Does Jesus Think I'm Crazy?
- Emmalyn Grace
- Apr 28, 2024
- 7 min read
Probably. But I think He really likes you too.
When I was 7, my first grade teacher Mrs. Miller announced that we would be having a party. This would be the first classroom party I had ever participated in, and I was super excited about it. Christmas break was coming up, and the plan was to have a half-day of school, at the end of which we'd all have a party and go home early. I don't remember all the details of the party, but I can tell you that there was going to be sugar involved - cookies and candy and juice, and all the other sorts of things you'd want to deprive little kids of until letting them gorge themselves right before you hand them over with a smile for their frazzled parents to deal with for the rest of the holiday season.
The day came, and Mrs. Miller really delivered. To a kid who was used to sugar consumption occurring only under the supervision of her parents, it truly was a wonderful new experience. I made my way straight to the chocolate chip cookies, which were (and still remain) my favorite type of cookies, and I grabbed two instead of the usual one that I would've been allowed at home. (Yeah, you could say I was a bad kid.)
I got all the way through cookie number one and about half a bite into cookie number two before I realized that I'd made a terrible mistake. I didn't know what the mistake was, but by the sinking feeling in my stomach and my accelerating heartbeat I could tell that it was a big one. Suddenly, I knew what I had done: by eating more than one cookie, I was setting myself up to get sick, and that couldn't happen. I couldn't finish cookie number two without risking the danger of throwing up.
I pushed the feeling away and took a second bite out of cookie number two, but instead of enjoying the taste of what was supposed to be my favorite cookie, I started to feel more and more nauseous. I stared at the cookie while feeling my heartbeat pound in my head, slowly walked over to the trash can, and threw my plate away. I couldn't eat any more. The best day ever was replaced by my worst nightmare as I sat, alone and scared, in the middle of my classroom party and tried not to cry.
As a young kid, I didn't know what was happening to me. I didn't know about things like specific phobias or panic attacks or the DSM-V, or that going to a counselor didn't mean you were crazy, and I definitely couldn't have guessed that all over the world, there were other kids like me who had fears too big for them to fit words around.
My parents didn't know it either. And so, the advice that I got consisted of phrases like this:
"Think about happy things."
"There's nothing to be afraid of."
"Just pray to Jesus."
"Remember that you can trust God to protect you."
There are many appropriate circumstances for this advice, but my circumstance was not one of them. As I got older, I began to realize that I must be a terrible Christian if I couldn't always feel total peace. I wasn't sleeping well, so I didn't have time to spend time with God every morning, and as hard as I tried to "just trust in God," I was constantly anxious. I started to read Matthew 6:25-34 (all those "don't worry" verses) over and over again, every night, and I tried to really believe what I was reading. I woke up every morning with my Bible open next to me from the night before and hoped that God wouldn't hate me for treating His book so poorly. But the harder I tried to internalize trust in God, the more abstract and distant it seemed.
Finally, I came to a conclusion: I couldn't be a good Christian. God hated me for not trusting Him. And there was nothing I could do about it.
Long story short: I grew up, learned that God did love me, rewired my theology, discovered better ways of coping, et cetera, et cetera. But this question keeps coming back to me, over and over again: How does God feel about mental illness? What do I do when I can't control my thoughts or "just trust in Him"?
Let's look at a few verses I've become pretty familiar with, from Matthew 6.
Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? -- Matthew 6:25, NKJV
The first thing to note about this verse is the first word: "therefore." It implies that what's about to be said is following a pretext. So let's look at the pretext, verse 24.
No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon. -- Matthew 6:24, NKJV
This verse is the verse that sets up the entire "do not worry" portion of the text, and what does it say? You can't serve God and mammon. Mammon is just a fancy word for what the NIV would call money, or what the NASB would call wealth. This verse is talking about the accumulation of material possessions, not about the abstract, unexplainable inner workings of the mind.
This means that all the "do not worry" verses that follow must also apply to this topic. Jesus isn't telling us that we can (or should) out-think our anxiety or other uncontrollable mental productions; He's saying that our focus on material things shouldn't take up unneeded space in our minds, because we were made for way more than just getting lots of stuff.
So, if you find yourself overwhelmed with anxiety and you find comfort in these verses, great! But if they're a source of constant shame or, counter-productively, more anxiety because you feel that you're never able to properly follow them, remember that Jesus never intended for these verses to be a fix-all for mental illness.
Next, I want to take a look at another "do not fear verse" - the kind that I used over and over again to prove to myself what an awful job I was doing at trusting God.
For I, the Lord your God, will hold your right hand, saying to you, "Fear not, I will help you." -- Isaiah 14:13, NKJV
It's true that in this verse, God is saying, "fear not." But He's also promising to hold your hand. A person doesn't offer to hold someone else's hand if they're being dismissive of their feelings. God's not saying, "you shouldn't be afraid," or, "just trust Me and get over it." He's saying, "I'll be with you through it. You'll always have my help." This verse was meant to be comforting, not condemning.
Finally, I want to look at a part of the Bible that really sticks out to me when I think about someone who dealt with a lot of things mentally: the book of Psalms. On top of the not-so-great things he did, David also had a lot of feelings, and those feelings come out in the songs he wrote. Here are just a few verses that are comforting to me when I can't escape my thoughts:
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I do hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning - yes, more than those who watch for the morning. -- Psalm 130:5, 6, NKJV
We went through fire and through water; but You brought us out to rich fulfillment. -- Psalm 66:12, NKJV
My flesh and my heart fail; but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. -- Psalm 73:26, NKJV
In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord; my hand was stretched out in the night without ceasing; my soul refused to be comforted. -- Psalm 77:2, NKJV
What I love about these verses is that David is actively going through something, but that doesn't negate his faith in God or God's presence in his situation. Sure, there are moments that he can look forward to or truths he can hold onto, but that's not an immediate fix for what he's dealing with. He lets himself sit in what he's feeling. He recognizes the times when God feels far away or totally absent. When David praises God in these psalms, he's doing it while he's still in his feelings. God doesn't have to feel close or give David an immediate solution for David to know (or even just hope) that He's listening.
When I think about all of the sad, scared, angry, or otherwise negative psalms that David wrote and realize that he's still referred to as a "man after God's own heart," I start to wonder if the whole point of worship isn't just feeling the right way all the time. In fact, maybe David was a man after God's own heart specifically because he was able to seek God through whatever emotions he was facing. Maybe that's the whole point - the seeking bit, not the lightning-flashes-from-the-sky-and-I'm-miraculously-healed bit. Maybe God is strong enough to handle my brain when I can't, and maybe He even wants to sit in it with me and hold my hand through it.
Some people like to think about what they would say to their younger self if they had a time machine. Here's what I would say to the girl who wondered if Jesus could ever really love her:
Dear younger (and sometimes also present) Emmalyn,
Jesus loves you. He only ever meant all those "do not worry" verses to be comforting. It's okay to be scared, and it's okay to not understand why. You're human, and Jesus knows that. Trusting in Him doesn't mean always feeling okay - a lot of times it means knowing He's there even when you don't feel okay. Jesus never promised that you'd always feel good, but He did promise that He'd be with you and that you'd make it through. And He will. And you will.
With love, from me <3
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