Does the Bible talk about depression?
Have you ever had someone talk you through directions to get somewhere? We don’t do that as much as we used to since we all have access to Google Maps and its street view, but I can listen very intently to someone telling me how to get somewhere and then promptly get myself lost along the way. It is one thing to understand those directions and even to be able to repeat them back, but it is quite another thing to apply those directions when the rubber meets the road.
Our faith walk can be like that when it comes to our relationship with the Bible. There are times when it is important to gain intellectual knowledge about the Bible so that we can better grasp what an author is trying to communicate to his audience. This practice keeps us in line with an interpretation as close as possible to the author’s intent, but if we stop there, we will have an intellectual knowledge of Scripture without any idea how to change our lives. When we are struggling, we don’t need more knowledge. We need Scripture to be alive and active in our own situation. We need more application and practical tools that will guide us through our times of suffering.
My day of reckoning in this regard came the year that I left home for college. By that point in my life, I had been a Christian for a decade, and I had a pretty solid grasp of the basics of the Bible. This period of my life was also the beginning of my lifelong struggle with depression. I believed that the Bible was my handbook for life, so it had to have the answers for how to overcome depression. I read the Book of Job. I did a study of “joy” in the Bible. But none of my usual deep dives provided anything that helped me get out of bed every day. Even those who knew me and how much I was struggling were not able to lay out the truth of Scripture in a way that gave me practical tools for my mental health.
So I went through a period of darkness where I dropped out of college, isolated from friends and other believers, and I gave in to my depression. During this period, I searched for lifelines I needed to survive. God must have something to say to me in His Word about depression and about how to care for my mental health. When I finally chose to go to therapy, I discovered many cognitive-behavioral tools that helped me progress in my healing. As I compared these tools with what I was studying in Scripture, I realized that the Bible did have some practical application for depression in the stories of other saints who had faced this very human struggle before. People like Elijah, Job, David, Paul, Naomi, Tamar, several of the psalmists, and so many more had all dealt with depression in some form.
So here are some things that I learned about depression in Scripture and what God really has to say about the realities of this mental health disease:
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Take Elijah. He was a prophet who had been bold in standing against an idolatrous culture to hold the king of Israel accountable for his sins. Elijah was God’s mouthpiece in accomplishing great miracles. Surely this kind of faith could never encounter depression!
Yet we see in 1 Kings 19 that Elijah became so despondent that he wanted to die. And he didn’t just get up to commit suicide. He asked God to take his life—fully believing that God had the power to do so. Elijah’s suicidal depression did not overshadow his faith in God. He experienced both simultaneously.
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Take Job. Job’s depression was so intense that he sat in sackcloth and ashes and was completely silent for seven days (Job 2:13). When he finally spoke, he cursed the day he was born (Job 3:1). Job displayed all the typical symptoms of depression that psychiatrists use to diagnose depression today: He had trouble sleeping (Job 7:3-4). He was tired all the time (Job 3:26). He had no appetite for food. He was irritable and short-tempered as indicated by his reactions to his friends’ attempts to comfort him. He had lost interest in things he once enjoyed and lived in a perpetual gloom. He neglected his personal hygiene, scratching his boils with pottery shards. Job’s depression could not be resolved by simply “cheering up.” His intense physical and emotional symptoms make it clear that depression affects all aspects of ourselves. To advise someone to cheer up in response to these emotions invalidates those feelings and makes someone who is struggling feel like they are defective for not being able to overcome their emotions.
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Take Paul’s struggle with the thorn in his flesh. While we do not know what specific suffering Paul faced, most scholars agree that this thorn was some kind of physical disability or chronic illness. Although Paul prayed for healing, God did not grant his request. He chose to teach Paul a lesson about His grace through the struggle. Paul’s story shows us that God does not shame us for struggling with the same thing over and over. Rather, He promises that His grace is sufficient to cover any of our weaknesses.
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Take the son of Korah who wrote Psalm 42. While it is clear that the psalmist is struggling with something, he cannot point to a specific cause. He can only cry out, “Why are you so downcast, Oh my soul?” Compare his experience with the grief of Naomi who lost her husband and two sons (Ruth 1) or the trauma of Tamar who was assaulted by her own brother (2 Samuel 13). In the cases of these women, unlike for the psalmist, their experience of depression had a distinct cause. Scripture shows us that depression happens whether or not depression can be located to a specific root cause.
In this Series, we will be studying the lives of some of these saints who have struggled with depression. What practical tools did they find for overcoming depression? What can we learn about the underlying causes of depression? What practical tools can help us today to restore physical, mental, and spiritual health? Thanks for joining me on this journey. I’m praying for you as you discover the power of God’s Word to speak to the deepest sadnesses and hurts you are struggling with today.
Resurrection Life in Depression
I became a Christian when I was six years old, but I have struggled with depression for my entire adult life. Many times, those two truths feel like they conflict with one another; it seems like what my faith requires of me is something that is impossible when I am depressed. My depression feels like an oppressive cloud of sadness that never abates. But the Bible says, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! (Phil 4:4)” How can I rejoice when I am numb? My depression says, “You have nothing to offer. You’d be better off dead.” But Jesus says, “I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance. (John 10:10b).” How can I have abundant life when I am barely surviving? This disparity between Scripture and my own experience has often led me to be ashamed of my depression. And that shame has led me to isolate from my church community and to avoid God for fear that He is disappointed in me. If I were truly a Christian, I should not be struggling so much.
I became a Christian when I was six years old, but I have struggled with depression for my entire adult life. Many times, those two truths feel like they conflict with one another; it seems like what my faith requires of me is something that is impossible when I am depressed. My depression feels like an oppressive cloud of sadness that never abates. But the Bible says, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! (Phil 4:4)” How can I rejoice when I am numb? My depression says, “You have nothing to offer. You’d be better off dead.” But Jesus says, “I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance. (John 10:10b).” How can I have abundant life when I am barely surviving? This disparity between Scripture and my own experience has often led me to be ashamed of my depression. And that shame has led me to isolate from my church community and to avoid God for fear that He is disappointed in me. If I were truly a Christian, I should not be struggling so much.
Maybe you can relate to that feeling of shame. If I were truly a Christian, I wouldn’t struggle with this sin. Maybe you can relate to that pull away from the Church and Christian community. How can they really understand what I’m going through? Nobody else is hurting like this. I just can’t fake being “okay” anymore. Maybe you’re angry with God for not taking away your pain. If God were real, He would do something to stop this. Whatever your hurt or struggle, Jesus has something to say to you in the midst of it: “I am the resurrection and the life. Do you believe this?” Let’s dig into the context of Jesus’ words:
Jesus has just made it to Bethany, four days after his friend, Lazarus, has been in the tomb. Lazarus’ sister, Martha, rushes out to meet Jesus. Here’s how the scene plays out:
Martha: Lord, if only you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died. But, you know, I still believe that whatever you ask from God, He will give you.
Martha’s reaction is both honest and yet hopeful. The reality is true that if Jesus had been there, Lazarus would not have died; He had plenty of time to get there. And Martha is maybe a little upset that the only reason her brother is dead is that Jesus chose not to come in time. How often do we feel the same way? A little mad at God because our situation could be different—our pain could be relieved—if only He had chosen to intervene. But despite her hurt, Martha still believes God answers Jesus’ prayers. She believes in the miracles she’s seen Him do thus far to heal the sick. She’s not completely confident that there is anything Jesus can do to change death, but she still believes God will work through Him.
Jesus: Your brother will rise again and live.
Martha: Yes, yes, I know. He will rise again at the resurrection on the last day.
Martha thinks Jesus is giving her a platitude like I’m sure all the other mourners hanging around have been repeating to try to “comfort” her. Lazarus isn’t really dead. He will rise again on the last day. Even today, Christians often have the tendency to truncate grief with the modern equivalent: “At least you’ll see them again in heaven one day.” But Jesus wasn’t cutting short her grief. Later in the story, when He makes it to Lazarus’ tomb, He weeps and grieves as well (John 11:35). Nor was Jesus giving her some kind of hollow comfort that would not change her current situation. He responds:
Jesus: No, you misunderstand. I am the resurrection. I am the life. If you believe in me, even if you die, you will live. If you believe in me while you live, you will never die. Do you really believe this, Martha?
Jesus argues that He Himself is resurrection and life. That He can bring life even if someone dies. That He can even prevent death all together. Honestly, that is a lot to ask of her to believe at this point. She has no proof of His ability to do this since Jesus had obviously not been resurrected himself yet nor had he resurrected anyone else from the dead. She’s seen evidence of God answering Jesus’ prayers so she can confidently point out that truth. While Jesus has certainly done some amazing things so far, Martha has no reason to believe that He can do what He says except for His own word. But Martha still answers with faith:
Martha: Yes, I have believed, and I still believe you are the Messiah and the Son of God come to earth.
I love Martha’s answer. The text uses the Greek perfect tense for her statement “I believe.” In Greek, this tense is used to express a completed action or state that has present, ongoing ramifications. Martha had at one time made the commitment to believe that Jesus was the Messiah. And that choice of belief still affects her life today. She has believed and is still believing. She is holding onto to the hope that Jesus is who He says He is, that He can do what He says He can do, and that He can do something to change the irrefutable fact that her brother is dead.
A lot of times we read the Bible as a hollow promise that might affect our life in reality…someday…in the distant future. Sure, I’ll have abundant life and be joyful when I get to heaven and I’m with Jesus all the time. But that is not the type of resurrection life Jesus promises. Martha’s statement of faith mirrors what we believe as Christians today. We have chosen to believe in Jesus as the Son of God. That moment of belief has consequences that change our present reality. Maybe what we feel—that little bit of resentment or grief or suffering—does not negate the truth of what God says about Himself. That He is our living hope (1 Peter 1:3). That He can set us free from any struggle or addiction (Galatians 5:1). That He promises a life that will turn us from being stuck in death to being alive…today (Ephesians 2:3-7). Sometimes our present struggles feel like an irrefutable fact, but as Jesus is about to show Martha, He can change irrefutable facts. {Spoiler Alert! Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead!}
As a Christian who struggles with depression, some days I do not feel like living, but I also believe that Jesus is the resurrection and the life. Sometimes I struggle with resentment about why God does not give me relief from my pain, but my hurt does not change who Jesus is. Depression may feel like death, but Jesus is good at raising people from the dead. Whatever your struggle or suffering, it is not irrefutable or immovable. I don’t know how God is going to bring life to your situation, but because of who God is, you have hope—you can live again.
Father, Thank you for being the Resurrection and the Life. I praise You for being in the business of raising people from the dead. Please forgive me for that part of me that is angry for still having to deal with this situation that feels like death. Please help me to draw near to You so that I might learn how to truly live again, whether or not my pain is relieved in the short-term. I know that You are my only hope for true life. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.
An Act of Desperate Faith
I think my cat knows my routine better than I do. As soon as my feet hit the floor, he is chirping and rubbing on me, guiding me into the kitchen for his breakfast. If I happen to be trying to sleep in, then all bets are off. He will jump on me and run zoomies across the bed. If that doesn’t work, he will make himself throw up in the hallway because that sound will always get me up. You’d think the poor cat was starved for how desperately he begs for food in the mornings.
I think my cat knows my routine better than I do. As soon as my feet hit the floor, he is chirping and rubbing on me, guiding me into the kitchen for his breakfast. If I happen to be trying to sleep in, he will jump on me and run zoomies across the bed. If that doesn’t work, he will make himself throw up in the hallway because that sound will always wake me. You’d think the poor guy was starved for how desperately he begs for food in the mornings.
It's easy to lose this kind of single-minded desperation in our spiritual life. Only when we are truly suffering does our need overwhelm our fear of the risks, and we become willing to do anything to find healing. If we were truly honest, we would be able to acknowledge our suffering, admit our desperate need for Jesus, and recklessly reach out for His healing. In Mark 5, we meet a woman who does just that. There’s a lot we can learn from her faith about the benefits of spiritual desperation.
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This woman had been in pain for twelve years with some kind of menstrual bleeding. As if that physical pain was not enough, she experienced the social ostracization that came with being ritually unclean. According to the old covenant, she had to be separated from others until her bleeding stopped; otherwise, she would defile those with whom she came into contact (Leviticus 15:25-30). Can you imagine being separated from religious life and from any outward practice of faith because of a disease you couldn’t control?
While most of us don’t face suffering quite this extreme, we can relate to that feeling of isolation. It often feels like this disease, this problem, this addiction, etc. separates us from others and even from God. During one of my more intense struggles with mental health, other Christians tried to encourage me, but it never really felt like they understood what I was going through. So I stopped attending church for a long time; it was just too hard to face that obstacle to fellowship with other believers every week. In my personal relationship with God, I similarly felt that kind of distance. I blamed myself for this situation I couldn’t fix and grew resentful of God for not delivering me from it. I eventually found myself so isolated and discouraged that I set aside my self-blame and anger and asked for help. I think this emotional state led the Desperate Woman to apply her faith to one last desperate act of hope.
Here's the value of that kind of desperate faith: It acknowledges the full extent of our need for God’s intervention. Would we really seek out Jesus if we didn’t need His help so badly? Would we even appreciate all He has to offer if we weren’t so desperate for it? It is often the desperate needs born of intense suffering that teach us how to reach for Jesus.
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The Desperate Woman sought help from doctor after doctor, but her condition only worsened, and her finances had been depleted. When I am suffering, I usually try all the other avenues for help before I ask for God to intervene. I figure that if I have exhausted all my other options first, God will be more likely to realize the severity of my case. Maybe He will honor that I didn’t bother Him with something until I had done everything I could first. However, exhausting all the options usually leaves me worse off than before. I’m more tired, more discouraged, more isolated, and with less resources. But God does not require this exhaustion first. He urges us to cast our cares on Him (1 Peter 5:7) and to take His light burden over the heavy weight of our own problems (Matthew 11:29-30).
After the Desperate Woman exhausted all her options, she chose to believe “the things about Jesus.” She heard the reports about His miracles and believed that He could do the same for her. When we are suffering, sometimes the hardest thing to do is to hold onto hope that things will get better—to believe that God’s help could change our situation when all other avenues of healing have not.
Our hope is based in Christ’s power—His ability to accomplish healing—and in His faithfulness—His integrity to follow through on His promises. The firm foundation of Christ’s character is an anchor for our souls in suffering because we can trust in His word.
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Once the Desperate Woman chose to believe the reports about Jesus, she set out to touch Him. Though He was a holy man, clearly on another mission, she reached out to touch Him. She didn’t brush past Him and hope that that would do the trick. It was intentional not incidental contact. She knew that her life was not sustainable the way it was so she desperately reached for the new life only Jesus could supply. Jesus answered this woman’s act of desperate faith with freedom from her suffering. In her case, that meant that her bleeding immediately ceased. She received physical healing.
Although we believe in the certainty of God’s promises for our healing, we do not all experience the kind of physical healing that Jesus gave to the Desperate Woman. Just because God does not answer “yes” to our grasp for healing of our inescapable suffering, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t reach out in faith. The act of reaching out will change us. Like Paul learning humility when the thorn in his flesh was not removed (2 Corinthians 12:8-10), we somehow find that God’s grace gives us what we need to endure.
Desperate faith teaches us that casual contact with Jesus will never satisfy the earnest desires of our hearts, and it will never relieve the heavy weight of suffering. Only when we are desperate enough to grasp for deliverance will we see God’s power truly at work in our lives. There will be trials that we desperately beg God to get us out of, but our prayers seem to be denied. A desperate faith still reaches out to Jesus anyway. And by reaching, the desperate find freedom. Jesus blesses us with the peace born of a reconciliation of our will with God’s, and He commands us to “go…and be freed from [our] suffering.” Desperate faith teaches us that true freedom is a mindset that we can consciously choose, even in our hardships, if we keep reaching out to Jesus.
When was the last time you were desperate for God? What would an act of desperation look like in your situation of suffering today? What fears hold you back from taking that step to reach out intentionally for Jesus?
When God Doesn’t Give Me Strength
I was already fifteen minutes late to work, but I was stuck in my car, hyperventilating and crying harder than I ever have in my life. Having a panic attack is not unusual for me as someone who struggles with anxiety, but I had just prayed that morning for God to help me overcome my anxiety and make it to work. If God is my strength, why can’t I do this small thing? I berated myself.
I was already fifteen minutes late to work, but I was stuck in my car, hyperventilating and crying harder than I ever have in my life. Having a panic attack is not unusual for me as someone who struggles with anxiety, but I had just prayed that morning for God to help me overcome my anxiety and make it to work. If God is my strength, why can’t I do this small thing? I berated myself.
In 2 Corinthians 12:5-10, Paul pleads with God to remove “a thorn in [his] flesh.” Instead of removing this struggle, God affirms His grace for Paul to endure it because His power is made perfect in weakness. I have always applied this verse to my life as a promise of God’s strength to do what I could not do when I was weak. In the case of my anxiety, He would help me overcome panic to function normally in my daily life. However, God’s promise to Paul did not end with relief from pain, or deliverance from the situation, or even supernatural strength to overcome it. God gave Paul this thorn to teach him humility “so that [he] would not exalt [himself].” God wanted this thorn to limit Paul’s ability and to teach him to recognize God’s sufficient grace—how He had chosen him as His child and apostle. Being chosen by God was more than enough to cover any weakness Paul had because God’s power “finds its consummation” or “reaches perfection” in weakness. In God’s economy, our weaknesses complete His strength. Elsewhere, God promises to exalt those who humble themselves before Him because He values humility over great deeds (Luke 14:11; James 4:10). When the world sees that God has chosen someone, even though they have this great weakness, God shows the world His power.
The reality is that God’s power in my weakness doesn’t make me strong or capable. It looks like the exact opposite: I am still weak. But God’s purpose has not been thwarted. He loves me just as I am, even if I am never healed of this pain or overcome this obstacle—even if I never “get better.” It requires humility to admit that there are some things I cannot do, but it is no small thing to be loved for my presence rather than my productivity. I can confess my limitations, rather than pushing through them, and honor those limitations with the self-care that mirrors God’s love for me.
When I humbly accept God’s purpose for my weakness, somehow, I find that I am strong. I can survive this. I can thrive here. Because my weakness is not a hidden shame that disqualifies me from coming closer to God. My weakness is a mirror that has been broken into shards—creating even more surface area to reflect God’s love to the world.
My weakness is not what holds me back. It’s what keeps me in His arms. And that gives me something to boast about.