Dear Christian,
How are you?
No, really. Not the lobby version. Not the fine, how are you, good exchange we do on autopilot before the first worship song. I’m asking the real question.
How are you actually doing?
The holidays are coming. And for a lot of us, that’s not good news.
For those of us who struggle with mental health, this time of year can feel less like joy and more like a weight that everyone else seems to be carrying just fine. And if the stigma around mental health is bad in the world at large — in the church, it’s practically a confession of failure.
Because a Christian with mental health issues is, apparently, just a Christian who doesn’t trust God enough.
Here’s a scene that plays out constantly.
Someone is struggling with anxiety — real, clinical, body-won’t-stop anxiety. And a well-meaning friend opens their Bible app and starts sending verses.
“Do not worry about tomorrow.” “Cast all your anxiety on him.” “Be strong, do not fear.”
I have these verses highlighted in my own Bible. I have reached for them at 2am. I am not throwing them out.
But here’s what I know from the inside of this: when you are already drowning, being handed a verse that says stop drowning does not help you breathe. And when the church turns that into theology — when you’re depressed because you’re failing to trust God becomes the actual message — we’ve stopped helping and started piling on.
You would never look at someone with a broken arm and say “it only hurts because you’re not trusting God to take away the pain.”
Mental health is physical health. The brain is an organ. It breaks down. It needs treatment. Sprinkling scripture on an open wound doesn’t heal it — it just makes the person feel like the wound is their fault.
So what do we do instead?
If you want to support someone who’s hurting: ask them — during a calm moment, not a crisis — what actually helps. Then do that. Send the text even when you don’t get a response. Invite them even when they usually say no. Offer to sit with them in the silence, the uncomfortable kind, without needing to fix it.
If you’re the one hurting: you are not a bad Christian. You probably cannot pray this away, and that is not a spiritual failure. Your feelings are real. Your experience is valid. When you’re ready — we’re here. To talk. To share what’s worked and what hasn’t. To sit with you. To pray with you, not at you.
You are an image bearer of God. And he loves you — not the version of you that has it together, but this version. Right now.
With Love,
Ashley
Dear Christian, 