A couple of years ago, Brazos Press published a remarkable little book called Darkness Is My Only Companion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness by The Rev. Kathryn Greene-McCreight, an Episcopal minister in New Haven, CT. Both a learned theologian and long-time sufferer, the book details Greene-McCreight’s own struggle with debilitating postpartum depression and bipolar disorder. And it does so with unswerving courage and insight (not to mention supreme compassion), while also providing a larger theological framework for understanding mental illness. Suffice it to say, it’s a must for anyone dealing with these issues, either from a personal or pastoral care perspective. I was gratified to see that Christianity Today had recently drafted Rev. Greene-McCreight to craft an article on the subject for them, which appeared under the title, “Light When All is Dark”. I came away so encouraged by what she had to say that I had to share it with all of you. Here are some excerpts [Update 3/18/2012: Rev. Greene-McCreight will be speaking at the 2012 Mockingbird Conference in New York City!]:
I have a chronic mental illness, a brain disorder that used to be called manic depression, but now is less offensively called bipolar disorder. I have sought help from psychiatrists, social workers, and mental health professionals; one is a Christian, but most of my helpers are not. I have been in active therapy with a succession of therapists over many years, and have been prescribed many psychiatric medications, most of which brought quite unpleasant side effects, and only a few of which relieved my symptoms. I have been hospitalized during the worst times and given electroconvulsive therapy treatments. All of this has helped, I must say, despite my disinclination toward medicine and hospitals. They have helped me to rebuild some of “myself,” so that I can continue to be the kind of mother, priest, and writer I believe God wants me to be.
During these bouts of illness, I would often ask myself: How could I, as a faithful Christian, be undergoing such torture of the soul? And how could I say that such torture has nothing to do with God? This is, of course, the assumption of the psychiatric guild in general, where faith in God is often viewed at best as a crutch, and at worst as a symptom of disease.
How could I, as a Christian, indeed as a theologian of the church, understand anything in my life as though it were separate from God? This is clearly impossible. And yet how could I confess my faith in that God who was “an ever-present help in trouble” (Ps. 46:1) when I felt entirely abandoned by that God? And if this torture did have something to do with God, was it punishment, wrath, or chastisement? Was I, to use a phrase of Jonathan Edwards’s, simply a “sinner in the hands of an angry God”?
Depression is not just sadness or sorrow. Depression is not just negative thinking. Depression is not just being “down.” It’s walking barefoot on broken glass; the weight of one’s body grinds the glass in further with every movement. So, the weight of my very existence grinds the shards of grief deeper into my soul. When I am depressed, every thought, every breath, every conscious moment hurts. And often the opposite is the case when I am hypomanic: I am scintillating both to myself, and, in my imagination, to the whole world. But mania is more than speeding mentally, more than euphoria, more than creative genius at work. Sometimes, when it tips into full-blown psychosis, it can be terrifying. The sick individual cannot simply shrug it off or pull out of it: there is no pulling oneself “up by the bootstraps.”
And yet the Christian faith has a word of real hope, especially for those who suffer mentally. Hope is found in the risen Christ. Suffering is not eliminated by his resurrection, but transformed by it. Christ’s resurrection kills even the power of death, and promises that God will wipe away every tear on that final day. But we still have tears in the present. We still die. In God’s future, however, death itself will die. The tree from which Adam and Eve took the fruit of their sin and death becomes the cross that gives us life.
The hope of the Resurrection is not just optimism, but keeps the Christian facing ever toward the future, not merely dwelling in the present… In my bouts with mental illness, this understanding of Christian hope gives comfort and encouragement, even if no relief from symptoms. Sorrowing and sighing will be no more. Tears will be wiped away. Even fractious brains will be restored.
COMMENTS
14 responses to “Bipolar Disorder, Depression and Light When All Is Dark”
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Thanks for drawing everyone’s attention to this book, Sean. I recomended it last year to an Anglo-Catholic friend of mine who has a loved one who suffers from mental illness.
One of the many ways it can be a help to us, especially those of you who act regularly in a pastoral capacity (and which of us don’t have that opportunity, whether or not we have a collar?) is that it can begin to dismantle a false and unbiblical distinction which has plagued man for thousands of years. And that is the distinction between deliberate freely chosen thoughts and deeds in the moral sphere over and against all other kinds of human brokenness.
The Bible doesn’t know much about that distinction. It often (so barbarically we say!) treats a nonmoral unchosen condition (leprosy, menstrual dysfunction, physical paralysis, etc.) as SIN — as a sign of sin, as a sin visited on a person by his father, or simply mentions it in the same breath as other kinds of moral wickedness). This happens throughout the OT and the NT.
It’s important for Christian pastors to be released from the chains of this false distinction because otherwise they are captive to the pastoral cruelty of treating moral sinners as if they are somehow different from lepers, schizophrenics, manic depressives, cancer patients, and so on.
I’d like to zero in on one sentence of this author’s from among those you quoted. She writes:
“In my bouts with mental illness, this understanding of Christian hope gives comfort and encouragement, even if no relief from symptoms.”
The emphasis there is mine but I think it is essential.
The glory story is seductive and constantly seeks to co-opt the cross story into it. In our case we will be constantly be tempted to “sell” grace to people as a technique for moral improvement. “Are you trying to get your wife to _________?” we say. Don’t use demand and judgment — that won’t work! Instead, try loving her without demanding anything — THEN she’ll start flying right!
This book Sean mentions is helpful, and especially that passage, because it strikes at that need for us to FIX AND IMPROVE. The melancholy reality is that ALL forms of sin (i.e. human brokenness) this side of Jordan are typically unfixable. Yes, it often happens that God begins to heal people, often quite dramatically, in this life. But when that happens it is typically a mystery hidden in the Father’s unsearchable wisdom (as many a cancer doctor will tell you) — and the thanks we give for these blessings is always informed by the humility we experience in realizing that more often a person remains bound in some kind of paralyzing affliction (moral or otherwise) his entire life, with as the author says, no relief from symptoms.
By facing this reality it enables Christian pastoral care to free itself from captivity to cruelty, which is the incessant demand (however obliquely stated) that people “get better” — and in turn gives it a different thing to focus on, a different message, a different song to sing.
John. . . what a pleasure it is to have your comments on here!
IMNSHO: You’ve got your finger on the pulse of the simul in an especially (perhaps even uniquely) insightful and profound way–please keep the comments coming; I’m learning a lot.
Looking forward to seeing you soon!
Just a quick postscript: the book I mention is by the same author Sean mentions. He is quoting from an article. I am mentioning an earlier book by her: “Darkness Is My Only Companion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness.”
Thanks so much for your kindness, Jady. I am stoked in a major fashion about the Mbird conference. I just can’t wait to see you all — some of you for the first time.
Fondly,
J
John,
Amazing comment! Thank you. I couldn’t agree with you more. It is terrifying to admit that things may not get better in life because it is taking our lack of control or inability to effect change one step further. This relates back to what Jady posted yesterday in that it reminds us of our true creaturely state. It forces humility in a sense. We hate facing up to the fact that we are not more than we are.
This is true pastorally too, as you eloquently point out. I think we are all guilty at times of presenting grace as a new tool for the same old desire for control. We want people we’re in touch with to get better for their sake of course, but also because it will be a reflection on us. OUr ministry will be a success, and on an even more base level, then we won’t have to deal with their problems any more. We won’t have to be by their side when their worlds continue to fall apart. That is too painful and hits too close to home.
That’s why I think it is so helpful to be a bit more specific when we talk about grace. It can be a very broad topic, and one that does seem to lead down the path of kind of manipulating people into changing for us. As you so accurately said, it’s “the glory story”, and it always sneaks in the back door. BUT the Grace we’re talking about is the cross of Jesus Christ. When that is made clear there is no false confidence to stand upon. There is no confusion about who we are and how desperate the situation is. At the cross we find ourselves as we really are and we receive the gift of grace that truly “makes all things new”. Then we actually can have real hope for a new life just like Kathryn talks about in her article and book.
Thanks dude!
wow. thank you for this Sean. believe it or not I used to moonlight at Rev. Greene-McCreight’s church when i lived in new haven, but i had no idea this was her realm of expertise. that said, her sermons were always the best…
Dave
That’s really cool! I was totally surprised to see she was Episcopalian and right up in New Haven. I’m sure her sermons were awesome when she writes stuff like this.
Being one who suffers from Panic Disorder and Depression I found this article to be a true to life description of what it feels like.
I’ve just started reading this book…as in, just started yesterday.
I wrestle with having–boarder line–ppd, and having it pretty bad. It wasn’t been diagnosed–using that term loosely–until after the birth of my second son, Jack, late last year. Turns out, I probably suffered from it with Quinn…
The hardest thing about this is the self-condemnation that one heaps upon themselves while they suffer. Especially if you are Christian. The constant battle between one’s faith and one’s suffering. The feelings of abandonment and the feelings of loneliness in conjunction with what you “know” about the truth; you “know” the cross…but you can’t dig up out of the hole you are stuck in. The rage and then the corresponding fear of yourself is debilitating. The crazy thoughts about yourself and those close to you, are very real but also very foreign. It’s really hard, especially in a society/church society where having it together is the main thing to show that you know Jesus Christ…Christ helps you get your stuff together; but what happens to those who fall apart in the midst of knowing Christ? Self condemnation, fear, loneliness, darkness…
Especially, in the Church society, as a “new” mother, I’m supposed to be wrapped in the throws of joy and blessedness; rather, I am barely keeping my head above water and certainly don’t have joy nor am i experiencing the blessedness of being a mother.
I’m excited for this book because i’ve been really suffering the past few months. This is a very timely post, Sean, and I appreciate it and the comments from John et al.
Lauren and Shawn, I am so grateful for your willingness to share such a vulnerable part of yourself with us. Thank you. What an honor given to us to be “let in” on your life in that way.
What you wrote made me think of something in a kind of C.S. Lewis Screwtape kinda way. It’s an insight another much wiser Christian gave me.
And that is that it is precisely those people who we are hearing the cross story and the gospel and are closest to Christ that the devil rages most against, and whom he sometimes afflicts most horribly.
The devil’s goal is always to get us to disbelieve in Romans 8:38… to believe that it might be true for someone else but not PRO MEA, the promise couldn’t be given for me; or that it couldn’t really be true that NOTHING could separate me from the love of God in Christ.
And of course the devil often works most through well meaning church goers. That’s not me being “anti-church.” It’s simply the witness of the passion narrative itself: the devil works through the high priests of God’s holy church to murder the Lamb.
So while I am heartbroken to hear that Christians are telling you that “having it together is the main thing to show that you know Jesus Christ…Christ helps you get your stuff together” — I admit to not being surprised.
Again, much love in your suffering from a miserably screwed up fellow himself.
The full article is posted online at Christianity Today now:
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2009/march/12.30.html
Incredible post, Sean. Thanks!
I particularly liked the powerful imagery and connection she makes in saying so clearly that : “The tree from which Adam and Eve took the fruit of their sin and death becomes the cross that gives us life.”
What an amazing God we have, whose love is equally amazing.
Thanks for the link Sarah! I completely agree Hawley. Everyone’s comments are so helpful. I have suffered from a panic/depressive disorder for the last 3 years or so, and it is truly wonderful to know that you’re not alone.
Thanks.
I thank you all, too. This post and comments are why I love Mockingbird. There is such comfort in knowing that we are not alone in our struggles. Surely wish I could be at the conference. Some day I will!