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Cathy and John had been married for fifteen years, and their life together, to put it mildly, had been turbulent. John had struggled with schizophrenia since his early twenties and had drifted from job to job, at times, jobless. Cathy, meanwhile, was working through the lingering effects of an abusive childhood while building a successful career as an insurance agent.

From time to time, relational tensions would erupt and disrupt their routine, occasionally escalating to violence and suicidal threats. A series of psychological assessments and interviews were conducted early on to evaluate their current functioning, the trajectory of their respective conditions, and the dynamics of their interaction as a couple.

Their psychiatrists were also contacted to review their past and present medication regimens.

What emerged was a pattern of issues rooted, in part, in each of their families of origin, issues that fed into the explosive nature of their conflicts and were compounded by their individual psychological histories. When they first came for counselling, one of my priorities was ensuring John remained consistent with his daily medication, while I guided Cathy through her recovery from abuse. Sessions began individually, to stabilize each of their symptoms, before transitioning to joint sessions as a couple. Cathy's individual work continued for several years.

What I hadn't anticipated, though, was how intense Cathy's reactions could become at certain moments, particularly when she was at her most vulnerable and John at his most volatile. Suicidal ideation and threats became a recurring crisis, sometimes requiring the presence of the police and emergency responders. On several occasions, I was called to their home directly.

One night, early on in treatment, I woke with a sudden, inexplicable sense that something was wrong. It was around midnight! Instintively, I got up and checked the house, but nothing seemed out of place. The unease lingered. I wondered why God had stirred me. Just as I was settling back into bed, the phone rang. An unfamiliar voice said, "Gerald, the police will be contacting you soon about one of your clients." It was the duty pastor from our church. I was wide awake now. Minutes later, a policewoman called. Alerted by a neighbour, the police had already been on the scene for about forty-five minutes, unable to get inside the house. Cathy was threatening to jump from her ninth-floor apartment following a confrontation with John. She had given the church's emergency line to the police and refused to let anyone into the house or speak to anyone but me. I got dressed quickly and took a taxi to their block of flats.

When I arrived, I saw that the emergency response team had positioned a large inflatable safety cushion beneath the apartment block, with an ambulance on standby. The policewoman who had called, met me and briefed me on the situation. This, she said, was her sixth visit to this address in recent years. I said a quick silent prayer for Cathy's safety and for a rapid peaceful resolution.

Cathy let me into their home right away. She was distraught, telling me John had refused his medication all week. He had a mild psychotic episode that led to violent behaviours toward her; the trigger for the night's crisis. I brought John into the kitchen and, after some persuasion, got him to take his medication. Then I turned to Cathy to help her calm down. After about forty-five minutes, things stabilized enough for the police and emergency services to leave. I stayed another hour to make sure John and Cathy were no longer a risk to themselves and each other.

The Bible doesn't use modern clinical terminology like depression, anxiety disorder, or schizophrenia, but it contains many passages that resonate with mental and emotional suffering, and theologians, scholars, and mental health professionals have drawn connections between biblical themes and mental health.

Several biblical figures experienced what we might today recognize as severe depression. Job expressed profound grief, hopelessness, and a desire to die (Job 3, 7). Elijah collapsed under a tree and asked God to let him die after a period of intense stress (1 Kings 19:4). David wrote extensively in the Psalms about anguish, feeling abandoned, and a crushed spirit (Psalm 22, 34, 42, 88). Jeremiah cursed the day of his birth in despair (Jeremiah 20:14–18). King Saul experienced what the text describes as an evil spirit causing erratic, violent behavior (1 Samuel 16–18), while King Nebuchadnezzar in Daniel 4 suffered a period of madness where he lived like an animal; some scholars speculate this resembles a condition like severe psychosis. In the New Testament, Philippians 4:6–7 directly addresses anxiety, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition… present your requests to God." And in Matthew 6:25–34, Jesus's Sermon on the Mount, similarly counsels against worry.

The biblical worldview often attributes mental torment to spiritual causes; for example, demonic oppression (as with Saul), sin, or separation from God. Jesus is depicted casting out unclean spirits that caused symptoms like convulsions, social isolation, and self-harm (Mark 5:1–20); narratives that some interpret as ancient descriptions of conditions like epilepsy or severe psychosis. The Psalms in particular normalize emotional suffering. The lament psalms, which form nearly a third of the Book of Psalms, give voice to despair, anger at God, and grief, suggesting that anguish is a legitimate human experience to be expressed, not suppressed. Galatians 6:2 calls believers to "bear one another's burdens." The Bible consistently emphasizes communal support for the suffering as a religious duty.Many passages frame suffering as temporary, with restoration possible (e.g., Psalm 34:18 and Isaiah 41:10).

The Bible was written in a pre-scientific era, so it doesn't distinguish between spiritual, psychological, and neurological causes of suffering the way modern medicine does. Many contemporary Christian mental health professionals argue that faith and clinical treatment are complementary, not competing. Some religious communities historically discouraged seeking psychiatric help, viewing it as a lack of faith, a view that mainstream Christian mental health advocates now largely challenge. The Bible's honesty about suffering (especially in Job, the Psalms, and Lamentations) is often cited as one of its most therapeutically meaningful features, validating that pain is real and that crying out is not a sign of weak faith. The Bible doesn't offer a clinical framework for mental illness, but it is rich with accounts of human psychological suffering, practical counsel on worry and despair, and a theology of compassion and community that many find deeply relevant to mental health today.

About Coram Deo

Coram Deo — before the face of God. This blog reflects on Scripture, world events, science, music, psychology, and the human mind — always through the lens of Christian faith. All of life is lived before the face of God.