I take an antidepressant daily, despite believing deeply that God is the one “who comforts and encourages and refreshes and cheers the depressed and sinking” (2 Corinthians 7:6). This act is not a departure from my faith, but rather, a humble acceptance of help while I await God’s healing. This echoes the biblical account of Timothy, who, despite his exposure to miraculous healings, was advised by Paul to use a little wine for his stomach and frequent ailments (1 Timothy 5:23).
The subject of mental health within the Christian community can sometimes draw sharp lines between differing views. Influential faith leaders like John G. Lake have even equated the use of medicine for Christians to a sin as grave as drunkenness. Yet, while Lake was a champion of faith healing, I believe that he might not have supported my use of medication.
This brings us to a critical conversation about the nature of faith and humility. Romans 14:3 warns us about the judgments that can arise between the “strong” and “weak” in faith, pointing to the complexity of discerning who truly holds the stronger position.
For me, the choice to use medication has been a profound exercise in humility. It’s humbling to acknowledge my need for help beyond prayer and faith alone, and even more so to declare this need publicly, as required on various medical and employment forms. Each of us faces unique challenges that test our pride and humility; mine happens to be my mental health.
The biblical narrative does not shy away from the complexities of faith, effort, and divine intervention. Take Abraham purchasing a burial plot for Sarah in Genesis 23, despite God’s promise that his descendants would inherit vast lands. Was Abraham acting out of a lack of faith, or was he practicing humility, recognizing that God’s promises might unfold differently than he expected?
Humility, then, is not necessarily about inaction but recognizing our limitations and trusting in God’s timing and methods. It’s about admitting our inability to control every outcome and submitting to God’s overarching plan, which often involves waiting patiently on Him. This is not a passive resignation but an active engagement in faith, accepting God’s help through the means He provides—whether miraculous or medicinal.
Moreover, humility involves service to others, a theme recurrent in the New Testament. We see this in Paul’s life, as he accepted his weaknesses to strengthen others and glorify Christ (2 Corinthians 12:7-10). Similarly, my journey with antidepressants is not just about personal healing; it’s about maintaining my ability to serve others effectively.
In our discussions about faith and healing, it’s crucial to avoid the trap of pride—assuming we understand God’s ways or judging others’ faith journeys by their methods of healing. Instead, we are called to embrace a humble approach, recognizing our frailties and depending on God’s strength.
Whether or not one should use antidepressants can be a deeply personal decision influenced by many factors, including medical, emotional, and spiritual needs. The critical takeaway is not the method but the attitude of humility and reliance on God.
Ultimately, the question isn’t whether God can heal us without medicine. Of course, He can. The question is, how are we called to live in our waiting and in our suffering? How do we embody humility and faith in a way that honors God and serves others?
In this journey, whether it includes medication or not, we are invited to sit at the lowest place, to recognize our need, and to allow God to lift us in His time and His way. In that place of humility, we find the true essence of our faith—not in our ability to be healed but in our willingness to be healed according to God’s will, recognizing Him as the source of all comfort, healing, and restoration.
