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(This article is the second in a four-part series on faith and mental health. The first installment addressed the scientific underpinnings of psychology as well as some of the challenges that have historically plagued the field. The next article will address the complex relationship that exists between evil and illness.)

Most of us have had some experience with psychiatric illness, whether through a relationship with someone who is suffering from one of these disorders or our own personal mental health journeys. While our faith should not be touted as a cure for these challenges, in many ways, the Church offers a powerful source of strength for individuals who suffer and struggle with their mental health.

Of course, the psalms reflect the full range of human emotion and are often brimming with anger, sorrow, or anxiety. Jesus, Himself, drew strength from the psalms as He wrestled with the overwhelming anguish of his crucifixion, crying out,

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

in reference to Psalm 22. This particular psalm then continues on to ask God why He does not answer or help in a time of intense physical distress. In fact, the following verses speak of one whose life is “poured out like water,” their bones out of joint, and their heart melted like wax. By the end of the psalm, however, the psalmist adheres himself to his faith, recognizing that from God alone comes help and strength. Like Jesus, when we suffer emotional distress, we find in the psalms our own hearts’ cries for help and healing as well as the hope that God can and will answer us, even if His reply does not follow our preferred timelines.

The psalms are not the only source of strength that the Church offers to those who struggle with mental health. Throughout the Bible we are given glimpses of people who have experienced the real suffering that our life on this earth can bring. We read of Rahab whose fear of the Israelite army caused her to turn to God and take her place in his salvific plan. We meet David whose sometimes impulsive behavior wins him victories and costs him great loss. We hear about Elijah who was so afraid of one of history’s most infamous evil queens that he became suicidal. Then we see God’s gentle care and tenderness towards him as he is healed and prepared to continue the work he has been given to do. We find Job whose entire life was destroyed and finds himself in the very deepest depths of despair, yet God meets him exactly where he is.

The traditions of the Church also offer healing grace to those who suffer. For example, our liturgical seasons call us to wrestle with joy, sorrow, repentance, life, and death, but they also remind us that our present struggles are just fleeting and temporary challenges in our imperfect world. The structured prayers of the Church give us words when we have none of our own and the prayers of others lift us up when we are too weak to carry on. Even the very Mass itself allows us to unite our own suffering with Christ’s and to commune with Him and all the Saints in a powerful, intimate way while gaining strength from the grace that Christ bestows upon us and works within us.

We see these treasures of our faith and rightly recognize them as a balm for broken souls. Yet, we lie to ourselves if we believe that they are the solution to all our mental and emotional struggles. Even prayer, as faith-filled and honest as it may be, rarely brings about rapid and complete healing in broken hearts. It can do so, of course, since God has the power to heal however He chooses, but most often He opts not to work in this way. Instead, our reality, as creatures born into a world that falls short of paradise, is that our very bodies sometimes betray us leaving us prey to easily observable illnesses like chickenpox, but also to less visible ones like depression or psychosis that result from glitches in our brains.

Like any other part of our being, when our thoughts and feelings are working correctly, they are true assets. However, when something goes awry – and scientific research has shown us that this often corresponds with physiological changes in our brains – we experience illness. In the same way that we do not treat bacterial illnesses solely with admonitions to increase our faith and pray more fervently, we should not respond to mental illness in this way either. Instead, while prayer and deriving strength from our faith are important aspects of healing, prudential action involves seeking help – specifically help that has scientific backing. Often, such help includes therapy and/or medications, administered and taken in accordance with research findings.

Far from being a sign of a weak faith, seeking out these interventions shows an acceptance of God’s healing gifts which He has given us through the minds and work of scientists. Thus, when the Bible tells us, “Do not be anxious about anything,” one of the ways that we can live out this teaching is by seeking psychological help to manage uncontrollable and disruptive anxiety. In short, while our faith can certainly aid us in overcoming psychological struggles, it does not take the place of appropriate and effective treatment.

It remains to be said that mental health disorders can predispose us to certain types of sins (despair leading to a lack of faith in God and OCD resulting in scrupulosity, for example). While psychiatric disorders are certainly mitigating factors that impact our culpability, it is good for us to recognize our own propensity to sin in particular ways and to wrestle with these sins through prayer and the study of God’s word. At the same time, we should not neglect treatment of the underlying issues that contribute to these predispositions. For whatever reason, God has allowed our unique struggles with sin to be part of our lives’ stories and He is glorified through them when we allow Him to direct those stories.

To conclude, I offer you this story about a woman who once experienced something remarkably close to depression. In her own words, she described her suffering thus:

There is so much contradiction in my soul. Such deep longing for God – so deep that it is painful – a suffering continual – and yet not wanted by God – repulsed – empty – no faith – no love – no zeal. Souls hold no attraction – Heaven means nothing – to me it looks like an empty place – the thought of it means nothing to me and yet this torturing longing for God. Pray for me please that I keep smiling at Him in spite of everything. For I am only His – so He has every right over me. I am perfectly happy to be nobody even to God.

For most of her adult life, this struggle was her emotional and spiritual experience. Yet, she kept doing the work she had been called to do, kept praying, kept seeking God. In fact, as one person wrote, it was this suffering that made her life of faith so remarkable: “For me, this darkness is the single most heroic aspect of her life.” In 2016, this woman who had been dead for almost a decade, was canonized as St. Teresa of Calcutta, though the world still knows her as Mother Teresa. Her story reminds us that it is our journey towards God and not our feelings that define our lives and shape our purposes. When we struggle with disorders that disrupt our emotions, we can be assured that God can still work with, through, and for us.


Image: Photo by Samuel Martins on Unsplash


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Ariane Sroubek is a writer, school psychologist and mother to two children here on earth. Prior to converting to Catholicism, she completed undergraduate studies in Bible and Theology at Gordon College in Wenham, MA. She then went on to obtain her doctorate in School and Child Clinical Psychology. Ariane’s writing is inspired by her faith, daily life experiences and education. More of her work can be found at medium.com/@sroubek.ariane and at https://mysustaininggrace.com.

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