Jonathan’s

When Depression Descends

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Author’s note: This article should not be used to diagnose or treat clinical depression. If you are having thoughts of hurting yourself or attempting suicide, please seek out a medical and/or mental health professional immediately, visit the Lifeline online, or call 1-800-273-8255 (U.S.). A list of international suicide prevention hotlines can be viewed here and here. — Jonathan

It feels like a leaden mantle descending over everything, blotting out the sun, joy, and the belief that there is anything good in the world. It leaves your feet bolted to the floor and your heart frozen in the empty void of black space.

It feels like liquid cement pouring into your body, heavy and thick, slowly solidifying, hardening, restricting movement. It feels like your chest is being crushed. Like a polio victim without an iron lung, desperately searching for the energy to overcome diaphragmatic paralysis. It feels like a suffocation.

It doesn’t always feel like sadness. It might look like incessant weeping, sure, but it just might look like staring at a blank wall for fifteen minutes. Unmoving.

Even if you’re a missionary. Even if you love your wife and kids. Even if you have enough money and love your job. Even if you have a fulfilling ministry, both on and offline. Even if you work with therapists and help pastor a church. Even if you love the Psalms and know about lament and have written extensively about emotional health. Even if you’ve studied depression and sat with suicidal clients (in a counseling center) and patients (in an ER). Even if.

Sometimes, it’s just there, and it is so terribly heavy.

I have been there. And still, after our unplanned transition back to America, our dislocation and eventual resettling, COVID-19, a dark winter, and political chaos, it still threatens. Occasionally I get a whiff of the darkness, and it turns my stomach sour.

If you’ve been there, if you’ve felt these things, please know this: you are not alone.

For me, at the scariest point, I started thinking about ending my life. I never developed a plan (which is a blaring warning sign, especially if the person has the means to carry out the plan), but I was ruminating more and more about death and dying, and it scared me tremendously.

I had started taking an occasional non-narcotic pain medication to help me sleep. In Cambodia, so many prescription medications do not require a prescription and are available in blister packs at the cash register. This can be handy, but it’s also very dangerous and should probably be the topic of a later essay. Anyways, we had neighbors on both sides of our row house that kept very late hours. On one side, it was drunk karaoke followed by the smashing and screaming of domestic violence. On the other side, it was a bit of a house-turned-warehouse where they repackaged boxes for local distribution – think screeching packing tape – until 1 or 2 am nightly. The packaging center was about three feet away from the head of our bed. The drunken abuse was about five feet from the foot of our bed. Bricks and a little plaster and tile were not enough. I wasn’t sleeping well, and I was getting more and more anxious and agitated.

So I started taking this medication.

Looking back, I think the spiritual, environmental, and psychological stresses brought me to the tipping point, and the medication nudged me over the edge.

Incentive to Hide

In any sort of Christian ministry, there can be an immense incentive to hide things like this. If the person who’s asking how you’re doing also has the power to fire you, relocate your family, or detach you, your spouse, and your kids from your church, school, and social support, well, honestly, that’s a ridiculous ask. (I’m not saying that’s a healthy dynamic, by the way, I’m just saying that it’s pretty typical in the missions world. Again, another essay for another time.)

But when it comes to depression, silence could be deadly. And while I certainly understand the reasons for hiding, hiding depression can lengthen your misery, shielding you from help and resources. Depression is very treatable once it’s identified.

Don’t hide, and please oh please don’t feel like you’re a failed Christian or a failed missionary just because you’re depressed. You’re not less than or anything of the sort; you just may need a little bit of extra support for a time.

I did.

I still do from time to time.

How to Respond: Tell Someone

I talked with a doctor. I’ll never forget the day he said, “You know, it’s a rare side effect, but it is a documented side effect of that particular medication.” I went home and threw those blister packs in the trash like they were filled with gecko poop and crawling with giant cockroaches.

I increased the frequency of meetings with two good friends, one of whom was a therapist and one of whom was a pastor. I broadened my support base. I changed my diet, reducing processed foods and sugar, increasing fruits and vegetables. I started exercising more.

If you’re not sure, but you think you might be depressed, please consult with your doctor and/or a mental health professional. Check out our resources page for mental health professionals in your area. You do not have to do this alone.

There are so many resources available, and there are so many treatment modalities that are proven to help (talk therapy, medications, lifestyle changes, etc.). You do not have to do this alone.

NOTE: If someone hears your story and tells you that you just need to try harder or read your Bible more or root out the sin in your life or be more disciplined or some such nonsense, please smile and nod, turn around, and run the other direction towards someone who will give you good advice. Because that person’s not.

How to Respond: Educate Yourself

Sometimes, the depression’s so thick that you don’t have it in you to do any sort of online research or reading. That’s ok. If that’s where you’re at, reach out to someone and skip this part.

But if you can and if you want to, remember that you have access to a whole host of online resources. I typically turn to the Mayo Clinic or the Cleveland Clinic for medically accurate information that’s written for non-medical folks. Read their information on depression here and here and chronic depression (over two years) here and here.

The NHS has a short depression self-assessment tool that might also be a helpful place to start.

And now, please don’t laugh, but I REALLY appreciated the material in the book Cognitive Behavioural Therapy for Dummies, by Rhena Branch and Rob Willson. Their section on depression has been immensely helpful for me and several friends. Check it out.

Additional Resources

This is the first time I’ve written so explicitly about depression. Here are some musings (and a sermon/podcast) about related things, like Grief, C.S. Lewis and the Deeper Magic, and Hope.

Remember, you are not alone. The promises are true.

You are not alone.

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From the Mayo Clinic: When to get emergency help

If you think you may hurt yourself or attempt suicide, call 911 or your local emergency number immediately.

Also consider these options if you’re having suicidal thoughts:

  • Call your doctor or mental health professional.
  • Call a suicide hotline number — in the U.S., call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255). Use that same number and press “1” to reach the Veterans Crisis Line. [Visit their website here.]
  • Reach out to a close friend or loved one.
  • Contact a minister, spiritual leader or someone else in your faith community.

If you have a loved one who is in danger of suicide or has made a suicide attempt, make sure someone stays with that person. Call 911 or your local emergency number immediately. Or, if you think you can do so safely, take the person to the nearest hospital emergency room.

Eight Hundred Thousand

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When you think of COVID-19, where do you start? What’s your initial gut reaction to discussions of pandemic response, vaccines, etc.?

Obviously, these are treacherous waters, and our society has fractured along some new and some old fault lines. But why? I’ve been pondering this hard, trying to figure out, as an American, as a Christian, what motivates (or scares?) people in these discussions. It seems to me that the primary difference in these discussions hinges on whether you believe that the pandemic threatens either liberty or life.

For some, the pandemic is an overblown risk that governments around the world are seizing upon as an opportunity to strip away liberties and long-held freedoms: freedom of movement, bodily autonomy, even the freedom to worship.

For others, the pandemic involves a deadly disease that has killed 800,000 people in our country alone, and governments (and people) have a responsibility to mitigate the loss of life as much as possible.

Where we start often determines where we end up, so this matters.

If the issues circle around freedom, you’re likely to claim government overreach, saying things like “Don’t tread on me” or “Give me liberty or give me death.” Vaccine requirements, social distancing, and even mask mandates, present an existential threat to your freedoms. Fair enough.

If the issues circle around public health and the threat to life (yours and others’), you’re more likely to embrace masks and vaccines and be ok with government regulations that aim to prevent the spread of a deadly pathogen. You’re willing to give up some liberty and some opportunities. Also, fair enough.

If you’ve read much of what I’ve written, you know which side I generally reside in. As an ER nurse and pastor/missionary for twenty years, one of the hardest things for me to reconcile has been the fact that so many Christians seem to reside — almost exclusively — on the liberty side. Sean Feucht’s “Let Us Worship” gatherings represent what I’m talking about. White evangelical Christians have seemed so very LOUD when it comes to defending religious liberty and bodily autonomy. I have not heard so much about masking and vaccines as a form of loving your neighbor. Those things are ploys of the devil (or democrats) to steal my liberties.

But 800,000 souls have been lost in our country alone, and the tidal waves of grief and loss emanating from those losses impact millions. So many people (including several friends) are dealing with long-haul COVID, and that is no joke. Again, we’re just talking about the US here. Hospitals and healthcare staff around the country are being stretched to the margins, and we may only be at the beginning of a winter surge.

I guess what I’m saying is, let’s look at our starting points and honestly assess them. Hey, I love freedom, and I’m glad I live in America. I am grateful for the parts of our heritage that value liberty and freedom. Those are worth caring about and defending. But as a Christian, if my biggest concern and motivating factor is personal freedom (even of religion), I’ve lost the plot. We are called to so much more.

I’ve heard pastors say that we shouldn’t worry because 99% of people who get COVID will be fine. That gives you personally a pretty good chance, sure, but across a population, that would mean over three million dead Americans. Can someone care about those deaths without being a communist?

Is there a middle ground? Is it possible to care about liberty and life? Is it possible to recognize that some mitigation measures have been too onerous and caused way too many negative outcomes, while also having empathy for the sick and vulnerable and acting in their best interests? Is it possible to care about life and not support draconian lockdowns? Is it possible to worship God without exposing everyone around you to a potentially lethal pathogen?

Is it possible to behave with mercy and gentleness and the love of Christ in this day and age?

I hope so.

Book Review: Where the Light Fell

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by Jonathan

I thought I’d like this memoir from Philip Yancey, but I had no idea it would be such a page turner, lurching from fundamentalism to racism to grace to dysfunction to mercy to LSD to classical piano to faith and on and on and on.

“An upbringing under a wrathful God does not easily fade away.”

For someone who’s written so much (and so gently) about suffering and grace, I should not have been surprised at the terror, trauma, and healing present in Yancey’s story.

“Like every secret, it gained power as it lay hidden.”

If you’ve wrestled with religious burn out, or if you’ve had a hard time reconciling the church with Christ, you might resonate with this book.

“As a boy wandering in the woods, a teenager constructing a psychic survival shell, a lovesick college student running from the Hound of Heaven — in all those places I found what T.S. Eliot called ‘a tremour of bliss, a wink of heaven, a whisper.’ I came to love God out of gratitude, not fear.”

This book will endure for quite some time, I think.

Find it on Amazon here.*

*Amazon affiliate link

Dead Grass

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by Jonathan

It was a weird shape outside my childhood bedroom window. A trapezoidal spot of dead grass that appeared during a terribly hot stretch of a long August, drawing unwanted attention in an otherwise green yard.

My parents had built their dream home several years prior, and they had taken particular care to tend the lawn. My parents had done well, which made this blight of death even more odd.

I remember digging with my dad.

I remember the smell of dirt, of mystery being unearthed.

And I remember striking plywood, oddly shaped, a few inches below the surface. Apparent detritus from the building process, it had somehow gotten buried under two or three inches of dirt. The grass had grown well there, for a time. But the roots weren’t deep enough for the long haul. The grass had withered.

For many in this season of pandemic and politics, of race and abuse, the grass has withered. It’s been a long season in our country and in our churches, and some things have wilted in weird ways. Blades that were once virile are burned, and we’re scared of digging. We’re scared of what we might find if we start overturning sod.

For some, the digging has already commenced. It’s terrifying, for sure, but the mess of unearthing the blockage is paving the way for a reseeding. Maybe.

And you?

Have you found yourself wondering where the life has gone? Have you felt the scorch of disappointment and confusion, like you’ve been bearing witness to the scouring of the Shire?

Perhaps it’s time to grab a shovel, not to destroy or annihilate, but to exhume. Perhaps there’s some piece of plywood that’s been neglected a season too long.

But remember, shovels are useful for planting, too.

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Scot McKnight spent a few newsletters talking about these ideas, so if these musings resonate at all, continue your excavation here:

  1. Beyond Deconstruction: Start Here
  2. Beyond Deconstruction: Second Term
  3. Beyond Deconstruction: Third Term

Marriage as confinement or freedom: notes from a wedding

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by Jonathan

I’ve had the privilege recently to officiate a couple of weddings. It’s one of those roles where people really won’t remember anything you say or do unless you mess up. THEN people remember. Anyways, I thought I’d share some of my notes from a recent wedding.

[Condensed and slightly edited speaking notes]

I just want to do two things today: Remind you of the beauty of marriage (Hint: it’s even better than the wedding), and offer a blessing for your union.

First: The Beauty of Marriage

Marriage is for intimacy.

The sharing of souls and dreams and flesh.

The first taste of summer.

Remember, marriage, the joining together of two unique persons, predates sin and exists beyond it. Marriage is NOT simply two wicked sinners scratching to eek out an existence together. That’s WAY TOO SMALL! It’s way too POST-fall and not enough POST-resurrection.

Marriage satisfied Adam and Eve. Marriage excites Jesus. The first marriage was designed by a loving Father, for joy and companionship. Closeness. It was good. The last marriage is a proclamation of Love’s victory and our salvation that echoes in eternal joy and companionship and glory.

The wedding supper of the LAMB.

A celebration such as the world has never seen.

“Happy are those who have been invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb!” (Rev 19:9)

Your marriage is an echo of that! That’s fantastic! In his book, Reversed Thunder, Eugene Peterson says this about salvation:

“The root meaning in Hebrew of ‘salvation’ is to be broad, to become spacious, to enlarge. It carries the sense of deliverance from an existence that has become compressed, confined, and cramped.”

Salvation allows for an ever-expanding vision. Salvation is not just a get out of jail free card. Marriage doesn’t save you. Of course it doesn’t. That’d be heretical and I’m too tired for that. I’m NOT saying marriage can save you. I AM saying that marriage can be a raw, earthy reminder of a fantastical, cosmic truth.

Two people, in a faithful and loving marriage, can show an existence and an intimacy that broadens over time, that becomes spacious, roomy, and secure. Marriage is the mysterious coming together of two people; the blending of heart and vessel and marrow. The tearing of the veil. Intimate.

Your marriage does NOT have to be a place where you become compressed, confined, and cramped. It can in fact become a place where you become more deeply known than you can even fathom. Deeply known. Fully loved. AND FREE. Show the world THAT.

Marriage is a beautiful thing. Marriage is a great gift, and we honor the Giver when we accept the gift with joy and excitement (AND A PARTY!). We honor him when we treasure each other, respect each other, serve each other, know each other. Yes, marriage is sometimes hard, and life is not all peaches and cream, but it really can be beautiful.

And number two, I’d like to offer a simple marriage blessing.

May your marriage be beautiful. May it remind you often that God gives good gifts. Very good gifts.

May you remember that God didn’t put Adam and Eve together to give them holiness, but a companion, a comrade, confidant, and friend.

May people look at your love and see that there is a God and he is awesome.

May you show the world – and the Church – that it’s not about submission or obedience or “who’s in charge.” That in your love and mutual submission, you will race each other to the bottom. And when you get to the bottom, may you find love, wholeness, joy, peace, and life. In other words, Jesus.

May you laugh often. At each other, with each other, because of each other.

And if and when God fills your home with children, may you sit around the table and laugh and laugh and laugh.

May you taste heaven when you taste each other.

And when you walk through the shadowlands, and you will walk through the shadowlands, may the One who led you together continue to lead you together.

He is the Creator of the soaring mountaintops and the scary valleys. May he sustain you and remind you.

May 2021 be the best year of your marriage. Until 2022. And may 2022 be the best year of your marriage. Until 2023.

May you experience the intense joy of being known, deeply, and the great honor of knowing another.

May your love, promised and given on this day, echo into eternity. May people hear your stories, witness your love, and say from now until forever, “Look at what the Lord has done!”

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A Marriage Blessing originally appeared here.

Click here for more resources on Marriage.

To listen to part one of our three-part podcast on marriage, click here.

The initial quote about marriage being for intimacy comes from this article.