I’ve been a Christian all my life, and I’ve heard some version of these words more times than I can count:

“Just pray about it.”

“Jesus is enough.”

“Have more faith.”

“Don’t claim that.”

“Jesus is bigger than whatever you’re going through.”

And listen, I believe those things.

I believe in the power of prayer. I believe Jesus is enough. I believe God still heals, delivers, restores, and makes all things new.

But I also think sometimes, in our effort to point people toward Jesus, we miss the mark when it comes to empathy.

Sometimes people don’t need another reminder that God is good.

Sometimes they need someone to sit beside them in the middle of the mess.

And sometimes, they need therapy.

Not because therapy is their savior.

Not because their therapist can do what only Jesus can do.

But because therapy can be a healthy and necessary tool in the process of healing.

I think we need balance.

You can’t make therapy your god, but you also can’t assume that every struggle needs to be prayed away.

Sometimes, “just pray about it” can keep you landlocked when God is also inviting you to do the work.

Six years ago, I began battling depression.

And it got bad.

Bad enough that it affected my work, my relationships, the people around me, and honestly, I didn’t feel like myself anymore.

I prayed, I sought the Lord., I asked God for help, I believed He could heal me.

But I eventually had to admit something that was difficult for me to say out loud:

I wasn’t equipped to work through everything I was carrying on my own.

And that’s where therapy came in.

Growing up, I was taught that therapy was something you didn’t talk about. That going to therapy meant something was wrong with you. That it made you look crazy or like you didn’t have your life together.

So, naturally, I was afraid to go.

I didn’t want people to think I was broken.

The irony is that I was already broken in places I didn’t know how to name.

My life was riddled with unforgiveness, pain, hurt, fear, and wounds I had learned to carry so well that I almost forgot they were there.

It felt like I was walking around with a weight on me that I couldn’t figure out how to put down.

With the help of a dear friend, I found a therapist.

And six years later, I can honestly say that going to therapy was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Not because my therapist was my savior.

Jesus is my Savior.

But my therapist helped me walk through things I didn’t have the language for.

She helped me recognize patterns I couldn’t see on my own. She helped me take accountability for the ways I needed to change. She created a space where I could be honest about some of the deepest and darkest parts of myself without judgment or ridicule.

It was a safe place to say the things I was afraid to say everywhere else.

And that, in and of itself, was healing.

I hear people say all the time, “Therapy doesn’t work unless you do.”

And I think there’s a lot of truth in that.

Because therapy required me to work.

I had to take accountability.

I had to dig up the roots of things that had me bound.

I had to confront my fears.

I had to face the ways I had been hurt and the ways I had hurt other people.

I had to learn what forgiveness actually looked like.

I even had to learn how to love people who had wronged me when everything in me wanted to hold on to the offense.

Therapy didn’t do that work for me.

It helped me learn how to do the work.

And through all of it, I never stopped loving Jesus.

I never stopped believing in His healing power.

If anything, therapy gave me language and tools to walk out the things I was praying about.

And maybe that’s where we sometimes get the balance wrong.

Sometimes we lean so heavily on therapy that we forget where our ultimate hope comes from.

But sometimes we lean so heavily on prayer that we avoid the accountability, forgiveness, boundaries, self-reflection, and difficult work that healing may require.

I don’t believe those things have to compete.

I actually think there can be a beautiful synergy between faith and therapy.

Jesus is Lord of my life.

Therapy wasn’t a replacement for Him.

It was a tool God used to help me confront the things that were keeping me from living the life He was calling me to.

And that brings me to something else I’ve been thinking about:

How can we, as Christians, become safer places for the people around us?

Because during my depression, and during some of the darkest seasons of my life, I heard a lot of things like:

“You’ll be alright.”

“God’s got it.”

“Just have faith.”

“Keep praying.”

And I know those words were usually spoken with good intentions.

But if I’m honest, sometimes those were the worst things someone could say to me.

Not because they were untrue.

But because I already knew them.

When you’re drowning in depression, confusion, grief, fear, or pain, you don’t necessarily need someone to repeat the things you already believe.

Sometimes you need a friend.

Sometimes you need someone to sit with you.

Sometimes you need someone to say, “I don’t know how to fix this, but I’m not leaving you alone in it.”

Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do for someone is simply be present.

I think sometimes we see someone in a dark place and immediately start trying to pull them out.

We want to give them the Scripture.

Give them the answer.

Give them the solution.

Give them the encouragement.

But what if, sometimes, they don’t need us to pull them out?

What if they just need us to sit with them until they can see the light again?

There is a time for prayer.

There is a time for encouragement.

There is a time for Scripture.

And there is absolutely a time for professional help.

But there is also a time to simply be a safe person.

A person who listens without judgment.

A person who doesn’t make someone feel ashamed for struggling.

A person who knows that someone can love Jesus deeply and still need help.

So, if you’re reading this and you’re battling something hard and deep, I want you to know this:

Therapy is okay.

Asking for help is okay.

Needing support is okay.

You don’t have to choose between your faith and getting help.

Just remember who your God is.

And if you’re not the one battling right now, but you know someone who is, be the safe place.

Don’t always try to fix them.

Don’t make them prove their faith to you.

Don’t assume their struggle means they aren’t praying enough.

Sit with them.

Listen to them.

Love them.

And when necessary, help them find the professional help they need.

Because sometimes healing looks like a miracle.

Sometimes it looks like prayer.

Sometimes it looks like repentance and forgiveness.

Sometimes it looks like hard conversations and accountability.

And sometimes, it looks like sitting across from a therapist and finally saying the thing you’ve been too afraid to say out loud.

I still believe Jesus heals.

I still believe He is enough.

And I also believe He can use people, wisdom, community, and even therapy as part of the process.

Maybe the goal isn’t choosing between Jesus and therapy.

Maybe the goal is remembering that Jesus is the Savior, and therapy can be one of the tools He uses along the way.

- ASH

To Kim West:

Thank you for the excellence, care, and heart you bring to your work. I’ve often joked that you only listen to me because I pay you...ha! But underneath that joke is a deep appreciation for the connection we’ve built and how meaningful our time together has been.

Thank you for being someone I could trust with my deepest concerns, my secrets, and the parts of myself that weren’t easy to share. You’ve helped me feel seen, challenged me to grow, and been a light pointing me toward a better direction.

I will forever be grateful for the way you’ve poured into my life. I pray that God blesses you beyond anything you could imagine and that you feel the same care and kindness you so freely give to others.

You are golden, and today I’m giving you your flowers. Your work matters, and so do you. 💛