The main inspiration for the Myth art piece comes from this “toxic positivity” world we live in. Whether it’s social media quotes, highly curated feeds, or faith-based advice that ignores the complexity of mental health, we’re being sold this lie that our mental health struggles and disorders can easily disappear if we’re more positive or if we pray more. Yes, we do need to set our mind on things that are good and positive (Philippians 4:8), but that’s only part of the story. The same way that our physical health needs tending to and medical help, our mental health also needs attention and care. The use of a portrait shows how we can share a “positive” piece of ourselves to those around us or via social media that looks put together, and yet still be hurting inside or hiding a mental health disorder. The clean white background, flowers, and pretty colors of positivity are met with broken glass and messiness, as both of these collide.
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
hurt can’t live here?
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
mind can’t heal here?
Brain can’t be broken like bones falling off bicycles?
Slipped discs can’t exist in the frontal cortex?
Human heartbreak stains history
and we embrace love songs that explore the ache
Sometimes in our faith we act like anything but our mind can break
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
little boys grow up hiding fractures in the faultlines of their thought life
Jesus and therapy were ingredients we were told to never combine
As if one was darkness and one was light
one was wrong and one was right
one was empty and one was full
one was destined and one was doomed
Suppression
Depression
Polar splits
Rips
Snaps
How does one come back from that which we cannot see
on our acceptable faith x-ray machines?
Many bleed out in the invisible veins of neural pathways
polarized between personalities
confused and counting out A B C
D-pressed and suffering
manic and spiraling
caught between a rock and hard thought
or maybe even an onslaught
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
someone once said to me,
“You must not be praying right”
As if there’s some specific “whoop” you must “holler”
some declarative tone you must release
when you put words of what you need
to the ears of this God we cannot see
Sitting in black skin - American
Even my people know all too well what it feels like to be delivered out of Egypt
needing more than human effort to break the back of brutality
and somehow
our testimony has become obstacle
to freedom journeys needing to commence
in the organ that sits
underneath the crown of the very vessel
that houses spirit & Holy
that lives and moves and has being
in Yahweh
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
I’ve heard it said
“It’s okay not to be okay”
To confess the need for help
is not weakness
it is wisdom
yet the silence is deafening
the silence surrounding systems of thought
that once taught generations to receive help for your mind
was to take your faith and deny
God’s working power
for, “Jesus is all you need”
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
silence
taboo
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
silence
nothing to say
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
silence
empty solution
the ache of humanity
rarely met with compassion
and alliance
but
silence
[pause]
and yet the hour has come
when the Ancient of Days
unrolls new scrolls of revelation
His still small voice
breaking through the turbulent silence
and restoring souls:
the will, the emotions, and the mind
declaring, it’s time
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
Our Heavenly Father
has rendered it safe
for weary ones to rest
and heal
whether it be fractured bones
or fractured minds
May we, the Church
be the haven and the vehicle
of hope eternal
love unconditional
Whatcha say
Whatcha say
love lives here
God lives here
I recently met with a college student for pastoral counseling. She was struggling with depression and panic attacks, and carrying trauma from her family relationships and dating experiences.
At the end of the session, I asked her, “Why don’t you try counseling from the university counseling center?”
She immediately responded in an agitated voice, “I’m not crazy!”
I was not surprised by her reaction. But I was still saddened by the persistent shame and stigma attached to seeking mental health treatment. If she had been struggling with asthma and I suggested going to the university health care center, I suspect her response would have been very different.
In the United States, it takes an average of eleven years for a person to receive mental health treatment after the first appearance of symptoms, even though one out of five adults experiences mental illness. The stigma and lack of effective health care systems for those with mental health challenges contribute to this significant delay in treatment.
Historically, the church has sometimes tried to help individuals with mental health struggles. In the thirteenth century in Belgium, for example, the church prayed for those dealing with mental distress. In the eighteenth century, mental health pioneer William Tuke and the Quakers held the York Retreat that modeled humane treatment for psychiatric hospitals, including removing patients’ chains and providing a therapeutic environment with food. More recently, the Rick Warren-founded Saddleback Church in California has focused on church mental health ministries, increasing its collaboration with other community organizations.
However, in the last three decades, I have not witnessed widespread church engagement in mental health awareness and treatment. I actually left the field of social work to become a pastor in hopes of serving as a bridge between the church and the mental health field. But I have been frustrated by the antagonism between the two sectors and their ideologies.
In the mental health field, I have seen a prevailing ideology of secular humanism, which denies the existence of God and divine intervention in human lives. The field tends to exclusively emphasize therapies and medications. In ministry, I have often found a lack of understanding of the social sciences, and resistance to the valuable insights provided by psychology, sociology, anthropology, and other fields. The church heavily prioritizes relying on prayer and reading Scripture to overcome mental and emotional hardships. Those who continue struggling are condemned for being weak in faith and mind.
This mistrust between the church and science is not new. In the seventeenth century, the Catholic Church prosecuted Galileo and placed him under house arrest until his death for his belief that the Earth revolves around the sun. In the nineteenth century, renowned Darwinist Thomas Huxley described Christianity as irrational and improbable in the pursuit of knowledge. Sigmund Freud, who developed modern psychology, claimed religion was a childhood neurosis. Twentieth-century American psychologist and Harvard professor B.F. Skinner denied any merit in faith or free will, believing that human behavior is programmed by the interaction between individuals and their environment.
In contrast, the Christian worldview posits that the fundamental problem of humankind stems from original sin (Gen. 3) and our sinful nature, which lead to judgment and death. Belief in the redemption of humanity and restoration of life through the death and resurrection of the incarnated Christ is foundational to addressing the challenges and issues of human existence. Any ideology that denies this truth is difficult for church leaders to accept.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, we’ve all lived with the consequences of the mistrust between scientists and faith leaders. There has been a harshly polarized debate on government responses and vaccines. At the same time, mental health needs have skyrocketed due to the prolonged trauma and stress from the pandemic.
The church today must fight against the shame and stigma directed toward those suffering from mental disorders. Many churches often treat people with mental health struggles as inferior, demonic, violent, or strange, as outsiders who cannot be part of the majority community, rather than seeing them as vulnerable individuals in need of care and treatment. An African American friend and minister who struggles with emotional and mental disorders told me what his parents have repeatedly said to him: “A mental disorder is a shame that needs to be hidden and cannot be exposed outside the house. Period.” This culture of shame and discrimination disproportionately affects minority communities, who already suffer from historical trauma and systemic discrimination, and face greater barriers to receiving proper help and treatment.
As a pastor, I tried to connect faith and science by engaging my church in community projects related to mental health and advocacy. One of our successful collaborations was with a program that empowered mentally challenged young adults.
During this same time, however, I experienced my own traumatic season. I felt like I had failed in everything. I was broken and lost. I was suicidal, experiencing panic attacks and depression, and wanted to give up all relationships and work. This was six years ago.
I was then introduced to the trauma-informed care movement, which rescued my life and rejuvenated my ministerial career. I was surprised when a movement leader said, “One of the most powerful factors for recovery from trauma is unconditional love and one person with constant care.” Unconditional love and one person with constant care. These were not medical terms or psychological jargon. This was faith-community language that I used all the time.
The trauma-informed care movement has been greatly informed by the study of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and neuroscience development. But the movement has also embraced spiritual practices for healing and recovery. The discovery of such an integrated approach was a huge yet hopeful surprise for me. I am beginning to see more Christian leaders embracing this approach, and I hope many more will.
In trauma-informed care, effective healing and recovery require a safe, consistently caring relationship, and a community that provides belonging and connection. The behaviors triggered by re-traumatization, chemical imbalance, and other mental health struggles need to be understood and accepted by empathetic and compassionate people. This helps those who are suffering to feel safe, understood, accepted, and comforted, accelerating the healing process alongside medication and therapy.
Who can provide such unconditionally loving, caring, and non-judgmental relationships and community? I believe that followers of Jesus can. In the gospels, we see how Jesus formed empathetic relationships with those who needed compassion and healing. Jesus approached the blind, the tax collector, and the Samaritan (foreign and despised) woman, bringing safety with his unconditional love. He also brought compassion to the woman caught in adultery. As he explained to the Pharisee Nicodemus, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him” (John. 3:17).
My mentally broken and hopeless life was rescued and has been in continual recovery because I re-encountered God’s unconditional love through those who unceasingly supported and cared for me in the church—and because my faith was strengthened by the science of trauma-informed care.
I continue to work in the trauma-informed movement, convinced that it can help the church fight the stigma of mental illness and increase resilience through training, biblical truth, and scientific research. The church can be a trauma-informed community, strengthened with these tools and values: safety, trustworthiness and transparency, peer support, collaboration and mutuality, empowerment with choice and voice, and sensitivity to cultural, historical, and gender issues.
I humbly but firmly invite fellow Christians into the trauma-informed community, where our brothers and sisters with mental health struggles can be welcomed and nurtured by unconditional love and constant care to enhance their healing and recovery. Through this movement, we can be agents of Christ’s love, compassion, and healing to those struggling with their mental health.
I recently met with a college student for pastoral counseling. She was struggling with depression and panic attacks, and carrying trauma from her family relationships and dating experiences.
At the end of the session, I asked her, “Why don’t you try counseling from the university counseling center?”
She immediately responded in an agitated voice, “I’m not crazy!”
I was not surprised by her reaction. But I was still saddened by the persistent shame and stigma attached to seeking mental health treatment. If she had been struggling with asthma and I suggested going to the university health care center, I suspect her response would have been very different.
In the United States, it takes an average of eleven years for a person to receive mental health treatment after the first appearance of symptoms, even though one out of five adults experiences mental illness. The stigma and lack of effective health care systems for those with mental health challenges contribute to this significant delay in treatment.
Historically, the church has sometimes tried to help individuals with mental health struggles. In the thirteenth century in Belgium, for example, the church prayed for those dealing with mental distress. In the eighteenth century, mental health pioneer William Tuke and the Quakers held the York Retreat that modeled humane treatment for psychiatric hospitals, including removing patients’ chains and providing a therapeutic environment with food. More recently, the Rick Warren-founded Saddleback Church in California has focused on church mental health ministries, increasing its collaboration with other community organizations.
However, in the last three decades, I have not witnessed widespread church engagement in mental health awareness and treatment. I actually left the field of social work to become a pastor in hopes of serving as a bridge between the church and the mental health field. But I have been frustrated by the antagonism between the two sectors and their ideologies.
In the mental health field, I have seen a prevailing ideology of secular humanism, which denies the existence of God and divine intervention in human lives. The field tends to exclusively emphasize therapies and medications. In ministry, I have often found a lack of understanding of the social sciences, and resistance to the valuable insights provided by psychology, sociology, anthropology, and other fields. The church heavily prioritizes relying on prayer and reading Scripture to overcome mental and emotional hardships. Those who continue struggling are condemned for being weak in faith and mind.
In the United States, it takes an average of eleven years for a person to receive mental health treatment after the first appearance of symptoms, even though one out of five adults experiences mental illness.
This mistrust between the church and science is not new. In the seventeenth century, the Catholic Church prosecuted Galileo and placed him under house arrest until his death for his belief that the Earth revolves around the sun. In the nineteenth century, renowned Darwinist Thomas Huxley described Christianity as irrational and improbable in the pursuit of knowledge. Sigmund Freud, who developed modern psychology, claimed religion was a childhood neurosis. Twentieth-century American psychologist and Harvard professor B.F. Skinner denied any merit in faith or free will, believing that human behavior is programmed by the interaction between individuals and their environment.
In contrast, the Christian worldview posits that the fundamental problem of humankind stems from original sin (Gen. 3) and our sinful nature, which lead to judgment and death. Belief in the redemption of humanity and restoration of life through the death and resurrection of the incarnated Christ is foundational to addressing the challenges and issues of human existence. Any ideology that denies this truth is difficult for church leaders to accept.
In ministry, I have often found a lack of understanding of the social sciences, and resistance to the valuable insights provided by psychology, sociology, anthropology, and other fields.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, we’ve all lived with the consequences of the mistrust between scientists and faith leaders. There has been a harshly polarized debate on government responses and vaccines. At the same time, mental health needs have skyrocketed due to the prolonged trauma and stress from the pandemic.
The church today must fight against the shame and stigma directed toward those suffering from mental disorders. Many churches often treat people with mental health struggles as inferior, demonic, violent, or strange, as outsiders who cannot be part of the majority community, rather than seeing them as vulnerable individuals in need of care and treatment. An African American friend and minister who struggles with emotional and mental disorders told me what his parents have repeatedly said to him: “A mental disorder is a shame that needs to be hidden and cannot be exposed outside the house. Period.” This culture of shame and discrimination disproportionately affects minority communities, who already suffer from historical trauma and systemic discrimination, and face greater barriers to receiving proper help and treatment.
As a pastor, I tried to connect faith and science by engaging my church in community projects related to mental health and advocacy. One of our successful collaborations was with a program that empowered mentally challenged young adults.
During this same time, however, I experienced my own traumatic season. I felt like I had failed in everything. I was broken and lost. I was suicidal, experiencing panic attacks and depression, and wanted to give up all relationships and work. This was six years ago.
This culture of shame and discrimination disproportionately affects minority communities, who already suffer from historical trauma and systemic discrimination, and face greater barriers to receiving proper help and treatment.
I was then introduced to the trauma-informed care movement, which rescued my life and rejuvenated my ministerial career. I was surprised when a movement leader said, “One of the most powerful factors for recovery from trauma is unconditional love and one person with constant care.” Unconditional love and one person with constant care. These were not medical terms or psychological jargon. This was faith-community language that I used all the time.
The trauma-informed care movement has been greatly informed by the study of adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and neuroscience development. But the movement has also embraced spiritual practices for healing and recovery. The discovery of such an integrated approach was a huge yet hopeful surprise for me. I am beginning to see more Christian leaders embracing this approach, and I hope many more will.
In trauma-informed care, effective healing and recovery require a safe, consistently caring relationship, and a community that provides belonging and connection. The behaviors triggered by re-traumatization, chemical imbalance, and other mental health struggles need to be understood and accepted by empathetic and compassionate people. This helps those who are suffering to feel safe, understood, accepted, and comforted, accelerating the healing process alongside medication and therapy.
Who can provide such unconditionally loving, caring, and non-judgmental relationships and community? I believe that followers of Jesus can. In the gospels, we see how Jesus formed empathetic relationships with those who needed compassion and healing. Jesus approached the blind, the tax collector, and the Samaritan (foreign and despised) woman, bringing safety with his unconditional love. He also brought compassion to the woman caught in adultery. As he explained to the Pharisee Nicodemus, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him” (John. 3:17).
My mentally broken and hopeless life was rescued and has been in continual recovery because I re-encountered God’s unconditional love through those who unceasingly supported and cared for me in the church—and because my faith was strengthened by the science of trauma-informed care.
In trauma-informed care, effective healing and recovery require a safe, consistently caring relationship, and a community that provides belonging and connection.
I continue to work in the trauma-informed movement, convinced that it can help the church fight the stigma of mental illness and increase resilience through training, biblical truth, and scientific research. The church can be a trauma-informed community, strengthened with these tools and values: safety, trustworthiness and transparency, peer support, collaboration and mutuality, empowerment with choice and voice, and sensitivity to cultural, historical, and gender issues.
I humbly but firmly invite fellow Christians into the trauma-informed community, where our brothers and sisters with mental health struggles can be welcomed and nurtured by unconditional love and constant care to enhance their healing and recovery. Through this movement, we can be agents of Christ’s love, compassion, and healing to those struggling with their mental health.
1 Laila Lalami, Conditional Citizens: On Belonging in America, 1st ed. (New York: Pantheon Books, 2020), 70.
2 See chapter two in Daniel Carrol’s The Bible and Borders: Hearing God's Word on Immigration (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2020).
3 Julio L. Martínez, Citizenship, Migrations and Religion: An Ethical Dialogue Based on the Christian Faith (Madrid: Universidad Pontificia Comillas, 2007), 51.
4 Peter Phan, "The Experience of Migration in the United States as a Source of Intercultural Theology," in E. Padilla E. and P.C. Phan (eds.) Contemporary Issues of Migration and Theology (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), 148.
In the United States, it takes an average of eleven years for a person to receive mental health treatment after the first appearance of symptoms, even though one out of five adults experiences mental illness.
In ministry, I have often found a lack of understanding of the social sciences, and resistance to the valuable insights provided by psychology, sociology, anthropology, and other fields.
This culture of shame and discrimination disproportionately affects minority communities, who already suffer from historical trauma and systemic discrimination, and face greater barriers to receiving proper help and treatment.
In trauma-informed care, effective healing and recovery require a safe, consistently caring relationship, and a community that provides belonging and connection.