Christianity vs. Therapy

finding a familiar story in Anna Gazmarian's memoir, "Devout"

image courtesy of Simon & Schuster

It feels like it ought to be a false choice, right? Surely, both Christianity and therapy are about people becoming the healthiest, most whole versions of themselves, right? RIGHT???

Unfortunately, many of us have first-hand experience of the opposite: a church that would rather we fit into a prescribed mold (obedient, cheerful, performing our expected gender and sexuality) rather than admit that God’s love is expansive enough to include people they disagree with. And if our basic identities are difficult to accept, then the messy work of healing from trauma is certainly a bridge too far.

I was reminded of this Christianity vs. therapy conflict as I read Anna Gazmarian’s Devout: A Memoir of Doubt. This concise book follows Gazmarian’s journey through young adulthood as she struggles to reconcile her faith with her bipolar diagnosis. Along the way she drops in and out of college, grapples with spiritual questions, and, again and again, seeks a faith community that can hold space for who she is—illness and all. Gazmarian’s descriptions of how church members treated her attempts at authenticity resonate deeply. An early chapter finds her confiding her struggles with incapacitating depression to a church friend, who responds, “Can I pray for God to bring you joy?” 😑

This is a sadly common reaction. If you’ve ever been in Gazmarian’s shoes, you know how awful it feels to have someone suggest that prayer/reading the Bible/taking essential oils is ALL YOU NEED TO DO to feel better!

It’s insulting to suggest that a lack of faith is the only thing standing between someone and better mental health, but too often Christians dismiss concerns about depression, anxiety, and addiction with a pat Bible verse or a cliche about God not giving you more than you can handle. Pastors may refer struggling church members to Christian or Biblical counselors who lack any training in psychology, instead relying on Bible verses (and, let’s be honest, mostly vibes) to sort through complex mental health issues.

Perhaps we can blame this unnecessary conflict on a suspicion of the secular world, or American Christianity’s long-standing aversion to science. But I think a large part of the problem boils down to the way that Christianity is “sold” in this country. As I’ve written about before, there’s so much pressure to convert our friends and neighbors that what we often end up presenting to the world is a kind of “prosperity gospel lite”—Jesus as cure-all. Being both Christian AND a person with problems is bad for the brand.

This “multi-level marketing” version of Christianity leads to a religion that values a mask of perfection over authenticity. Belonging, in this case, means cutting off parts of ourselves, whether that’s our sexuality/gender expression, our personal struggles, or even the fact that we experience basic feelings like sadness, irritation, envy, etc. It’s toxic positivity as a ticket to sainthood. Churches that buy into this methodology create lonely people even in the midst of community (for what is belonging without authenticity?) They also have a tendency to thrust narcissistic and authoritarian types into leadership because these are precisely the kind of people who are best at never letting the mask slip. Such environments can easily erupt into abuse, religious trauma, perfectionism, and scrupulosity.

Gazmarian’s account sticks mainly to her own struggles rather than making broad critiques of Christianity. She’s less interested in reforming the faith than explaining it to outsiders, if her basic presentation of Bible stories like Noah’s ark is any indicator. Those who, like Gazmarian, were raised in the church, will find many of these story recaps overly simplistic and, at times, pedantic. Still, I think this book will be helpful for those who’ve struggled to find their place, spiritually.

Neither does Gazmarian believe that therapy is a panacea. During the book she is helped (or not) by various psychiatrists, doctors, therapists, and Christian counselors. While many writers are happy to present therapy/meds as the ticket to wellness, those of us who’ve been through the process know that unwinding mental illness often requires months or even years of trying before the right course of treatment is found. The patient generally has to put in a lot of work; epiphanies are rare. Even getting the right diagnosis can take years. In my own life, I spent years with diagnoses like “major depressive disorder,” “generalized anxiety disorder,” and OCD before finally finding a diagnosis that fit my array of symptoms: Complex PTSD.

It’s not until Gazmarian enrolls in a poetry course that she seems to feel at home, spiritually. In the arts she finds encouragement to share herself authentically and specifically. The reader can’t help but note the contrast between Gazmarian’s beloved poetry professor and the many church friends who seem to want to bury her struggles. From this experience, and further forays into more authentic spiritual communities, Gazmarian comes to similar conclusions to Kate Bowler: that is, that suffering is unavoidable, and that only by facing it and by sitting with the suffering of others, can we bear up under its great weight. It’s a lesson the church more broadly would do well to practice.

There are a few hopeful signs that Christianity is starting to embrace psychology. Even some conservative churches are promoting ideas like the enneagram, with its ideas that wholeness isn’t something magically conferred by Jesus, but rather, something to be worked towards. Whether these same churches will drop their suspicions of secular therapists and enlarge their understanding of God’s love to include LGBT people, mentally ill people, and (gasp!) Democrats remains to be seen. But accounts like Gazmarian’s can offer inspiration. As she writes,

“A church, at its best, is meant to carry God’s presence into the world, to make the idea of God trustworthy.”

May we be a community of belonging and authenticity in this world.

Have you felt this suspicion/stigmatization of therapy? How have you felt excluded by your faith/spiritual community? What would it look like to build communities that offered authentic belonging?

BONUS MATERIALS:

-Kate Bowler’s TED talk

-Want to know more about suffering? Start here.

-hot psychiatrist explains belonging