I may regret sharing this in such a public way. Whatever the risk, the potential help I may give someone else outweighs any adverse outcome. I was a Sophomore in High School the first time someone referred to me as “sad.” I had just gone through one of the more difficult seasons of my life, and the sadness made sense. It was circumstantial. It was explainable.
Over time, circumstances were no longer sufficient to explain my frequent lowness, a temperament often dismissed by people close to me as “seriousness.” No matter how my circumstances or I changed, a persistent lowness—a sadness—hovered over my life. I internalized all of this as a personal failure. Everything is pretty good, but I am not, so feeling this way is a failure. I carried this into seminary, marriage, parenthood, and ministry. I didn’t realize it then, but I now see how difficult these things were because of this cloud that I did not name or affirm. This denial went on for years.
I could no longer deny it when I was in a particularly bad spiral of negative thinking just this past year. I’ll spare you the details, but in God’s kindness, my wife strongly encouraged me (as she had done for years prior) to see someone, including a physician. Up to this point, I would have denied struggling with depression for the reasons mentioned above. And I admit there was an irrational fear. I wrongly believed that if I told anyone I was depressed, then maybe they’d suggest I wasn’t fit to pastor, and I love being a pastor.
Despite all this, I wanted no longer to be a burden to my wife and children. And so, last Fall, I met with a physician (who, in God’s providence, was a member of a sister church I’ve grown to love). The physician suggested what my counselor was already trying to convince me of, that I likely have a form of persistent depressive disorder. He suggested I find a counselor (which I had) and then suggested a solution I feared: a low dose of medication. I was initially resistant, and if it hadn’t been for Michael Emlet’s wonderful little book, I may have remained so. I ultimately agreed. The difference has been dramatic.
I still examine my life for unbelief and sinful patterns of thought. I still seek a change of heart and affection by God’s grace and with the help of the Spirit. But the medicine has helped. By no longer denying the reality of my depression, I was able to get the necessary help, which has finally removed the dark cloud and allowed me to pursue change.
I know the Christian counseling spectrum can be divisive, but in my experience, I need more than one plan of attack to begin to see change. I needed spiritual discipline and counsel, but I also needed medical assistance and medication. How long will I be on it? I don’t know, but depression negatively impacted my marriage, my children, and my ministry as a pastor. Aided by the counsel of a godly physician, I’ll remain on it for as long as it takes.
Why did I share this? Because we get better, and someone reading this doesn’t believe that’s possible, but it is. We can get better.
Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. (Ps 42:5–6)
If you’re in ministry, I was particularly blessed by the 9Marks podcast on pastoring amidst depression. I respect Mark Dever and Jonathan Leeman immensely. Listening to them have this conversation with compassion and pastoral care greatly blessed me. It is a must-listen if you’re in ministry and struggling with depression: https://www.9marks.org/…/episode-107-on-pastoring-amid…/
Michael Emlet’s book “Descriptions and Prescriptions: A Biblical Perspective on Psychiatric Diagnosis and Medications” is also a great help.
You can get better, friend.
Nathaniel R. Martin 