Work at Home Success By Jill Hart
Mom Laughs By Cheryl Moeller
Simplifying Motherhood By Trish Berg
Ask A Twin Mommy By Cheryl Lage
Mothering By Heart By Cheri Fuller
Jelly Mom By Lisa Barker
Family Check-up By Sheila Wray Gregoire
Parent to Parent By Jodie Lynn
Moments for Mom By Elisabeth Corcoran
Making the Most of Marriage By Paula Friedrichsen
Seeing in the Dark by Gary Kinnaman and Richard Jacobs, MD
Unless you've experienced depression, or you are a trained professional, you may not understand what it is or how to treat it. That's why we are writing this book. I (Gary) have struggled with low-grade chronic depression (the technical term is dysthymia) for most of my life. For years I've wanted to tell my story because of all the misunderstanding about depression, especially in the Christian community. I am living proof (one of the many) that Christians can and do suffer from depression! It's time to acknowledge this fact and learn how we can deal with it in the most constructive way possible.
Not long ago a friend of mine in full-time ministry shared with me about his serious depression over losing a child. He had always suffered with some elements of depression in his life, but his loss pushed him over the edge. I suggested he speak to his doctor about the possibility of taking medication, and I'll never forget his response. He was really surprised—and relieved—that I would suggest this to him. Surprised because, for so many Christians, the idea of taking medication for depression is, well, unchristian. And relieved because someone he really respected encouraged him to get medical attention. This gave him hope for change.
I asked, "If you have a bad headache, do you take an Advil?"
"Of course," he said.
"Does that make you feel guilty? Does taking an Advil for a headache somehow mean you're a bad person, or you don't have faith in God?"
"Of course not!" he replied.
"Okay, then, why does taking meds for depression make you feel ashamed in some way?" I added.
I let him know matter-of-factly that I had taken medication for depression and it really helped me. I reminded him about what he already knew: Even though wholeness in life involves so many other important elements, like spiritual disciplines, exercise, proper diet, and healthy sleep patterns, depression can fundamentally be a physiological problem. In other words, it can signal trouble in the brain. This is most often the case with people who suffer with major depression, the kind that's not always a result of a particular difficulty or loss in life. It's the kind of depression that just hangs over you like the early summer clouds and fog over San Diego.
My friend is doing much better! He's grateful I suggested he consider medication. He discovered that depression is a comprehensive problem. While treatment most certainly must include a discussion of God and spirituality, it's a D-myth that people who are close to God shouldn't have a problem with depression. Another common Dmyth is that people who are depressed should just "shake it off and cheer up."
Maybe we could call depression a cognitive/emotional TIA. It's not that, medically speaking. But depression is something in the brain gone wrong, making you feel so blue. You read the Bible, pray, try to think positive thoughts, and the gray clouds break. Slightly. But they won't go away. Or maybe they even get darker.
I have a hunch that, if he were living today, my dear great-grandfather would have been diagnosed with clinical depression. Immigrating to the United States from Germany in the late 1800s, he began his adult life as an ordained Lutheran pastor. A brilliant and tender man, he couldn't overcome the feelings of deep darkness inside him. Not unlike Martin Luther himself, my great-grandfather, though he preached grace, couldn't seem to receive it for himself. Reading the Bible actually made him feel worse about himself, so he left the ministry to become a farmer.
Depressed Christians
"Depressed Christian" isn't an oxymoron, although many believers think so. When I've confessed to my congregation that I wrestle with depression, many of them are troubled. (Not depressed, of course, because Christians can't be that!) While some studies have shown that religious people are generally less depressed than those who are not religious, nevertheless, many good Christians are "cast down." Very often, they are the ones who are in full-time Christian work.
Years ago, I was speaking at a Youth With a Mission (YWAM) adult discipleship school ... in Hawaii! The weather was fantastic, and I had received some really good news from someone on my church staff back home—for the first time ever our attendance had topped two thousand. Yet I was feeling depressed! Why? There was no good reason. It was—and is—just in me.
I shared that with the class. I couldn't tell you what the exact context was; I've just always been pretty open about my personal struggles in life, and my personal pain illustrated something I was teaching. I didn't go into the depths of my darkness. I just talked about it briefly and sincerely. At the end of the week, the class leaders asked the students to give me feedback on my teaching.
A teary-eyed woman stood up and said, "The highlight for me was when you told us you were depressed. I can't tell you how much that meant to me, to hear a Christian leader speaking honestly about what was going on in his soul. I've suffered silently for so long," she confessed. "You haven't given me an excuse to be depressed, but you've affirmed me in my pain. I'm so encouraged to know I am not alone."
That's what she got out of my fifteen hours of lectures!
A Silent Epidemic
Did you know that 80 percent of pastors in the United States are discouraged or dealing with depression, and the numbers are similar for their spouses? E. Glenn Wagner, who had to leave local church ministry because of debilitating depression, calls it a "stealth epidemic." He writes, "The stealth nature of depression among pastors makes it difficult to identify and treat.... Even more difficult is the fact that once a pastor is diagnosed with depression, many churches are not safe places in which they may find support and healing. Depression among pastors is still a dirty secret that many churches don't wish to disclose, address, and cure."
My good friend Phil Toole is a successful pastor of a great church in north Scottsdale, a suburb of Phoenix, Arizona. Phil had a serious bout with personal darkness, calling it a journey with depression. Following is his story, told in his own words.
After growing up in a strong Christian home and then serving in ministry for about fifteen years, I was two or three years into planting a new church when I begin to notice that something was definitely wrong inside of me. In the fervor and chaos of planting a new church and having it start well, I was surprised it didn't give me a greater sense of personal satisfaction. I found myself strangely lacking the joy and peace I thought I should have experienced.
In fact, it became more and more difficult for me to get out of bed to face the day, and my wife would tell you I was becoming increasingly irritable. Even little things harassed me. One Sunday, after packing up all the equipment we needed for our temporary church location, I remember leaving the place feeling as empty as the vacant room. As I drove away, alone in my vehicle, I remember saying out loud, "If everyone else left today feeling like me, they won't be back. I am no better for having been here." It's the irony of ministry: Other people were blessed, but I was dying inside.
My upbringing in a very strong Christian family seemed to make my problem worse. I presumed that whatever was wrong in me was a sign of a spiritual weakness. So if I just prayed more, read my Bible more, memorized more Scripture—or maybe did some fasting—I'd get better for sure. But none of that was helping, although my spiritual life may have been keeping me from sinking deeper.
During that time two friends of mine, one a clinical psychologist and the other a sports psychiatrist, thought I was suffering from some of the typical symptoms of depression. After hearing me talk about what I was experiencing, they both felt I should see my doctor and spend time with a professional counselor who wasn't a close friend. To my dismay, they suggested I might need medication!
I resisted the medication idea because of my background. I believed I should be able to overcome my problem spiritually—that God would heal me. I still believe that! I believe God can heal anything He wills, but I began to understand that depression had a physiological dimension. Before my own bout with depression I dismissed it as an emotional or mental problem. This was reinforced by people I had seen who had been medicated for depression. You know, they were people who were kind of out of it, with glazed eyes and slurred speech. It seemed like the medication just made them worse. I didn't want any of that!
The more I learned about the body's chemical balances, however, the more I began to see that in many cases, depression can be a physiological condition, a literal problem with the brain that affects what you feel and think. So with some reluctance, I gave in to my doctor's advice and began taking an antidepressant. At first I didn't think much about it. When I went back for my first follow-up appointment, he asked how I thought the meds were working. I told him that I didn't think they were working because I felt pretty normal. When he pressed me about what I meant by normal, I realized "normal" wasn't ecstasy. I guess I sort of thought the meds would make me feel really great, like some kind of upper. Yet the oppressively dark feelings I had been battling were gone.
My doc told me, "The way you know the meds are working is you just feel normal. You realize you are coping better with life." I've had some rich spiritual experience, but this was an awakening for me. I realized that my out-of-balance brain chemistry was leveling out.
This breakthrough brought me personal renewal and enabled me to function better, to address thought-pattern issues I needed to correct or renew. It gave me a chance for my emotions and thoughts to experience "normal" again. Looking back, I've wondered if I've always had some chemical imbalance that pushed me toward depression. Maybe it took the extreme pressure and stress of planting a new church to bring it fully to the surface.
It also helped my journey with depression when, in a prayer group, I met another pastor who also struggled with depression [that would be me, Gary]. It helped me realize that I wasn't different or weird. I was surprised at first when he told me he was taking meds too, but it helped me to realize that I wasn't damaged goods, and if I was, I wasn't alone! Being open about the problem has helped me keep tabs on my journey, and I've been able to help so many other people deal with their depression too.
A couple of times I decided I didn't need the meds anymore—that I was "cured," delivered, whatever. Each time, though, I was painfully reminded of what my doctor has told me: If it's a chemical imbalance, I may have to be on meds the rest of my life. [Rich and I will talk about this later in the book. Read on, pilgrim!]
Our first child's pediatrician was a committed Christ-follower. I remember when he first saw our little boy, who had a lot of health problems the first year of his life. After the introductions, he said, "I believe God is the healer. Sometimes He uses me and sometimes He bypasses me. It doesn't matter to me what He chooses to do, because He's the healer." Then he prayed for our son before examining him. I recall that story because that's the way I have to look at my journey with depression.
So today I took an antidepressant and loved God.
Excerpted from:
Seeing in the Dark by Gary Kinnaman and Richard Jacobs, MD
Copyright © 2006; ISBN 0764201999
Published by Bethany House Publishers
Used by permission. Unauthorized duplication prohibited.