Drugs, Mood And Stress

In early December Brant Hansen posted
a powerful, honest account of his struggle with depression and the challenge to
his faith that he takes a drug, which has altered his personality for the
better. How is Jesus ‘enough’, he asks, if he needs his medication?

There are spiritual-common-sense answers to his questions.
Firstly, Jesus is enough, but the way he supplies the ‘enough’ is through what
Calvin (yes, this Arminian is going to quote Calvin positively!) called ‘common
grace’. That is, God sends the sun on the righteous and the unrighteous. The
general blessings of his creation are available to all. Properly prescribed and
taken prescription drugs are surely part of this. Healing comes as much through
the medical profession as directly in answer to prayer, and is not inferior for
that.

Secondly, depression and other conditions such as anxiety
state are just as much medical conditions as a fractured leg, especially if
they are caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. It’s hard to induce that
by some kind of moral or spiritual negligence or wilfulness. Yet the stigma
remains for many.

Thirdly, and implied in this, we need to distinguish between
prescription drugs and recreational drugs. Being ‘on drugs’ is very different
if a doctor has said we need them for our healing.

So far, so uncontroversial, I expect, for most readers of
this blog. I don’t expect any of you would have given the hassle to Brant he
received when he talked about this on the radio: you know, the ‘not enough
faith’, ‘not living in victory’, ‘satanic attack’ clichés. Why write about it? I’ve never been diagnosed with depression, as
Brant has.

But it makes some
connections for me. My father was diagnosed with depression. He had to take
early retirement as a result. What I did have, in 1995, was six weeks signed
off ministry with stress. My first two years in the ministry were spent dealing
with an awful situation with unsuitable children’s workers, before all the
child protection laws and rules came into full force. I lived under threats of
violence. I was watched. There were anonymous phone calls at all times of day
and night. Much else, too. After putting that struggle to bed, there was a
nasty struggle in the church over worship styles. Then I had a broken
engagement. Finally, I cracked. After much resistance and receiving reassurance,
I ended up on beta-blockers. They gave my body space to recover.

Yet I still had big
questions about my experience and my faith. Surely if God didn’t allow us to
face more than we can cope with, given his presence in our lives, the fact that
I was issued with doctor’s certificates with the words ‘Anxiety state’ meant my
faith had failed?

There are other
connections, too. No, I don’t suffer from depression, but anyone who knows me well
sees the occasional periods when dark moods and an almost disabling lack of
confidence sweep over me for short periods. Some would say that isn’t much of a
testimony. When my head is together, I know I can point to heroes of the faith
who have been through the same: Jeremiah, Luther, William Cowper and others. I
tend to forget that when I’m down.

And Brant’s
experience came back to mind last Monday. A much lower scale than his, again,
though – I must emphasise that. Early this year, it was discovered I had
slightly raised blood pressure. The doctor told me to get more exercise. I’ve
failed to do so. I went to see the practice nurse about something else two
weeks ago, and she noticed I’d never been back about the BP. My readings are
now a bit higher than they were at the start of the year. Action needs to be
taken. We talked about the stress in 1995 and my tendency to panic first and
reach equilibrium later. We talked about family medical history. And guess
what? It’s beta-blocker time again. The hope is, they might give me a calmer
personality and lead to a lower BP.

During the
appointment, the questions came back – from the nurse. She asked very nicely,
why I as a person of faith had these difficulties. Surely, I shouldn’t be like
this when I had the comfort of expecting an afterlife. I replied that I had the
same questions, too. The best I could do off the top of my head was to say that
yes, some Christians do have a serene faith. Others of us are like some of the
psalmists who rant at God and then calm down. I was more like them. I don’t
know whether that is a valid answer, or just a bit of self-justification.
Perhaps I should have more faith (= trust).

After the
consultation, and waiting for my tablets at the pharmacy, I read a few pages of
Tim Keel’s wonderful
book Intuitive Leadership. It seems I had arrived at some pages that
made some unintentional connections with my experience. He talks about leaders
not only giving spoken words but also being living words (pp 232-4). ‘The
person of God hosts the word of God and there is a cost to be paid,’ he writes.
I connected this with a conversation at a recent ministers’ meeting. We got
onto the subject of pressure. I related my 1995 story of stress, and the
unanswered questions I had about it. One friend replied that he thought my
stress constituted the carrying of the cross for me. It was my suffering for
doing the right thing. That insight came as revelation and relief to me. Keel
seems to be saying something similar.

In the next
section, when talking about leaders transitioning from ‘preparation’ to ‘meditation’
on the Scriptures, Keel writes about Elijah. I think this is worth a fuller
quote:

Elijah, serving God
at a time of enormous confusion in the identity of Israel, opposes Ahab and
Jezebel and their altar to Baal. At first, it seems that his labours have paid
off: the offering of Yahweh is consumed by fire while Baal’s priests work
themselves into a frenzy that ultimately goes nowhere. But when his work does
not result in the end that he had anticipated and Jezebel issues an edict to
kill the prophet, he flees for his life. When he finally collapses, he finds
himself on a sheer cliff burrowed in a small mountain cave. All of his
preparation and work have amounted to very little, and in his despair, he hides
himself away. You know the story. You have probably lived it. It is in this
very hollow of desperation that the hallowed voice of God comes to Elijah. It
is in this place that Elijah learns he had not nearly comprehended the scope of
God’s power or intent. It is to a servant of Yahweh emptied of his own agenda
and strength that revelation comes. (pp 236-7)

God meets Elijah in
his time of extreme stress. He feeds him. He lets him sleep. He encourages him
quietly. He gives him someone to help him with the next stage of his witness.

Some of my most
dramatic experiences of the Holy Spirit were around my 1995 stress. Admittedly,
that was when the Toronto Blessing was big news, but as I look back, I don’t
think it was a coincidence that God most clearly made himself known to me at a
down time. Could it be that God is kinder to the stressed or depressed than we
are? None of that absolves me from the need to exercise as part of my cure, but
maybe – just maybe – God is gracious, and he doesn’t go in for the ‘Pull
yourself together nonsense’ that is still prevalent inside and outside the
church.

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