It’s one of the most taboo subjects in the Christian community, yet with depression affecting more than
19 million Americans each year, 12 million of them being women (According to Mental Health
America), I am willing to bet that at least half of them are filling the pews of churches everywhere. You
will likely never know that the sister you sit next to week after week during worship service suffers
greatly with depression, because there really isn’t an open, safe, non-judgemental space within the
church world for revealing such sickness.
I recall my time of dealing with depression as the worst years of my life. Overall, I was down, dark,
desolate, and disconnected every single day. I was alive, but dead inside, all while faithfully attending
church and operating in ministry. Monday through Saturday, I wore depression like a cloak, but when
Sunday came, I put on my saved, sanctified, Holy Ghost filled, and fire baptized face so that no one
would know my truth, because the Saints ain’t got no business being depressed.
I remember this one time I desperately needed help, I needed someone to tell me that I wasn’t cursed
or less than a Christian because of my struggle. I went to this sister in Christ, who was a friend at the
time, and confessed my sickness. I poured my heart to her about how I felt suffocated by depression
and how most days I just wanted to die. Her response to me was, “Girl, that’s a demonic spirit! Pray
that mess off you and snap out of it! You’ll be fine.” What I basically heard her say is equivalent to,
“Uh-Uh, we don’t do that over here in holiness!” It didn’t matter that I told her I played a suicide plan
over and over in my head on a daily basis, her resolve was that Christians just don’t do that.
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