Mental Illness, Suicide, and the Body of Christ
There are some subjects Christians have not always been comfortable talking about openly. Mental illness is one of them. Suicide is another.
When I first spoke about this several years ago, two friends had recently lost children in tragic circumstances. At the same time, I was seeing Christians respond to conversations about mental illness and suicide with judgement, condemnation, and painfully simplistic answers.
I wasn’t feeling particularly diplomatic at that time.
And so, I’ve softened the tone but I’ve kept the message.
For years, I’ve heard variations of the same warnings. Don’t speak those words over yourself. Don’t give the enemy a foothold. Declare the opposite. Quote more Scripture. Have more faith.
There can almost be a superstition around even mentioning depression, anxiety, or suicide, as though saying the words aloud somehow gives them power.
If you remember the movie *Beetlejuice*, you’ll understand what I mean. Say his name three times and bad things happen.
Some Christians have developed their own version of the Beetlejuice rule. Don’t say depression. Don’t say anxiety. Definitely don’t say suicide. We might somehow summon the very thing we’re talking about.
Meanwhile, people who love Jesus are suffering in silence because they’re afraid of what other Christians might think if they admit they’re not okay.
That silence can be deadly.
I believe two things have caused enormous damage within the Body of Christ when it comes to mental illness and suicide: isolation and silence.
Before going any further, I want to make something clear. There is no room here for condemnation of people struggling with depression, anxiety, mental illness, or suicidal thoughts. There is also no room for condemnation of those who have died by suicide or the families who grieve them.
People who are already drowning in guilt, shame, frustration, and despair don’t need Christians standing on the shore explaining what they’ve done wrong.
They need us to get in the water.
Isolation
Over the years, I’ve known Christians who died by suicide. They loved the Lord. They served others. They knew their Bibles. Their deaths weren’t evidence that they didn’t love God enough.
One was the leader of a ministry that reached out to people who needed emotional and mental healing. He had battled chronic depression for much of his life and had experienced significant freedom. He shared his testimony openly and confidently, believing that the God who had brought freedom into his life could bring freedom to others.
Then depression returned.
I can’t say for sure and I can only speculate, but the heavy burden of the depression combined with the pressure of being a public spokesperson for mental health issues within the Church could have been overwhelming.
Eventually, his suffering became so overpowering that he reached a place where he could no longer see another way out.
Another was a young teenager. Her family and loved ones had noticed troubling changes and tried to get her help. Eventually, she withdrew further and further until she, too, died by suicide.
Different people. Different circumstances.
But isolation was present in both stories.
The things pursuing us may have names such as frustration, resentment, loneliness, rejection, fear, financial pressure, shame, or that deep feeling that we’re somehow failing at life.
The voice of the accuser chastises us, and sometimes that voice can sound remarkably like our own.
“You shouldn’t be struggling like this.”
“Everyone else seems to be doing better. Everyone else seems stronger. Everyone else apparently has enough faith.”
“Maybe you’re not a very good Christian after all.”
And so we withdraw.
The further we withdraw, the louder those voices become. Shame makes it harder to reach out, and isolation makes us increasingly vulnerable.
Unfortunately, the Church hasn’t always made reaching out very safe.
There are times when Christians and churches have shown less compassion toward the walking wounded than an animal herd shows toward one of its own.
If you’ve ever watched elephants protecting a vulnerable member of their herd, you’ve probably seen them move toward the one in danger. They surround them. They put themselves between the vulnerable animal and the threat.
We haven’t always done that well.
When someone finally admits they’re struggling, we can be remarkably quick with answers.
Read this passage. Memorize this Scripture. Sing this worship song. Make this declaration. Pray harder. Have more faith.
None of those things are necessarily wrong. Scripture matters. Prayer matters. Worship matters.
But there are moments when the person sitting in front of us doesn’t need another assignment.
They need somebody willing to sit quietly with some Holy Ghost duct tape over their lips and amplifiers over their ears.
Listen.
Sit patiently and allow them tell the truth about where they are at while resisting the urge to tell them what their truth is.
What is brought into the light no longer has to be carried alone.
They need gentleness and reassurance. They need someone who isn’t frightened by their pain. They need to know that admitting they’re struggling isn’t going to result in a lecture, a theological debate, or a list of everything they should be doing differently.
There may eventually be a time to work through some of the things that contributed to where they are. But when someone is in immediate crisis, that isn’t the time to start handing out spiritual homework.
First, help them become safe.
Break the Silence Early
If any of this sounds familiar because you’re beginning to recognise it in yourself, please don’t wait until things become unbearable before reaching out.
Maybe you’re waking up depressed and finding it difficult to put one foot in front of the other.
Maybe you’re beginning to believe you’re a failure.
Maybe everybody else in the Body of Christ seems to be doing so much better than you.
Maybe you yelled at your children and now you’re convinced you’re a terrible parent. Maybe you’re struggling financially and feel like you’ve failed your family. Maybe you’ve made decisions you regret and can’t see how you’re ever going to get out of the consequences.
Whatever the circumstances, if those negative thoughts are becoming more frequent or more intense, seek help now.
And if you’ve been afraid to approach Christians because you’ve watched Christians condemn other people for struggling with mental illness, please don’t let that stop you from seeking professional help.
Reach out.
If possible, tell someone you trust face to face. If disability, geography, or other circumstances make that difficult, find another way to connect with a trustworthy person who will take you seriously.
You don’t have to wait until you can explain everything properly.
You don’t have to get yourself together before asking for help.
And to the Rest of Us
We need to stop looking for quick fixes.
We need to give people room to tell the truth about what they’re experiencing without immediately correcting their vocabulary, questioning their faith, or trying to talk them out of their emotions.
Have we forgotten the Psalms?
Scripture itself gives us the words of people crying from places of despair, fear, anguish, abandonment, exhaustion, and hopelessness. God didn’t remove those passages from Scripture because they weren’t sufficiently positive.
Perhaps that should tell us something.
We don’t have to be afraid of honest conversations about mental illness. We don’t have to treat words such as depression, anxiety, and suicide as though speaking them aloud somehow gives them greater power.
We need to open the conversation.
We need to make it safer for people to tell us when they’re struggling.
And those of us who are struggling need to resist the shame that tells us to disappear until we’re doing better.
Isolation and silence thrive together.
Let’s stop helping them.
If this article has stirred something in you: If you’re in immediate danger or believe you may act on suicidal thoughts, contact emergency services or a crisis service where you live, or go to the nearest emergency department. Trained crisis workers can listen, help you stay safe, and help you determine what to do next.
If you’re struggling but aren’t in immediate danger, please tell someone today. A trusted friend, family member, pastor, counsellor, doctor, or mental health professional can help you take the next step.
You don’t need to have the right words. You don’t need to explain everything perfectly.
Please don’t struggle alone.
