By Jade Kassis

War has become a familiar phenomenon to us Middle Easterners, who have become acquainted with its violent chaos as well as with its sacrificial loss. War has changed us as a people. We have grown accustomed to feelings of unrest and a lack of control. One minute ago, our goals were set and our lives planned out, only to discover that in the glimpse of an eye all can be lost – that at any time our frantic efforts could be paid back, unapologetically, in grief.

Although this never-ending war in the Middle East has been undeniably excruciating, to say the least, one might argue it remains external and thus incomparable to the many individual battles we each fight on our own, the internal battles about which nobody else knows taking place within our innermost being. There is no denying that we all fight different battles, each treacherous in its own right. Yet a number of us fight battles taxing enough to drive us to the point of exhaustion and, at times, to the point of surrender; we do not fight people, nor the world or anything in the world, but against all odds and, in an overwhelming effort to achieve mere functionality each day, we engage in a terrifying battle with our own minds.

This is the world of mental illness, a world where our own brain makes functioning normally in our daily lives immensely difficult and often deeply distressful. Thus, just like on the battlefield, our mind sometimes becomes both our prison and our sanctuary all at once; captivating at times, yet captivatingly dark at others. And sure, our eyes may adjust after fighting in the dark for a while, but we nevertheless remain un- or underequipped and in need of others to stand by us in our fight against the all-consuming allegorical hell that mental illness can at times present itself as.

In seeking to explain this battle to others, we can often find it an unfruitful feat that becomes synonymous with trying to explain color to the blind or music to the deaf. As such, our fight has at times been viewed as commendable, while at other times pitiful. It is clear that many are inherently afraid of those of us who struggle with mental illness, often without any rational basis. After having lost friends, family members, spouses, and confidants who found our demeanor burdensome and inconvenient, we’ve learned to internalize our struggles and keep them a secret in fear we will be marginalized, labeled as “damaged,” “broken,” “crazy,” “dangerous,” “weak,” or worse, “abnormal.” Moreover, we are often compelled to keep our troubles to ourselves as our Middle Eastern community perpetuates the “pathologies” – if you will – of “shame and honor” that drive us to internalize the illnesses that we did not create and over which we have very little control as being “shameful.” Additionally, alongside shame and honor come denial, dismissal, and ignorance; respectively, the notion that it is “all in our head,” “not that big of a deal,” and worst of all that “ignoring it will make it go away,” altogether leading to a giant mass of knots and confusion. Personally, as a holder of multiple degrees in psychology, including a Master of Science in Psychological Therapies, a fighter for mental health, and an inhabitant of the Arab World, I am doubtful that many in the Middle East are sold on the possibility that mental illness is real or that people just like you and me might suffer from it.

Consequently, very few quantitative studies have been conducted which portray the abundance of mental illness in the Middle East. Nevertheless, according to a study published in 2012, Ahmed Okasha, et al., state that mental illness remains common in the Middle East and in Lebanon, “the lifetime prevalence of any anxiety disorder among adults was 16.7%” and that of “any mood disorder was 12.6%.”

Although progress on the mental health front has been tremendously slow in the Middle East and is not treated with the same level of urgency as physical ailments, the Church in the Middle East has in good faith reached out to care for those struggling with mental illness, providing them with much-needed hope. There are good examples of churches leading the way in this regard. Nevertheless, I find that many other churches in the Middle East have at best encouraged prayer and Bible study as a sufficient cure for mental illness. I believe God can and does perform miracles. But as important as prayer and Bible study are in the life of any believer in Christ, it is my opinion that those Middle Eastern churches, in prescribing prayer and Bible study as the cure for mental illness, simply perpetuate, twist or substitute our cultural habit of denial for an equally dangerous alternative – the belief that somehow, denying all chemical, environmental, and psychological factors, prayer will automatically make an illness go away. Although prayer and meditation are powerful tools, and praying for others that God would intercede in their suffering is the noblest of gestures, it simply adds salt to the wound to insinuate that prayer and Bible study are all that are needed to get by for those of us who have to live with mental illness every day.

Furthermore, I have found that in resorting to complementary measures, like therapy and medication for instance, those of us struggling with mental illness feel reduced in the eyes of those churches that misconstrue our endeavors as a “failure to trust God.” In taking such measures, we are “dishonoring Him” because, when realizing that prayer and Bible study might be insufficient in and of themselves at solving the problem, it becomes easier to blame the individual for his or her strife. What a dangerous message to send, whether explicit or implicit, to tell someone that the reason they haven’t been healed is their lack of faith in God; for had they trusted God to heal them then surely, they would be healed. Right? But in following that logic, allow me to ask, how is it possible for us to not be healed when the desire of many of us for God is so strong?

Still, as Christians who may struggle with mental health, we are driven to further internalize the harmfully absurd notion that our illness is our fault. Consequently, we carry constant feelings of guilt for why we have been unsuccessful at praying the illness away and we become dangerously close to believing the possibility that God is punishing us with it. Thus, in so directly and indirectly blaming us for our own illness, these churches shame us into silence just as our society does.

Brain scans have shown immense differences in the brains of those who suffer from mental illness, when compared to the average human brain. A study by the National Institutes of Health conveys that scientists “are learning that mental illness is associated with changes in the brain’s structure, chemistry, and function and that mental illness does indeed have a biological basis.” Appropriately, the ability for an individual with mental illness to function “normally” without therapy and/or medication might be just as plausible as a paraplegic’s capacity to skip rope or a diabetic’s ability to live healthily on a diet of cake. And, just as you wouldn’t tell someone with diabetes that they don’t require insulin, that “they just need God,” it cannot be logical or humane to say to someone with mental illness that they should simply trust God, and do nothing else.

In attempting to understand the cause behind our suffering and the suffering of others, we sometimes make improper assumptions that suffering is a cause of something we or others have done. And while sin may indeed exacerbate mental illness, Jesus makes it clear in John 9:2-3 that not all illnesses are caused by sin and that suffering is not always somebody’s fault:

And His disciples asked Him, saying, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him.”

In Jesus giving sight to the man born blind, we begin to understand that many illnesses are not spiritual problems and are not the result of personal sin. And, as we seek to assist someone sincerely at his or her real point of need, like Christ and the man born blind, perhaps our light will “shine before others, that they may see our good deeds and glorify our Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). And isn’t this the goal of the Church, to bring about God’s glory?

It is my observation that many churches here in the Middle East have been admittedly short-sighted in their response to those struggling with mental illness. They have played a role, if perhaps innocently and inadvertently, in stigmatizing it by “over-spiritualizing” its cause and thus its remedy. Mental illness undoubtedly affects us spiritually and in turn our spiritual life affects how we think. Though our spirituality can affect how we perceive our illness, we can’t afford to be so dualistic in our thinking as to dismiss legitimate biological and environmental factors. Thus, even if “spiritual” means like prayer and Bible study may complement the traditional remedies of therapy and medication, they remain insufficient as a treatment for mental illness – apart from perhaps God’s sovereign intervention. Even though our God is a God of miracles, He has nevertheless, through His mercy, ordained means to treat various types of illnesses – be they physical or mental. These means have, in turn, been invaluable in restoring relationships that would’ve otherwise been very difficult to preserve. As Bryant Myers explains, in his book Walking with the Poor: Principles and Practices of Transformational Development, God’s Kingdom seeks the reconciliation and restoration of broken relationships on all levels. Importantly, this includes the oftentimes broken relationship we have with ourselves. As peacemakers, we must never forget the importance of inner-peace. Finally, let us not forget that even the most faithful Christians can fall victim to despair in this broken world; and in sharing our pain with each other, we show the world how compassionate, bold, and unashamed we are in our love for one another. Perhaps in doing so we will discover something even more profound about the heart of God, allowing His works to be revealed in us that His name would be glorified.

If you are worried about yourself or a loved one and require emotional support, call Embrace Lifeline, Lebanon’s Suicide Prevention hotline: 1564. You are loved and your life matters; you should never have to endure your pain alone.