Jo Luehmann, who writes on decolonizing theology, explains, “It has been my experience that certainty is often an illusion to attempt to regulate a neglected nervous system. . . . When the way you’ve been taught to deal with everything is by bypassing your emotions, ignoring your intuition, and demonizing your humanity; then you’ve been neglecting your own nervous system. . . . That’s why it is so hard for so many people to even consider challenging the beliefs they’ve held so tightly, because certainty in regards to those beliefs is what keeps them feeling somewhat regulated and somewhat safe.”
How the Brain Guides and Protects
God created our brains and nervous systems as gifts to help us navigate stressors, uncertainties, and challenges. Our brain has more than 86 billion neurons to help us navigate connection and discernment in life. Information from our brain travels up to 268 miles per hour. Our brains are like roadways sending electric impulses from cell to cell, generating enough energy to power a lightbulb. This is why we need sleep at night, allowing our brain to integrate memories and information as we rest.
Even in seasons of struggle, our minds and bodies, with support, can continue to point us to God.Our minds and bodies are interconnected, and our nervous systems desire to move in regulation. We feel most connected with ourselves, with others, and with our faith when we are within what psychologists call our window of tolerance. Each individual’s window of tolerance is unique to them. These systems support us in social connection. Our nervous systems also help us to access trust, safety, rest, danger, threat, and times of survival.
Trauma and stress can inhibit access to the window of tolerance and lead to overactivated or under-activated nervous systems. Being above our window is like hitting the gas pedal in a car. Anxiety disorders, post-traumatic stress responses, and "fight" trauma responses are often expressed as racing thoughts, nightmares, nausea, tension, and panic. Below-the-window responses can lead to depression, disconnection from self and others, dissociation, freeze responses, and feelings of numbness.
We cannot control these responses; our minds do this automatically. Our nervous system responses are like a compass pointing to unresolved, unprocessed memories and stressful situations, particularly if we have experienced trauma. In my work as a trauma therapist, I often tell clients that our nervous system’s responses are a protective part of us trying to navigate trauma, grief, and pain. These protective responses, even when they seem like they are working against us, reveal that we have a functioning nervous system that is seeking to regulate.
Trauma is held within our bodies, as well as our memories and minds. In My Grandmother's Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies, psychotherapist Resmaa Menakem shares, "Trauma is also a wordless story our body tells itself about what is safe and what is a threat." When our minds and bodies are struggling with unprocessed trauma and mental health concerns, connecting to God may come to a standstill. Physically and mentally, we cannot serve God and others in the ways we used to. Such challenges may lead to immense questions and doubts surrounding our faith.
God’s Presence in Our Mental Health Struggles
God created our minds and breathed “the breath of life” into humanity (Gen. 2:7). Because we are made in the image of God, God cares deeply for our mind, body, and spirit. Our minds reflect the imago Dei, or image of God, and have the capacity to remember, contemplate, discern, process, question, analyze, and learn. Just as God is Creator, our minds are able to create narratives and bring visions and dreams into reality. But simply showing up, taking the courageous steps to live another day, embracing the needs of our mind and body, and pressing on in treatment can be an expression of our love for God.
During times of mental health struggles and grief, however, our minds may have trouble remembering, thinking, or processing the way we would prefer. In such times, we honor our God-given minds and express love for God, neighbor, and ourselves by asking questions, wrestling with our faith, facing our emotions, and potentially seeking professional support. This can include therapy, support groups, medications, or other forms of professional mental health assistance.
Even when we don't have answers for doubts, faith deconstruction, complex trauma, chronic pain, illness, grief, or suffering, and even when we don’t understand or feel like God is near, we can still hold onto the evidence–intellectual, intuitive, and communal–that God is present. We can rely on wise words from Scripture or sermons, encouragement and affirmation from caring individuals, or reminders from therapists. We can tangibly see the goodness of God through other people who demonstrate care, hospitality, support, and a willingness to grieve with us. We may even experience intuitive felt sensations of God’s presence in our heart and bodies, perhaps through music, art, or nature. Even in seasons of struggle, our minds and bodies, with support, can continue to point us to God.
In A Year of Biblical Womanhood, Rachel Held Evans wrote, "Faith isn't about having everything figured out ahead of time; faith is about following the quiet voice of God without having everything figured out ahead of time."
It is in times of grief and mental health challenges that we may encounter God as Comforter, Provider, and Caregiver. We may not be able to serve God and others in what seem like productive ways. But simply showing up, taking the courageous steps to live another day, embracing the needs of our mind and body, and pressing on in treatment can be an expression of our love for God.
Our relationship with God is cultivated not only through service but through rest, play, self-care, and community care. When we experience mental health struggles, we can learn to connect with God, rely on God, and be interdependent on God and others in new, supportive ways. We can learn what it means to be alive–trauma responses, mental health concerns, and all–and to exist in our God-reflecting humanity.
To this day, I attribute those early years in my father's study as part of the reason I have been able to continue in the Christian faith. The gift of using my mind to love God from a young age through questions and doubts has helped me to find peace in not knowing all the right answers. As I’ve journeyed through my own seasons where faith and God seem far off, while anxiety, burnout, grief, and trauma responses remain close, I’ve been encouraged to let go of the need for certainty and hold onto faith and trust in God. When I’ve asked God, “Where are you?” in times of anxiety and doubt, I am reminded that God responds back in a gentle whisper, “Where are you?” God continues to draw each of us into closer connection–one full of questions, dialogue, and the shared search for understanding.
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