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He hears my voice: Happiness, Mental Illness, and the Promises of God
by Alex Steinke
Studies tell us that a third of Canadians will face mental illness throughout their lifetimes. I am no exception. Though, statistically-speaking, I’m not alone in this kind of suffering, I still blush to admit that I have struggled with depression, anxiety, and borderline personality disorder at varying levels of intensity throughout my life. Living with mental illness disrupts the way I think, act, and feel every single day.
Maybe you’ve faced the same thing. Or maybe you’ve faced other forms of suffering. It can leave you wondering: “If God really loved me, why would He let me suffer like this?”
You’re not alone. “Under a grievous cross,” Johann Starck writes in his prayer book, “the first thought suggested to us by Satan and our flesh is this: God is your enemy. He has ceased loving you. If He loved you, He would never have let this happen to you. He would never have hidden His gracious face from you.”
When we are tempted to doubt God’s love, Starck encourages us to look to Christ and His promises. “The afflicted should remember that living in tribulations and sorrow and yet being a child of God is quite compatible. Christ, the beloved Son of God, suffered tribulations and yet remained the Son of God. The afflicted should ponder that God still loves those whom He allows to be subjected to great sorrow, trials, and crosses.” It’s times like these where my favourite prayer in the Bible comes to mind: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”
The problem of following your heart
The great Christian author C.S. Lewis once described the “problem of pain”—the problem of why we suffer—in this way: “‘If God were good, He would wish to make His creatures perfectly happy, and if God were almighty He would be able to do what He wished. But the creatures are not happy. Therefore God lacks either goodness, or power, or both.’”
In this description, you’ll notice words like “happy” and “good.” How do we define these words as Christians? Conversely, how does society define these words? Is everything that makes us happy therefore “good”? Does everything that is “good” make us happy?
Society sells us the same lie from Satan over and over again: “All that matters is that you’re happy.” “Follow your heart.” “Live your truth.” “You do you.” “Happiness depends upon yourself.” Imagine saying these sorts of things to a person dealing with mental illness, be it depression, bipolar disorder, or borderline personality disorder. Or imagine saying it to anyone who is not in a state of worldly happiness at all times: “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters!”
Hearing all this, I would rightly conclude that I am a gigantic failure. Most days, I struggle with the motivation to get out of bed. I get anxious thinking about having to face tomorrow or even the remainder of today. And I often feel discouraged and stressed, even despairing. According to the world, I am not attaining the only thing that matters—and my failure to attain it is all my fault.
What a refreshing reminder, then, that even if I never accomplish a single thing this world deems valuable, the God of the Universe and Creator of all things has still sent His Son to die in my place, for the forgiveness of my sins. And that’s the deeper issue at play here, deeper than everything else. God’s Word tells us that we are sinners— that even our good works are like filthy rags. Like a mirror, God’s Law shows us our sin and our desperate need for a Saviour. And then He gives us the good news of the Gospel: Jesus Christ is the Saviour of the world—He is my Saviour.
I have Christ’s esteem, then, regardless of whether my self-esteem levels meet worldly standards or not. Who cares what I see when I look in the mirror? When God looks at me, He sees Christ. Christ has clothed me in His righteousness. And that’s all that ultimately matters. St. Paul puts it this way:
“But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and may share His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead” (Philippians 3:7-11).
The problem of false happiness
Mental suffering, mental illness, and suicidal ideation are not new issues. I am not denying the existence of stigma surrounding these types of issues or looking to downplay their effects. I’m not trying to offer any solutions to mental illness or suffering in general. “What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:9). I don’t expect to find a cure for suffering in this lifetime, apart from Christ’s ultimate solution which has been prepared for us since before the earth was formed.
In my suffering, Satan lies to me; the world lies to me; and even my own sinful flesh lies to me. But none of those things ought to be our measure of truth anyway. So, what does God’s Word tell us about suffering? And what effect does God’s Truth have on our mental state?
In The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis describes mankind’s tendency to seek happiness in every possible corner except in God—ironically, the only lasting source of happiness. If we are ever going to find this eternal happiness, Lewis says, we need to have our false happiness stripped away. “What then can God do in our interests,” Lewis asks, “but make ‘our own life’ less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible source of false happiness?”
Reading this got me thinking. How may God have used my mental illness as a sort of disciplinary tool in my life? How has my experience with mental suffering helped me to help others? Does my personal suffering have a meaningful corrective benefit to my life?
I used to put a lot of trust in my emotions. If I am feeling something, it must be at least pointing to truth, right? Well, no. But my daily wrestling with mental illness has helped me to gain discernment in a way that significantly impacts the way I approach life today. I learned that, in spite of what the world often teaches, my feelings are not the measure of truth. My thoughts and feelings were tainted by mental illness. In the early days of my mental health treatment, I felt like I was constantly analyzing and testing every thought and emotion, holding them up to the light, in a sense, to test them for truth—and, consequently, for lies! Before this realization, I was easily swayed by anything that enticed my emotions and promised a (fleeting) sense of contentment and security. I was tempted by whatever seemed to suit my heart best in that specific moment.
The promise of trust in God
My faith was really the first thing in my life that I didn’t rely on emotion for. I didn’t feel that I “felt God’s presence” because that would also imply feeling His absence. In spite of all of the disorder in my life, God was mercifully my ever-present help in need. He was my rock—which was great because, frankly, God’s promises are infinitely more stable than I am!
In the prayer life of King David, we see what faith looks like when it is rooted not in fleeting feeling but in the promises of God. Consider Psalm 55, which David begins in a state of emotional distress:
“Listen to my prayer, O God; do not ignore my plea; hear me and answer me. My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught at the voice of the enemy, at the stares of the wicked; for they bring down suffering upon me and revile me in their anger. My heart is in anguish within me; the terrors of death assail me. Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me” (Psalm 55:1-5).
David confesses his fears and admits his heartache. But he goes on to look outside himself, placing his trust in God’s unshakeable truth and mercy: “But I call to God, and the Lord saves me. Evening, morning, and noon I cry out in distress, and He hears my voice” (Psalm 55:16-17).
In the same way, David counsels us to trust in God. “Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous fall. But You, O God, will bring down the wicked into the pit of corruption; bloodthirsty and deceitful men will not live out half their days. But as for me, I trust in You” (Psalm 55:22-23).
And so, I—and you too—can pray with Johann Starck: “Remove my afflictions from me; however, not my will but Yours be done. I will not instruct You as to the time and season, the manner and method of helping me, but will patiently await Your help…. If You will not remove my cross at all in the present life, but if it is Your holy design that I should bear it until death, let Your will be done also in this. Only do not allow me to be tempted beyond what I can bear, and sweeten all my bitterness and affliction with the enjoyment of Your love, with Your mighty comfort, and with a refreshing foretaste of heaven.”
Alex Steinke is Director of Communications for Lutheran Church–Canada (LCC). This article is adapted from her presentation at LCC’s 2022 National Youth Gathering in Winnipeg.
