Is your mental illness a sin, demonic oppression, or simply a physical illness? In this article, I dive into a theology of the brokenness of this world, mental illness, and the demonic world.

Where does courage come from? Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but moving forward despite the fear. How do we do that? By grounding ourselves in the love of Christ and our love for another.

Do you struggle with a mental illness that you still have yet to be healed from? I do, and here are two books (and a guided journal) that have helped me weather the storm of anxiety and depression. This is my review of Jennifer Holmes’ books He Has Not Turned Away and When Mountains Do Not Move.

A look at how fiction can reveal realities in our own hearts through the novel The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey.

My husband reached over and held my hand. “We can go home. It’s up to you.” My heart raced in my chest as I looked up at the people pooling in through the open glass doors of our church. In that moment, my theology warred against my angst: My love for the local church versus my social anxiety.

When all the trials of motherhood assail us, we can trust that through it all, Christ will hold us fast. Here's my story of trusting Christ to hold me fast through postpartum depression and anxiety.

Loving someone with a mental illness can feel like piecing together a broken glass mosaic—there are many tiny shards, and we don’t know where to start or even how to start in a way that won’t cause further injury. How do we love them? Through my own experience of being diagnosed with OCD, I share how we can come with sympathy, nuance, and the love of Christ.

You’ve been told all your life that God’s Word will put your mind at peace and calm your fears, yet they still rage no matter what you do. Even as you repeat Bible verses to yourself, your heart stamps in your chest. You try to focus on the text before you, but anxiety fogs and clouds your brain. How do we stay in God’s Word while anxiety fills us?

Rather than dealing with the grief of your situation, do you project unnecessary judgments about yourself, your situation, or others? To help us better cope with our suffering, therapists have created a coping skill known as radical acceptance. As believers, we can use radical acceptance paired with our hope in Christ to help us through our suffering.

As the Christmas season approaches, memories around my twins’ traumatic birth start to tumble in my heart. How do we quiet our hearts to enjoy Christmas this year? How do we find the peace that was announced on Christ’s birth? I think of Mary, the mother of our Savior, and the example she left us.

More than six million people in the United States alone face intrusive thoughts. Perhaps you’re one of those people. And perhaps like me, these thoughts rattle you and your faith at times. What’s wrong with me? How can I, one redeemed by Christ and indwelt by the Holy Spirit, experience these kinds of disturbing, violent, or sexual thoughts?

My entire life I’ve waged war against anxiety. I’ve longed for the day when I wouldn’t be afraid of vomiting or social gatherings. After all these years, I’m still facing anxiety. Maybe you’ve heard those stories of victory and overcoming I’m learning that those aren’t the only stories. But that doesn’t mean the rest of us are hopeless—if we choose, we can find quite the opposite.

To trust God we don’t need to turn our heads from modern medicine and research. Those places aren’t God-forsaken. Even if the people’s hearts are darkened towards him, he is still powerful and gracious enough to shine through them.

We want peace. How do we tuck peace away in our hearts when we live in a sin-struck world? Where do we find “peace that surpasses all understanding” (Phil. 4:6-7) when our world feels anything but peaceful?

We often condemn fear, but is there perhaps a level of fear that’s good and God-given? Like the fear of animal attacks or our children running in the road. We’re told not to worry, not to fear, but to be bold and courageous. How do we reconcile these two? How do we know the difference between good fear and bad fear?

When we spend too much time in our own heads, thinking about all that’s wrong and going wrong, our worlds magnify themselves beyond their true size. While it’s valid to mourn and to acknowledge these difficulties, I’m seeing that sometimes what we really need is to take a step back and see how big creation is.

Perhaps you’ve heard this variation: “Depression, anxiety, heartbreak—you are not bound to living that way. You don’t have to suffer anymore. Freedom exists in Jesus. Come to him and find freedom.” This is a false gospel.

It hurts when someone we love is hurting. We love them, and we wish we could simply dust away their pain and chuck it out the door. But we are meant to be a part of the body. As a fellow part of the body, I am not meant to fix another. I can’t take away that pain, and to believe I can minimizes their suffering. 

I fear vomiting. I have my entire life. Yet God has proven faithful time and time again, even though I continue to struggle with this overwhelming fear.

In motherhood, there are many things I want control of. I want to control my child’s health and safety. I want to control their future happiness. I want to control their behavior. I want to control their salvation and ensure that they become believers. Yet I need to entrust those to God.