is the hope of a father who spends an hour waiting with his daughter who finally musters up the courage to step into an elevator.
There is the hope of a father humble enough to understand that he himself is broken so he seeks the treatment his family needs him to want.
Our hope is in our partnership with each other in Jesus. Our calling in this resurrected life is to join in the work God is doing to restore his creation. Our care for the mental health of ourselves and each other is foundational and restorative.
You know, sometimes we read a passage like Philippians 4:6-7
do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
And because there is no peace in our hearts we might think, “I must be praying incorrectly.” Or maybe, “ ‘This peace of God’ just can’t be true.”
Paul knows the difficulty of reality. Praying to a point that conquers anxiety is foreign even to him. Only a few paragraphs earlier Paul tells the Philippians that
I have thought it necessary to send to you Epaphroditus my brother and fellow worker and fellow soldier, and your messenger and minister to my need, for he has been longing for you all and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill. Indeed he was ill, near to death. But God had mercy on him, and not only on him but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow. I am the more eager to send him, therefore, that you may rejoice at seeing him again, and that I may be less anxious.
Philippians 2:25-28
What Paul didn’t say is that, “I prayed for Epaphroditus and it all got better.” No, Paul experienced relief that God spared him more sorrow on top of his existing sorrow and anxiety.
The trauma of life so followed Paul that he and his companions were
so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death.
2 Corinthians 1:8-9
I have limited experience with the first century understanding of mental health other than the New Testament authors pointing out someone demon possessed or “in his right mind” in a handful of instances. It seems they knew something of it. It would be difficult given Paul’s descriptions and what we understand of the historical brutality that enforced the peace of the Roman Empire that the realities of, say, PTSD weren’t unknown if not prevalent.
It’s much too simplistic to point out a “command” like
Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.
1 Peter 5:6-7
and think that prayer, as I’ve heard the advice given, will heal your mental illness. Peter, in this case mentions nothing about healing. That’s not to say we shouldn’t pray. In fact prayer can bring the peace of God in the midst of upheaval in our hearts, akin to Jesus sleeping in the boat. The wind and the waves were still present, yet Jesus slept. When referencing passages like these, the honest and life-giving approach is to frame them within the struggle of the human experience.
My family recently provided our thoughts about mental illness in a communion message. My wife shared about her own failures when helping our family navigate mental illness. She provided a wish list of items she wished she had done better. After service, she let me know that she forgot one: I wish I would have respected my children’s privacy and not talked about them to other people just because I was feeling insecure. This woman is my hero. She makes the space to reflect deeply on herself. I appreciate her so much and am grateful that I get a chance to partner with her in our life together.
Let’s continue the ongoing work in partnering with God to restore his creation. And in that work let’s provide the support for each other as we work to heal and manage our mental health.