Lutheran approaches to depression

[archer75]

I've battled periodic depression here and there, as my husband did before he met me, but I always know the root cause in each case. It's not always the same cause each time.

Lutherans don't have an overly dogmatic approach to this, which is good. Some churches over-spiritualize, as mentioned here, while the secular would be more likely to over-conceptualize or else over-medicize (is that a word? lol). But people have to come to terms with why they're depressed. There's no universal cause.

In my recent cases, it was over being a less-preferred "Brain Type," insecurity over not meeting the criteria for legalistic so-called "Biblical womanhood" or femininity, and having a sin problem that is much less common to women than it is to men (visual lust toward the opposite sex). I'd also think low thyroid was at least partly to blame during one period where my thyroid levels were indeed found to be low (my most recent test indicates they're back to normal thanks to levo, and I'm indeed noticing a more level mood lately compared to prior months).

It's very hard to feel like you're not what you're supposed to be.

 

[FireDragon76]

I do use the Jesus Prayer and silent prayer at my SF's recommendation. My prayer practice does help me, I believe, but the help seems limited.

I know we all (not only Orthodox) talk about bearing the Cross. But still. It seems it just gets harder and harder. And not like the kind of harder because you think about it too much...but like, stretched to the breaking point. Anyway, I suppose this is too much for a thread on this subforum. Thanks to all, though, for your contributions...

I never even worry about the Last Judgment. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.". Words of the Lord that are easy for me to accept.

Part of the issue is we live in a culture that makes a cult of personal happiness. It's one of the hazards of western culture, in fact. That can even make you feel guilty for feeling bad, which is actually what depression is often about psychologically.

This really owes alot to Calvinist attitudes about success. In many ways the Prosperity Gospel can be traced back to Evangelicalism's sense that even though human beings are totally depraved, somehow their religious system could promise moral improvement, and that God would bless such efforts with success. It sounds great on paper (how could pessimism be a good thing?), but sociologists know from studying this cross-culturally, that historically Calvinistic nations like England or the US have higher rates of depression in response to job loss and unemployment. We really do tend to feel like God is judging us, like one of Job's friends suggested to him. We over-spiritualize something that is merely living in an imperfect world and that we shouldn't take so personally.

Instead, I think a bit of healthy pessimism helps insulate us from disappoints. The Stoics understood this, for instance. If you get up like Seneca did every morning and expect the worst, you can't be disappointed.

 

[FireDragon76]

Alain de Button on appreciating pessimism:

 

[FireDragon76]

It's very hard to feel like you're not what you're supposed to be.

This actually is where I found Nietzsche's understanding of the Eternal Return helpful. He thought the superman would look at his life and be able to love himself even if he had to live it over and over and over again. I think it's really about learning to have self-compassion in the end, and live without resentments and bitterness, something our culture is not always good at appreciating.

(BTW, I actually think Nietzsche went mad from a hereditary disease, not from his philosophy. His father also had dementia at a relatively young age).

 

[archer75]

Part of the issue is we live in a culture that makes a cult of personal happiness. It's one of the hazards of western culture, in fact. That can even make you feel guilty for feeling bad, which is actually what depression is often about psychologically.

This really owes alot to Calvinist attitudes about success. In many ways the Prosperity Gospel can be traced back to Evangelicalism's sense that even though human beings are totally depraved, somehow their religious system could promise moral improvement, and that God would bless such efforts with success. It sounds great on paper (how could pessimism be a good thing?), but sociologists know from studying this cross-culturally, that historically Calvinistic nations like England or the US have higher rates of depression in response to job loss and unemployment. We really do tend to feel like God is judging us, like one of Job's friends suggested to him. We over-spiritualize something that is merely living in an imperfect world and that we shouldn't take so personally.

Instead, I think a bit of healthy pessimism helps insulate us from disappoints. The Stoics understood this, for instance. If you get up like Seneca did every morning and expect the worst, you can't be disappointed.

The texts of many of the standard Orthodox prayers (personal ones in the prayerbook) have helped me in this regard. I had been in the habit of thinking of myself as completely valueless (as I am according to any convention of the world), but having the prayerbook tell me over and over again that although I am in bad shape, I can still dare to approach God in prayer has helped.

Maybe there is nothing specifically Orthodox about that, but still.

 

[FireDragon76]

The texts of many of the standard Orthodox prayers (personal ones in the prayerbook) have helped me in this regard. I had been in the habit of thinking of myself as completely valueless (as I am according to any convention of the world), but having the prayerbook tell me over and over again that although I am in bad shape, I can still dare to approach God in prayer has helped.

Maybe there is nothing specifically Orthodox about that, but still.

I'm not a big fan of that approach in Orthodoxy, but your mileage may vary. I think its more than just you can dare to approach God, you are loved by God and adopted as God's child in baptism and clothed with Christ's righteousness. It's more than just grovelling before God for the hopes that maybe you'll be OK one of these days, that's really a kind of ingratitude for the gift we have been given- it's certainly not how the blessed Mother, Mary, responded to grace. That's why Luther himself preached a message of bold confidence.

At one time I was very down on myself also, but my pastor did his best to try to help me understand myself in a different way... but that took time. In Orthodoxy I never found that kind of assurance that I actually was OK, everything always felt like a comparison or a test. I had a somewhat distorted view of God. Lots of Law, but I never had the joy I saw at my local Episcopalian church among people who simply accepted salvation as a gift. I believed I was joining the one true church, but it was small comfort when it was joyless.

Paul Tillich, a liberal Lutheran that was once highly influential, just summed up the Gospel in modern parlance as "I am acceptable". I think that's what a church has to be preaching at the end of the day to people (as long as they aren't psychopaths or horrible jerks to their neighbors) for me to take it seriously now days . Life is hard, why make it harder with moralism and perfectionism? A human father does not give a serpent when we ask for an egg, and neither does God.

BTW, there's a very good Danish film called Babette's Feast, I think it might be illuminating for you. It's one of my favorite religious themed films ever.

 

[ViaCrucis]

I suspect that, having come this side of the Rhine, my mental state has been significantly better than otherwise. There is something about the Lutheran tradition that lets humans be humans. We're sinners, we can admit this. We're broken, we can admit this. And there isn't a performance test going on.

Back in my Pentecostal days as a teenager my pastor took my mom aside and told her that he was convinced that God was going to raise me up to be a prophet. I only learned of that when my mom told me in the months just before she passed while she was bed-ridden. Imagine that kind of religious pressure on a 17 year old. That wasn't really "new" for me either, in a lot of ways I had been told, by religious leaders as well as peers, basically talking about how it seemed I would be important, that God had a special calling on my life, often treating me like I was very spiritual. And I, for my own part, while often feeling uncomfortable by these remarks, often because I knew my own heart and how very, very unspiritual I was, then felt the additional burden that I had to live up to a particular standard.

Frankly, in those years, my deep struggle was simply whether or not God could love me. What others I think saw as me being very "spiritual" was in truth nothing more than then desperation of a child who just wanted God to love me. It never really occurred to me back then either that my raging teenage hormones were really quite normal, I was rather convinced that I was beyond a degenerate. Wanting to look up pictures of naked women at late hours of the night on my computer, having sexual thoughts, things which--let's be honest, is what teenage boys do--was a sin so immense in my mind that I regularly thought that I was utterly, truly, beyond redemption. Sure, God can save repentant murderers and other sinners, but they were repentant, and their lives were transformed--but me, my sin, no matter how many times I would fall on my face alone in my room crying out and begging God to forgive me, to improve me, to fix me, it was always there. I wasn't seeing change. I didn't think I could be perfect, but at the very least I could sin less, I could (and should) be overcoming these specific sins.

Then, of course, there was me after high school. I had stopped attending my childhood church, and I had made friends with a couple people who, apparently, were "the bad ones" (at least according to some of my church friends from HS). I was still pretty squeaky clean back then too, but nevertheless the ecclesiastical rumor mill had effectively decided I had gone full apostate or something to that effect. After I moved away, I even learned that the rumors being spread included apparently that I had become a full time drug dealer (specifically cocaine or heroine I believe). And, of course, here I was at like 20/21 years old and had hardly so much as ever taken a drink of alcohol.

All-in-all, I am very happy to be done with all of that. I simply don't think, had I continued that path I would still be a Christian. I would also have been in seriously worse shape as far as my mental and emotional health are concerned. Being Lutheran has allowed me to freely confess that I'm a sinner, that this life of faith isn't about achieving "holiness", it's not about being "spiritual", it's not about "morality", it's about Jesus Christ. Pop-spirituality is entirely too exhausting, it's all fluff and no substance. I simply don't have the emotional stamina to be a white-washed sepulcher.

-CryptoLutheran

 

[FireDragon76]

I watching a documentary about ancient Egypt and the Scroll of Ani yesterday made me realize how twisted religion can be, BTW. This whole idea that life is a test, and that religion can fix you up for that test, is just something religious entrepreneurs often manipulate to get you to do what they want.

It's no wonder God detested the Egyptians. I would too if you had to pay a priest half a years salary to get into paradise. Over and over the theme of the Bible isn't about buying fire insurance for the afterlife, it's about a message of trust in God to take us through the "valley of the shadow of the death".

So, I'm suspicious of this idea of a religion as some kind of process of growth or improvement (always aided by a group of select experts, of course, who demand something from you, but only give you vague promises in return) to pass some kind of final exam. That's not the Gospel, that's manmade religion, the opinio legis.

 

[FireDragon76]

I suspect that, having come this side of the Rhine, my mental state has been significantly better than otherwise. There is something about the Lutheran tradition that lets humans be humans. We're sinners, we can admit this. We're broken, we can admit this. And there isn't a performance test going on.

Back in my Pentecostal days as a teenager my pastor took my mom aside and told her that he was convinced that God was going to raise me up to be a prophet. I only learned of that when my mom told me in the months just before she passed while she was bed-ridden. Imagine that kind of religious pressure on a 17 year old. That wasn't really "new" for me either, in a lot of ways I had been told, by religious leaders as well as peers, basically talking about how it seemed I would be important, that God had a special calling on my life, often treating me like I was very spiritual. And I, for my own part, while often feeling uncomfortable by these remarks, often because I knew my own heart and how very, very unspiritual I was, then felt the additional burden that I had to live up to a particular standard.

Frankly, in those years, my deep struggle was simply whether or not God could love me. What others I think saw as me being very "spiritual" was in truth nothing more than then desperation of a child who just wanted God to love me. It never really occurred to me back then either that my raging teenage hormones were really quite normal, I was rather convinced that I was beyond a degenerate. Wanting to look up pictures of naked women at late hours of the night on my computer, having sexual thoughts, things which--let's be honest, is what teenage boys do--was a sin so immense in my mind that I regularly thought that I was utterly, truly, beyond redemption. Sure, God can save repentant murderers and other sinners, but they were repentant, and their lives were transformed--but me, my sin, no matter how many times I would fall on my face alone in my room crying out and begging God to forgive me, to improve me, to fix me, it was always there. I wasn't seeing change. I didn't think I could be perfect, but at the very least I could sin less, I could (and should) be overcoming these specific sins.

Then, of course, there was me after high school. I had stopped attending my childhood church, and I had made friends with a couple people who, apparently, were "the bad ones" (at least according to some of my church friends from HS). I was still pretty squeaky clean back then too, but nevertheless the ecclesiastical rumor mill had effectively decided I had gone full apostate or something to that effect. After I moved away, I even learned that the rumors being spread included apparently that I had become a full time drug dealer (specifically cocaine or heroine I believe). And, of course, here I was at like 20/21 years old and had hardly so much as ever taken a drink of alcohol.

All-in-all, I am very happy to be done with all of that. I simply don't think, had I continued that path I would still be a Christian. I would also have been in seriously worse shape as far as my mental and emotional health are concerned. Being Lutheran has allowed me to freely confess that I'm a sinner, that this life of faith isn't about achieving "holiness", it's not about being "spiritual", it's not about "morality", it's about Jesus Christ. Pop-spirituality is entirely too exhausting, it's all fluff and no substance. I simply don't have the emotional stamina to be a white-washed sepulcher.

-CryptoLutheran

That reminds me of what Pr. Nadia Bolz Weber said about her Church of Christ upbringing, that the God they believed in was basically "an ***hole with a killer surveillance system."

 

[archer75]

That reminds me of what Pr. Nadia Bolz Weber said about her Church of Christ upbringing, that the God they believed in was basically "an ***hole with a killer surveillance system."

I had forgotten she was from the CoC. I spent some years there as a kid, and I think due to some quirk of my makeup, I didn't experience it that way (also, the people in that congregation were pretty nice). I can imagine it being a very different story if there were enough young people in a congregation for the adults to be worried about sexual matters going on among them.

Frankly, in those years, my deep struggle was simply whether or not God could love me. What others I think saw as me being very "spiritual" was in truth nothing more than then desperation of a child who just wanted God to love me. It never really occurred to me back then either that my raging teenage hormones were really quite normal, I was rather convinced that I was beyond a degenerate. Wanting to look up pictures of naked women at late hours of the night on my computer, having sexual thoughts, things which--let's be honest, is what teenage boys do--was a sin so immense in my mind that I regularly thought that I was utterly, truly, beyond redemption. Sure, God can save repentant murderers and other sinners, but they were repentant, and their lives were transformed--but me, my sin, no matter how many times I would fall on my face alone in my room crying out and begging God to forgive me, to improve me, to fix me, it was always there. I wasn't seeing change. I didn't think I could be perfect, but at the very least I could sin less, I could (and should) be overcoming these specific sins.

Then, of course, there was me after high school. I had stopped attending my childhood church, and I had made friends with a couple people who, apparently, were "the bad ones" (at least according to some of my church friends from HS). I was still pretty squeaky clean back then too, but nevertheless the ecclesiastical rumor mill had effectively decided I had gone full apostate or something to that effect. After I moved away, I even learned that the rumors being spread included apparently that I had become a full time drug dealer (specifically cocaine or heroine I believe). And, of course, here I was at like 20/21 years old and had hardly so much as ever taken a drink of alcohol.

All-in-all, I am very happy to be done with all of that. I simply don't think, had I continued that path I would still be a Christian. I would also have been in seriously worse shape as far as my mental and emotional health are concerned. Being Lutheran has allowed me to freely confess that I'm a sinner, that this life of faith isn't about achieving "holiness", it's not about being "spiritual", it's not about "morality", it's about Jesus Christ. Pop-spirituality is entirely too exhausting, it's all fluff and no substance. I simply don't have the emotional stamina to be a white-washed sepulcher.

-CryptoLutheran

It's funny (okay, not so funny). I just never felt any guilt about any of that sort of thing. Not the slightest.

Maybe I was depressed enough for other reasons that being threatened with hellfire just seemed sort of quaint. Like "so if I don't do X, I'll be in eternal torment? Okay, what else is new?" I think maybe after reading the posts on this thread that I was so crushed by certain circumstances that the threats and promises of an unhealthy religious system just felt irrelevant to me. I guess that was "lucky"? Anyway, I think it's important for me to be reminded of the destructive power of what's done in the name of Christ. Thanks for these posts.

 

[INeedGrace]

Being Lutheran has allowed me to freely confess that I'm a sinner, that this life of faith isn't about achieving "holiness", it's not about being "spiritual", it's not about "morality", it's about Jesus Christ. Pop-spirituality is entirely too exhausting, it's all fluff and no substance. I simply don't have the emotional stamina to be a white-washed sepulcher.

This has been my experience. Only in my encounter with Lutheran theology have I found peace.

 

[INeedGrace]

I suffer depression and anxiety and have all my life. When I fill out depression questionnaires, I always come out showing "severe depression." At this point I am open to taking medication. But I also have to say that it has been "Christianity" as is often presented here in the West that has exacerbated my depression and anxiety. The Gospel sadly is often presented even by well meaning people as being salvation by Law, not that you have to keep the Law to be saved, but that one's life will be from the moment of conversion one of continuing improvement. This caused me, who is already introspective, to forever look within and examine my inner thoughts, feelings and motivations. The result was more anxiety, more depression, and eventually hatred towards God. I still struggle in this way. Only in my encounter with Lutheran theology have I found peace, because I found forgiveness (which is the point of the Gospel, not improvement). Any good fruit as far as improving character must roll out of one's encounter with forgiveness and grace, not some supernatural empowerment that makes one better and therefore more acceptable to God (which is the message that I was getting through standard Evangelical presentations of the Gospel). I hope my saying this isn't taken as offensive by anyone, but it is my experience.

I have a book that I haven't really read that addresses depression from a Lutheran approach, Of Good Comfort, by Stephen Pietsch. I think I'll be reading this again.

This is a feast for theologians, historians and Christian counselors. Pietsch examines 21 of Luther s letters of comfort to explore Luther s pastoral care for souls suffering with depression. Pietsch uses interdisciplinary tools of inquiry artfully to examine the letters, Luther s pastoral care approaches and the history of the melancholy tradition . The practice of seelsorge emerges as an amalgam of art, spiritual gift, and understanding of affliction, all resting comfortably within the authority of scripture and the Lutheran Confessions. Pietsch s volume is a significant contribution to spiritual care literature, underscoring the conviction of the early church that individual soul care is an essential response to serve those who despair. Offering pivotal pastoral care insights that are often lost, discredited or entirely absent in the work of caring for those who suffer with depression, Pietsch concludes that Luther has given us excellent tools to examine, learn and to teach as we assist souls to find hope, strength and healing in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Of Good Comfort by Stephen Pietsch

 

[archer75]

I continue to be interested in and grateful for the replies to the thread.

 

[Julian of Norwich]

My depression was diagnosed in 2010. As a Catholic I felt "pushed" for perfection. I was afraid to go to Church and afraid not to. Then since I finally quit going, I also missed the Eucharist. By the time I visited the Lutheran church I was so hungry for It! Luckily the Pastor allowed me to receive even tho I wasn't a member of the church yet. That helped some and then knowing the Confessions-I finally was accepted for me by Him, just the way I was. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner-for my child or grandchildren I will do anything, no matter what! How could He be less loving!

Once I told my mother that I follow what my (paternal) grandmother always said, that if you expect the worst you won't be surprised. My mother said, "Well, that's why you've been depressed for so long! What a pessimistic way to look at things". She was right, when I finally push myself to go to church or watch my toddler grandchildren grin or laugh at something, then I can't think like that and I feel so much better!

 

[Tempura]

This caused me, who is already introspective, to forever look within and examine my inner thoughts, feelings and motivations. The result was more anxiety, more depression, and eventually hatred towards God. I still struggle in this way. Only in my encounter with Lutheran theology have I found peace, because I found forgiveness (which is the point of the Gospel, not improvement). Any good fruit as far as improving character must roll out of one's encounter with forgiveness and grace

You described me, right now in the middle of some inner turmoil. It's been a long struggle, but in the end there is always peace, just like now. I teared up. You said everything so much better than I ever could, every word right through my defenses. My battle with long depression has been won, but there are still times of heavy anxiety and spiritual roller coasters. I needed this. Thank you and Christ be with you.

 

[Tempura]

I had been in the habit of thinking of myself as completely valueless (as I am according to any convention of the world), but having the prayerbook tell me over and over again that although I am in bad shape, I can still dare to approach God in prayer has helped.

Hold on to that brother. Always dare to approach Him. As you are, as a child who needs his Father.

I suffered from depression for about 20 years. I did seek professional help. It started as raging anxiety, which I of course fueled with alcoholism. It was like a wildfire, I was a poster boy for co-dependence. Everything went wrong and felt like a constant explosion of "no hope, no love, no peace, no sleep". Lost my job and some of my most treasured relationships. The last half of it was more "quiet" depression. It was a bit more peaceful and I wouldn't have survived if that wasn't the case, but it was also this constant, heavy blanket weighing me down. In some ways it was better, but also worse. It's hard to tell what happened. I attribute it to God, but it's hard to pinpoint the details. At some point, after being certain that I couldn't take the pain anymore after screaming and crying for who knows how long, I was sure I would have to kill myself. I prayed instead. I don't remember what I prayed word for word, but it was the most sincere prayer I have ever prayed, just a broken man with no hope crying to his God. Some time after that, I had a bit of hope. It wasn't pure hope, just a glimpse of it, I remember the idea was "it doesn't matter if things get better or not. no hurry. no need to react. you won't get worse. hope in Christ". Some strange acceptance started to creep in.

The years from going from one treatment and medicine to another, therapy, many hospital trips, even ECT (I saw one person who did ECT for two weeks, and the change was like night and day, it really worked for her), AA and the works, either started to work even a little bit, or then I was getting to a place where I could allow myself to receive some help, without expecting a miracle or being cynical and defeated about it in advance. If something didn't help, which was often, I could now see leading to something else that might, and I was able to learn more about myself throughout the years. All these things were a crutch in the darkest times, and I have to be thankful, I wouldn't be here without it. I'm glad I took every opportunity to get help, no matter if it helped then or ever, because it was still active hope if not anything else. I still need a crutch, I take minimal amount of benzos every day to deal with my anxiety and to be able to sleep a bit better, but even with that I'm starting to have hope that perhaps one day I could leave them behind as I did with my other meds. But I still believe it was God who turned the wheel, and I became to understand that I could be really loved, and my spirit wouldn't have to be utterly despaired. That no matter how things seem and even feel, I wouldn't have to believe my pressing feelings, even if I have to feel them. I can believe in something better. This has been my struggle in these later years, learning to not succumb to all my feelings, to not believe them, no matter how much they weigh on me. I thank Christ that I can believe in His gracious love instead, whether I feel it or not.

I'm probably still a little depressed, as I am melancholic, have little energy, have some trouble sleeping as I always did and I don't really have goals in life. No companion, no job, on disability pension. But I have more peace now than when I had all those things, when I hadn't even gone properly insane yet. I don't drink anymore, I don't abuse meds anymore. Haven't had a horrible crisis in the last 2-3 years, haven't needed hospitals. And I can keep my apartment a bit more clean now, and force myself to go out some more. I function better, even if not well, and sometimes I can even take pleasure from the most basic, lowly things now. Even being able to be kind to someone reminds me of Christ and feels so important. I remember what my life used to be and I am so much better. There is a foundation now that will not break.

I guess I'm writing this in faint hope that this long pointless ramble might encourage you somehow. If it didn't, think nothing of it, don't let it bring you down. Will pray for you and everyone else who are suffering here. There are so many of us that it saddens me. But we can all encourage each other, and when we are really down, we need the person who is encouraging us to know exactly what it means to be down, to be stuck in that dark pit. You will all be of great comfort to someone, and surely have been in the past as well. You can show God's grace, you can build hope in others. I pray you will all have a lasting, strong hope as well, and you would have all the patience to wait for it if it's still not realized.