On October 16, 2016, I gave up worrying.

Reason? It didn’t seem to help.

That’s not to say that I don’t have other issues. Depression is my kryptonite. Migraine medicine and my “happy pills,” plus a total dependence on God who raises up medical professionals, keeps me in a good place … most of the time. I believe modern medicine can be a gift from God – it’s just another tool in His box to bring about healing, and that’s what I was looking for.

Regarding the worry thing: In October of 2016 I found myself bent out of shape, and these years later I don’t even remember what the issues were. I just know that they were awful. I needed a breakthrough, and I knew God alone could facilitate that.

So, I got my tent and went out to Timberlake Campground on the Ross Barnett Reservoir, which is about three miles from our house. I packed my clothes, sleeping bag, air mattress, and some basic provisions. My intent was to lay myself before God and say, “Okay, Lord, it’s just you and me. Let’s do this. I’m open and available.”

Because we have a gracious God, He blessed. I won’t go into the details – I know sometimes getting a few words out of me is like getting a drink of water from a fire hydrant – but I can say that over a couple of nights He moved me through a process of discovery and renewal. Healing and deliverance, if you will.

If you’re prone to worry and anxiety, here’s some of what I’ve learned. I journaled through this whole process. I’d be quick to say that if you are in a dark and desperate place, get some professional help. The stigma that used to be so prevalent – even among Christians! – of getting proper counseling and other medical attention is going away.

It’s often said that our life is shaped not just by our actions, but by our thoughts. As believers, we understand this goes deeper than simple psychology; it’s a principle that’s woven into the fabric of spiritual truths. The Bible reflects this in Proverbs 23:7, “As he thinks in his heart, so is he.” This is more than an observation—it’s a call to action for each of us to master our minds.

But in today’s world, it’s easy to find our thoughts drenched in worry. Concerns about health, finances, family, and the future can dominate our mental landscape. However, if “you become what you think about,” then constantly worrying can transform these temporary thoughts into permanent shadows over our lives.

The Trap of Worry
Worry is a tricky beast. It masquerades as “being responsible” or “just being realistic,” but it’s often an unnecessary burden. It saps our energy, reduces our effectiveness, and if left unchecked, can reshape who we are. Jesus Himself addressed this in Matthew 6:27, asking, “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” The rhetorical question highlights a profound truth: worry adds nothing but takes much.

Redirecting Our Thoughts
So, how do we combat this incessant worry? The key lies in redirecting our thoughts from what can go wrong to what can go right, and more importantly, to what is eternal. Note, too, that there is a difference between worry and legitimate concern. If it’s 2 a.m. and you don’t know where your 15-year-old daughter is and you can’t contact her, you’d best be concerned!

Count Your Blessings: Start by acknowledging the good. Make it a daily habit to identify things you’re grateful for. Gratitude is more than just a feel-good exercise; it’s a powerful way to change your thought patterns from pessimism to optimism.

Stay Present: Worry often pulls us into the past or catapults us into the future. Staying present helps us to engage with the here and now. Practicing mindfulness can help maintain a focus on the present moment rather than the uncertainties of tomorrow.

Lean on Scripture: Philippians 4:8 instructs, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” This is not just advice; it’s a prescription for mental health. Filling your mind with God’s truth can transform your perspective.

Building a Fortress of Faith
Building our thought life doesn’t happen overnight. It requires diligence and a proactive approach towards what we allow to dwell in our hearts and minds. Remember, the mind is a battlefield, and as 2 Corinthians 10:5 teaches us, we are to “destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” This isn’t just defensive strategy; it’s an active, daily realignment of our thoughts with God’s truth.

Living What You Believe
Ultimately, mastering worry means aligning our thoughts with our faith. It’s living out the truth that God is sovereign, and He holds our days in His hands. When we truly believe that, our worries start to lose their grip on us. This doesn’t mean we won’t have concerns or that we ignore the realities of life. Rather, it means we face them with faith, not fear, knowing our thoughts are in line with God’s promises.

As we start to focus more on God’s truth and less on our worries, our lives can’t help but start to reflect the peace and purpose we read about in the Scriptures. Remember, “you become what you think about.” By focusing on God’s promises and truths, we can reshape our minds and, consequently, our lives. Let’s choose to fill our thoughts with what builds us up, not what tears us down.

Some of you folks might remember the Y2K frenzy and all the hysteria that came with it. The world was on the edge of its seat, prepping for a technological apocalypse. Churches held seminars, and many of my friends filled their garages with enough emergency supplies to last a lifetime.

In the midst of that chaos, I found myself trying hard not to be disrespectful to their concerns, yet I couldn’t help but feel skeptical. My skepticism wasn’t born out of a claim to superior knowledge or insight. Rather, the situation simply didn’t make reasonable sense to me. Between the conflicting “expert” opinions (and there were plenty of folks who made beaucoup money peddling books, supplies, etc. – follow the money, right?)  and the smell test it failed, I found myself turning not to the ATM for extra cash, but to scripture for reassurance. Isaiah 41:10 reminds us, “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

A friend of mine was particularly invested, planning to stay up all night on December 31, 1999, to track the anticipated chaos via shortwave radio. Yet, as the clock struck midnight, the world remained unchanged. The anticipated global shutdown was nowhere to be seen.

I called later on the morning of January 1, 2000, just to see how he was doing.

“We haven’t heard anything from the Philippines,” he said. “That’s sort of concerning.”

As I recall, the Philippines managed just fine.

This was a stark reminder that amidst the noise and fear, God’s peace transcends all understanding, guarding our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, as Philippians 4:7 assures us.

This memory resurfaces today as I see ads for survival kits cluttering my Facebook feed, promising safety in the face of unspecified threats. It reminds me of the fallout shelter building boom during the very real tensions of the era – as time goes by, we’re aware of just what a legitimate threat the Cuban Missile Crisis was. Yet, as Christians, we are called to live not in fear but in faith. Proverbs 3:21-23 encourages us to keep sound wisdom and discretion always before us, guiding us to respond to fear not with panic but with prudence and discernment.

So, why share these reflections on a serene morning? It’s a gentle reminder that, as believers, we’re called to a different standard. Our trust in God’s sovereignty means we approach life’s uncertainties not with fear but with faith. We are stewards of God’s creation, called to care for our neighbors and ourselves with wisdom and love, echoing Luke 12:33-34’s call to focus on treasures in heaven, not on earth.

Living in fear is easy in a world that often seems designed to scare us. But as followers of Christ, we are reminded that “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.” (Matthew 10:29). God’s got this. All of it. Our role is to live out our faith boldly, trusting in His plan, and to spread peace rather than panic.

Let’s be lights in the darkness, voices of reason and hope in a world often gripped by fear. Let’s choose to live not in the shadow of what might happen but in the light of what we know to be true: God is in control, and His love and protection encompass us every day.

I’m preaching to myself this morning, and thought I’d let you be part of my one-person congregation.

Here’s what is true. You are carrying a burden that gnaws at your mind and heart. It’s heavy, isn’t it? That feeling of something being not quite right, of decisions left unmade or actions not taken. This burden? You know it well because, truth be told, it’s self-inflicted. You know what to do but won’t do it. It’s like knowing the path but refusing to walk it. And I get it. We’ve all been there.

But here’s the thing about this burden – it’s corrupting your life, your relationships, everything. It’s like a little bit of rust that, left unchecked, weakens the strongest metal. It’s not just about you anymore; it’s about how this burden spills over into every interaction, every relationship. It might start small, but it has a way of growing, doesn’t it?

Now, let’s pause for a second. I know this sounds serious but hold on. Here comes the good part. Listen closely. In Christ, you have nothing to hide. You see, those things we bury deep inside, those mistakes or regrets we’re afraid to face, in Christ, they’re out in the open – and yet, we’re safe. There’s no need to put on a mask, to pretend to be someone you’re not.

Nothing to prove. That relentless drive to show the world how capable, how successful, or how unbothered we are? In Christ, that pressure is off. You’re already valued, loved, more than you know. It’s not about what you do; it’s about who you are in Him.

Nothing to fear. This is a big one. Fear can be paralyzing – fear of failure, of rejection, of the unknown. But in Christ, fear loses its grip. It’s like stepping out into a storm and realizing you’re not alone, and the one who’s with you can calm the wind and the waves.

And finally, nothing to lose. In a world where we’re constantly told to protect our assets, our status, our egos, it’s liberating to know that in Christ, what truly matters can’t be taken away. It’s a security that isn’t based on the shifting sands of circumstance but on the solid rock of His love and grace.

So, what’s the solution to this burden you’re carrying? It’s simple, yet profound. Repent. Obey. Repentance isn’t just about saying sorry; it’s about turning around, going a different way. It’s about choosing a path that leads to healing and wholeness. And obeying? It’s about aligning your steps, your heart, your life with His. It’s about taking those steps, even when they’re hard.

I just gave you and me the solution to basically every problem we have. He wants to make you whole again. It’s not just a nice thought; it’s a promise. A promise of a life filled with purpose, peace, and joy. A promise that no matter how far you’ve strayed, you’re never too far from His reach.

So, take a deep breath. Let go of that burden. Step into the light of His love. You’ve got this, not because of who you are, but because of who He is in you. And remember, in Christ, you truly have nothing to hide, nothing to prove, nothing to fear, and absolutely nothing to lose.

It’s all about choices, isn’t it?

I’m not sure why so many struggle with this. Because … you choose the quality of your life. You aren’t a dog, zebra, aardvark, lungfish, or amoeba. You don’t operate on instinct. You have the power to choose. 

Apparently not everyone knows this. Everywhere I look, I see people – Christians! – who have figuratively thrown up their hands and said something like, “I can’t help it. It’s just the way I am.”

You can choose a better path. Remember: You become what you think about. 

In the journey of life, we are often presented with situations that are not within our control. It’s as if we are sailing on an open sea, and at times, the waves decide to show no mercy. But remember, “You can’t always choose what happens to you, but you can always choose how you feel about it.” This phrase carries an essence that is not only profound but steeped deeply in the Christian teachings that guide us in navigating the stormy waters of life.

Often, we find ourselves at crossroads, where the trials and tribulations seem never-ending. But it’s during these moments that our faith stands as our guiding light, encouraging us to choose joy, hope, and resilience over despair. The Bible encourages us in James 1:2-3 to consider it pure joy when we face trials of many kinds because the testing of our faith develops perseverance.

In the grand scheme of things, our reactions and emotions are the ship’s wheel of our journey. They possess the power to either anchor us in tranquility or leave us adrift amidst turbulent waves. But how beautiful it is that, as children of God, we are gifted with the ability to choose the way we perceive and respond to our circumstances.

The story of Joseph, a man who faced unimaginable adversities yet chose to harbor no bitterness, stands as a remarkable testament to this principle. Sold into slavery by his own brothers, wrongfully accused, and imprisoned, Joseph could have easily succumbed to anger and bitterness. Yet, he chose a path of righteousness, maintaining an unwavering trust in God’s plan. His journey wasn’t easy, but his faith and positive outlook transformed his circumstances, eventually elevating him to a place of honor and influence.

Choosing joy and maintaining a positive outlook is not about dismissing the reality of our situations or wearing a mask of false happiness. It is about aligning our hearts with the teachings of Christ, who encourages us to cast all our anxieties on Him because He cares for us (1 Peter 5:7). It’s about standing firm in the belief that God is working behind the scenes, turning every setback into a setup for a comeback.

As followers of Christ, we are called to live lives that radiate the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). Even in the face of adversity, we have the divine ability to exhibit these attributes, choosing to feel and spread joy, even when the world around us seems to be falling apart.

Moreover, the choice to feel a certain way, even amidst trials, is a form of worship, a trust in God’s sovereignty, and a testament to the strength of our faith. It’s a conscious decision to let our light shine, even in the darkness, showcasing the transformative power of God’s love and grace in our lives.

So, as we walk this path together, let’s strive to embody the teachings of Philippians 4:8, focusing on whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – to think about such things. It’s not about ignoring the pains and challenges life throws at us, but choosing a perspective that aligns with God’s word and promises.

Embracing the choice of how we feel about the circumstances that life throws our way is a powerful tool in the Christian walk. It aligns us closer with the heart of God, fostering resilience, fostering hope, and reflecting the love of Christ in our daily interactions. Remember, folks, “You can’t always choose what happens to you, but you can always choose how you feel about it.” Let’s choose joy, choose hope, and choose a faith that remains unshaken, even in the face of trials.

I sure hope these thoughts resonate with your spirit, encouraging you to live a life filled with joy and positivity, deeply rooted in the teachings of Christ.

Until next time, be blessed and be a blessing.

How to suffer. I’m repurposing a blog I wrote in 2019 with some additional thoughts at the end. This is very real and pertinent to me right now.

How to suffer well. Isn’t that a cheerful thought?

I’ve given this a lot of thought recently. Because, taken on its face, that makes God out to be some sort of cosmic ogre. It makes Him sound like a wicked potentate, demanding His pound of flesh.

Fact is, God is a god of mercy and justice. So how does suffering fit in? Does God indeed choose to crush you?

Yep. For the believer, it’s not optional.

Here’s what spurred this thinking for me. It grew out of a re-reading of the classic “suffering servant” passage in Isaiah 53 which is a prophetic foreshadowing of Jesus’ crucifixion. I’ve read this passage a gazillion times, I’m sure, and have often winced when reading verse 10.

Speaking of Jesus, Isaiah says, “Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer …”

So I thought, man, poor Jesus. I know it was all part of The Plan, but it was for a redemptive cause – his life was to be an offering for sin.

(I’d add that it’s this line of thinking which causes some non-believers to balk at the Christian faith. “I mean,” they say, “what can you say about a god who would crucify his own son?” We could unpack that later.)

Are there, then, times when God chooses for you to suffer?

I’ve concluded that yes, indeed, there is.

Understand that being crushed by God doesn’t mean that your life is an offering for sin. That role has already been fulfilled. This isn’t about you being that kind of martyr.

To illustrate, I’ll need to go all autobiographical on ya. Thanks for indulging me. I have a reason for being personal…

… but I’m not looking for pity.

You may know that in June of 2018 I sustained a nasty concussion. Concussions happen all the time. But in about a third of concussion cases, the victim incurs what is called Post Concussion Syndrome. The issues are complex, but the bottom line is that it’s not a quick recovery. Some days I feel like a poster child for PCS.

I do think I’m better. People tell me they’re seeing more of the old Tony, and I appreciate that so! I don’t necessarily feel it, but I’ll go with the bright days I do have.

Besides the apocalyptic migraines that have come with it, the cognitive issues, and other fun symptoms, the worst has been the darkest, blackest, depressed funk you can imagine. That, too, has been held mostly at bay. Yay for good meds! Better living through pharmaceuticals, right?

What that has done, though, has given me a fresh empathy for those facing mental illness in general and depression specifically. I get it.

Here’s where it gets messy, though.

For those who aren’t familiar with mental illness – either their own or by observing someone dealing with it – it is so, so easy to pass judgement.

Here’s what sufferers hear. I know experientially what I’m talking about:

”Shouldn’t you be over it by now?”

”Cheer up. There are plenty of people worse off than you are.”

” Just have more faith.”

Yeah, that’s really helpful.

The worst, for me personally, is the vibe that I get from some people who think I’m trying to get away with something. There’s no visible sign of illness, so you have to be working a scam, right?

You get cancer, or you get heart disease, and no one asks, “what did you do?” You get depression or other mental illness, and they ask, “who sinned, this man or his parents?”

I could go on, but I’d come across as a whiner.

I don’t want to be a whiner.

Back to my thesis – does God choose for us to suffer? What do you do when God chooses to crush you (and I believe He does)?

If you feel crushed by God, you are not the first, nor are you alone.

I won’t take time right now to talk about David, that man after God’s own heart, but I can tell you that he just flat-out despaired. Check out Psalms 13, 22, 38, and 42 for starters.

I don’t want to get bogged down in theological weeds. Let me be as honest as I know how to be. I think this will help someone today.

I knew the Gospel. I knew all the right answers. I’ve taught the truth as best as I knew how.

But what I have recently learned is that there is a refining work of God that can only come though moments of despair. Sometimes, you just have to suffer.

This: I believe that God, in His mercy, has caused me to suffer.

Know why? It may be that I entered a season that I needed to suffer with Him. I could sit back and be all academic about suffering, or I could experience it first hand.

Here’s what’s happened. Because He’s crushed me, the faith He gives me is now stronger, more focused, and has astonishing clarity.

By walking through days that are a slog, and facing nights that are unusually long, I see things I never saw before.

By spending time in darkness, I am coming to understand what the light of Christ is all about.

When you say depression is just evidence of a weak faith, then you’re forgetting that Jesus Himself knew horrific sorrow. Not only did He endure despair (and was forsaken by God!) He even bore all our sorrows.

The takeaway? God sometimes chooses for you to suffer. But His love for us never changes. It’s in Him we place our hope.

Some new thoughts:

• Christianity doesn’t give us a free pass out of suffering. You will suffer. I guarantee it. It’s right and proper to acknowledge you’re hurting, and hurting bad. Just because you’re a Christian doesn’t mean your suffering will be any easier or more endurable What it does mean is that you can see your suffering as one point in a timeline that stretches out into eternity. For Christians, that means that the best is still ahead of us.
• The real reward for suffering is what God does in us and through us. I’ve already spoken about this. But there’s an intimacy with God that happens amidst our suffering that only suffering can produce. It puts our feet on solid ground and not shifting sand. Our souls are touched by God Himself, who is always with us in our suffering.

These days, I’m fixated on helping broken Christians feel better.

It’s tempting to talk about “in this season of life,” or “my calling,” or other noble-sounding catch phrases. These can become cliche real fast. Seriously, though, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I’m supposed to be when I grow up. Helping broken Christians feel better might be part of that equation.

This is all pretty personal. Maybe even therapeutic, and this is my blog, but you don’t have to indulge me. See you next week!

Otherwise … I’m fixin’ to barf all over you.

When I speak of broken Christians, I’m not talking about when God breaks you. That is a separate issue.

I’ve dealt with this before in this blog. Just as a brief takeaway, understand that no matter how much God loves us, no matter what He wants to do for us or how earnestly He seeks to bless us, He cannot do anything with a person who closes his heart in pride, refusing to bend and break.

God has all sorts of ways to turn us into broken Christians – it might be through some soul-shattering crisis, or a gradual erosion of life. I’d suggest that brokenness from God is to be expected. Ancient script says that “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18, NIV).

The brokenness I’m speaking of here is the brokenness experienced when, frankly, Christianity isn’t working or delivering for someone.

That sounds sacrilegious, but it’s the reality many live. Maybe even you.

Annoying commercial break. Unless you’ve been under a rock, ignored me, or unfriended me, you know that I’ve developed a heart-driven course dealing with this very thing, Return to Wholeness. The discounted “tuition” ended on September 20, and when it’s officially opened to the public soon it’ll be at the fair market value price.

If you’re interested, though, I can channel Don Vito Corleone and give you “the offer you can’t refuse.” I’ve worried much about coming across like some sleazy salesman, but I’ve come to realize that sales equal service – I’m providing you and others with the very best God has given me. It’s for broken Christians, or those who have broken Christians in their lives.

Here’s the link if you’ve missed it, skimmed by it, or had no idea what I was up to. Significantly, what I’ve discovered is that while the course isn’t for everyone because many are at a good place spiritually, they know someone who isn’t. I’ve encouraged folks to gift the course to someone, or at least pass the link along. 

There was also a perfectly lovely article written about the course and me that you can read here for extra credit.

Enough said. Moving ahead to your regularly scheduled programme.

I always thought, on some level, that Christians weren’t supposed to be broken. We’re supposed to be well and whole, right? When times are hard, we pray, knowing God is there to hear our prayers and respond in a way that glorifies Him.

We say things like “the joy of the Lord is my strength,” and mean it because it’s scriptural.

But we don’t feel it. We join the ranks of broken Christians who are fruitless, defeated, and wondering if this walk with Jesus they’re experiencing is what they signed up for.

Honestly – there have been days when I didn’t know if God won, or Satan won. All I knew is that I lost.

You cheered up yet? I got more.

I’ve never been in a crisis of faith place where I doubted the presence of God, or even the love of God. I have wondered what the heck He was up to, and why He was allowing me to live in such an all-consuming funk.

You might identify. It’s like the bottom of your spiritual life has fallen out. You feel like you need to throw yourself on the mercy of God. Maybe you’ve tried.

Or – gasp! – you’ve wrestled with things like this:

• You used to have daily quiet times, now all you can manage is the occasional Bible reading, and it feels rote and hollow.
• You used to have it all together, now the least little thing puts you in a tailspin.
• You used to do so much good church and kingdom work, now all you do is try to avoid it.
• You used to be so balanced and healthy, and now you’re just a step away from being going carnival-ape crazy.
• You used to help so many other people, now all your bandwidth is used up  by just trying to get through the day.

Can I simply say you aren’t alone?

Check out Elijah, or David, or even Simon Peter. You are going to find them in some perfectly wretched states. But they didn’t stay broken forever.

I’ve thought a lot about all this, and it comes back to my original statement: I want to help broken Christians feel better.

At the end of this blog*, after my sign-off and below the photo, you can see some of my testimony and what has moved me to the space I’m occupying now. Is this a calling for me? I honestly feel it is.

It’s still a work in progress, no doubt. What encourages me so is that, even at age 66, God moves and inspires and equips me. He’ll equip you, too. As I’ve stated so many times, the reason you and I aren’t dead is because we haven’t completed what God put us here to do in the first place. Encouraging, yes?

So I’ll keep developing courses. I’ll be a full-on pest, because I’ve found I have to be brazen to get folks to even look at what the Lord has provided me. People are busy, and obviously what I’ve offered is a lot more important to me than it is others, just because I know what’s in it. I’m trying to get over feeling like a snake-oil salesman. I’m getting there.

I’ll keep writing this blog. It has been an encouragement to a lot of folks.

I’ll keep curating that Transformational Encouragement group on Facebook. We have over a thousand members, there for each other.

As long as there is breath in me, I’ll finish well because I know I’ve helped broken Christians feel better.

Talk soon! Comments welcome.

Tony

*MY REAL CREDENTIALS

In June of 2018 I suffered a nasty concussion. At first it wasn’t too big of a deal – my eye swelled shut, I had stitches, but it all seemed pretty routine. CT scans and x-rays showed no head or brain damage, but I did have three broken ribs. About a week after the injury, I started getting headaches on the opposite side of my head from the impact site. Overnight I developed a sensitivity to light and sound. There were some cognitive issues – it’s like my brain was shrouded in fog. 

Worst of all was the deepest, darkest emotional funk you can imagine. Anxiety, depression, and what I characterized as “a sense of impending doom” became realities. It was/is perfectly awful.

After another round of scans and x-rays, my internist – whom I love much – told me I had post-concussion syndrome (PCS).

No, I’d never heard of it either. All my symptoms were textbook. The cure? Time. I was to be patient. It would “take time.” (I’ve heard that “take time” phrase so many times that I’m afraid the next time I hear it I’m gonna punch someone in the throat.) He also put me on a killer combo of depression/Anxiety meds. 

Apparently PCS victims are prone to suicidal thoughts. Praise God that hasn’t been an issue. Since then, I’ve been to a chiropractor, I’ve tried acupuncture (which was actually pretty fun, but it didn’t really help), and talked to a counselor. All well and good. I’ve also been to a neurologist, and that’s been very encouraging. I’d had a migraine headache 24/7 – that was taking its toll – but again, she’s tinkered and experimented with several drugs and danged if the headache is only maybe three times a month. It’s not constant, and when it comes it hits with a vengeance, but it’s so much more manageable.

This incident – which has come in many ways to define my life – comes on the heels of the darndest year ever. Our house flooded and had to basically be gutted; we were displaced for seven months. I had surgery for two benign parathyroid tumors that were messing with my head. I was diagnosed with cancer – renal cell carcinoma. The upside of that one was that the doc went in, got the tumor and a piece of kidney, and I was good to go with no chemo or radiation or any of those nasty things. And our beloved ancient Boston terrier, Teddy, went to doggie heaven.

Why am I sharing this? Simple. My story is your story.

We all deal with challenges, do we not? life is full of joy and heartache in equal measure. Everyone faces something. Many people respond to life with despair, or at least a sense of hopelessness. Well, I am here to stand before you and declare that hopelessness is not an option.

“Return to Wholeness” implies that something was broken and needed restoration.

I get that. That’s why I’ve developed an online course with that name.

Return to Wholeness is an online course to help broken Christians feel better, become whole, experience supernatural peace – and have fun in the process.

Sounds counterintuitive, right? 

Through my service in Christian ministry for 40+ years, I’ve seen so many believers stall out in their faith – they spend their days frustrated, defeated, and even desperate. Broken, in other words.  The fulfilling Christian life that others seem to experience eludes them.I know what I’m talking about – you could count me among that number.

I know how you feel. I’ve felt the same way. What I have found is that there is a path to feeling better (actually, BEING better) and it’s a spiritually and scripturally based journey.

This concept has been gradually built in local churches I’ve served over the years, coming alongside literally hundreds of fellow pilgrims in group settings and one-on-one, and I’m happy to say that it has officially launched.  

What totally caught me off guard is that a national publication picked up on the story. Believe me, Return to Wholeness wasn’t promoted to them.

Here’s the link to the article. It’s a quick read. I think this is pretty cool.

The story in The Baptist Paper does a jam-up job of explaining where I’m coming from. Return to Wholeness is a passion project for me. “Driven” is a strong word, but that’s where I find myself.

Return to Wholeness is an online course, so you can enjoy it (and implement it) right from where you are!

Here’s the thing, though. Take heed. I’m not playing.

I’m enrolling students right now through September 20 (or until we sell out)!

There is limited availability. After September 20, the price will go up.

You’ll receive access to the first unit on September 26, and each subsequent lesson will be delivered each week after that. This way, you can consume the content in your own time.

Here is a document explaining much of what you’ve already heard, but it also contains all you need to get started.

But – one huge component to Return to Wholeness will be access to a very exclusive membership-only Facebook group. You’ll be able to interact with your fellow pilgrims. You can ask questions, share progress, get encouragement when you’re “stuck,” and have access to me personally. You can engage at whatever level you’re comfortable with. You’ll never walk alone. This is fire. 🔥

What distinguishes Return to Wholeness from any other course I’m aware of is that I am persuaded that becoming whole again doesn’t have to be a slog. It doesn’t have to be heavy, oppressive, grueling, or dark. Dark valleys give way to green pastures, and there is a joy in that. What I’ll share will give you joy, and I will make sure you have fun along the way. 

And if you have this God-driven sense that you won’t benefit from this course, would you happen to know of a friend or family member who would? I’d just about assure you that’s the case.

I created Return to Wholeness because I am heartbroken at how many Christians I meet who are living defeated lives of quiet desperation. That scripturally-promised abundant life simply isn’t a reality for them. And, in this fallen and toxic world, so many seem to be abandoning hope.

It doesn’t have to be that way.

It doesn’t matter who you are, what has happened in your past, or the degree of anxiety you have about the future. You can return to the wholeness you once experienced and felt as a new believer. 

If you want to feel better and be better, if you want to be restored after brokenness, and you want to experience supernatural peace without having to deal with past hurt and tragedy, be sure to join us in Return to Wholeness.

I had a friend ask me, “Tony, are you trying to sell something?”

I sure am. Here’s what I’ve realized. Selling is service. I’m providing a tool that can potentially be life-changing, and I say that because it’s God who brings about change. We just have to position ourselves in a place where He’s working, give some hope and encouragement and tools, and let Him do what only He can do.

When you join Return to Wholeness, you get:

• 7 Steps to Wholeness. This is the heart and soul of the course, presented in an easily accessible, upbeat, and encouraging video format.
• 7 Steps to Wholeness Workbook. This is the written companion piece to the video study, including a listening guide, interactive questions, and other goodies – not “schoolish” at all.
• 31 Days to Restoration. This hands-on devotional guide will complement and interface with what you’re learning in the course by helping you develop intimacy with Jesus Christ.
• Personal Journal. If you aren’t journaling (or maybe if you already are), here’s where you start … this downloadable PDF will help you unpack your head and get some mental and emotional breathing room.
• The Me Nobody Knows. This assessment instrument will help you identify the pain points in your life and prepare you for your study ahead – and will also show you the progress you’ve made when all is said and done.
• Direction Finder. Here’s my bulletproof method of how to make wise decisions, presented in a sequential, step-by-step format. You’ll love this.
• The Restoration Group. This might be the most important component of this course – a private, curated Facebook group strictly for students of Return to Wholeness. We’re here for each other – for mutual encouragement, celebration, grief, and plenty of opportunities to interact with me personally. 

Again, the price will most assuredly go up September 20. While enrollment will stay open indefinitely, I have to rein things in somehow.

If you’ve made it this far, here is a document explaining much of what you’ve already heard, but it also contains all you need to get started.

That’s it. Be blessed. Comment below.

Here are 10 things never to say with someone dealing with mental health issues

I can’t find the quote or source, but it goes something like this: “Some people pretend to be sick. Those with mental health issues pretend to be well.”

Depression, anxiety, fears … they are part of the human experience. Fact is, there are many, many people who deal with these issues on a daily basis, and you’d never know it.

These are diseases, and should be treated as such.

But – if you have a friend or loved one who deals with mental health challenges, I’ve seen that people often mean well, but are clueless when it comes to what to say.

Here’s my own list of ten things not to say:

1. “It’s all in your head.” Well, it is. Sort of. While some mental health issues are due to dysfunctional thinking, there are a whole host of physical components that can play into it. The phrase “chemical imbalance” is tossed around casually, but the roots of mental illness can often be found in something going on internally, and not necessarily in “your head.”
2. “It’s not as bad as it seems.” Guess what – what is no big deal for one person can be absolutely crippling for another. What you’re saying with that phrase is “my worldview is better than yours.” I mean. Really?
3. “I know what you mean. I had to turn the TV off because what I saw on the news and it was depressing me.” Okay, props for trying to find a point of identification. This attempt at relating to what your loved one is going through is kind-hearted, but also misguided. It implies that those two things are the same or of similar consequence and minimizes their pain.
4. “There are plenty of people in worse condition than you.” That’s great – how about encouraging someone by comparing them to someone else? That’s so wrong on so many levels I don’t know where to start. For all of us – comparing yourself to others can mess you up. How about focusing on what makes you unique?
5. “Are you okay?” That sounds pretty innocuous, and isn’t really too bad. The danger is that it puts the other person in a place where they’re almost obligated to say “I’m fine,” when that isn’t the case. It also implies that the person needs to get better immediately, and mental health issues seldom have a quick fix. I’ve gotten to where I respond “No, I’m not okay!” That effectively ends the conversation. Honesty and candor can do that.
6. “You have so much to be thankful for.” And that, of course, is true. Problem is that you can be thankful and hurting at the same time. We as believers are supernaturally blessed, but we are not exempt from spending some parallel time in some dark places. That phrase implies that if you were really consistently thankful, you wouldn’t feel the way you do.
7. “Get over it.” Hey, thanks for displaying some grace and mercy.
8. “Things could be worse.” This is a companion to #5. It’s like saying, “Fred lost his job, got diagnosed with cancer, and ran over his cat.” If you’ve never dealt with mental illness personally, then it’s hard for you to understand that depression, anxiety, etc., don’t necessarily have to have triggers. They just are.
9. “Just be positive.” And while you’re at it, tell someone with diabetes to “think happy thoughts” instead of taking their insulin. If it were only that simple.
10. “Have you prayed about it?” The implication here for the believer is “you must not have prayed, or else God would have delivered you, so your faith is weak.” My response is to take a look at scripture, for starters – check out words from David, Elijah, and other godly people. And understand, too, that God is the Great Physician, all healing ultimately comes from Him, but He has all sorts of healing tools at His disposal – proper counseling and medications, for example.

Finally, I’ll share some things I’ve heard that are helpful:

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Talk to me. I’m listening.”

“Would you like to talk about what you’re going through? Or is there someone else you’d be comfortable talking to?”

“I am proud of you for getting the support you need.”

“What can I do to help?”

“I am there for you, you’re not alone in this.”

“You are important to me.”

“I love you.”

Talk later!

NOTE: Thanks for indulging me in a day off last week. Here’s why.

No condemnation. That’s sounds pretty wonderful, right? It’s the birthright of the Christian, and sometimes that’s easily forgotten. 

I want to unpack that thought some (that’s from Romans 8:1), but in order to do that, I need to unpack some other things. Stick with me – what might come across as pointless rambling should make sense in the end. (Or not – maybe this will be rambling. So sue me.)

About three weeks ago I had one of my best Walt Disney World experiences ever. The crowds, the weather, my traveling companions – just sublime. Disney is my happy place, and I don’t apologize for that sentiment, nor do I want to try to explain it. I can’t. It’s just a thing.

So I come back to Mississippi, all content and feeling warm and satisfied, and I’m ready to ease back into reality and return to my day job. 

I guess it was Friday, September 17, that I started noticing a headache. Without picking over old wounds, you may or may not be aware that in June of 2018 I got a nasty concussion, developed post-concussion syndrome, and to some extent still deal with the aftermath.

Funny how your whole life can be defined by one incident! It’s turned me into something of an evangelist about brain trauma, but more specifically the mental and emotional fallout that comes with it. It’s made me much more in tune with people dealing with mental illness, whatever the cause.

The drum I continually beat is all about there being no shame with mental illness – because it’s an illness just like any other. And that it’s appropriate, and maybe even necessary, to get the proper care, be that through counseling, medication, or other means.

And prayer? Heck yeah. But God has all sorts of healing tools at His disposal, and it’d be foolish not to ask for them and use them. Gradually, the stigma about mental illness is fading away. Shamefully,  it still exists among some Christians, who look on it as a lack of faith or weakness or unconfessed sin. Well, y’all, sometimes you can’t just pray yourself out of it.

I talk about this too much, possibly. Whatever. You have your “things,” I have mine. Start your own blog if you want and I’ll indulge you, too.

So, this headache crept up on me and escalated during the weekend. Migraines are a byproduct of my injury, it seems. I even get pain-free migraines, which is odd, but they come with that “aura,” which is beyond bizarre – sensitivity to light and noise, a scary inability to think clearly, and sometimes even visual artifacts. 

By Sunday night I was facing the apocalypse, and come Monday I’m ready to head to the ER. I give myself a shot every month which does a decent job of staving these beasts off, and I have other meds to take when I do get one that are generally effective. Not this time, friend.

I got a call into the neurologist – I have the best one in existence, I believe. They were going to work me in Tuesday, but it’s Monday, and I’m screaming. Silently, anyway. She said for me to go ahead and see my regular doc. I went to one of our clinics, and the doc said, well, dang. You aren’t having a stroke or aneurism. She gave me a med that was supposed to help. It didn’t move the needle at all.

So after thrashing around for another day, moving to that realm of “kill me or cure me,” I got in to see the good Dr. Jones. Calmly and compassionately she told me,”We can take care of this,” and after some encouragement got me a couple of shots of good medicine and sent home a sample of this stuff called Rayvow. 

(I know this is coming across as senior adult talk – ailments, meds, all that. I am a senior adult. Deal with it.)

When given the Rayvow, I had strict instructions to not drive, to not make any important decisions, all that. She told me, “Not only will this keep you from thinking clearly, you won’t be aware you aren’t thinking clearly.” When I read the literature about this stuff, one of the side effects was “euphoria,” which is medspeech for “you are gonna get really high.” This stuff isn’t a narcotic. I don’t know what class it’s in. But ho-lee cow.

I took it about 7 a.m. Wednesday. I made sure Teresa stuck around long enough to make sure I didn’t get in the car and drive to New Hampshire or something. Within a half hour, I was sailing. I was very content … all was right in the universe. I was very chatty, even when I was alone. So I had some lovely conversations with myself. It was well into the afternoon before I felt like I could get my landing gear down and function. Most importantly, that stinkin’ headache was gone. Poof.

Part of recovery from this nastiness was to stay off anything with a screen. I did, mostly. No TV, no phone. I didn’t try to read. I just listened to music (ambient spa goofiness) and looked out the window. The goal was to avoid as much mental input as possible. Which meant that, with no input, I would instead default to my usual state of overthinking, which, when I was able to think, is just exactly what I did.

Which brings me back, finally, to Romans 8, and Romans 7, too, that no condemnation thing. Here are my takeaways, which grew out of my week from hell:

1. I am a slave to sin, and you are too. Just as I was a slave to a headache that wouldn’t go away, we’re all slaves to sin that contaminates us. And like my migraine, self-help is no help. I had to turn to a professional. I also need to turn to God, because to try to stop sinning on my own? Give me a break.
2. That migraine pain was such that I couldn’t think clearly – it overrode everything else. Sin can do that – Paul talks about not understanding what he was doing, that he wasn’t practicing what he wanted to do. 
3. Paul calls himself a “wretched man,” based on the conflict he’s feeling. He talks about taking delight in God’s law internally, but everything else is “waging war against the law of my mind and taking me prisoner to the law of sin in the parts of your body.” In fleshly terms, it’s really tough when your mind and heart want to do one thing but in body you have rebellion. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, right? My head sure impacted everything else my body might’ve wanted to do. 
4. Check out this line: “For the desire to do what is good is with me, but there is no ability to do it.” My obvious parallel is that I want to do the right thing, I want to be rid of what’s crippling me, but I simply can’t do it on my own. 

But then comes the “no condemnation” part. Glory be to Jesus.

I have no reason to beat myself up for something that happened years ago and that I have no inherent fleshly control over. This may be stretching the analogy, but I’m not responsible for being born a sinner. I’m a sinner by nature and by choice. So I should choose, then, to do the right thing. I can’t be in bondage to something that happened that was and is out of my hands.

It’s human to try to better ourselves or want to clean ourselves up or to “do more.” We want to hit a “reset” button every day. 

It’s pretty hard to relax with God if we think we’re just a tiny bit detestable to Him as we currently are.

Well, pilgrim, we’re neglecting a basic message of Christianity – that we already died with Christ. So we try to die again or die more. 

But our old self already died with Him on a cross. We didn’t just die – we were resurrected and made new at the core.

So why are we trying to kill what has already been made new?

Lay aside any toxic thoughts of “not good enough.”

It is finished. 

I hate cancer. Of course, I’m not aware of anyone who loves it.

This past week one of my former students died. Daryl Summey was in my youth group at St. Andrew Baptist Church in Panama City, Florida, back in the mid-80’s. He and his brother Chip were pillars of the group. And his parents Delbert (Ace!) and Carol were some of my staunchest encouragers. Daryl acknowledged a call to vocational ministry, and found the highest calling – student/youth ministry. He was serving First Baptist Church, Eastman, Georgia, before God called him home.

I prayed for Daryl daily. I’m still praying for his family. Daryl died of cancer. I hate cancer.

Right now, a local pastor friend of mine, Lee Faler, is dealing with the cancer of his son, Rankin. Rankin has an inoperable brain tumor. The fleshly prognosis is not good. I pray for their family daily.

I could go on, but you know what I mean. I’ll bet that you or your friends or family have all been touched by this insidious disease.

Yesterday I had a squamous cell carcinoma sliced off the top of my head. I’ve had a couple of basal cell carcinomas scooped out, too. These are absolutely no big deal … I guess if you ignored them, they could get nasty. Still, cancer is cancer. I hate cancer.

A few years back the urologist found a renal cell carcinoma in my left kidney. He went in with one of those wonderful robotic gizmos, sliced it out, ground it up, sucked it out, and I’m good to go. No chemo, no radiation, none of that. One and done.

In a very technical sense, I guess I’m a cancer survivor, although at no point was my life in any danger with any of these, because I dealt with them early on, and they simply weren’t “that bad.” Still, when you say the “C” word, it gets your attention.

But, the reason I hate cancer is because it’s a sign of rebellion.

This link talks about this. 

In layman’s terms, cancer occurs when some of the body’s cells grow abnormally and spread to other parts of the body. Abnormal or damaged cells grow and multiply when they shouldn’t. Not good.

There are over 100 kinds of cancer and, as I’ve noted, some are much worse than others. Some are treatable and curable if caught early. Some – well – if you’re diagnosed with them, you might as well make or revise your will.

Back to the rebellion thing: Think about this. Your body turns against itself. I know that heart disease kills more people than cancer, but it’s sort of predictable, y’know? It’s not as “sneaky,” if you will.

I hate cancer. It’s taken some fine people I love away from me.

It occurred to me, though, that cancer doesn’t necessarily have to be physical.

Consider this: there is mental cancer. As I’m writing this, the world is abuzz about Simone Biles who has withdrawn from individual all-around gymnastics at the Tokyo Olympics to focus on her mental well-being. Responses have been mixed, to put it lightly; I just read an editorial that slammed her for abandoning her team and her county. And I’ve read how what she did was heroic.

I won’t wade into that, other than noting that if she’d withdrawn because of appendicitis, how she’d be viewed would be totally different. Mental health – still – is viewed differently from physical health. Having my own issues with mental health makes me a bit more sympathetic, perhaps.

Fact is, though, that mental cancer might present itself in such a way that a person like Simone is dealing with a struggle she simply can’t manage without intervention and help. Lord, y’all, she’s already proven her strength and mettle. She is not a quitter. But this one just sidelined her, and I’d wager this has been building for some time.

Her mind has rebelled. I hate cancer, and I hate this.

Emotional cancer? There may be such a thing. I’m aware of an individual who has a hair-trigger temper, and it expresses itself volcanically. It’s ugly, and it’s scary. And if you were to question him, he’d say that he literally goes out of control.

In other words, his emotions have overcome him. They’ve rebelled against what should be his even-keeled nature.

Oh, and spiritual cancer. That’s a thing, too.

Christian believers often, purposefully and methodically, rebel against God. I hate cancer, and I really hate this kind.

Sin is cancer.

There may be other kinds of cancer – think about what financial cancer might look like, or vocational cancer, or maybe even relational cancer. You could make a long list about how rebellion manifests itself.

But back to Daryl – there’s no question that he was prayed for, earnestly and consistently. And God did heal him – but in Daryl’s case, God chose the ultimate healing. Daryl is healthy, pain-free, and walking with Jesus forever.

So. If you identify with any of these cancers I’ve mentioned, guess where healing comes from?

God, the Great Physician, is ultimately the source of all healing. He has all sorts of tools to make folks better – medicine (maybe vaccines, and yep, I said that), counseling, pastors, friends, families, and many more.

It comes down to one big question, though:

Do you want to get well?

Here’s an example. Let’s say you’re diagnosed with melanoma. It’s visible because it’s on the skin. And it can go all metastatic on you, spreading all over. But, caught early, it doesn’t have to be a death sentence.

Imagine, though, that a dermatologist finds a spot on your arm, and the pathology identifies it as melanoma. And rather than getting treatment for it, you say, “You aren’t touching that. It’s MY cancer. I’m gonna nurture it, and love it, and watch it grow.”

I know. Right? Hardly. You’re gonna deal with that sucker.

If you hate cancer, you will seek treatment. The issue, though, is that we tolerate other cancers or ignore them. Mental, emotional, spiritual – you follow me?

Don’t allow something to take root in your life and gradually eat away at you. Get the help you need. God meets those needs, and He has all sorts of ways of dealing with your cancers. It’s not you being weak by seeking help; it’s you being smart.

I hate cancer. But there is a cure.

Be well.

Stop pretending. There’s more to us being here than just existing.

Look what Oregon did:

The state of Oregon will now allow students to take an excused day off of school for mental health reasons.

The new law, signed last month by Gov. Kate Brown and expected to go into effect this fall, lets students take up to five mental health days every three months, although school districts are free to create their own schedules. Students will also be granted permission to make up any tests they may have missed.

“I took on this cause for a personal reason first off because so many of my close friends in high school struggled with depression, and there were times when I saw them at school when they really shouldn’t have been there, would have been much better for them to take a day off,” Hailey Hardcastle, a recent high school graduate who was among those lobbying for the new law, told TODAY.

In Oregon, suicide is the second leading cause of death among 10- to 34-year-olds. Nationally, suicide is at a 50-year high.

I’m not as sure as I used to be.

With all that as a backdrop, here’s three thoughts.

1. Our feelings are facts. Last night while I was watching TV it started raining.  That’s a fact. No matter how upset I got, it wouldn’t change the reality of the rain. If I’d stepped outside without an umbrella or rain gear, I’d get wet.

Our mental and emotional states are a lot like that. It’s pointless to deny our feelings. They need to be acknowledged. It’s not a matter of strength or weakness. It just is. Stop pretending.

I love C.H. Spurgeon. I’ve found a lot of helpful encouragement in a little book by Zack Eswine, Spurgeon’s Sorrows. I’ve referenced it before. Spurgeon knew that mental illness could be as devastating as physical illness:

“The mind can descend far lower than the  body. For [the mind] there are bottomless pits. The flesh can bear only a certain number of wounds and no more, but the soul can bleed in ten thousand ways, and die over and over again each hour.”

Yikes.

This is nothing new, of course. Check out the Psalms. A goodly chunk of them are what are identified as psalms of lament. They are written testimonies of men in dark, dark places. For instance, here’s a sample from Psalm 88:

2. You need a friend. Even if you classify yourself as a loner, and could teach introversion on the graduate level, having a safe person to turn to is a virtual necessity. Of course, you could hire someone – there are counselors, therapists, and professional people galore – but talking about things with a friend is downright special.

Just make sure it’s someone who can do more good than harm. You don’t need someone telling you “It could be worse,” or “At least you know what you need to do.” Job had his “miserable comforters.” Maybe they meant well, but they wanted to blame Job for all he was facing. That’s not helpful. Stop pretending that some friends are helpful when they’re not.

I’m reminded of an old hymn, O Worship the King. One lyric line refers to God as “maker, defender, redeemer, friend.” I mean. That’s all I need from God as  comforter and counselor:

• • Maker. He put us together. We’re part of His creation. He knows intimately what makes you you, and because of that, He knows exactly where our heads and hearts  are at in any point in time, and He engineers circumstances around us accordingly.
  • Defender. He protects us. He guards us. God is an advocate for us. When you’re being attacked – and note that attacks can come from our own minds – He is a shield from the bad stuff. He’ll only let you experience what you absolutely need to experience.
  • Redeemer. He offered salvation, of course, and I received it. In addition, though, He saves me from myself. He knows when we’re stricken and offers deliverance from whatever is haunting us.
  • Friend. I can’t get my head wrapped around knowing the creator of the universe is my friend. He hopes for us when we don’t have hope for ourselves.

3. There is hope for the future. That may sound pat, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Yes, it’s raining, but I just looked at the radar. It’ll clear out soon. And guess what – it would clear out whether I looked at the radar or not. It isn’t a matter of me knowing what the future forecast is – it’s grounded in the nature of reality. The rain will stop soon.

We desperately need hope. Fortunately, it’s readily available. There are those with a certain worldview who’d state that they are a haphazard bundle of biological stuff, perched on an insignificant piece of cosmic real estate, simply biding their time in an indifferent universe. Their hope is that they can perhaps make a small difference in the temporal world they live in, but beyond that – nothing. The void. “You might as well live,” Dorothy Parker wrote. I’m convinced there’s more to us being here than just existing.

To the kids in Oregon (and perhaps to all of us), I’d say that there is real comfort and hope available.

There are many, many resources available to those dealing with mental/emotional issues. There is absolutely no shame in seeking out the help one needs, and that could involve counseling, therapy, medication, or any number of other tools.

Finally, there is this: Christ has risen. That’s the blessed hope right there. Stop pretending that you are hopeless, because you aren’t. Jesus has loved us to hell and back. We hope, not in denial of the state of ourselves, but rather in the certain glory promised us. There is a mountaintop joy awaiting. It all comes back to Him, you know? In Him, we have a legitimate reason to hope. I’m all for using whatever resources are available to us. But He is the Great Physician, and all healing – mental, emotional, physical – ultimately comes from Him.

I used to routinely say stuff like “He/she is messed up in the head.” I didn’t mean that as a compliment.

Because, like most folks to this day, I thought depression, anxiety, even worry was a sign of weakness.

I was willing to cut some slack for a few people. Certainly I was compassionate toward those that were “born that way” – people who had mental handicaps, Down’s syndrome, things like that. The totally non-PC term we used was “mentally retarded.” That phrase could be used as a benign identifier, or an insult. You know what I mean.

My disdain was for those who just fretted, and brooded, and moped around. I remember a cousin who, when her husband died, basically took to her bed for what seemed like weeks. That was pathetic. I was convinced she was messed up in the head.

Over time, however, my sensibilities have evolved (can I use that term?) The great awakening for me came with my brain injury back in June of 2018. I’ve told this story many times.

It’s funny how one event can virtually alter the course of your life.

I’ve always been given to melancholy, which isn’t a good or bad thing. It’s a temperament, a trait, like having blue eyes or brown eyes. Since I’m all about finding out who I am (and who others are!), I’ve spent time with personality tests, such as Myers-Briggs (I’m an INFJ, which makes me pretty unique) and an Enneagram Type 4 (or as a friend states, “You’re a special snowflake.”) All that makes me a classically endowed introvert. Again, that’s not a positive or a negative. It’s just a thing.

I never really viewed my personality and temperament as an asset or liability. It was just part of what made me me, albeit a significant part. A lot of folks avoid discovering who they really are. Me, I’ve embraced it. I’m guessing some people might not like what they discover.

Last year I experienced a nasty concussion, as you may know. It’s kind of defined my life since then. There have been all  sorts of effects that come from post-concussion syndrome. It’s nasty stuff. It’s made me messed up in my head.

I can tell you all about most of the symptoms, including headaches, fatigue, dizziness, loss of concentration and memory – it’s quite a list. However, it’s the anxiety and depression that are killer. The linked article above from the Mayo Clinic compares PCS to PTSD. So, some days I’m a wreck. Before you place me in the Benevolent Home for Chronic Whiners, though, hear me out.

I titled this blog “Messed up in the head.” Click-baity, right? But I mean it.

Depression might not ever be an issue for you. Perhaps you cruise above life’s cares like an untethered helium balloon. Yay you!

But for those of you like me who cringe from the encroaching darkness, check this out. And if you are free from anxiety and depression, I’ll bet you have someone close to you who deals with it.

Where’s the joy in that!?

Consider Charles Spurgeon, the “prince of preachers.” He was prone to bouts of crippling depression, in addition to other physical ailments.The depression could hit him so intensely that, he once said, “I could say with Job, ‘My soul chooseth strangling rather than life’. I could readily enough have laid violent hands upon myself, to escape from my misery of spirit.”

His wife, Susannah, wrote, “My beloved’s anguish was so deep and violent, that reason seemed to totter in her throne, and we sometimes feared that he would never preach again.”

I’d say he spent some time in a dark place. He could even be considered messed up in the head. Been there, done that.

With all this as background, let me offer some thoughts about this whole depression thing (and cribbing liberally from Spurgeon, paraphrased. The good stuff is his, identified with a “*”).

1. Depression isn’t all in your mind. But it is. There are a lot of clinical components to depression, which I won’t get into, but it is manifested first in your head and can, of course, affect a whole host of other body systems. So if someone says, “It’s all in your mind,” you can congratulate them for being so perceptive.
2. Someone is bound to say, “Cheer up. There are a lot of people worse off than you are.” As if hearing that helps. Your most appropriate response is to punch them in the throat.
3. “Move on. Stop dwelling on it.” Talk about useless, even stupid advice! Depression can last a lifetime and a person can’t simply move on. There are resources aplenty to help manage depression, but that kind of counsel does more harm than good. Punch them in the throat.
4. As I mentioned before, there is still a stigma about depression and other forms of mental illness. So what? Do what you need to to get well.
5. If you’re a believer, you’re gonna love this one: Who wants to hurt? No sane person, but you need to hurt anyway. Those who struggle with depression and other difficulties never grow in strength and maturity like those who do.*
6. Regarding #5, those who lead an “easy life” (disclaimer: no one really does) tend to have a faith that is frail and shallow. There is a discipline that comes with trial.
7. You don’t tell someone else that they can grow through depression when they’re in the grip of it. That won’t help. I guarantee it. There may be a time when you just need to sit down and keep your mouth shut. Maybe cry with them.
8. Depression and anxiety are not evidence that God is against you. If anything, it’s the opposite. He is not going to abandon you, or render you useless. In a fallen world, friends may desert us, we may hurt, and we may even despair. But it’s entirely possible to lose things you cherish in order to learn that God is all-sufficient. For everything.*
9. As a believer, I want to focus on the resurrection of Christ. But Spurgeon, when dealing with the suffering and depressed, tended to point people toward Jesus crucified and the “Man of Sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” It’s all about knowing that there is Someone Who not only identifies with you, but Who has experienced the same thing you have.*
10. Instead of focusing on the “what” and “why” of depression, the call is to focus on the promises of God. We need to have an objective truth that exists apart from our feelings about it.

Consider, finally, the opening words from Spurgeon’s sermon, “When a Preacher is D0wncast.”

“Fits of depression come over the most of us. Cheerful as we may be, we must at intervals be cast down. The strong are not always vigorous, the wise not always ready, the brave not always courageous, and the joyous not always happy.

“There may be here and there men of iron to whom wear and tear work no perceptible detriment, but surely the rust frets even these; and as for ordinary men, the Lord knows and makes them to know that they are but dust.

“Knowing by most painful experience what deep depression of spirit means, being visited therewith at seasons by no means few or far between, I thought it might be consolatory to some of my brethren if I gave my thoughts thereon, that younger men might not fancy that some strange thing had happened to them when they became for a season possessed by melancholy; and that sadder men might know that one upon whom the sun has shown right joyously did not always walk in the light.”