In one way or another, and whether or not a person is depressed, all of us experience discouragement. And if discouragement really sinks its teeth into us and lasts longer than a few moments or days, it becomes a spiritual battle. This battle is waged for control over our hearts, for whatever controls the heart controls the mind and body as well. Once it has control of our mind, body, and spirit, discouragement shapes the way we view and experience life, and exerts influence on our words and behaviors.
The question, therefore, becomes “What will I do with my discouragement?” Left unchecked, it could grow to enormous proportions, like a giant octopus, reaching its tentacles into every square inch of our hearts and minds. It will dull our motivations, undermine our hope, sap our strength, and steal our courage. Eventually, if not counteracted, it will drive us to depression.
Generally, people who are not in the throes of depression react to dashed hopes by latching on to new hopes. But depressed people often give up hope altogether, either by killing it themselves or letting it die of natural causes.
As psychologist Ed Welch notes, shattered hope is devastating because the yearning for hope is part and parcel of being human and experiencing life in a healthy manner. Human languages are full of words like wish, aspire, dream, anticipate, and desire. We have a mission in life. We hold on to goals, ambitions, and aims. Our hopes for the future can help pull us along and keep us from being mired in the past.
But somewhere along the way, some of us give up, at least temporarily. We feel that our unfulfilled hopes have given us enormous pain. We end up wanting hope to die within us.
And, although this is an understandable response to dashed hopes, it is quite unhealthy spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. Life is bound up with hope. When we have no hope, a part of us dies, at least temporarily. If we don’t entertain hope about the future, we have difficulty getting out of bed, working, or loving. We think that if we let hope die, life will be less painful, but the death of hope brings its own kind of pain. Thus, instead of protecting ourselves, we are opening ourselves to a longer term and deadlier type of pain.
Broken dreams begin with simple desires. We want something, we begin imagining it, maybe we get a taste of it, but then it disappears. We get frustrated. We might lash out at people or at God, or perhaps we lash out at life in general. We treat God with cold anger, sidelining him and becoming indifferent to him. We might still turn to him for certain things, but on the whole, we do not seek our happiness in him. The biblical story of Jonah portrays this sort of anger toward God.
Compounding the problem, sometimes we get to a point in life where we prefer to be hopeless. We have become comfortable with it, and it allows us to seek satisfaction in being cynical. Yet, God did not create us to be people without hope. Thus, he responds by calling us to hope and by lavishing mercy and grace on us.
When caught in the trap of discouragement, how should we respond? For Christians, the intuitive response will be to remind ourselves that God “will never leave me or forsake me, (Heb 13:5), will give me the strength I need (Phil 1:6), and has good purposes for me that cannot be derailed (Eph 1:11). Thus, we remind ourselves that, ultimately, God walks alongside of us, gives us strength, and guides us toward good ends.
Yet, most of the time, we need more than merely a carte blanch mental reminder that God has good will toward us and is in charge of our lives. Thus, it is helpful to build certain habits into our days that, over time, will structure our days in a positive direction.
One significant habit is prayer. We can pray spontaneously in the moment, reminding ourselves of biblical truths such as the ones above. And we can offer habitual prayers, such as The Serenity Prayer, that over time bend our hearts and minds in the right direction. The Serenity prayer is especially effective for reminding us that life comes at us hard sometimes—discouraging us—and we cannot change that fact because we are not God; that there are constructive things we can do each day to keep our lives headed in the right direction; and that God will give us wisdom as to which things we can control and which things we cannot.
Another significant habit is the creation of a daily gratitude list. I’ve found it helpful each day to reflect on the many things for which can be grateful. That list includes not only positive things I have experienced, but negative things that could have happened but have not. For example, I can express gratitude not only for the wonderful children he’s given me and also gratitude that none of them have been afflicted with serious medical problems.
There are many other habits, but these two suffice to reveal the encouragement that can be gained from daily, habitually, taking courage rather than succumbing to discouragement. These habits function as a dual fertilizer/pesticide in our lives; when we participate in them, we are fertilizing our courage and joy while at the same time poisoning our discouragement and depression.
]]>I had given up on the potential benefits of therapy after only a couple of sessions. I was using my PhD studies to distract myself but that wasn’t working. Prayer and meditation weren’t working. Talking to people wasn’t working. Nothing was working. So, briefly, as I lay awake at night, unable to sleep, I thought about what it would be like to end it all. Luckily, I never seriously considered ending my life. And fortunately, somehow, I pulled out of my depression a few years later.
During my second, more recent, experience of depression, I had no thoughts of suicide, but I felt similarly hopeless and helpless. During both periods, my depression was a manipulative liar, telling me regularly was that I had no hope for a happy and fulfilled life. I’d been depressed for so long that I’d forgotten what normalcy felt like. I thought my mental and emotional state was permanent and that recovery was impossible.
During my more recent period of depression, I recovered much more quickly and comprehensively because I reached out for external help; I received EMDR and other treatments for my PTSD. With those symptoms minimized, I was able to turn inward and thus recover in a more transformative manner by taking an inventory of my heart.
As I have summarized in this article, depression has many causes, some of them external and others internal. For the purposes of this article, we will focus on the internal response to depression. Depression is never so simple as, “Some bad things happened to me and caused my depression” or “I have a chemical imbalance.” Our depression is always affected by our interpretation of external events. We filter the meaning and significance of those events through our view of God, others, the world, and our self. Even chemical imbalances often need an interpretive push to send us over the line into the dark hole of depression. Indeed, our internal response generally makes quite a difference with regard to our experience of depression.
The Hebrew Bible and Christian New Testament speak about our internal response to life in terms of the “heart.” The Bible refers to the heart upwards of nine hundred times. “The heart,” theologian Gordon Spykman writes:
represents the unifying center of man’s entire existence, the spiritual concentration point of our total selfhood, the inner reflective core which sets the direction for all of our life relationships. It is the wellspring of all our willing, thinking, feeling, acting, and every other life utterance. It is the fountainhead from which flows every movement of man’s intellect, emotions, and will, as well as any other ‘faculty’ or mode of our existence. In short, the heart is the ‘mini-me.’”
Gordon Spykman
All men and women live from their hearts, and direct their heartfelt worship toward God, the true source of joy and recovery, or toward false gods who will never fail to disappoint.
In other words, while molecular biology explains humanity at a cellular level, and while neuroscience explains humanity in terms of circuitry, the Christian Scriptures explain humanity at the spiritual level. At the core of who we are—at the “heart” level—we are spiritual beings who respond spiritually to life. Consider these passages:
Keep your heart with all diligence,
Prov 4:23
For out of it spring the issues of life.
Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.
Mt 12:34
A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil. For out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.
Lk 6:45
At rock bottom, our lives center around God or false gods. This allegiance—either to God or to counterfeit gods—shapes our desires, imagination, and motives, which in turn shape our thoughts, feelings, and actions. Our connection or disconnection with God makes all the difference.
Thus at all times, and perhaps especially when we find ourselves depressed, we benefit immensely from undertaking a spiritual inventory.
One of the greatest challenges in life is to know our own heart. Although we find it easy to enumerate our circumstances or catalogue our current feelings, we face a more formidable challenge when it comes to understanding the depths of our own hearts. In our heart of hearts, we can deceive even ourselves. Fortunately, our depression can be of great help in unveiling our hearts.
In Depression: Looking Up from the Stubborn Darkness, psychologist and Christian counselor Ed Welch lists a number of diagnostic questions that can help us to get to the bottom of things:
Suffering can reveal who we really are. It peels away our masks, opens the doors to our hiding places, and forces us into the open. The way we respond to suffering reveals a great deal about who we are. God uses hardship to reveal our hearts to ourselves and to others. This is good because we must know what is in our heart before we can set forth on the path of spiritual progress.
Unfortunately, many of us try to medicate our hardships with substances or pleasurable experiences. During my last period of depression, I chose to medicate with alcohol (a depressant!) which made things worse. Yet, if we are wise, we will determine to weather the storm without pseudo-medications and will choose to walk forward on the path of spiritual progress, rather than backward on the path of regress.
When we respond in spiritually unhealthy ways to our depression—in effect, turning our backs on God—we expose our wound to the Evil One’s rusted knife. But when we respond in faith by patiently waiting on God, we expose our wound to the Great Physician’s healing scalpel.
Depressed people list various things that helped them to break out of the slump: they began preaching the gospel to themselves instead of listening to their skewed minds, stopped saying “it won’t work,” had a friend or pastor who “interrupted” by giving wise counsel, encountered somebody else who is going through a catastrophic time, piggybacked on the faith of a friend, realized their egocentrism, stopped being a martyr, realized they were in a battle and started to fight, started a good medication, built structure into their days, or started a gratitude list.
In one way or another, each of these responses involved a “reset” of their internal response, a reshaping and redirecting of their hearts. Indeed, when we find ourselves in a depressive condition, the most powerful thing we can do is to cultivate healthy hearts. An evaluation of the heart is an introspection at the deepest level possible.
As I explain in this article, my spiritual recovery during depression involved remembering God’s faithfulness in the past, creating healthy daily habits that help us live constructively even in the midst of emotional turmoil, and perseverance through the toughest days. By doing so, we are “renarrating” our lives with God as the main actor, and God as the main actor is actively loving us even—and especially—in the midst of our darkest moments. We are remembering to be grateful for the many good gifts he has given us. And we are actively clinging to his promises for the future.
Which brings me back to the darkest days of my early depression. Briefly, I had considered that it might be better not to live. Yet, during that episode, and in the years that ensued, I was reminded in many ways of God’s goodness. I pulled out of the depression and experienced joy in many ways. During my more recent episode of depression, I learned the spiritual lessons of depression-recovery in a deeper and more enduring manner.
On the backdrop of those depressive episodes and having seen God actively loving me in the midst of them, I can declare even more confidently with the Psalmist:
One thing I have desired of the Lord,
Ps 27:4
That will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the Lord
All the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the Lord,
And to inquire in His temple.
Indeed, I must have faith in God’s good will for my life. I must resist telling my story as if he were not actively loving me in the midst of it. And I must place my hope in him, no matter hard times may come.
One light in particular concerned me: the light that signaled a problem with my engine block. When I took the Jeep in to a mechanic, I inquired about that particular warning light: “What’s wrong with the engine?” To that, he answered, “Well, it’s complicated. He went on to explain that the Jeep’s power starts in the crankshaft, and then is delivered through torque-converter to the transmission, and then in turn to the drive shaft and on through to the drive axle.
By that point, my eyes were glazed over. Then he continued, “And you see, you have problems with at least six components of your engine. So, it’s complicated, and I recommend you sell this thing immediately, even today if possible.” And so I did.
“It’s complicated.”
That was an excellent short-hand summary of why the dash lights in my Jeep were lit up like a Christmas tree. It’s also an excellent response to the question a depressed person might ask his doctor, therapist, or pastor: “Why are all of the warning lights on my emotional dashboard blinking like Clark Griswold’s house?” The answer: “It’s complicated.”
Indeed, when various warning lights—moodiness, loss of interest, weight loss, weight gain, insomnia, fatigue, feelings of worthlessness, diminished ability to concentrate, recurrent thoughts of death—appear on our personal “dashboard” mental and emotional dashboard, we want to know why. What is causing my depression? And, like warning lights on the dashboard of an automobile, the potential causes are many.
Depression strikes at the heart of who we are. And who we are has a long and complex history. Our personality and dispositions, our emotional and physical health, and our spiritual condition don’t just pop up out of nowhere. They have a history and they have reasons. They involve events that happen outside of us, physical phenomena within us, and beliefs and interpretations that reside in our minds.
For that very reason—the fact that who we are has such a long history—we can begin to feel like depression suits us. We’re used to it. It’s like an old friend who is not the best friend in the world but, oh well, they’ve sure stuck with us for a long time.
Thus, when we search for the causes of depression, we should expect that it will often be complicated. The causes for depression can vary and often a person’s depressive state stems from a complex combination of several causes.
Depression can be caused by chemical imbalances. The disciplines of psychiatry and psychology are still relatively young, however, and there is much that is not known. Doctors and therapists cannot diagnose a chemical imbalance with the same confidence that a cardiologist can diagnose a blocked artery or an orthopedic surgeon can diagnose a torn ACL. Yet, there is a consensus that, somehow and in some way, chemical imbalances can be the cause of some people’s depression.
Depression can be caused by cataclysmic events that happen to us. Consider the high instance of people who experience some measure of depression in the wake of abuse, divorce, job termination, or the loss of a loved one.
Depression be caused by other people in ways that are less dramatic than the instances outlined above. Often, we can easily identify these instances, as in the case of a high school student who has for years been ostracized or bullied by peers at school. Other times, it can be more difficult to identify, as in cases where other people have become so distant or their sins against us so habitual that we don’t perceive those persons’ actions as a serious offense.
Depression can be caused by our own character flaws and bad decisions. It could be caused by a singular and significant action that we regret, or it could be caused by a lifetime of bad decisions.
Depression can be caused by our own inability to respond to life’s hardships. Hardship doesn’t have to cause depression. But often it does because we don’t possess the mental, emotional, or spiritual resources to frame those hardships the right way or to respond to them in a healthy manner.
Social scientific studies have shown a dramatic uptick in cases of depression among Westerners over the past century. Thus, it is reasonable to infer that there is something about Western culture that tips many people toward depression.
Psychologist Ed Welch asks us to imagine a person asleep on a float, who awakens to find that a rip current has taken her to sea. This is like individuals in the West, who are asleep with regard to our cultural context, and who suddenly find that Western ideological currents have taken us “out to sea.”
Consider the United States, one particular cultural context within Western civilization. Given the high instance of depression among our population, it is accurate to say that American culture provides a lush environment for the profusion of depression.
Unlike most global cultures, Western culture is highly individualistic. Rather than living communally, we tend to be highly mobile, disconnected from extended family and familial locations. For this reason, often we are never embedded in an inherited context in which we must learn to live and work together with a particular community of people.
This type of individualism sets the context for depression. As the great philosopher Aristotle argued, human beings are social beings. As the Hebrew Bible and Christian New Testament teaches, God created human beings to love one another, to give love and receive love in familial and communal contexts.
Thus, it is no surprise that a renowned clinical researcher such as Martin Seligman links the West’s individualism with depression: “The modern individual is not the peasant of yore with a fixed future yawning ahead. He—and now she, effectively doubling the market—is a battleground of decisions and preferences.” In other words, throughout most of world history, a person inherited much of his or her future, including their home, vocation, cultural affinities, and so forth. But today, with the onset of a highly differentiated economy and widely available higher education, a person faces a formidable array of options in every aspect of his or her life. For this reason, individuals often feel paralyzed and unable to make decisions. We are fatigued and we worry about making the wrong choice. Thus, the onset of depression is understandable.
Seligman singles out the “decision-making by loners” aspect of individualism as potent for causing depression, Yet, individualism tilts us toward depression in other ways, instructing us to follow our feelings, do what feels good, and find our authentic self. We think that if we can cultivate a life that allows us to follow our feelings more often and do what feels good whenever possible, we will find meaning and fulfillment. We try to find fulfillment in drugs, food, sex, property, possessions, and various forms of entertainment. But these things do not fulfill our deepest longings, and we find ourselves with bored minds and empty souls.
Depression’s causes are multiple, and thus it is reasonable that depression’s cure will, in many cases, be multi-faceted. A given individual’s depression might be fought via medicines such as SSRIs or TCAs; natural cures such as sunshine and exercise; cognitive remedies such as reframing one’s narrative; or behavioral remedies such as developing constructive daily habits. Each person’s prescription could include a combination of such remedies.
Yet, there is one prescription common to all individuals: spiritual health. Even if a person’s spiritual condition was not a cause for his or her depression, a healthy spiritual response to depression will be a part of the cure. I have explored the spiritual aspect of depression in earlier articles (click here, here, and here), and will address it again in upcoming posts. But for now, it suffices to say that when I am spiritually healthy, I am much better able to face the challenges of depression.
Consider again the analogy with a modern automobile’s dashboard warning lights. If I wanted, I could merely have the warning lights turned off. That way, I don’t have to see them. But of course, it’s better to have the mechanic find the root cause(s) and fix the problem(s) rather than merely turning off the lights. Similarly, when faced with depressive symptoms, I should consider—in consultation with professionals such as doctors, pastors, and therapists—that an exclusive reliance on anti-depressants could be the equivalent of turning off the warning lights without fixing the problem at its source.
Depression is complicated. It’s sources are complex and multi-faceted. Thus, in my experience, the best way to respond is to wait patiently for the full diagnosis. Consider external factors such as negative events or the behavior of other people toward me. Reflect upon internal factors such as my own character flaws, bad decisions, and unhealthy response to life’s hardships. If the depression persists, consult doctors and therapists with regard to potential chemical imbalances. But above all, be patient and wait upon the Lord—the Great Physician—to help us get past the “warning lights” to the root of the problem.
]]>The task of ethicists, political leaders, and intelligence agency leaders, therefore, is to provide our intelligence communities with clear guidelines and parameters. “U.S. Intelligence does not and should not operate in a moral vacuum,” writes James M. Olson, former Chief of CIA Counterintelligence. “No profession, particularly one that can hide behind a veil of secrecy, should police itself. Attempts to codify what is morally permissible have generally failed because of the murkiness of the spy world and the shifting attitudes of U.S. government decision-makers and the public.”[2] Thus, as citizens, we must use our electoral power to produce political leaders who hold our intelligence communities accountable.
What is espionage and who authorized to do it?
Espionage is the covert side of the process of acquiring and analyzing secret information, generally involving the use of clandestine methods to obtain accurate knowledge. It includes the obtainment of information via human intelligence (from a person in a specific location), geo-spatial intelligence (from satellites, aerial photographs, or maps), measurement intelligence (from electro-optical, nuclear, radar, geophysical, materials, and radiofrequency means), open-source intelligence (from open sources), signal intelligence (from interception of electronic signals), technical intelligence (from analyzing the weapons and equipment or foreign armed forces), cyber intelligence (from cyber space, including sources that are not “open”), and financial intelligence (from analyzing monetary transactions).
Numerous non-state actors gather intelligence. In the political realm, the United States government sometimes outsources certain projects to private surveillance companies. In the corporate realm, corporations spy on their competitors in order to maintain the corporation’s competitive advantage. In the private realm, individuals hire private investigators to surveil other individuals.
Yet, the focus of this article—and the subsequent series on “The Ethics of Espionage”—is on the ethics of espionage undertaken by the government, with a focus on the United States government. In America, the intelligence community is led by the Director of National Intelligence and encompasses 17 member organizations. Each organization has its own unique purpose. For example, the CIA is focused on providing intelligence to the president and his Cabinet; it is a civilian organization dealing with a broad array of topics related to national security. Alternately, the DIA is the principal source of foreign intelligence for combat-related missions; it is a military organization focused on military and defense operations. The FBI is a civilian agency tasked with exposing, preventing, and investigating intelligence activities undertaken within our borders. Taken together, the seventeen member organizations provide a broad array of activities designed to protect the national interest and promote the common good.
Although Christians should operate interpersonally with a presumption of openness, the Judeo-Christian worldview recognizes teaches that we live in a world in which it is sometimes necessary to deceive and conceal for the sake of the common good. There are right and wrong reasons to embark upon a given espionage mission (jus ad intelligentiam), and there are right and wrong ways to carry out such a mission (jus in intelligentia). Yet, as a general category, state-sponsored espionage is morally justifiable.
Any number of objections can be raised concerning the moral status of state-sponsored espionage, three of which are prominent. These three objections concern the “right to secrecy,” the moral status of deception, and the moral status of enhanced interrogation. Although future articles will address each of these objections in detail, a concise-to-the-extreme answer suffices for now:
Objection #1: Doesn’t the “right to secrecy” imply that espionage is inherently a violation of human rights? The short answer is that the “right to secrecy,” recognized by all Western societies, is not absolute. Overriding concerns about the national interest and the common good can provide justifiable reason to violate the privacy of an individual, an institution, or a state.
Objection #2: Isn’t deception inherently immoral? The short answer is that there are instances in which a given individual or state loses the right to know the truth. Consider the Hebrew Bible’s story of Rahab, who housed two Israeli spies (Josh 2:1). In return for her services, Israel spared her and her family during the war with Jericho. Likewise, the Christian New Testament honors Rahab by listing her as David’s ancestor (Mt 1:5) and holding her up as a paragon of faith (Heb 11:31). Thus, the act of spying is not inherently immoral.
Objection #3: Given that enhanced interrogation has gained a more central role in intelligence-gathering since 9/11, haven’t American intelligence agencies undermined their own moral legitimacy? This objection assumes that one quite limited aspect of intelligence gathering—enhanced interrogation—reveals the inherently immoral motives and methods of the entire intelligence community. But this objection is wrong-headed. First, there are many types of enhanced interrogation, and whether or not to use a particular method depends upon specific circumstances. Second, never does one limited aspect of an agency’s repertoire render the entire agency’s mission immoral.
In future articles, each of the three objections will be explored and answered in detail. For now, it suffices to say that espionage is not inherently immoral. Although the challenges posed by enemy actors and the dilemmas faced by our intelligence community are complicated, espionage can be embarked upon for the right reasons (jus ad intelligentiam) and carried out in the right ways (jus in intelligentia). Thus, decisions made with regard to the right course of action in any given situation are complex and multi-layered, and often require exceptional wisdom and courage.
Note: In upcoming posts we will address many facets of espionage from the ethical angle, including, but not limited to, the right to privacy, the ethics of deception, and the ethics of enhanced interrogation.
[1] John le Carré, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (London: Pan Books, 1964), 210–11.
[2] James M. Olson, Fair Play: The Moral Dilemmas of Spying (Potomac Books, 2006), ix.
]]>Here is the list, arranged hierarchically, with the most accessible resources (Level 1) listed at the top and the more challenging resources listed in descending order:
As I have noted in other places, my latest depressive episode (“On Not Wanting to Live but Not Wanting to Die”) involved some complicating factors some of which I could not control (PTSD) and some of which I should have (alcohol abuse, disconnection from God, and relationships with family and friends). In the face of those complicating factors, God offered to me all of the resources I needed to respond properly spiritually. And yet, in significant ways, increasingly over the two-year period, I did not.
In the hopes that a brief chronicle of my own failures might help other depressed persons in the midst of their own struggles, I will: (1) set the stage by explaining the greatest challenge I faced and how I failed to meet the challenge; and subsequently (2) provide three suggestions that might help other depressed persons meet their challenges better than I did.
During my most recent depressive episode, I faced my long-time opponent in a way I had never experienced. During the course of my life, he had stalked me and taken advantage of my weaknesses. I thought I had seen all of his weapons and was relatively unafraid of his tactics. But I was wrong, fatally wrong, to underestimate him.
Today, I realize to a much fuller extent what Scripture means when it declares that the Evil One is like a predator lying await in the tall grass, ready to pounce (1 Pet 5:8). He is never more in pursuit than when we are wounded and suffering. That is because he knows that a Christian’s experience of suffering is the single greatest opportunity for him or her to declare that Christ is a greater treasure than any other thing that life could give or that suffering could take away.
The Evil One is not only like a patient and powerful predator, but also like a con man. He masquerades as somebody good (2 Cor 11:14). He is the most cunning liar the world has ever known (Jn 8:44). His lies have many variations—white lies, big lies, rationalizations, exaggerations, minimizing, changing the topic, etc. But his lies always have one theme: God cannot be trusted and he cannot deliver on his promises.
Thus, given the formidable nature of my foe—the world’s greatest predator and conman whose intent is to murder—I failed precisely because I resorted increasingly to my own means. In the face of difficult challenges, and without my prayers being answered the way I demanded, I slowly and unconsciously gave up the fight. I lived as if I did not trust God and as if he could not or would not deliver on his promises.
Instead, I should have wielded the weapons at my disposal—weapons given by God and detailed in Scripture. Among those weapons that I did not wield sufficiently or well are three: Remembrance, Daily Ritual, and Perseverance.
As a depressed person, I allowed myself to forget many truths about the God I serve and the world in which I live because I allowed depression to “curve me” in on myself. Yet, everywhere in Scripture, God instructs his people to remember his mighty acts, his unsurpassable love, his impeccable wisdom, and his longsuffering patience. If we will remember God’s deeds of the past, we will be better prepared when trials arise. This command to “remember” is inescapably connected to another oft-repeated divine instruction: Listen to the word of the Lord. Indeed, one of the most significant ways to remember God’s goodness is to attend to the story of God told in Scripture.
How does this help us during trials and temptation? Consider an analogy:
Theologian N.T. Wright is famous for suggesting that the Christian mission can be compared to a theater improvisation. Suppose a lost Shakespearean play were to be unearthed, containing a five-act structure but missing the fifth act. In this hypothetical scenario, the first four acts provide well-defined movements, rich character development, and a clear narrative trajectory.
Thus, with the fifth act lost, how can the play be staged in a theater? It would seem inappropriate to write a definitive fifth act that would freeze the play into a form that Shakespeare might not have intended or could have written more superbly. Instead, it seems more appropriate to give the key parts of the play to highly-trained, deeply-committed, and well-seasoned Shakespearian actors, who could immerse themselves in the first four acts of the play and then—to the best of their abilities—work out a fifth act for themselves.
This analogy, Wright argues, illumines the Christian task. In Scripture, God has given his people a dramatic narrative of God’s interaction with his good world. He has detailed his actions in Creation, the Fall, Israel, Jesus, and the Early Church. And he has prophesied the future action in which his Son, Jesus will return to set the world to rights. What is missing is a written revelation of his actions during our era—this time between the times of Christ’s first and second comings.
Thus, the mission of God’s people is to saturate ourselves in the biblical narrative, remembering God’s actions and his words. As we remember, repeatedly, God’s actions on behalf of his people, we become skillful “actors” in the unfolding narrative of God and the world. We are called to “act” as ambassadors of the king, to represent God and his ways to the societies in which we live.
More to the point, I—Bruce—have been called by God to remember his goodness, his wisdom, and his unsurpassed excellence. I have been called to learn from the saints of olden days, to be trained in the art of spiritual warfare from the warriors of times past. In so doing, God equips me to wage warfare in the here and now.
At mid-life, I am just now beginning to learn this lesson with the depth and gravity God had intended all along. During the early parts of my season of depression, my remembrance of God’s goodness and his calling on my life gave me a sense of meaning and purpose that I desperately needed. But as time progressed, I forgot. I ceased to remember. Thus, disconnected from God and the grand story of Scripture, I became increasingly focused on the micro-story of my life and the misery I was experiencing.
I experienced depression as a thick wall separating me from other people, including God. I had a difficult time feeling even a tinge of happiness when spending time with the people I loved most. It was difficult to be interested in conversation even when it revolved around topics I normally enjoyed. I felt numb and isolated.
During the first year or so my recent depressive episode, I did something profoundly good: I tried to maintain the habits and rituals that would nourish my soul and body. Basic things. I ate three times a day, worked out several times per week, spent time journaling and praying every day, and did my best to spend time in corporate worship (this was challenging because it was during the COVID quarantine). These habits and rituals framed my days and helped me be my best “self.”
Yet, eventually, I allowed my physical and medical symptoms (PTSD, depression) to take over. I began to isolate. I curved in on myself. I stopped fighting and chose merely to survive each day. And when I stopped fighting, the Evil One sunk his claws in deeply, all the way to the quick.
Gratefully, as I spiraled downward, God had mercy on me.
Circumstances led to me being diagnosed with PTSD and undergoing EMDR and cranio-sacral treatment. I quit alcohol, which had quickly become my “best” friend and counselor. My brain and body began to heal, and my mind began to clear.
Circumstances also led me to a circle of friends whom I had known for a while, but to whom I had not opened up to. Significantly, most of them have experienced devastation and depression in the past. Each of them is a person of deep faith. I began getting together with them regularly, enjoying their company, listening to their life stories, and piggybacking on their experience, strength, and hope (when I had very little of my own).
In a nutshell, this is what liturgical worship and daily habits do for us. They give positive structure to our hours, days, and weeks. They cause us to “remember” the basic profound truths that every depressive person should remember: That God—rather than Bruce—is at the center of the universe, that God’s way is better than Bruce’s way, that I should cry out to God regularly, that there is much for which to be grateful, that recovery takes time, that there are better days ahead. And so forth.
During my depression, I felt as if God had left me. The more I prayed, the worse things got. Or so it seemed to me. I felt worthless, hopeless, lonely, and afraid. The Evil One preyed upon those feelings and convinced me to call it quits. He is relentless in this message.
But there is a detailed collection of life stories that encourages me not to call it quits. Many of those stories are narrated in the ancient Scriptures. They are stories of people just like me who experienced great trials and tribulations, and who—even if not immediately, even if not perfectly—decided to persevere.
We might as well persevere; all paths lead to God anyway. After all, if we flout his love and his moral law, we will experience the natural (negative) consequences. Furthermore, God actively loves us even when we have given up on ourselves, even when we have become “prodigal sons.”
In the natural world, there are many good analogies. A fighter must persevere or he will surely be defeated. A marathon runner must persevere or she will surely fail. A farmer must persevere to see the fruit of his crops. A musician must persevere in practicing in order to gain for herself a level of excellence. Thus, we must be patient (Jms 5:7).
When we are depressed, we find it especially hard to persevere. But our faithfulness in suffering will produce perseverance (Rom 5:3). We must run the race with perseverance (Heb 12:1). When our faith is tested, we should develop perseverance (Jms 1:3).
Perseverance may not be flashy, but its fruition is majestic. Consider a person who has struggled through deep depression that never really lifts. And yet he or she perseveres. That is a glorious testimony.
I am no longer in the throes of depression. As I have emerged, I realize more clearly and with greater depth, the evil intent and overwhelming power of my opponent. By God’s grace, I will regularly wield the weapons of remembrance, ritual, and perseverance.
If you are experiencing depression the way I did, you perhaps feel defeated because you thought life was like a clearly-marked highway but now you find it is a path fraught with ambushes and littered with struggle. Perhaps you have let down your guard, forgotten God (to some extent), forsaken the daily and weekly habits that will nourish you, and lost the determination to persevere. If so, my hope and prayer for you is that you will find a way to once again put on the full armor of God (Eph 6:10-18).
Yet, let us be clear: if we gain victory over temptation on any given day or during any given season, the Evil One is perfectly happy to bide his time and take us down on another day or during another season. Thus, we must endure hardship “like a good soldier of Christ Jesus” (2 Tim 2:3).
In other words, we cannot be content with listening to our depressive feelings. We must talk back to them, fight them with words and actions. The good news is that hope and joy are the companion of perseverance; those three fellows travel together.
Our great hope is certain; Christ will return to set the world to rights, such that there will be no more suffering. Our great joy is ever at hand; this same Christ offers to walk the path of suffering with us in the here-and-now, empathizing and fighting on our behalf. Thus, let us remember God, shape our lives with the habits of remembrance, and persevere in so doing.
For further reading on reconnecting with God during depressive periods, try these articles:
Pat Quinn, “Anxiety, Depression, and the Comfort of Christ”
John Piper, “Six Ways Jesus Fought Depression”
]]>I think back to my own two extended periods of depression. Depression curved me in on myself. Even when I was in the room with friends and loved ones, I was “absent.” Even when I was willing and able to talk to the people around me, I focused conversation on me, my feelings, my frustrations, my lack of hope. Depression also tainted my response to the love and care shown to me by family and friends. When loved ones told me they were praying for me, or encouraged me with Scripture, I responded unenthusiastically. When they offered practical advice, often I swatted it away.
My depression permeated the air, like a heavy fog, eventually seeping into all the “rooms” of my life—the rooms inhabited by family, friends, and coworkers. This is not unusual; a person’s depression can be very difficult on family and friends. In my own experience, I watched my mother, father, coworkers, and friends struggle mightily to help me in the best way they knew how. For that, I am profoundly grateful.
In light of the inherent challenges of caring for depressed persons, therefore, I offer this list of seven tips for friends and family members of a loved one who is depressed. In composing the list, I draw not only upon field-standard therapeutic guidelines but also my own experience.
The first thing to do if you want to help a depressed person is to prepare yourself for the long game. A depressed person usually suffers for months or years before, hopefully, pulling out of it. One way to prepare yourself is to read a few brief articles or even a book-length treatment (such as Ed Welch, A Stubborn Darkness). Another way to prepare yourself is by determining to practice the disciplines of sympathy and patience.
Depression cannot be “fixed” in a “magical” or immediate manner. It is a serious psychosomatic (one that affects body, mind and soul) condition. Depression is not something that a person can “snap out of.” It is not something that will be helped by comments such as “It’s all in your head” or “C’mon now, you need to man up.” Thus, one of the best ways to begin facilitating a person’s eventual emergence from depression is to listen. Encourage them to talk about their depression, but instead of trying to offer an immediate solution, offer your support.
If you view yourself as a facilitator more than a fixer (point #2), conversation becomes more of an art form than a science. While you can’t offer an empirically-proven “fix” (conversation as “science”), you can leverage conversational opportunities to facilitate the depressed person’s eventual healing. You can listen to them, bring a smile and a hug into their lives, encourage them to seek help, and gently correct their catastrophizing. You can ask sympathetic and thoughtful questions such as: When did you first start feeling depressed? Can you think of what might have triggered the feelings? Are there any activities that tend to make you feel better or feel worse? Artful conversation is a soothing balm for aching hearts.
Depressed people need to be in the company of other people even though, typically, they tend to shy away from socializing. Encourage them to seek professional help in the form of doctors, therapists, and pastoral-spiritual counselors. Encourage them to remain connected to their social circle. If you are going or watching a ballgame, ask them to join you. This reassures them that they haven’t been forgotten; even if they decline participation, they are reminded that their friends and family members will be there for them when they are ready to reengage.
This one is a little tricky. Although it is not a good idea for you to be aggressively chipper around a depressed person, it is a good idea to maintain your own positivity, bring a smile to their face if possible, and insert a little levity whenever appropriate. During my first period of extended depression, laughter was one of the few things that changed my mood significantly. I read funny books, watched stand-up comedians and comedies on television, and enjoyed joking with friends. Thus, if and when you find it possible, help to clear away the fog momentarily by catalyzing smiles or laughter.
When coming alongside of a depressive person, try to offer a balanced combination of practical words and practical actions. Practical words might include encouragement, prayers, spiritual reminders, and offers to help a person find professional help. Practical actions might include offering financial assistance, helping with certain necessary tasks the depressed person finds daunting, and offering to bring over a meal. In other words, in a depressed person’s experience, it might be more helpful to help with something practical than to offer yet another promise of prayer; conversely, on a given day, a promise of prayer might be more valuable than help with the dishes. Thus, it is a safe strategy to help with both words and actions.
Although generally you want to listen more than speak, and sympathize more than trying to fix things, it is good sometimes to “interrupt” a person’s depression by speaking some truths that might be hard for them to embrace in the moment. Psychologist and pastoral counselor Ed Welch puts it well: “Don’t hesitate to interrupt the flow of despair, self-pity, and complaints that only reinforce the person’s unbiblical interpretations of God and himself.” A depressed person’s interpretation of reality (e.g. catastrophizing) is inaccurate and will drive them further into depression until they can break out of it. Of course, you must pray for wisdom in choosing when and how to interrupt their depression.
Taken together, these seven actions help friends and family members actively love their depressed counterpart. We must not allow our love to be derailed or dulled by the inappropriate social signals emitted by the heavy fog surrounding our loved one. Often, we will find ourselves challenged and stretched when caring for that person. We cannot change them. We likely will not see immediate signs of improvement. We will grow weary. But love them we must.
I am profoundly grateful for the family members, friends, and co-workers who “partnered” with me and helped to facilitate my eventual emergence from the fog of depression. Their love was sturdy; they persisted with loving words and actions. Their love was one-sided; they loved me even when I found it difficult or impossible to reciprocate. And their love was Christ-centered; they shined the light of the gospel in the middle of my dark fog.
]]>Indeed, anxiety and depression slept together in my bed. But toward the end of my recent two-year struggle, depression eventually moved to the center, pushed anxiety to the side, and stole the covers.
I experienced depression as a dark cloud hanging over my life, sometimes emitting thunder, other times pouring down rain, still other times merely darkening everything in sight. It seemed to me that the cloud would never dissipate. The more I prayed, the worse things got. Or so it felt.
For me, as for many others who experience prolonged depressive symptoms, depression is a form of acute suffering. It affects us physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. After all, we are psychosomatic beings. Whenever one “part” of us is negatively affected, the other “parts” of us feel the pain in one way or another.
For the first eighteen months or so of my two-year depression, I struggled daily to find spiritual reinforcement. I read through the Psalms twice, journaling my way through a devotional Psalter (Crossway). The Psalms gave me some hope. I especially resonated with the Psalmist when he wrestled God to the mat, when he expressed his feelings to God in a raw and vulnerable manner, when he cried out for the Lord to deliver him in the here-and-now.
I read through Hebrews 11 slowly. I gained some strength from heroes of the faith God delivered from immense challenges and trials (11:1-35). I tried to gain strength from the stories of faithful men and women who God never delivered in the here-and-now, who managed to be faithful even though God never gave them visible victory (11:35-40).
Eventually, somehow and for some reason, I gave up. Though I am not aware of having made any such decision consciously, in effect I threw my hands up. If God would not lessen the nearly-unmitigated onslaught of negative circumstances, if the Great Physician wouldn’t provide any peace for my racing mind or balm for my frayed nerves, I would have to seek help elsewhere.
I turned to alcohol. I knew exactly what alcohol would give me. One drink would give a bit of relief to (what I now know as) my PTSD symptoms. Two drinks would give me even more relief. Eventually, I learned that if I had enough to drink, I could sleep through the night (and toward the end, through large parts of the day).
Yet, alcohol is no savior. It promised salvation, but couldn’t deliver. It gave me what it promised—relief—until…it didn’t. Indeed, soon, instead of calming my racing mind or soothing my nerves, it drove me further into depression and became a fertilizer for my personality deficiencies and character flaws.
After six or nine months of deep misery exacerbated by alcohol abuse, I was diagnosed with PTSD and given a brain-based therapy and physical therapy that reconnected “left brain” and “right brain” and began to restore me physically. With my brain and body in better shape, and having quit alcohol, I now was ready to reconnect with the God who had never ceased actively to love me, evn in the midst of my suffering and unbelief.
As I mentioned earlier, Scripture is replete with stories of God’s active love for his people even in the midst of our great suffering. For good reason, the Bible calls us repeatedly to “remember” the God who acts in history, the Hound of Heaven who has always relentlessly and lovingly pursued his beloved even—and especially—in the midst of their pain.
As I slowly but surely began to reconnect with my Heavenly Father, he began to show me—via experience—that pain is the pathway to spiritual progress. He removed the “cover” of my heart and revealed levels of unbelief and various character flaws. What I had thought was a deep and mature faith in God was in fact not as deep or mature as I thought. My faith had been softened by a relatively painless life, and mixed with confidence in my own ability to produce.
I began to realize the extent to which I had brought my own desires, assumptions, and character flaws into my experience of suffering. I had brought my ego along, as well. Egocentrism—or pride, as Scripture calls it—might reveal itself in arrogance when life is going well, but it often reveals itself in insecurity, fear, and anxiety when life is not going so well.
To compound the matter, I had brought unrealistic expectations into my period of suffering. Ironically, even though my academic expertise included theology—a discipline that forces one to grapple with Christian teaching about life in a fallen world—I somehow expected that my life would not or should not include serious adversity.
There are several things the doctors and therapists got right.
They were right that my nervous system and brain would never balance out, and my temptation to medicate with alcohol likely would not diminish, unless and until I underwent a medical-physical treatment (my treatment was EMDR) for PTSD. They were right that alcohol is a brutally counter-effective medication for serious problems. And they were right that I needed to develop some cognitive and behavioral tools (for me, Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy) for handling depression and anxiety.
Yet there is one aspect of my condition of which the doctors and therapists were unaware, and which they were unqualified to diagnose: the condition of my heart. As my depression had deepened, I became disconnected from God. I experienced depression as a thick wall separating me not only from other people but also from God.
Depression tempts us to curve inward rather than reaching out to God. We easily succumb to this temptation because, after all, it is the ordinary human condition is to curve in on ourselves. In my experience, during the later stages of my depression, I became tired of calling out to God and soon became skeptical about the benefits of waiting on God. Eventually I gave up on “spiritual warfare” and chose merely to survive each day.
This is what the doctors and therapists could not diagnose. Yet, thankfully, there is a physician—the Great Physician—who was quite capable of diagnosing and who patiently pursued me until I came back to my senses. This diagnosis—for the sake of linguistic levity, let’s call it Post-Traumatic Spiritual Disconnection Disorder (PTSDD)—will be the topic of the next few installments of this series on depression.
]]>During those years, I felt trapped and didn’t see a way out. In Dante’s Inferno—the book in which he depicts the inner bowels of hell—he portrays sinners trapped in an icy lake, freezing instead of burning. In my experience, depression feels like that.
During the first period of depression, there was nothing in life that could induce happy feelings, nothing that I truly enjoyed. I experienced life with a catatonic sense of utter tedium. Very briefly, I pondered suicide. For years, I threw myself into my studies—first a PhD program, later my lecture notes. My studies were just about the only thing that could help me squeeze the hours and days forward.
During the more recent depression, I never contemplated suicide. I have three beautiful children who are worth more to me than anything in this world. Thus, I never wanted to die. Yet, although I didn’t want to die, I also didn’t want to be awake. I began medicating periodically with alcohol. Binge drinking so that I could be unconscious for days at a time. But the drinking didn’t help. It made things worse.
During both periods, I felt like I had only enough mental, physical, and emotional bandwidth to stay alive and take care of each day’s most basic responsibilities. I lacked interest in nearly everything but my children. I didn’t have hope and eventually became unmotivated to even seek hope.
This is a summary—concise to the extreme—of my personal experience of depression
My personal experience of depression is mine. Yet, it also takes part in a general experience of depression, as articulated by many individuals and described in medical and psychotherapeutic literature.
Depressed people usually describe their condition using analogies, metaphors, and poetic language. Often, depressive people are eloquent when conveying their experience. The images we use are dark and evocative.
We speak of depression as the Dark Cloud or the Ball-and-Chain. We describe depression as having tentacles or being a deep pit. We liken it to being trapped in a maze or caught in an undercurrent.
Note: In this article, I use the “Black Dog” as a metaphor for depression. This metaphor comes from Winston Churchill who, during depressive episodes, that he was being hounded by the Black Dog. It seems that Churchill was drawing upon traditional folklore of the British Isles the Black Dog was a nocturnal apparition whose appearance was regarded as a portent of death. Thus, Churchill adapted the metaphor to depression, implying that depression is like a dog who is too fond of us and follows us even when unwelcome and unwanted.
We speak of darkness, emptiness, absence, loneliness. The mental and emotional pain seem unbearable. Further we don’t experience the pain as mere pain; we experience it as meaningless pain.
The pain is so bad that many depressed people want to die. We seem stripped of dignity and purpose, unable to survive apart from infantile dependence. We are terrified. We find it difficult to make decisions, given that we often cannot think clearly and have no emotional preferences.
This is a summary—concise again—of the general experience of depression.
We have described the general experience of depression in everyday terms. Yet, we have not yet described it clinically. What is a clinical definition of depression?
Clinicians tell us that we should think of “depression” in terms of various types rather than a uniform phenomenon. Even though depressions of all types share a common experience, there is no one common cause.
Furthermore, its best to think of depressions as existing on a continuum of severity. When addressing the causes of depression, counselor David Powlison notes that humans are complex beings. We are “psychosomatic” beings, meaning that we are composed of both souls and bodies. Indeed, we are physically embodied (perhaps having a predisposition toward depression), socially embedded (influenced by our social situation), spiritually embattled (influenced by both good and bad spiritual forces), and sovereignly situated (living under God’s loving reign).
The most recent version of the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (the “DSM-V”) notes this continuum of severity.
The DSM-V refers to less severe types of depression as “dysthymic” disorders. In everyday language, people often refer to this as “situational depression.” More severe types of depression are categorized as “depressive disorder” or “bipolar disorder.” In everyday language, people often refer to this as “clinical depression.”
At the more severe end of the spectrum, a depressive person experiences many of the following symptoms: depressed mood, loss of interest, weight loss, insomnia or hypersomnia, psychomotor dysfunction, fatigue, feelings of worthlessness or guilt, diminished thinking capacity, and thoughts of death.
Thus, we have useful categories for understanding the symptoms of depression. Yet the question remains: what is it that causes depression? More to the point, what caused my particular depressive state?
Concerning depression’s causes, there are many theories. Some are medical, others psychological, still others spiritual. Yet, no doctor or therapist or pastor can be absolutely confident in diagnosing definitively the cause(s) of an individual’s depression. A person’s spiritual condition cannot be definitively known by anybody other than God. A person’s chemical balance or imbalance cannot be definitely known.
Thus, as psychologist Ed Welch argues, we should be patient and careful when exploring the cause(s) of our depression. If we decide too quickly on a particular medical diagnosis and commit immediately to long-term medication, we hurt our ability to rule out certain other physical or spiritual causes. Conversely, if we decide too quickly or definitively that our depression is traced to a particular spiritual deficiency, we hurt our ability to find potentially necessary help in the medical and psychological realm.
Thus, it seems wise for a depressed person to delay the reception of a final diagnosis. It takes time.
It turns out that both of my depressive periods were tied to a combination of physical and spiritual-psychological causes.
The first period was triggered by a traumatic event that I hid, never revealing it fully to any one person. I covered my wound. As a result, I never received the help that I could have received. Had I opened up to a therapist or doctor, I would have been diagnosed with PTSD and counseled to undergo EMDR therapy. Had I opened up to a pastor and counselor, I would have been given spiritual and practical tools that would have aided significantly.
Eventually, I loosened the grip of the black dog. This loosening, or partial escape, was catalyzed by my engagement to a lovely young lady. Her love, calming presence, and faithful companionship soothed my frayed nerves, gave me a previously unimaginable hope, and fostered the type of happy feelings I had not experienced in years.
Yet, I had not treated the deeper causes. Thus, more recently, when I experienced another series of traumatic events, the Black Dog was able to regain his grip and dig his teeth more deeply and decisively into the exposed wound. At first, I tried to take the spiritual and therapeutic counsel available to me. Yet, initially I ignored the possibility of a physical cause (later I was diagnosed with the onslaught of a reinvigorated and inflated case of PTSD); thus, when the spiritual and therapeutic measures couldn’t tame my racing mind, my heightened nerves, and the onset of despair, I turned to alcohol.
I turned to alcohol because I knew exactly what it would give me. A small amount periodically during the day would calm my nerves and soothe my mind enough that I didn’t feel crazy. A significant amount at night would slow the racing mind and dull the nerves enough that I could sleep. Yet soon alcohol gave me more than I asked for. It drove me deeper into depression and exacerbated my problems.
Thankfully, friends intervened. I was diagnosed with PTSD and underwent intensive treatment in the form of EMDR therapy (which reconnected my “left brain” and “right brain,” reducing significantly the effect of any “triggers”), cranio-sacral massage (which released the enormous amounts of cortisol my body had stored), therapeutic counsel, and biblically-based Christian counsel. Together, these treatments restored my mind and body. For a year now, I have experienced a recovery that I previously could not imagine.
During upcoming weeks and months, I will write further pieces on depression as an often-multi-faceted phenomenon: physical, emotional, spiritual, and mental. I will explore depression as a unique form of suffering; engage in a deep dive on the various causes of depression; reflect upon a depressive person’s relationship to fear, anger, hopelessness, shame, guilt, and suicidal ideation; address the challenges of being a friend or family member of a depressed person; and conclude with a series of theological reflections on pain as the pathway to spiritual progress.
In the meantime, I conclude by reminding the reader that no matter how big and powerful the Black Dog, there is a Benevolent Being far bigger and significantly more powerful who has a deep and vested interest in our wellbeing. This Being is near us (1 Pet 5:6-9), experiences our depression with us “from the inside” (Rom 8:23-30), and is capable of transforming us through our suffering (Heb 11:13-16). This Being—the Lion of the Tribe of Judah—keeps his eye on the Black Dog at all times and eventually will defeat him and bind his jaws forever.
]]>At the beginning of my professorial career, I was asked to teach seminars in a Great Books program. Such a program is, by nature, multi-disciplinary and thus forced me out of the narrow confines of my chosen discipline. I continued to teach in that program for two decades; in fact, without a doubt, I learned more as a Great Books teacher than I did in my bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral studies combined.
What must a student be expected to know? Put simply: the greats. Certainly the great thinkers and great books that have shaped our own Western civilization, but also some of the great thinkers and books arising from other civilizations and cultures.
Why bother with the great books? Why study literature, philosophy, and history? We teach the liberal arts because we know that we—as human beings—are fallible. We must recognize the magnitude of our errancy. The only infallible society is that of heaven. Even Homer “nods,” as the saying goes. And if Homer nods, we certainly will.
To read the rest of this article, originally published with Carolina Journal, click here.
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