Current reading

In my brain-addled and mother-of-small-children state, I find it difficult to devote time to "serious" books (well, any book really). Which is why I picked up the following book with some trepidation. Well, two books really - Shepherding a Child's Heart also has an accompanying bible study book. I've found it very encouraging so far.

The Christian and Depression

On Sunday, we had a special youth service on the topic "the Christian and Depression", and an old college friend of ours came up to speak. He chose Psalm 88 as his text, the only psalm not to have an uplifting "but I will trust in the Lord". It was a great night, and a really helpful talk.

As Christians, we can be spectacularly unhelpful in our response to depression or other mental illness. Here are some of the ways we might stuff up:

1. You're a Christian, you shouldn't be depressed!
The first way shows a misunderstanding of what being a Christian means. Sometimes people preach the gospel as if to say, "Believe in Jesus, and your life will be a bunch of roses". But being a Christian doesn't make us immune from depression any more than it makes us immune from the flu. We're saved by grace into a living hope, but it's not until Christ's return that we are promised that "there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain" (Rev 21:4). We still live in a fallen world, and part of that fallenness is the Black Dog.

2. You musn't have enough faith. Bad Christian, Bad!
This is a worsening of the first way we can be unhelpful to people who are struggling with depression. Sadly, some sections of the church believe that if we have enough faith, we will automatically be healthy, wealthy and wise. The flipside of that is that if you aren't healthy, wealthy or wise, you therefore don't believe enough. So on top of the enormous burden of depression that people suffer, we add the burden of guilt and despair.

3. I've only got 5 minutes over a cuppa...
It's fairly common these days for people you pass in the street to say "Hi! How are you?" as they pass, clearly not waiting for a response. Our Sunday after-the-service conversations can be almost as bad. Sure, we're usually at least mildly interested in how people are doing, but if they've got real problems we nod, smile politely, and then look for the quickest way to get out of the conversation. It's little wonder that many people who suffer with depression learn to avoid social contact, or hide behind a veneer of "I'm fine thanks".

4. Aren't you better yet?
Us Aussies have notoriously short attention spans. You only have to look at Australian Idol to see: we're great at cheering for the battler, but as soon as the lights have faded, they're ancient history. We love the 60 minute story arc - our hero begins facing grave difficulties, but with a lot of heroicism overcomes between the ad breaks. Even our sermons tie up neatly with the 5-minute application.
Depression doesn't work that way. It's often around for the long haul.

5. I've been sad, too.
Sometimes we can show a classic lack of understanding about what depression really is. We try to empathise and say "Yeah, I know how you feel" without actually knowing, and end up showing that we really have no idea. This can drive a person who's depressed even further away, and make them think you aren't interested in them at all. I once heard someone say "Yes, I felt depressed once. I just threw myself into the housework, and it fixed everything up."

6. The depression-cure vending machine
As part of our short attention spans, we often try the "quick fix" therapy method. It often turns into advice like "Just pray about it"/"Think of how wonderful heaven will be!"/"Fix your eyes on Jesus!"/"Pull yourself together!" While it's good for someone who is depressed to pray or to know that they won't be depressed in heaven, depression is not cured by quick-fix methods. Sometimes it can't be completely cured at all. We don't like that idea, do we?

7. Nothing to see here! (The not-the-Good-Samaritan approach)
Probably the worst way we can be unhelpful is to live in denial. We see someone who clearly appears to be struggling, and like the Levite in Jesus' parable we cross the road to the other side. There's no Depression here! We're all Christians! We're all victorious! That person who wishes they were dead is not really thinking that at all. Don't mention the war!

As our friend said on Sunday, if Psalm 88 is in the bible, it shows that we shouldn't be sweeping depression under the carpet. Depression is not shameful. Let our friends who are depressed be honest, rather than hide what they're dealing with.

Fairytale theology, Part 1

It occurred to me the other day that fairy tales have more influence over our thinking than we may realise.

Let me illustrate with an example.

In the pantomime (and book) version of Peter Pan, one of the famous lines we are given is that "whenever someone says they don't believe in fairies, somewhere a fairy drops down dead." When Tinkerbell eats the poisonous cake instead of Peter, we're encouraged to clap loudly and believe hard in fairies, and she will suddenly get better.

The other day, my other half told me about a discussion he'd heard about God. One of the responses was along the lines of "I choose to believe that he's not there" - the idea being, perhaps, that if they say they don't believe in Him, He will therefore disappear in a *puff* of smoke. Peter Pan theology type 1: If I say he doesn't exist, that totally exonerates me from any responsibility towards him, because he ceases to have power when I refuse to acknowledge his presence.

Sadly, rather than the fairy dropping dead, it's rather like standing on a train track with eyes closed, hands firmly clamped over the ears while shouting "NotlisteningNotlisteningNotlistening!!!" You can do that all you like, but that doesn't change the fact that the Express is headed in your direction.

The second Peter Pan theology I've noticed lately is the "clapping loudly = poison antidote" type of thinking. Not literally clapping, mind you, but the power of positive thinking. The idea that if I think something hard enough, it'll overcome the forces of nature and I can suddenly make X or Y happen. In this type of theology, God becomes the divine waiter, running around to fill our orders and turn the world upside down, just because we want something to happen. It puts the order of things backwards - God's desires should be first, ours way down the pecking order.

Things I love about ministry

Ok, so last week I published the negative list. Today, I'm trying to be a little more positive, so here are some the things I really love about my job...

• Helping people to get to know Jesus
• Watching kids' eyes light up as they finally understand something we've been telling them for years
• Finding new ways to bring the bible to life for kids
• Being an idiot in public (You can do this very well with small children. They actually enjoy it when you're over the top)
• Being thrown back on the bible when you are asked the tricky questions
• Legitimately being able to play with textas, glue and coloured cardboard
• Being able to listen to young people who are wrestling with the big issues in their own lives
• Watching young people take on faith for themselves
  
• Reaching kids who have had no contact with God or church whatsoever
• Seeing the evidence of God working in and through people.
• Having prayers answered in a visible and powerful way (the simple and mundane answers are also wonderful to see!).
  

Along with the highs come the lows. Every year it's hard to say goodbye to our year 12s who go away from town to uni. It's painful watching kids make the same mistakes you've seen others make. It hurts me to see them walking blindly into screwed-up situations where they end up making a grand mess of their lives (and you can't do anything other than pray for them). It's excruciating when you want to say something horrible to parents who walk away from their kids in the name of "finding themselves". But it's all worth it when just one child realises that Jesus loves them and died for them, too.

Precious small child moment...

Just had to share this one...

Picture our two-an-a-half year-old sitting in a church pew, leafing through one of the pew bibles. As he riffles through, he says this: "...and God did that, ... and God did that, ... and God did that... and God did that, and it was good!"

Very cute.

MeChurch, YouTube

In a similar vein to my previous post (see below), this is a very amusing video on YouTube.

MeChurch. Where it's all about You.

Do You LOBOP?

I've discovered something a little disconcerting about myself. It's a little scandalous, perhaps a little life-threatening, but really just downright annoying.

I listen to sermons on behalf of other people.

It started off innocently, years and years ago. I'd been talking to a friend about a particular issue. Lo and behold, the sermon that very week was on the same issue. My scandalous thought? "X should listen to this." The practice of LOBOP* had begun...

The problem is, it's become a habit. It wasn't such a big deal when I was single and childless, and had the attention span to take in an entire talk. Even with the occasional "Take that, X, Y or Z!", I could still listen long enough to hear things that applied to me, and be sorry for my actions. The problem grew when I went to college, and had to "critique" sermons on a regular basis. It grew even further when I had small children, who reduced my ability to listen for periods longer than one-and-a-half sentences. I've now developed the stupendous ability to speed-apply: I can hear a sermon application and identify the appropriate malfeasant instantly. Entire sermons can go by without a single moment of introspection. LOBOP has become the order of the day.

Why is it such a problem?

Well, there's the blindingly obvious "water off a duck's back" issue. How can I be growing if I'm impervious to rebuke or encouragement? How can I expect people to listen to me teaching if I'm unteachable myself? An unteachable teacher creates unteachable students.

There's also the problem that I'm increasing my level of bitterness and unforgiveness towards others, and I'm becoming just plain unpleasant and judgemental. Often if I'm LOBOP-ing, it's because I've heard someone complaining or doing something I think is wrong. Someone who is tearing other people down instead of building them up. Someone who wants everything done for them, but won't put the effort in to do something themselves. Someone who's trying to see how close to the line they can get without crossing it. Someone who puts themselves ahead of Jesus and their brothers and sisters in Christ. Someone just like me.

I've been walking around with a very large timber plank in my eye for some time now...


*LOBOP= Listening On Behalf of Other People