Header image credit: me // Featured image credit: Marcel Strauß (freely available via Unsplash)

In part 1 of this series, I discussed how the mind and body are inextricably connected, each one affecting the other, and how the mind is the battleground for our great mental and spiritual battles. I concluded by arguing that a proper approach to mental health must be comprehensive (i.e., must acknowledge this reality) and by hinting that a failure to do so, accompanied by a misunderstanding of what faith is, is a likely cause for at least some the stigma surrounding mental health in the Christian community.

In this second part of the series, I’ll lay out a very basic theology of mental illness that addresses the role of faith in healing and the purpose that our struggles serve. I won’t go into a theology of why it happens (perhaps in another post), but long story short, it’s because we live in a broken world.

Health and Faith

There is a contingent within the Christian community that believes that mental illness is a sign of poor faith: if only you believed stronger and/or prayed harder, then you’d be healed. (There is also a contingent, albeit a seemingly smaller one, that applies this to physical illness. Uff!)

Yikes! Not only is that hurtful and untrue, it’s blatantly heretical.

First of all, God is infinite—in knowledge, in power, in wisdom, and so much more. He knows the end from the beginning. He is sovereign over all things. And, as A. W. Tozer writes in The Knowledge of the Holy, His “acts are done in perfect wisdom, first for His own glory, and then for the highest good of the greatest number for the longest time.” In other words, He knows and does what, in the long run, will do the greatest good for the greatest number of people.

In contrast, we humans are finite in every domain that God is infinite. So how can we possibly know what the best outcome of a particular situation—the best answer to a prayer—will be? Who are we to assume that our healing will be best in the long run? Perhaps through not being healed, we will live a life of greater meaning, purpose, and even joy.

Secondly, while it’s true that, as part of His ministry, Jesus did several healings that He credited to the person’s faith, most of His miracles were based on nothing more than His desire as Healer to heal. So it is folly to extrapolate from that small proportion of examples and say that healing is dependent upon faith.

Moreover, there have been many unanswered prayers for healing by people whose faith is unquestionable, the most notable example possibly being Paul’s thorn in the flesh (cf. 2 Corinthians 12:7–10). (True, we don’t know if it was a health-related thorn, but whether or not it was, it illustrates the point that prayers aren’t always answered based on faith.) Throughout his ministry, Paul called forth blindness upon a false prophet who was opposing his ministry (Acts 13:4–12), healed a man with crippled feet (Acts 14:8–10), restored a young man to life (Acts 20:7–12), and more. In fact, he did so many “extraordinary miracles […] that even handkerchiefs or aprons that had touched his skin were carried away to the sick, and their diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them” (Acts 19: 11–12). Peter was the only other Apostle to raise someone from the dead (Acts 9:36–42), but not even he was credited with healing from afar by handkerchiefs or aprons.

I say that not to exalt Paul (because it was God who did those works and because Paul wouldn’t want the credit) but to highlight this fact: if any of the apostles ought to have had enough faith to ensure any prayer would be granted, it would have been Paul. And yet, despite praying three times for the removal of his thorn, Paul’s thorn remained. While it’s possible that the thorn was some sort of physical or mental ailment, we don’t know for sure what it was, and therein lies the beauty of it: by not knowing what his thorn was, we can more easily generalize it to our own situation, whether that be depression, chronic disease, or a strained relationship. What matters isn’t the thorn or even whether or not God removes it, but how we respond. And Paul’s response should the response of us all when we experience our unique thorns:

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” – 2 Corinthians 12:8–10.

All this to say, the purpose of trials, whether illness or stress or persecution, is to draw us into greater reliance on God, finding in Him a strength greater than what ours could ever be, and in so doing, honoring Him. It takes the heat of a crucible to refine gold and it takes pressure to form a diamond. Remove that heat and pressure and you’re left with something that did not achieve its full potential and purpose. Similarly, remove the illness and we might not become the most effective, fulfilled version of ourselves. The goal, therefore, is holiness. The goal is wholeness. The goal is fullness—of potential and of life.

Wholeness Through Illness

While Scripture does speak to the specifics of God’s will and plan for our individual lives, Scripture is clear on what God’s general desires are for people: He wants none to perish, but rather that all reach repentance (2 Peter 3:9), because that repentance leads to life (Acts 11:28), and He wants that life to be abundant (John 10:10) and filled with abundant joy (John 15:11). This abundance happens when we are deeper in relationship with Him, when we abide in Him as the vine and allow Him to prune us. Such pruning isn’t pleasant in the moment, but it yields greater fruitfulness in the long run. And that fruit is what brings abundance into our lives and the lives of others. That’s why we must be pruned and refined through trials. That’s why our sanctification is God’s will (1 Thessalonians 4:3), because greater sanctification means deeper abiding, which means being more filled with the Spirit and bearing more fruit. Like any good parent wants for their child, God just wants His children to be mature and complete (cf. 2 Timothy 3:17), to live full, fruitful, and impactful lives.

Scripture is replete with other discussions and examples of being refined and matured through trials (cf. Romans 5:3–5; James 1:2–4). It’s clearly an important topic. It’s clearly something that God wants us to understand. So let’s look at mental illness through that lens.

Imagine that you are one of the millions of adults who suffer from depression or anxiety. You could go to a therapist who will prescribe you one of the countless drugs designed to treat mood disorders. At best, it will get your symptoms under control. At worst, it will have a horrible host of accompanying side effects and won’t do anything to help treat the depression or anxiety.

Or, you could go to a therapist who has a more holistic approach. (And who isn’t the pocket of Big Food and Big Pharma, who both want to you be sick and work together to ensure it: Big Food provides horrible nutrition that makes you need the drugs provided by Big Pharma; you get sick and they make bank of your being sick. Bad for you, but great for them. But, this isn’t the post to get into all that.) Maybe they prescribe drugs to help get the symptoms under control in the short-term, but, crucially, they work with you on creating healthy, sustainable lifestyle changes to cure the depression and underlying causes in the long run—lifestyle changes like mindfulness practices, cognitive-behavioral therapeutic techniques, and even exercise and healthy diet (which, according to a 2023 systematic review, is substantially more effective than standard care in treating depression; a 2016 meta-analysis and a 2022 meta-analysis similarly show that exercise is at least as effective as traditional psychotherapy and/or antidepressants). At best, you will have not only cured your depression and fixed the underlying neural pathways, but you will have also compiled an arsenal of tools to help you combat any future recurrences and will have developed a lifestyle that leads to greater resilience and to better physical and mental well-being, thereby giving you more energy and vitality to enjoy life to the fullest. At worst, you might still struggle with some depression (though it will almost certainly be considerably improved) and will have developed a lifestyle that leads to greater resilience and to better physical and mental well-being, thereby giving you more energy and vitality to enjoy life to the fullest, all without side effects. For a worst-case scenario, that sounds like a pretty big win. (If you want some ideas of what these mindfulness and cognitive-behavioral therapy practices might look like, check out my previous posts on mindfulness , happiness, gratitude, and the butterfly effect, and my booklet on stress management.)

Or, you could pray that God would miraculously cure you of your depression. That would be pretty amazing, and with a miracle-working God on our side, it’s not off the table. But, as amazing as that would be, would it be better than curing the depression through developing mindfulness practices and changing your health habits? I think that’s a pretty obvious “no.” A miracle would circumvent the work of pruning, which would eliminate the accompanying benefits—benefits which, as noted above, lead to a more abundant life. So you’d be healed, but the rest of your life might forever be un-full, under-abundant, “less than”. Miraculous healing isn’t looking so great anymore, is it?

The Role of Faith

So, as much as we might like the idea of miraculous healing, such a miracle might actually lead to a worse outcome in the end: a life that is less than the fully abundant one God wants for us. Plus, we must remember that God already did the most valuable miracle of all through Jesus: deliverance from sin and death to a new life in Him through the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit. And through the Spirit’s presence, we gain access to God’s strength.

The world we live in might be broken and tainted by sin, but it still obeys the natural laws that God put in place. And the same goes for us: we might be corrupted by sin, but our fleshly bodies still follow reliable physiological principles, and these principles tell us that our mind is powered by while simultaneously affecting our brain. Meanwhile, Scripture teaches us that the mind is the battleground for our mental-spiritual battles, which, in addition to including our perpetual battle against sin, includes the battle against mental illness, which is a consequence of sin’s stain on the world. Given the metaphysical nature of these battles, we need metaphysical strength to win them. And as we start to win on the metaphysical front, that will make important, lasting changes on the physical front of our brains, specifically, healthier neural pathways. Hence the importance of the Spirit’s strength.

It is this strength that empowers us to persevere through the trial of illness. It is this strength that enables us to grow through being pruned. It is this strength that allows us to do the hard work of habit change unto better health. It is this strength that helps us redirect our thought patterns, taking captive the unholy, unhealthy thoughts (cf. 2 Corinthians 10:5) and turning our thoughts to what is true and honorable and just and pure (Philippians 4:8). It is this strength that allows us to be “more than conquerors” in all things (Romans 8:37), from spiritual oppression to addiction to depression and more. But, we can only tap into this strength through faith.

It is by faith that we’re saved, it is through this salvation that we become indwelt through the Holy Spirit, and it is through the indwelling presence of the Spirit that we have the power to fight the metaphysical battle against mental illness.

Yes, depression is dark. But there is One who is Light.

Yes, anxiety is crippling. But there is One who heals the crippled and lame.

Yes, addition (to alcohol, to porn, to food, to social media, etc.) can hold us captive. But there is One whose death sets captives free.

Yes, it can be hard to appreciate our bodies when they are so far from the ideal that’s vomited upon us by the media. But there is One in whose image we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

Yes, the lies of our past traumas are loud. But there is One who speaks Truth.

Yes, the Enemy is strong in his onslaught against us in this world. But the One who is in us is stronger than the one who is in this world.

Our flesh is weak, but, like Paul, when we have the Spirit of the risen Christ in us, in that weakness we are strong.

Perhaps, then, we’ve been praying for the wrong miracles. We’ve been praying for miraculous healing and relief from depression when we should be praying for miraculous strength to focus instead on gratitude and joy. We’ve been praying for miraculous freedom from addiction when we should be praying for strength to recognize those addictive thoughts and replace the behaviors with healthier ones. We’ve been praying for miraculous deliverance from past trauma and resentment when we should be praying for the miraculous strength to forgive and move forward. We’ve been praying for miraculous removal of our anxiety when we should be praying for the miraculous strength to let go of those anxieties, cast them on God, and trust that He will provide our daily bread. We’ve been praying for God to do the healing when we should be praying for His strength to do the work of health. We’ve been praying for physical and mental healing when our greatest need is spiritual healing.

So, yes, healing is absolutely dependent on faith, but not in the way some would argue. Faith leads to healing not because prayers are only answered when there is enough faith behind them, but because faith in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ gives us access to God, who empowers us to do the work and persevere through and be refined by our trials unto holier, wholer, healthier versions of ourselves.

Is that the kind of faith you have? Is that the kind of faith you’ve been praying with?

Ministry Potential

One last element to consider in this discussion is how others might benefit from our mental-emotional struggles.

Anyone and everyone can show empathy, but the depth and effectiveness of that empathy is greater when it comes from somebody who’s been through the same situation. Moreover, if you’re struggling, it’s better to talk to someone than no one at all. But wouldn’t you rather talk to someone who has experienced what you’re going through than someone who has no idea what it’s like? And given the choice, wouldn’t you rather talk to someone who has learned to overcome that struggle than someone who has been miraculously delivered from it without learning how to handle it? Which of those has more wisdom, counsel, and comfort to impart to you as you fight your battle? The one who has overcome.

We can only guide others along paths that we’ve trod. We can only comfort others as much as we’ve been comforted. That’s why our ministry will likely be more effective when it is to those who are struggling with what we have been through and have overcome ourselves. So those struggles, those mental health issues—those are ministry opportunities. And more so when we aren’t delivered from them but are strengthened and refined through them.

In this light, what value does miraculous healing serve? If you haven’t learned how to cope with the illness, how can you possibly hope to help others cope with it?

In this light, why would you stigmatize those who are struggling? Not only are they being pruned and refined, but they are being equipped and strengthened to do a great ministry work. If God trusts them enough to handle this struggle and use them for something greater as a result, then who are we to shame them for their illness?

In this light, why would we cast doubt on the faith of those who haven’t been healed? Who are we to criticize the power and validity of their faith when it is because of the strength of their faith that they are being trusted with this struggle?

In this light, we should count it joy that we are being tested and tried through our trials, for in such trials, we are refined and matured; in such trials, we learn that our weakness allows God’s strength to be on full display; in such trials, we learn that the miracle we wanted isn’t the one that would be best for us; in such trials, we realize that the true miracle—the Spirit of the risen Christ in us—is one that is worth suffering every thorn and trial and struggle that this broken world can throw at is.

Concluding Remarks

So, yes, mental illness—and, more than that, any trial or struggle in general—is a sign of faith, specifically, of a strong and strengthening faith, of a faith that God trusts to use for good. In fact, it is so much a sign of a strong and trustworthy faith that it would be warranted to say that a lack of such trials is a sign of a weak faith, a faith that God doesn’t trust enough to test or make use of, lest it prove unable to withstand the trial or task.

So ask yourself this: is your faith strong enough to handle a trial? To handle mental illness? To handle not getting a miracle? (Uff, that hit hard as I wrote it!)

And in case you need some encouragement, take this to heart: if you’re struggling with illness  (or any other trial) and/or if you’re not getting your miracle, know that God is using that to refine you into a holier and wholer version of yourself. And He’s only doing it because He knows that your faith is strong enough to handle it.

Yours truly,
D. R. Meriwether, Ph.D.
Renaissance Man and Abundant Life Liver