“Biblical Counseling” and Mental Health

I am overdue to update this blog with a number of articles I’ve been working on, but I have something that needs to be said now.

Folks, when it comes to mental and emotional health, there is some seriously toxic nonsense out there masquerading as Christian and biblical. If you are being counseled that depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, panic disorders, anxiety disorders, eating disorders, or other mental or emotional illnesses are always and only spiritual, run away as fast as you can. This is, to put it bluntly, damnable heresy, not to mention toxic, dangerous, reckless, and either ignorant or malevolent. Don’t listen to it any more than you would listen to someone who insists the world is flat, the sun is a really bright coin, and the moon is made of cheese. Such counsel is not biblical, wise, or sound in any way. It’s not even genuinely Christian; it’s dualist and gnostic. Run from it.

I’ll have more to say about this later; watch this space.

Keeping Time

Grandfather clock

When I was a child, I had the blessing of living a short drive away from one set of grandparents. This meant that I got to see them regularly, many times most months, which was wonderful.

One of the highlights when I would visit them was my grandfather’s grandfather clock. I loved to listen to its ticking, its chimes every quarter hour, and the mysterious whirrings and clickings it made each time it was about to chime. For a little boy with an interest in all things mechanical, simply being around that clock was pure delight.

The best thing about that clock was, well, not really about the clock at all. See, every week, the clock needed to be wound. It was technically an “eight day” clock, meaning it gave you a one-day cushion should you be tardy in winding it. But, nonetheless, it must be wound, or eventually it would stop. And so the best thing about that clock was when my grandfather would turn the key to open the door to its front and let me help him wind it.

Together, we would pull on the chains, and I would hear the whirring and clicking of gears suddenly intensify as we raised each weight up to its full height, there to begin another week. For a very little boy, those weights seemed so heavy, and yet I was able to help my grandfather, strong as he was. He even made me feel as though he needed me to help him do it. The whole experience was heavenly, and I am certain we wound that clock many times when it did not, in fact, need to be wound.

Cancer took my grandfather from us far too soon, and it has been more than thirty years now since I have hugged him or heard his voice. I remember him as strong but gentle, wise yet humble, intelligent but happy to lose a game of checkers to a four-year-old, a man who deeply loved Jesus and his family. He was also a war hero, having served his country honorably during World War II, though I was too little to appreciate that fully while he was still here. All in all, he was a wonderful man, and I love and miss him terribly.

A few years ago, after my grandmother had also left this world, that clock came to me. It had not run in years, and careless movers had broken the pane of glass in the door. Though I tried many times, I could not make it run for more than a few minutes without stopping. So, it stood silently in our home, waiting for us to find the money, the time, and the help necessary to make it chime the hours once more.

Today, thanks to the skillful efforts from a clock repairman who is a true master of his craft, that clock began to run and chime again. I am writing this post as I listen to it ticking and, a few times now, chiming in the background. It is heavenly.

With each second that passes I am reminded of my grandfather and the wonderful legacy he left behind. He made it a point to provide financial security for my grandmother, but his legacy is so much more than that. It is a legacy of faith, humility, hard work, diligence, and love. It is a legacy that still warms the heart of this little boy, even as I look forward to winding my grandfather’s clock with my grandfather’s great-granddaughters and, one day, maybe even with my own grandchildren. Until then, I’ll let the clock count the seconds, reminding me of the brevity of life and the beauty of sharing it with those we love.

In memory of R.H. Cottrell, Jr., one of the finest men I’ll ever know.

“He is not here, for he has risen.”

Three empty crosses

Three empty crosses

“He is risen!”

Countless Christians around the world hear these words and say them to each other on Easter Sunday. They aren’t meaningless, nor are they some spiritual mumbo-jumbo. They have a very specific, very concrete, very real-world meaning. They mean that Jesus—a man brutally and very thoroughly put to death with all the efficiency that the Roman empire could muster one Friday afternoon—got up on Sunday morning… and simply walked out of his tomb.

These words are stunning. And they are absurd. They are, on their face, not just implausible; they are crazy. After all, when someone tells you that a dead person just got up and walked away under his own power, the normal reaction is to conclude that this person has lost his or her mind.

But it turns out, the words themselves aren’t the craziest part. The truly crazy thing is that they’re true.

The beaten, whipped, nail-punctured, spear-pierced man who died a painful, bloody, horrible, and very public death in front of countless witnesses really did just get up and walk away on the third day. Without medical attention, without help from anyone on earth, his heart, his lungs, his brain, and all his other organs started up again. And he stood, stepped out of the tomb, and in that moment split all of history in two.

Hundreds of people saw him walking, talking, eating, and drinking long after he was supposed to be—no, really was—dead and buried. The people who knew him best were so certain that he had risen from the dead they were willing to die horrible deaths of their own rather than deny that Jesus was still alive.

He is risen. This one fact changes everything about how we understand the world around us. It must. The only question is: what will you do about it?

He is risen!

Happy Easter.

Post-Mortem, Episode III

After every presidential election since the first one in which I got to vote, I have posted some thoughts on this blog or in various other places on the ‘net. You can read the 2004, 2008, and 2012 posts on this site; the 2000 post and a longer 2004 post have apparently been lost to the mists of time. This is my 2016 wrap-up.


Like most of the country, I was stunned by the candidates’ reversals of fortune over the course of the evening. Like many others, I sat and watched the live forecast by the New York Times update, amazed as the needles on the win-probability, popular-vote, and electoral-college gauges ticked slowly, inexorably to the right. And like many others, I am now exhausted physically from a late night and exhausted emotionally from witnessing what will surely be remembered as one of the most amazing political events in American history.

Beyond that, though? I really don’t have much to say. I’m not happy about many of the results that we saw last night, but it has been almost a year since I had much hope of that. My musings won’t add much to anyone’s ability to process what has happened.

So, instead of waxing on, I’ll point everyone to some essential reading material as we all try to move forward, to comprehend what just happened, and to continue to function as a people. Some of it addresses Christians, some the broader “right,” and some attempts to speak to everybody. Regardless of a particular piece’s target audience, if you want to understand what is motivating millions of Americans, including those you don’t know and don’t see everyday, I’d suggest reading everything below.

Required reading:

Please pray for America and all her leaders. They need it.

Votes and Prayers

I voted today, on the first day of early voting in Texas. Now, don’t worry; I’m not going to tell you in this post how I think you should vote. (I literally am not allowed to endorse candidates for any office because of my job.) I’m also not going to tell you how not to vote. Instead, I’m going to tell a little story. Actually, I’m going to preach a little sermon to myself. And I’m asking you to read it, so you can preach it back to me when I need it.

Continue reading “Votes and Prayers”

%d bloggers like this: