By Hannah John
I entered the world of psychology as a college freshman with deep, personal questions about how to understand humans as both bodies and souls. I wanted to understand my brother’s autism diagnosis in light of the Gospel. My brother has the greatest joy and resilience I’ve known in a human being, but the challenges that come with special needs are difficult at times, and I knew that they don’t fit God’s created order. Another adopted member of my family experienced intense spiritual oppression. But most psychiatrists don’t assess mental health with spiritual reality in mind, so I wanted to know how to reconcile their diagnoses of psychosis, schizophrenia, and bipolar disorder with the spiritual realm (spoiler: I still haven’t found the answer, but I believe it’s more of a mystery than most clinicians or theologians are apt to say). I didn’t know it then, but embedded in those questions were the whisperings of Christian psychology.
The summer before my senior year, I had a conversation about my psychology degree with someone whom I respect and have learned much from. While he recognized the value of Biblical counseling, he did not think that psychology, either in its historical roots or current state, is redeemable or worth pursuing in great depth. I agreed with him that the secularization that exists in the field of psychology is worth being cautious about, but, like Augustine, I believe that “all truth is God’s truth.” If we can know of the Creator through both special revelation (Scripture + Jesus the Incarnate Word) and general revelation (all aspects of creation), then we can learn true things about human nature in the field of psychology. And if we learn true things there, then those things are valid because all truth is God’s truth.
But I didn’t recognize an underlying assumption I was making: that Christians are limited to panning for bits of gold in the waters of secular psychology. In reality, Christianity offers a much richer and complete view of the world than I allowed space for at that time. What I discovered later, in grad school, is just how foundational the Gospel can and should be in our pursuit of truth.
Scientists are trained to leave behind their presuppositions in search of truth. At some levels, this is reasonable. But if we, as Christ-followers, believe that reality is only truly and fully seen through God’s eyes, then I believe we should take our cues from the Gospel: not just applying faith after the fact to “value-free” science, but acknowledging Christ as Lord first and then being faithful to find Him in creation. This is what Christian psychology aims to accomplish. But it’s not just soul care that’s impacted by faith: in psychology, just as in mathematics, literature, accounting, and operations management, the Good News of Jesus transforms not just the knowledge we seek, but how and why we seek it.
I was reminded again of this in a new way on a recent trip with my family (parents, sister, and brother) to Israel. We had planned to embark on a Mediterranean cruise, but our flights were canceled at the last minute, and after 3 days of what felt like haphazard traveling to catch up with the ship, we decided to stay in Israel for the remainder of our time. As is common for kids who have autism, sensory overstimulation can lead to challenging behavior. We crossed four airports in three days; flew nine hours straight; raced through the Paris airport to catch our next flight to Tel Aviv and ultimately missed it; we tried to catch moments of sleep in between long calls to the airlines and cruise line to find alternatives. Overstimulation was an understatement. By the time we reached the airport in Tel Aviv, the overwhelming circumstances caught up with my brother and he had a difficult time making it out of the airport due to challenging behavior.
Moments like this come with a fair amount of stress, not just for my brother, but for the rest of my family too. For the rest of the ten-day trip, I experienced constant mid-to-high level anxiety, even in quiet moments. And as much as I wanted to be home, in an environment that was safe and relatively comfort filled for my brother (and therefore all of us), I also dreaded the 13-hour flight back to the United States. I can’t quite describe what that plane ride was like, but you can probably relate if you’ve ever experienced intense anxiety. Praise God that my brother did fine (better than I did). This anxiety was a new battle for me. And one that revealed much about myself, my Father in heaven, and how the Gospel transforms our suffering.
In my fear and stress during our trip, I hadn’t thought much about faith, or the act of trusting God. In some ways, I’d been identifying with my fear, as if it would at least give me empathy or credentials for this profession I’ve chosen in soul care. But the day after we visited the Sea of Galilee, I remembered the story of the disciples who were caught in a storm at the same place, some 2000 years ago. They panicked and went down to where Jesus was sleeping on the boat. They accused Him of being nonchalant in the face of danger. But Jesus 1) breathed peace to the sea and 2) asked the disciples where their faith was.
Ironically (or not), the disciples were “filled with great fear” again after things settled down. This fear was now appropriately focused on Who Jesus is, and not the storm: “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark 4:41).
Jesus is so in control of the storms (in my Sea of Galilee and elsewhere) that He’s asleep in my boat. And if He’s not worried, I certainly shouldn’t be. He comforts me, surely. And He also asks for my faith. In other words, if my fear, or awe, is rightly placed in Him, then I have nothing else to be anxious about because He is greater than all things. Of course this is easier said than done, and it’s not always possible to “turn off” our fear. But sometimes we focus solely on receiving peace from Christ for anxiety (whether through Scripture, therapy, prayer, or medication) and forget that fear is also an opportunity to increase our faith and testify to other believers and the world that Jesus is Lord.
Christian psychology, to me, is the pursuit of healing for our souls and our world in light of the cross, while trusting that Jesus is Lord even when the results are disappointing (like my recent trip) or when healing doesn’t come in this life. And sometimes, that act of trust simply looks like offering God my unbelief in the midst of crippling fear. I believe He receives it and is working to make me whole in Himself – for my good and His glory. I’m still learning just how much the Gospel says about God’s glory and our good in the world around us. And I feel just as wide-eyed and curious to hear, understand, and participate in that redemptive story as when I was a college freshman.
Hannah John teaches undergraduate psychology at Houston Christian University, where she also received her B.A. in Psychology and her M.A. in Christian Psychological Studies. She is passionate about letting the Gospel transform the way we understand and love people, because she believes that God knows and loves us best. You can reach her at 1hannahjohn@gmail.com
