Faithful Paradox

I have battled clinical anxiety with seasons of depression on and off for more than three decades. This battle has, at its roots, held some of the deepest and most discouraging times in my faith. Because of this piece of my story, I am often drawn to articles in which believers address mental health through a Biblical lens. I find myself hoping there may be some nugget I’ve not considered; some approach to navigating these pains seen through fresh eyes.

I recently read an article written by a pastor about battling anxiety and depression. I imagine he must be one of some influence, given the tens of thousands of likes the post had. I do not know this man, nor do I question his heart or sincerity. I assume he is a godly man who loves the people he shepherds. After I finished reading his article, however, I asked my husband, “I wonder if this pastor has truly battled these things personally? I wonder if the thousands of people who liked his article understand that God’s word does not always work like a switch to turn off difficult emotions?”

His article was full of Scripture, which is a right and beautiful foundation. The issue that left me feeling discouraged, however, was his approach to handling these battles. He provided formula after formula of how to “fix” anxiety and depression. If someone was struggling, all they needed to do was… A+B=C.

He used phrases which felt very appealing; step out of the darkness into the light. Take off your garment of mourning and put on a garment of praise. Come to God with thanksgiving and he will in turn give you peace. Proclaim victory over darkness and God will give the longed-for joy, peace, hope, renewal, and restoration.

His formula for peace, which I have practiced countless times over the years came from Philippians 4: “Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again, rejoice… do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:4-7).

Rejoicing + Prayer and supplication + thanksgiving = peace

Most Christ followers have probably heard or practiced these things, and in many ways, they are a part of the discipline of growing in faith. They are the fruits of the Spirit that come with spiritual growth. The danger lies, however, when we begin to see fruit, not as a grace given by God, but as a formula for results that flows out of our own efforts.

What happens when the formulas don’t work; when the fruit we are hoping to see doesn’t grow? How do we counsel someone when worry and fear remain a battleground of the mind, despite vigilant efforts to instruct the mind into submission? What happens when the praise that used to come so easily now requires discipline and the discipline does not lift the heavy heart? How do you encourage the person for whom joy is a matter of the will and the sorrow never truly lifts? Is the discipline any less pleasing to God? Is faith lacking because the formulas don’t seem to work?

There is certainly personal responsibility for every Christian; disciplines which must be present for growth to occur. Yet a problem arises when those disciplines become the formula for how we think God ought to respond. I come to God with thanksgiving and praise, and he gives me peace with peace defined by my expectation. I come to God and give him my sorrow, I agree with him, and he gives me his joy, with joy defined by my desire. I come to him in courageous faith, without fear, and he gives me healing, with healing defined by my understanding.

The problem with a formulaic faith is that it boils faith down to a sum of actions as the key to unlocking results. Yet the end goal of faith is not that our desires might be fulfilled, but rather it is knowing Christ and the power of his resurrection, sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in death (Phil. 3:10). The end goal is knowing Christ and making him known; experiencing more of him and becoming like him.

Sometimes God’s gift of mercy in seasons of struggle and pain is that the formulas of faith fail and the place where equations collapse is often the space where abiding faith grows deeply. God’s kindness can be seen when formulas fail; when we are left confused and sometimes hurt, yet we still believe. It is in these times of confusion and pain we can begin to understand the formula was never meant to be the goal. God’s plan for his children is often not ease or even relief. God’s desire is that we would love and trust him, regardless of the trials we may face.

Looking back over my own journey with mental health, I cannot remember a time I came to God in the midst of a panic attack or unrelenting fear or sorrow and his answer to my pleas for help were met with relief. I came to him with thanksgiving. I presented my requests to him, I did everything I knew to abide, yet the promised peace of God, or at least peace as I expected it, never came.

His answer to me rarely involved the removal of anxiety or sorrow. In this I learned that God often responds in unexpected, and even sometimes disappointing ways, yet he is no less faithful. He taught me his nearness is enough, even when the fear and sorrow do not lift. He taught me the promised peace I have is ultimately peace with God; there is no longer enmity between God and man and my soul remains secure even as my mind battles. I learned his grace “is sufficient for [me] for [his] power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). And while “in the world [I] will have tribulation” ultimately, Christ has overcome the world and in that, there is great peace (John 16:33).

Looking back, I can see the mercy of God that came in ways I would not have expected; in ways I did not desire. Had God allowed the formulas to work, had I come to him with thanksgiving and presented my requests to him and the anxiety, panic, and sorrow lifted, I would have grown to long for more and more relief. I would have believed that God could somehow be found in a formula; that the outcome could be controlled. I could pray and he would answer in the ways I thought he should. In his faithfulness, he trained my heart to look for him, despite the pain that still remained. I learned that I can “boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Cor. 12:9).

For those who tend to approach faith as a formula, there will inevitably come a time in which the formula does not bring the hoped for answers. The healing will not come or the sorrow will not lift. Joy will become a discipline or anxiety and fear will not submit. The faithful child will walk away or the prodigal may not return. The relationship might not be restored. The increase may never happen and the understanding never comes.

In these times, when the formula of faith does not bring about the answers we are hoping to receive, we can know with certainty that God has not changed. He is always full of kindness and mercy, and as the formulas collapse, he is pouring out his mercy and kindness. When our formulas fail or when God’s answer to our pleas for relief is “not right now” or “not in the way you hoped,” we can be confident there are gifts God has which will ultimately show his power being perfected in our weakness. In this, we can see the mercy of God.