The best-selling book, Boundaries (1992), by Henry Cloud and John Townsend, has been in print now for over 30 years. As a popular counseling resource for several decades in managing work and family relationships (as well as the subsequent Boundaries books), why do many of our clients continue to struggle with boundary problems again and again? I propose that our soul care clients may first need a self-evaluation of the quality of their relationships and spiritual walk before attempting behavioral boundary changes. In the next two posts, I will introduce a self-evaluation tool to use with clients, as well as the experience I had with one case study that inspired the creation of such an assessment.

Sarah J. Bracey, PhD LPC MHSP, serves as the program coordinator and associate professor of the undergraduate and graduate psychology programs at Welch College. She also provides soul care counseling and supervision with over 15 years of experience in the college campus setting. Dr. Bracey has led several Boundaries workshops with her clients and enjoys writing and speaking on mental health topics. She lives in northern Tennessee with her husband and son.

In my previous post I walked us through a biblical theology of life and death, grief and hope, and presented several exhortations about how this theology should rightly reorient the ways we encounter and understand loss, grief, and hope. In this final post I’d like to share a personal story about how this kind of theology has framed and grounded my own experience with the loss of my father, the grief that followed, and the hope that I stood on then and continue in till today. 

Where Hope Met Me

My dad was the most foundational person the Lord placed in my life from the very beginning. He was as intellectually sharp as they come—the kind of person who had knowledge about almost anything. But more than his intellectual prowess was his wise character, which was, I think, his most formative influence in my life. I remember that he began pressing me toward reasoned thinking when I was very young, perhaps about 7 years old if not earlier. I can’t ever remember a time he talked down to me—condescending to a child’s level of understanding. He spoke to me as an adult in both demeanor and candor. He asked me questions and probed me to reflect on the points he and I were making in the conversation. Some of my greatest memories of time with my dad were sitting and talking for hours in our living room, him rocking softly in his recliner with his legs crossed and me sitting on one of the other couches. We had the kind of relationship where raw, unfiltered thought was welcome and where ideas were met with critical but always warm consideration. 

In 2021, on a Saturday evening in August, I get a phone call from my mom at 11pm. My wife is in the bathroom getting ready for bed and I’m sitting on the couch in the living room. It’s unusual to get a call from my mom this late but I think it’s probably just something she needs to ask me real quick. I pick up the phone to the sound of her wailing as she cries out, “Dad’s dead!” 

The drive down from Houston to my hometown in South Texas that night is the longest 3-hour drive I think I’ve ever felt. God how I wish in this moment I were living just down the street or had the power of teleportation. Instead, I have to endure a grueling long drive in the middle of the night reeling from the reality that my dad is gone and that my mom is sitting in the house alone. “Why God?” I ask at the beginning of that drive. Now if I could put into words what the Holy Spirit is speaking to my heart in that moment it would be this: “He is with Jesus, his suffering is over, and you will see him again at the resurrection.” My entire soul shifts right there from grief descending to despair to grief overshadowed with hope. As my wife and I continue the drive south we listen to hymns the whole way and I cannot tell you how singing the words of “It is Well With My Soul” and “Because He Lives” is renewed in me. In that moment I can now lift up glorification to the Lord with those sweet and solemn words in a way I have been unable to before. Perhaps my dad having died is somehow part of God’s glory and my good. 

When we finally arrive, I find my mom devastated and in disbelief. She keeps repeating that he had just gone to sleep and then he wouldn’t wake up. I’m in shock as well, but I’m trying to hold it together right there. I just hold her while she weeps. After an hour or so, she starts to calm down a little. I lift her face in my hands and tell her to remember that dad is with Jesus right now. It is a wonder to witness in her—what is perhaps the same experience I had 3 hours earlier—a complete shift in her demeanor that I can only describe as her grief moving from despair to hope. She now has a look of assurance and comfort in her eyes through the tears. 

She remembered what she believed: those who love Jesus will pass through death into his presence. And my dad loved Jesus. 

Despite the pain, the grief, and the loss we had hope. Not later after the grief lessened, but right there in the midst we had hope and joy. Now the grief didn’t suddenly evaporate in the moment or even in the days and weeks after. My heart was broken. And at the same time Jesus was holding it together, filling it with his peace, his joy, and his comfort. The truths I had long held and rehearsed about life and death, grief and hope, had been forming me and building me up to face something as unimaginable as losing my dad. The shift from despair to hope wasn’t something I mustered within myself—it was the active presence of realities I already believed: Christ’s victory over death, the resurrection of those who love him, and the goodness of God even in suffering. The words I spoke to my mom were not improvised comfort; they were the gospel we have always believed and still believe. The grief was real and the lament was honest, but neither tipped into hopelessness because the Christian framework underneath them held their weight. 

From My Life to Others

In the season following my dad’s passing the grief was still present and heavy. And it would come in waves: a sorrowful phone call from mom, the impulse to call my dad with news, the conversations in the living room that will not happen anymore. What changed was not the grief itself but how I coped with grief. I never despaired because I know that the resurrection remains true regardless of how I felt any given day. I will see my dad again—his death was not the end of the story. I am certain of what the future is, that I will see him beside our savior at the end of all things. And I continually remember this truth and remind my mom and all others who have lost a loved one in Christ—as Christ lives, so shall all those who know him. 

Several months later I shared this very testimony at one of my university’s student convocations. I felt moved by the Spirit to be a witness to the gospel through my personal testimony of loss, grief, and hope. I exhorted the students to let the testimony of my dad’s death prompt them to examine their own lives in the light of Christ’s death and resurrection. Death is not the end for Christians, but we will overcome it because Christ has achieved the victory over sin and death. The climactic statement I made was, 

I’m not worried about my dad, he’s good. I’m worried about you. If by my dad’s death some of you would be saved, then praise God for his goodness in taking my dad. I want to see you with me and my dad, worshipping Jesus together.

I didn’t want my hope to be reserved privately but to be witnessed publicly. I wanted this biblical theology to move outward from my life into others. 

A couple of years after I gave that message, a student watched the recording and wrote a reflection—an excerpt of which I had the privilege of reading:

To understand his father’s story, you have to understand the gospel. Since death is the punishment for sin, and Jesus never sinned, death had no claim over him. Death could not hold him because he deserved eternal life. … I always thought that death had no claim over him just because he was God. That is probably partially true, but it makes sense that death had no claim over him because the one thing that gave death claim over humans is sin, which Jesus never did. That is so fascinating. God uses our hard things to give us a testimony for everyone else.

This theology of loss, grief, and hope is not just a personal reorientation but a witness for the entire body of Christ and the watching world. Death is the enemy, but Jesus has conquered death. We grieve, but we grieve differently, standing on the hope of Christ and the resurrection. 

A robust theology of life and death, grief and hope does not make loss painless but bearable, meaningful, and even generative. The goal is not to simply understand these truths but to inhabit them and be formed by them. We should be anchored in the truth that our hope is in nothing other than Jesus Christ, and that when death arrives it has already been defeated—the darkness of loss and grief no longer has dominion but has given way to the light of life that is Christ. Through loss and grief, it is well with my soul; and because he lives, I can face tomorrow. 

Nathaniel (Nate) Marino, MA, is Assistant Professor of Psychology at Houston Christian University, with graduate degrees in Research and Experimental Psychology (Rutgers University–Camden) and Theological Studies (Houston Christian University). His research centers on social and personality psychology, with particular focus on moral cognition and behavior and the development of character and virtue. He is also deeply interested in the philosophical and methodological foundations of modern psychology, particularly in reframing them through a distinctly Christian worldview. Flowing from this, Nate is committed to pursuing psychological inquiry that is Christ-centered and biblically and theologically grounded. In future work, he hopes to explore how a Christ-centered psychology might shape Christian culture and church life, including discipleship, spiritual formation, church governance, evangelism, and practical theology.

Loss and grief are not things humans must be taught to experience; all people will encounter them in this life. What we must learn is how to cope with grief, how to prepare for future losses, and how to truly understand them. We all desire satisfying answers to the heart-wrenching questions of “why did I lose this person?” and “why does it hurt so much?” and “what do I do now?” We need to make meaning of our loss and to find hope on the other side of it. The Christian framework is the only belief system that can bear the weight of these existential questions and answer them, and that framework is derived from our Holy Scriptures, to which we now turn.

A Biblical Theology of Life, Death, and Resurrection

When we survey the narrative of Scripture, we will notice a prevailing thematic emphasis on life and death, grief and hope. In Genesis when God creates humanity he “breathes into his nostrils the breath of life” (Gen 2:7). [1] Our life comes from nowhere else but from our Creator. At the center of Eden stood two trees: the tree of life and the tree of knowledge of good and evil. God commanded Adam and Eve to eat from any tree except the latter, “for when you eat from it you will certainly die” (Gen 2:17); had they eaten from the tree of life, they would “live forever” (Gen 3:22). From the beginning, God’s design was to give humanity life that persists in obedient relationship with himself. But Adam and Eve disobeyed. [2] The consequence of their rejection of God is death: “By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return” (Gen 3:19).

God’s original design was for humanity to live in communion with him, but the sinful corruption of humanity now results in the death of every person. The Apostle Paul teaches that “just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned” (Rom 5:12). Following Adam and Eve’s expulsion from the garden, death becomes the inevitable end of every human. Genesis 5, the first genealogical record in Scripture, lists how long each person lived followed by the refrain, “and then he died.” As humanity multiplied, the curse of death lay over us all. Yet God did not resign his precious humanity to its dominion.

As the story continues, glimpses of hope appear that God will overcome death for his people. Job proclaims, “And after my skin has been destroyed yet in my flesh I will see God” (Job 19:26). Isaiah declares, “On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever” (Isa 25:7–8). And Ezekiel proclaims from the Lord, “you, my people, will know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and bring you up from them. I will put my Spirit in you and you will live” (Ezek 37:13–14). The anticipation builds that God will free humanity from the curse of death. But how?

The prophets proclaim that the Lord will send a savior to deliver his people from sin and the curse of death. Isaiah 53 describes this servant of the Lord, sent to save God’s people by being handed over to death himself. The chapter is saturated with life-and-death language: “he was cut off from the land of the living;” “he was assigned a grave with the wicked and with the rich in his death;” “the Lord makes his life an offering for sin;” “after his suffering he will see the light of life;” “he poured out his life unto death” (Isa 53:8–12). Our hope of overcoming death is realized in the Lord’s servant who loses his life to save ours—and this savior is none other than Jesus the Christ.

In Jesus, God’s design for human life is fully realized and incarnate. The Apostle John tells us, “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind” (John 1:4). Jesus proclaims that he is “the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in [him] will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in [him] will never die” (John 11:25–26). He came to free us from bondage to sin and death: “by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death … and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (Heb 2:14–15). Jesus has power over death itself, and so do his brothers and sisters by faith. As Paul teaches, “For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Cor 15:21–22).

For followers of Christ, though we will all die as a consequence of sin, we will not stay dead any more than Christ stayed dead. Our hope carries beyond death into new life with the risen Christ: “We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life” (Rom 6:4). Paul teaches that because of this hope, though we grieve, we “do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” And because we believe in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, “we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him” (1 Thess 4:13–14). Our victory over death is not an ideal to hold to but a person to hold onto.

As the community of Christ, we now live knowing that we will die but that we will be resurrected to new life when Christ returns to reign over all his creation. The Lord Jesus “will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first” (1 Thess 4:16). He will give us new bodies free from the corruption of sin and the curse of death.

Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Cor 15:54–57).

Christ will reign for all eternity over his new creation and his redeemed and resurrected people who will now never again know the sting of death.

Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (Rev 21:3–5)

Hope and Redemption in Practice

This narrative arc should reframe our posture toward loss, grief, and hope. Scripture never treats death as a “natural” part of God’s creational design; it is the enemy, and an enemy already defeated in Christ. We are called to “mourn with those who mourn” (Rom 12:15), but not to grieve as those without hope (cf. 1 Thess 4:13). Every person operates from some framework for the existential realities of life—what psychologists call a “meaning system”—and one of the hardest tests of any such system is the death of a loved one. Most cannot bear that weight, lacking the language to name evil, constrain grief, ground hope outside the self, and offer true redemption. [3] The Christian meaning system is not merely the best of the alternatives but the only true one, because of the risen Christ.

Yet the system only carries those actively being transformed by it. As Paul writes, “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God” (Col 3:2–3). Our entire way of thinking, feeling, and behaving must be reoriented—from the posture of a slave to sin and death to the hope we have in Christ. The Christian meaning system is meant for us to inhabit. We must be formed by it all throughout our days so that we may prepare for death properly, suffer loss and grief well, and stand steadfastly in the hope we have in Christ.

First, we must think rightly. Death often comes as a surprise when we experience it, but we must never fail to remember that we all will face death in this life. [4] We should commit the Psalmist’s words to memory, “Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is” (Ps 39:4), and “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Ps 90:12). When grief arrives, we must remind ourselves that we are not exempt from the experience of grief any more than we are free from the reality of death—but we grieve differently. We lament the evil of death while holding the truth that Christ has carried us through death into new life and will ultimately vanquish death once and for all. And we anchor our minds in the hope that is set on things above where Christ is, not on this earth where life is broken by sin and death. If we regularly rehearse the story of Scripture regarding life, death, and hope we will prepare ourselves to encounter death whenever it shows itself, keep ourselves anchored as we persevere through the ensuing grief, and truly rejoice in the victory we have over death in Christ.

Second, we must feel rightly. Right thinking is not the suppression of feeling. When death comes, we will feel its weight—the empty chair, the silenced phone, the solemn memories—and we should. Death is the enemy, and to grieve it is to name it truthfully. Even Jesus, standing at the tomb of Lazarus moments before raising him, “wept” (John 11:35). What our hope does is not numb the lament but hold it. We grieve and we hope at the same time, in the same breath. We feel the loss as deeply as anyone who has no hope, and we feel the nearness of the God who “is close to the brokenhearted” (Ps 34:18) more deeply than we could without him. To feel rightly is to refuse both the false comfort that pretends grief away and the despair that severs grief from hope.

Third, we must behave rightly. Right thinking and right feeling cannot remain interior; they must move outward into how we live among the dying and the grieving. The Christian meaning system is carried in the body of Christ, and we bear it for one another. Paul exhorts us to “mourn with those who mourn” (Rom 12:15)—no small charge. It means being present in the hospital room, at the graveside, and at the kitchen table in the weeks after the funeral, when the casseroles have stopped arriving and everyone else has moved on. My pastor growing up once said to me, after we had visited a severely ill man together, “You can pretend that you care, but you can’t pretend that you’re there.” He was right. It means letting our hope be witnessed in how we sit with sorrow without being undone by it. It means living now, before death comes, in a way that prepares us and those who love us for the day it arrives—speaking the truth of the gospel to our children and friends and proclaiming our hope out loud. To behave rightly is to let the resurrection shape not only what we believe and feel but what we do, so that when others encounter death through us, they encounter Christ.

Death has been defeated in Christ, and we are being carried by him through it. This is why we can stand with Paul and say, “Where, O death, is your sting?” We can profess, “I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal 2:20). And we can rest assured that “to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Phil 1:21).

• [1] All scripture references taken from the 2011 New International Version of the Holy Bible.
• [2] An important note is that the tree of knowledge of good and evil did not lead to death in itself, but rather that their disobedience before God is what leads to death; they desired to take for themselves that God had not provided for them. In rejection of God they also rejected the life that he supplies them and therefore they now “will certainly die.”
• [3] Park, C. L. (2013). Religion and meaning. In R. F. Paloutzian & C. L. Park (Eds.), Handbook of the psychology of religion and spirituality (2nd ed., pp. 357–379). Guilford Press.; Park, C. L. (2010). Making sense of the meaning literature: An integrative review of meaning making and its effects on adjustment to stressful life events. Psychological Bulletin, 136, 257–301.
• [4] I do not neglect the reality of death that is sudden and shocking. No one knows when their or anyone’s final moment will be, and it can be in time surprising. But the fact of a person’s death should not be surprising to Christians since we know that all humanity lives under the curse of death.
  

Nathaniel (Nate) Marino, MA, is Assistant Professor of Psychology at Houston Christian University, with graduate degrees in Research and Experimental Psychology (Rutgers University–Camden) and Theological Studies (Houston Christian University). His research centers on social and personality psychology, with particular focus on moral cognition and behavior and the development of character and virtue. He is also deeply interested in the philosophical and methodological foundations of modern psychology, particularly in reframing them through a distinctly Christian worldview. Flowing from this, Nate is committed to pursuing psychological inquiry that is Christ-centered and biblically and theologically grounded. In future work, he hopes to explore how a Christ-centered psychology might shape Christian culture and church life, including discipleship, spiritual formation, church governance, evangelism, and practical theology.

Losing a person you love and have had present in your life for a long time is one of the hardest things, maybe the hardest thing for any person to endure. But as Christians we know that death is inevitable for all human creatures. The writer of Hebrews tells us, “people are destined to die once.” (1) Death is appointed for all of humanity and yet when it appears in our lives we often are surprised. This is not to bypass the impact of losing someone or to mitigate the shock that accompanies a sudden loss. However, as I’ve observed in many people’s lives including my own, people often go about their days as if death is not the norm for humans; as if death is not the inevitable end result for each and every one of us now or later. Perhaps the impact of losing a loved one or a close relationship is heightened because we fail to remember that “people are destined to die once.”

The initial impact of losing a person in your life is only the first part of that terrible reality but then the grief ensues. The emotional weight of the loss is made heavier as you now have to endure the days to come in their absence: the empty chair around the table, the calls, texts, and notifications that cease, the happy memories now tainted with the present heartache and the longing for new memories that are no longer possible. The grief felt after a loss can be more debilitating than the loss itself. And such grief can be so crippling that it gives way to the third part of the impact of loss—hopelessness. If we’ve gone about our days having forgotten about the reality of death until that reality is forced back before us to witness and bitterly endure after, the days to come once sunny have now greyed. The enjoyment of life now suffers under the dominion of loss and grief.

What can be done? Do we consign ourselves to this new reality of loss and grief with more to come? Do we strive to just embrace our future days with grey skies and take solace in the glimmers of light that pierce through the darkness?

No.

And if I’m honest with myself, the darkness, though it has not initially consumed all, will eventually do so. I will experience the death of others again and the grief that comes with it. My skies that have partially greyed will become darker. And what hope I have tried to make for myself will wither and fail me.
But as a Christian, I can say, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” (2) As followers of Christ we have an unfailing hope in him that overcomes death and transforms our grief. And we need to be taught and reminded regularly of these truths.

In my next post I will help us to understand how developing a proper, personal theology of evil, death, suffering, and redemption is the best way for us as Christians to encounter death, experience loss, persevere through grief, and remain hopeful in the assured redemption we have in Christ.

(1) All scripture references taken from the 2011 New International Version of the Holy Bible.
(2) 1 Peter 1:3.

Nathaniel (Nate) Marino, MA, is Assistant Professor of Psychology at Houston Christian University, with graduate degrees in Research and Experimental Psychology (Rutgers University–Camden) and Theological Studies (Houston Christian University). His research centers on social and personality psychology, with particular focus on moral cognition and behavior and the development of character and virtue. He is also deeply interested in the philosophical and methodological foundations of modern psychology, particularly in reframing them through a distinctly Christian worldview. Flowing from this, Nate is committed to pursuing psychological inquiry that is Christ-centered and biblically and theologically grounded. In future work, he hopes to explore how a Christ-centered psychology might shape Christian culture and church life, including discipleship, spiritual formation, church governance, evangelism, and practical theology.

My old friend death comes to visit,
to sit and stay a while.

In truth, Lord, his company
is more familiar than your own.
It seems I walked with him
long before my seeds of faith were sown.

His hand he kindly places over mine,
and he anoints me with his cloak.
It reeks like third day Lazarus,
spice and oil soaked.

But death is playing tricks again—
this old friend (or so I’d hoped)
suddenly is Judas,
hand outstretched to share his rope.

Sometimes, Lord, he wears your face
and curves shepherd’s staff into scythe,
wrenching out from me that desert protest:
“Lord, you brought me here to die!”

Even Elijah’s ravens
take flight and flee my grasp.
The only sign their presence shows is
a fading, mocking rasp.

I heard once, Lord, you’d meet me here
and give me what I need.
I suppose I can wait and kick these goads
beneath my old broom tree.

Or, following hobbling widow
right up to your door,
I could knock, and knock, and knock again
until you yield succor.

My banging fist clutches at your word,
though death’s seeping palsy settles in.
I’m shaking now, and halfway blind,
but a thread of hope begins to spin.

Once upon a time you hovered over waters deep
and called all goodness forth—
Green grass and breath and leaping deer
shining with divine worth.

You promise to catch each Gethsemane tear
crushed out in death’s wake
and save them in a bottle
for my comfort’s sake.

Through the mouth of old Isaiah
you proclaimed you’d swallow up the gaping shroud of death,
and having sunk down through death’s throat yourself
you’d wipe away all tears and settle jagged breath.

You said to those in death’s shadow
on them a light would shine,
and the dawn of resurrection
would turn dirge to kingdom wine.

You declare death now stalks like naked emperor,
his tricks lacking their sting.
Over his toothless snarls
you now reign as King.

And so my Jesus comes to visit,
to sit and stay a while.
Lord, you were here all along—
mystery of mysteries to me—
come closer, now, my truest friend,
and we’ll walk together through death’s valley.

As we travel, Lord, help my unbelief!
I am tangled in the curse,
Wrestling like Jacob—because being here is good and right,
even if it hurts

Katie Williamson is a freelance writer and children’s ministry curriculum developer. She longs to help people cultivate emotionally healthy faith in childhood and beyond. When she is not putting pen to paper, you can find her in a PreK Sunday school classroom, the public library, or a local thrift store. You can connect with her via email.

Many clients come to therapy dysregulated, confused, and overwhelmed by their emotional distress. For some, the more they look to themselves and their own abilities to control their lives and establish some degree of certainty for the future, the more aware they become of their own limitations and lack of control, which perpetuates their anxiety and distress. For others, they may be able to learn and develop some effective skills to help manage their emotions and give them a greater sense of control over their lives, but perhaps only enough to stave off their existential anxieties temporarily until faced with a major life crisis. [1]

For Christian clients, in what ways might emotion regulation be achieved through means that transcend one’s self and one’s circumstances? What might this look like and how might Christian therapists facilitate this in therapy?

A Case Example

A few weeks ago, my sister-in-law (my wife’s sister) and 16-year-old nephew died suddenly in a car accident. Throughout the first week of grief my brother-in-law, Brad, was emotional yet deeply grounded in the hope of his faith. Within the first few hours after the accident, he spoke the following words to his children: “God is good and He is still good, even though we cannot understand this.” At the visitation less than one week later, he lived out and spoke the Gospel message through his grief to each person he encountered. In his opening remarks at the funeral, he stated that there would be a time to share memories of his wife and son, but now is the time to be still and to listen to what the Lord has to say. The theme text for the funeral was the account of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead and Jesus’ declaration that “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live” (John 11:15).

Such strength can only be described as super-natural; it was not a strength that Brad possessed in and of himself, but the strength he received from the Lord who upheld and sustained him. Like the apostle Paul, he experienced the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, because he had learned that the secret of being content in any and every circumstance is to do all things through God who strengthens him (Phil. 4:4-13). This is a product of psychospiritual formation processes that transcend mere within-person change. [2]

Spiritual Formation and the Fruit of the Spirit

Drawing on Puritan writers such as Jonathan Edwards, Dr. Kyle Strobel emphasizes that spiritual formation is primarily about the work of the Holy Spirit and only secondarily about the personal formation of the believer. [3] Spiritual formation is, paradoxically, something that is both received and something that we must actively participate in. The Bible teaches that our new life of faith is a divine gift; we were dead in our sins and made alive together with Christ (Eph. 2:1-10). Indeed, Christ stated that, “Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). And yet, we are also called to actively participate and cooperate in our spiritual growth; to “…work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Phil. 2:12-13). Jonathan Edwards uses the narrative of Jesus turning water into wine (John 2:1-11) to illustrate this process; Jesus called the servants to fill the water jars, however, it was not the servants, but Jesus who was responsible for turning the water into wine.

What does spiritual formation look like? Dornyei describes the Fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23) as “the ideal outcome of a divinely orchestrated transformation process to produce a Christlike character in the believer” (p. 34). [4] The Fruit (singular) is a composite of nine inter-related virtues; namely, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Given that Greek virtue lists often give prominence to the first and last virtues in the list, love is considered the supreme virtue and self-control is a foundational virtue; each of the other facets is dependent on these two key virtues. The unified nature of the Fruit is important both conceptually and practically; it reflects the very character of God and, in practice, virtues need to be balanced [5] and efforts to cultivate nine separate virtues may be demotivating and counterproductive. For the purposes of simplification and practical utility, Dornyei suggests that the Fruit of the Spirit can be thought of in terms of three dimensions, with some virtues mapping onto more than one dimension. These three dimensions are “loving compassion, concerning a compassionate orientation centered around the well-being and needs of others; spiritual contentment, referring to a tranquil disposition of serenity and joyful spiritual peace; and steadfast perseverance, involving self-disciplined and enduring conduct in the face of challenges and adversities” (p. 134-135).

Emotion Regulation and Spiritual Contentment

Surely emotion regulation is facilitated by all three of these dimensions, but for the purposes of this series of blog posts, I will limit myself to spiritual contentment. The key virtues of spiritual contentment are joy and peace, as well as patience and gentleness. Joy is characterized by Christian spiritual delight, rooted in faith and peace, and is differentiated from secular happiness because it is given by the Holy Spirit, it is rooted in hope, and it is shared communally and individually. Indeed, the Apostle Paul writes, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 15:13). Peace refers to a general sense of well-being and satisfaction with life as a whole and includes both inner tranquility as well as communal harmony. Peace is an attribute of God and something we receive from Him; as Paul writes, “since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 5:1). Patience can involve waiting for something calmly or putting up with a frustrating person or situation, or even with suffering. James gives the examples of waiting for the coming of the Lord like a farmer waits for his crops and bearing with one another like the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord (Jas. 5:7-10). Lastly, gentleness refers to “a calm, considerate, tender, and measured disposition towards others” (p. 80), which is closely related to meekness (Matt. 5:5) and humility (Jas. 3:13). Not to be confused with weakness, gentleness represents strength under control, much like Roald Dahl’s Big Friendly Giant.

It should be clear based on these descriptions that spiritual contentment is not developed quickly or easily. Consistent with the fruit motif, developing spiritual contentment grows gradually and requires patience and persistence, and consistent with the Spirit motif, it is a gift that is received from God rather than something that can be forced through human effort. Spiritual contentment depends on the believer having a full and accurate understanding of who God is and who I am in relation to God. Furthermore, this understanding cannot be limited to mere intellectual knowledge of facts and information about God, but must also include a personal familiarity with God, experientially and relationally, which motivates and moves the believer to live in accordance with these beliefs and convictions. [6]

Clinical Implications

The above reflections suggest that spiritual contentment should be an important goal and resource for Christian clients. We tend to think of emotion regulation as a set of skills that become activated in response to some particular stressor, but these reflections on spiritual contentment suggest the importance of considering not only the reactive, but also the proactive aspects of emotion regulation. Brad’s faith and hope was grounded in a deep and true understanding of God’s sovereignty and goodness, even in the face of his deep pain following a tragedy that occurred without warning or time for preparation. In hindsight, it seems that God had been preparing Brad for this moment by revealing Himself to Brad consistently for many years, and for that we thank God. A tragedy provides an opportunity not only to draw on pre-existing faith, but also an opportunity to grow faith, not despite but even through suffering (Rom. 5:3-5).

Effective interventions require accurate assessments and case formulations and, as such, should include considerations of the client’s faith. Clients who enter therapy grounded in God and in their faith can draw on their faith to regulate their emotions. In this way, it often does not take long before they are ready to face their pain openly and honestly and so begin processing and working through their grief. The process can be more complicated, however, for clients whose faith is weak, based on an inaccurate understanding of God or self, or is overly intellectualized and insufficiently internalized experientially and relationally. In this case, developing spiritual contentment through the use of spiritual practices, in dependence upon the Holy Spirit, will be a critical component of the therapy. This will include a balanced consideration (in light of the client’s specific situation) of the attributes of God as infinite, eternal, unchangeable, ever-present, all-knowing, all-powerful, holy, just, wise, gracious, and loving. Nevertheless, keeping in mind the principles of spiritual formation mentioned earlier, wise therapists will remind themselves and their clients that spiritual growth is often slow and non-linear, it is accomplished in dependence upon God rather than self-effort and brute force, and it requires a combination of patience and persistence.

In the third and final post in this series, I plan to share a practical strategy for scaffolding emotion regulation skills using lectio divina – a spiritual practice involving a way to meditate on and contemplate God – therapeutically to facilitate emotion regulation through spiritual contentment.

[1]This is not to suggest that there is no value in contemporary counselling interventions for developing emotion regulation skills – indeed, I utilize these techniques regularly in my own practice.

[2]This does not imply that this is the best or only appropriate way to grieve – indeed, Scripture supports alternatives such as expression of anger and lament as well.

[3]Strobel’s Formed for the Glory of God

[4]Dornyei’s The Psychology of the Fruit of the Spirit

[5]This is in recognition that more of a virtue is not always better. For example, excessive courage can lead to foolhardiness, excessive modesty to shyness, excessive altruism to self-destructiveness, excessive prudence and self-control to sins of inaction, and excessive empathy can cloud judgment.

[6]These are allusions to both John Calvin’s assertion that true wisdom consists of two interconnected parts – the knowledge of God and the knowledge of ourselves – as well as Jonathan Edwards’ well-known writings on the Religious Affections.

Dr. Strating completed his Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology at the University of Windsor as well as his residency with the London Clinical Psychology Residency Consortium. His areas of focus include working with relationship concerns, difficulties managing or engaging with emotion, anxiety, panic, anger, grief, depression, self-criticism, perfectionism, trauma, and OCD. He is also experienced in research as well as teaching and supervising therapist trainees.

He is an Assistant Professor of Psychology at Redeemer University and a practicing Clinical Psychologist at Dr. Jared French and Associates.

Dr. Strating completed his Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology at the University of Windsor as well as his residency with the London Clinical Psychology Residency Consortium. His areas of focus include working with relationship concerns, difficulties managing or engaging with emotion, anxiety, panic, anger, grief, depression, self-criticism, perfectionism, trauma, and OCD. He is also experienced in research as well as teaching and supervising therapist trainees.

He is an Assistant Professor of Psychology at Redeemer University and a practicing Clinical Psychologist at Dr. Jared French and Associates.

Emotions are a valuable source of information about how our life is going in light of our deepest values
and concerns, but they must be sufficiently regulated before we can make use of them. Secular
therapies have developed a wide range of effective emotion regulation strategies, but most of these
strategies tend to be grounded in the self. For the Christian, without negating the self entirely, emotion
regulation is expressed primarily as spiritual contentment, which originates from God and is derived
from an awareness of God’s sovereignty and presence in the life of the believer.

How are we to cope with distress amidst the adversities of life? Look not to the self, which is finite, but
look first to our Heavenly Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, who is our infinite, eternal, unchangeable, ever-
present, all-knowing, all-powerful, holy, just, wise, gracious, and loving God.

Dr. Strating completed his Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology at the University of Windsor as well as his residency with the London Clinical Psychology Residency Consortium. His areas of focus include working with relationship concerns, difficulties managing or engaging with emotion, anxiety, panic, anger, grief, depression, self-criticism, perfectionism, trauma, and OCD. He is also experienced in research as well as teaching and supervising therapist trainees.

He is an Assistant Professor of Psychology at Redeemer University and a practicing Clinical Psychologist at Dr. Jared French and Associates.

In the following case study, centering around an internal identity struggle, I’ll apply a therapeutic paradox tool to demonstrate how it works. If you have missed the previous article, please ensure that you read it to gain a clear understanding a therapeutic paradox as a beneficial tool in resolving an internal conflict.

Case study: Sarah

Sarah identifies as a Christian and has been an active member of her church community for more than 10 years. She is a strong believer but struggles with her identity and purpose in life. She sought counseling because she feels a deep inner conflict about her identity. Although she perceives herself as a dedicated Christian but often question her worth and purpose outside of her religious activities. She has a history of comparing herself to others in her church and social circles, leading to feelings of inadequacy, anxiety and self-doubt. She feels torn between her desire to fulfill her religious responsibilities and her personal aspiration.

• Step 1: Assessment and goal setting

Sarah expressed feelings of frustration and confusion about her identity. She feels she is living a dichotomy – on the one hand she embodies Christian virtues and on the other hand she has personal desires and goals.

• Step 2: Goals for counseling

2.1 Explore Sarah sense of self outside of her religious activities and life.

2.2 Help her to reconcile different aspects of her identity.

2.3 To develop coping strategies to combat feelings of inadequacy and anxiety.

• Step 3: Therapeutic paradox 

The purpose is to facilitate a shift in Sarah’s perspective on identity. 

3.1 Intervention: Identity as a journey: Pose the following question to Sarah:

“What if, instead of trying to define who you are as a Christian, you allow yourself to be undefined for a while?” 

The journey to develop an identity as part of a divine journey with Christ can then be fostered by proposing that she could embrace confusion and uncertainty as part of her divine journey with Christ. Instead of viewing the identity conflict as a problem to be fixed it is embraced as a process and opportunity for growth.

• Step 4: Function of paradox

The paradox served to help Sarah let go of her rigid self-definitions shaped by comparisons and expectations. Identity could be viewed as an evolving process instead of a static endpoint. The idea that internal ambiguity in one’s identity, cannot be resolved is challenged, and reframed as opportunity to create a space for the self to develop without pressure. 

• Step 5: Reflection and Journaling

Sarah was encouraged to journal and reflect on her internal desire and emotions and to confront her thoughts in a way to encourage acceptance of uncertainty.

• Step 6: Spiritual Integration

Bible verses can be introduced and mediated upon to foster a deeper spiritual understanding of her Christian identity. Philippians 6: 1 could be used for this purpose. “He who began a good work in you will carry it onto completion.’

• Step 7: Role reversal

Sarah could be asked to pretend she was mentoring a younger woman with the similar conflict. She had to share her experience and insights about stepping outside of a rigid framework to be able to change and grow with the younger woman.

Conclusion

In a series of three articles, I have shared a part of my journey in becoming a Christian psychologist and how I resolved it. The focus was on the internal conflict that could arise between a Christian identity and a professional identity. The experience of an internal identity crisis often encountered in Christian counseling and therapy. In this article, I have demonstrated the implementation of a therapeutic paradox in helping a person to reframe internal conflict and embrace ambiguity as an opportunity to grow in Christ, rather than a problem to be fixed. This is an excellent and effective intervention supported by numerous examples from the wisdom of Jesus and the life of the apostle Paul. 

Nicolene Joubert is a registered Counselling Psychologist, trauma therapist and educator. She holds a PhD in Psychology (Northwest University) and a Masters degree in Online and Distance Education (Open University UK). She is the founder and head of the Institute of Christian Psychology in South Africa, now the Institute for Christian Practitioners (www.icp.org.za).

She has been a practicing psychologist for 37 years and her fields of specialty includes: Christian spirituality and worldview in the healing process, trauma counselling, bereavement and dealing with loss, family therapy, career counselling, lifespan development and challenges and dealing with chronic or life-threatening illnesses.

She is an associate professor of Christian Psychology and Counseling at Houston Baptist University (HBU), Texas, US. She is also a postgraduate supervisor at the South African Theological Seminary (SATS).

My story of becoming a Christ-centered therapist started in the 1980’s when I was enrolled at a non-Christian university for my master’s degree in counseling psychology. My cohort was small, consisting of only 10 students, because the selection procedures for this program were strict. The day I got the call from the university to say I was selected, I was overjoyed, because I interpreted it as my destiny – predestined by the Triune God who I believed in.

I grew up in a conservative, protestant Christian home, with parents, siblings, and extended family all dedicated to the Christian faith. Thus, the early development of my worldview and self-identity was shaped by a Christian family who confessed the Nicaean creed and Heidelberg Catechism every Sunday in church. I truly believed that my career path was determined by the providence of God and I was destined to become a psychologist and to “… heal the brokenhearted.” (Luke 4: 18).

During the first few months of my master’s studies, I became disillusioned with my career choice, as most of my professors and peers were not Christian. On the contrary, underlying animosity was present and some people openly mocked the idea of praying for a client. Jesus Christ, the Son of God and Savior of mankind, did not feature in their personal or professional lives. This experience stood in sharp contrast to my undergraduate study-experience at a Christian University. It also marked the beginning of an internal identity crisis between my career choice and in-Christ identity, as well as my professional and social identities.  My social identity was further shaped by being newly married and pregnant with my first child. My pregnancy was the result of prayer, as I was told by doctors that I was potentially infertile. In the same period of time, I had to adapt to wifehood, motherhood and a career choice that challenged my Christian beliefs.

The three years of my master’s degree studies, and contending with a non-Christian academic environment, while experiencing the presence of Jesus in an almost tangible way in my personal life, were agonizing. It created severe internal conflict and uncertainty about my professional identity as a psychologist. I did not know how to reconcile the two extremes of atheism and agnosticism in my professional field with my strong Christian beliefs. 

My attempts to find a solution for my spiritual and moral dilemma impelled me to search for a method or approach that could be scientifically sound, and deeply Christ-centered. The search for answers that could be respected in the academic world, but beneficial and edifying to believers, resulted in the development of the concept of 

Biblically-based psychology, later Christian Psychology. It also led to the development of a professional identity that would set Christian psychologists apart as representatives of Christ. It further led to a PhD research study on the development and assessment of a Biblically-based systemic therapy program for a congregation. The findings of this study indicated the positive impact of Christ-centered therapy on the stress levels of participants, family relations and connecting to a community of believers.

The apostle Paul presents the in-Christ identity as a divine gift that supersedes social, ethnic, and cultural identities, emphasizing a new relationship with God and a transformed way of relating to others. Christian psychologists should view their in-Christ identity as a divine gift that supersedes other cultural and social identities, and that should be developed in collaboration and community with other Christian psychologists, counselors and caregivers. In Galatians 2:20, Paul emphasizes the in-Christ identity as he states the following: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” 

A Paul traveled from city to city, he faced an identity crisis between his old self, the Jewish Rabbi who persecuted the followers of Jesus Christ, and his new self, transformed by Jesus during his Damascus experience. After his conversion, he did not only experience a dissonance between his old self and new self on a spiritual level, but he experienced a cultural identity crisis that many people would be able to resonate with.  The crisis stemmed from encounters with old Jewish colleagues (rabbis) and leaders who respected him in the past but now rejected and hated him. Many of his old friends turned into enemies and the townspeople where he preached his messages, Jews and heathen alike, had mixed feelings about his teachings. Even in the churches that he planted, were negative and derogatory words spoken about him. 

Modern psychological research findings show that internal identity conflict could be severe, which would have an impact on the well-being of a person. When both professional and religious identity values are highly salient and central to the core self of the person, the negative effects on psychological well-being are more pronounced.  In secular or humanistic psychology or counseling there is no place for Christ to live in us and be revealed through our professional identity, because this space cannot be shared with a secular system of thought. It leads to severe internal conflict which may have a negative impact on spiritual and psychological well-being.

Current social identity theories cannot resolve this conflict as it is based on a secular value system.  The resolution requires a psychology based on the belief that Christ is our Saviour who lives in us and provides a divine presence in therapy and counseling sessions. Christ-centered therapy offers a solution for professional counselors and caregivers to actively seek and acknowledge the presence of Christ in therapy, while including sound scientific knowledge and skills.

References

Carminati, L.  & YingFei Gao Héliot (2023) Professional and religious identity conflict: individual and organizational dynamics in ethically charged circumstances, Self and Identity, 22:7-8, 1065-1092, DOI: 10.1080/15298868.2023.2248686

Du Toit, P. La G. (2024) ‘Rethinking identity theory in light of the in-Christ identity in the African context’, HTS Teologiese Studies/Theological Studies 80(1), a8914.

Joubert, N. L., Venter, C. A., & Venter, C. J. H. (2004). The development and evaluation of a Biblically-based therapy programme for a congregation. School of Psycho-Social Behavioural Sciences & School of Ecclesiastical Sciences, Potchefstroom Campus, North-West University

Nicolene Joubert is a registered Counselling Psychologist, trauma therapist and educator. She holds a PhD in Psychology (Northwest University) and a Masters degree in Online and Distance Education (Open University UK). She is the founder and head of the Institute of Christian Psychology in South Africa, now the Institute for Christian Practitioners (www.icp.org.za).

She has been a practicing psychologist for 37 years and her fields of specialty includes: Christian spirituality and worldview in the healing process, trauma counselling, bereavement and dealing with loss, family therapy, career counselling, lifespan development and challenges and dealing with chronic or life-threatening illnesses.

She is an associate professor of Christian Psychology and Counseling at Houston Baptist University (HBU), Texas, US. She is also a postgraduate supervisor at the South African Theological Seminary (SATS).