Bob suffers from the “Christians never say no” lie, and it’s a tape a lot of us play and replay every day. I play it too. A woman from our church phoned to ask me to call on a family in our neighborhood who had visited our church recently. The request was appropriate, but my head and heart told me I did not have time to be the one to do it. Since I would have felt guilty saying no, though, I said yes. I’m embarrassed to say that the family’s name and address sat on my desk for two months yelling, “Chris, you said you’d do this!” Guess what? It never got done. By failing to be honest about my priorities and limitations, I said yes when I needed to say no—all because of that faulty tape in my head that says, “A good Christian never says no.”
God calls us to labor on His behalf, to “bear one another’s burdens,” but we are also told that each person is supposed to carry his own load. We are sup posed to do some things to help others, but we are not supposed to do other things. Many of us forget that we can do only our part to meet the needs of others.
We tend to forget that Christ said, “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me. . . . For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”11Christ had the most important job of anyone on the planet, and yet He described His burden as “light.” Amazing! In spite of those words, many of us turn Christianity into something heavy and burdensome by trying to be everything to everybody—a life nobody of sound mind would want to live.
I always think of the story of Mary and Martha when I hear my clients struggling with the “never say no” lie. In her efforts to be the perfect hostess to Jesus, Martha was scrambling all over the place busily preparing things for her important guest. Mary, on the other hand, sat quietly at Christ’s feet, listening to Him and enjoying His presence. Martha, as many of us would, began to gripe to Christ about Mary’s failure to help. “Don’t You care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” she almost shouted at Jesus. She was upset with Mary and with Jesus as well.
Remember Jesus’ answer? “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.”12
I think we can take an important life lesson from this—Christ does not want any of us to be so preoccupied with doing that we fail at being. Martha was getting all the urgent things done; Mary was getting the most important thing done. One woman was frazzled, frustrated, and fed up. The other was calm, cool, and collected.
Bob, a minister of all people, had lost sight of this. He was so busy serving Christ that he had quit sitting at the feet of Christ. He was so busy saying yes to people that he had said no to God. He was so busy helping others that he failed to appropriately help himself. The warning signs that something was wrong were everywhere, and Bob was starting to notice.
“You know, you said something interesting that I think explains why you are depressed and feel that you can’t keep going,” I suggested.
“Really? What was it?” he asked.
“You said you thought that you needed running shoes to keep up with everything at work. That’s a pretty insightful thing for you to say,” I said, trying to affirm him.
“Well, that is exactly how I feel. I run from one thing to another to another, and it never slows down. I am absolutely exhausted by the end of the day! I can’t keep going like this,” he admitted.
“You know, I don’t remember the Bible ever saying that Christ ran anywhere, do you?”
“What do you mean?” Bob asked.
“Oh, I think you know what I mean,” I replied.
“Christ was never in a hurry, right?” he acknowledged.
“You tell me. You’re the theologian,” I responded jokingly.
“Okay, Shrink, I get it. I’m running around wiping myself out all in the name of the Lord as if I have to be everything to everybody. I think that I need running shoes because I’m too busy.”
“Hey, pal, you’d make a pretty good client. Yes, you are too busy and burned out because of it. You are acting like Martha when you need to be more like Mary,” I suggested.
“You aren’t telling me I need to get in touch with my ‘feminine’ side, are you?” Bob said, showing he could be a funny guy too.
“No, but I am telling you that unless you slow down, start saying no to people, and quit carrying the whole world on your shoulders, you will never make it as a pastor. It is time to rest and balance your life whether you want to or not and whether your church members like it or not,” I challenged him, knowing that this would be easier said than done for Bob.
“Can you write me some ‘doctor’s orders’ so that I can show my church that you told me to do this?” he replied with a laugh.
“Gladly.”
There is no magic formula for when to say yes and when to say no in life. I wish there was one. Deciding which to say requires the wisdom of Solomon at times. That is why we need to wear our knees out praying to God for help to make the right decision. The point here is that you are not supposed to say yes to every request, however legitimate it may be. Christ didn’t always say yes. He didn’t meet every need that He saw. He didn’t try to please everybody. As a result, His burden was light. He never ran.
Are you running? Are you always in a hurry? Are you carrying more than your load because you believe the lie that a good Christian never says no? Learn to say no. Take off your running shoes.
“A Good Christian Doesn’t Feel Angry, Anxious, or Depressed.”
Imagine, if you will, that you are crossing a street and a car comes barreling out of nowhere, right at you. At that moment, you experience a strong fight-or flight reaction. Your body gets a surge of adrenaline, your pupils dilate, your breathing becomes shallow, and your muscles tense. Emotionally, you feel extremely anxious as you dive to get out of the way. At that moment, would you say that your faith in God is weak?
Now imagine again. Your phone rings, and you pick it up to hear your best friend’s spouse crying on the other end of the line. He has called to let you know that your best friend of twenty-five years was killed in a head-on car accident that morning. You immediately feel overwhelmed with sadness and grief, and you hang up the phone feeling more depressed than you have ever felt in your life. At that moment, would you say that your faith in God is weak?
Now imagine one more time. You come home after a long day at work, open the front door, and step inside to find that your home has been burglarized. Everything is turned upside down, numerous things are broken, and many costly items have been stolen. You feel angry. At that moment, would you say that your faith in God is weak?
I ask you these questions because many Christians suffer from another lie. It is the lie that anytime you have a negative or painful emotion about something, you are automatically sinning and showing that your faith in God is weak. In other words, if you ever feel anxious, depressed, or angry, you are messing up and lacking faith.
Malarkey!
God made us emotional beings, and He gave us a broad range of emotions to feel. Some of the emotions are the ones we like—peaceful, joyful, content, and happy. But He also gave us emotions that we don’t like to feel that much—angry, sad, depressed, and anxious. They all come in the same package, and you really can’t have the “good” ones unless you are willing to also have the “bad” ones.
In certain homes and churches, however, the message you get is that if you are feeling negative emotions, something is wrong with you. If you feel angry, there must be some sin in your life. If you are depressed about something, you must be lacking faith. If you feel anxious, you better have more faith and get your act together. In especially unhealthy churches and homes, these emotions are trained right out of us, and the only ones we are allowed to feel are the ones that others don’t feel threatened by.
The belief that we shouldn’t feel painful emotions often results in “stuffing.” Stuffing is taking what we feel and supp
ressing it so that we don’t feel it. The feelings don’t really go away, though. They may stay buried awhile, but they are ready to come out when we tire of the effort expended to keep them stuffed or some kind of external crisis triggers them. Ultimately, when too many feelings get stuffed, there are two bad results. One is a very depressed, withdrawn, and hopeless person. The other is a person who, after stuffing for too long, erupts like Mount Saint Helens and is very hostile, enraged, and aggressive.
Well-meaning Christians can actually encourage us to stuff if they aren’t careful. Maybe they can’t handle seeing us in pain, so they try to make it go away. Or maybe they don’t think we ought to be in pain. Whatever is motivating their actions, they can end up offering us platitudes like these:
• “You needn’t be depressed. God hasn’t forgotten you. Cheer up!”
• “It must be God’s will, so be happy. Everything will work out.”
• “If you really trusted in God, you wouldn’t be feeling so angry.”
• “Why are you feeling anxious? God is still in control!”
Well, God hasn’t forgotten us, but that doesn’t mean some things aren’t worth getting depressed about. Yes, it may be God’s will that a certain thing happened, but that doesn’t mean we have to be happy about it. Even if we trust God, there are things worth getting angry about. And, yes, God is in control, but if someone is walking toward me with a menacing look on his face and a gun in his hand, I am going to feel anxious. The point here is that some events are worth being troubled about, and becoming troubled about them doesn’t mean we are mentally ill or lack faith in God.
I get quite a few “stuffers” in my office. They come to me because they have stuffed so long, they are emotionally sick from it. Ann, who was in her forties, was a perfect example. She sat on my couch and nervously nibbled away at her fingernails for the first few minutes of every visit.
“Ann,” I would finally say, “how are you doing?”
Usually, she told me small things, never much about the real reason she’d finally come to me—that she had been diagnosed with cancer. She’d felt anxious, depressed, even angry, since being diagnosed, but she had put a happy face on it and acted as if everything was fine. But during one of our sessions, she cut straight through her smaller concerns to the heart of her problem. She acknowledged that having cancer had turned her life upside down, but as a Christian, she felt that she should “count it all joy” and “be anxious for nothing” and not be upset about it.
“Ann, there’s nothing wrong with feeling angry and sad and scared about having cancer,” I countered.
“If I really trust God, I don’t think I should feel those things,” she replied.
“Ann, we are wired by God to feel strong emotions in the face of serious situations like the one you are in,” I said quietly. “Allowing yourself to be sad about having cancer is healthy. Letting yourself feel angry about it is good. Being scared about what is to come is normal.”
“As a Christian, I’m supposed to be thankful about everything, joyful about everything. Isn’t that right?” she asked.
“Well, yes, even in the worst circumstances there are still things to be thankful for and joyful about. But you seem to have taken that to mean that it isn’t okay to feel troubled at the same time.”
She crossed her hands in her lap and looked at me. “Are you saying you can feel upset about something and still be thankful and joyful?”
“Yes, although that is no easy trick.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem right to feel angry or sad and thankful at the same time,” she admitted.
“It isn’t easy, but it is possible. Look, Ann, when Christ was here, did He react with strong emotions to things?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Did He always react with ‘positive’ emotions to things?”
“No, I don’t guess He did.”
“So, what does that tell you?”
“That it must be okay to feel upset.”
“Do you think Christ was able to be sad or angry or hurt and still be content and thankful and even joyful?”
“I guess.”
“Okay, so here is the lesson: ‘A Christian can feel painful emotions and still be thankful, even joyful.’ How does that sound?”
“Well, it sounds good, but . . .”
If painful emotions are a sign of a weak faith, then how do we account for the times Christ expressed strong, painful emotions? He wept when Lazarus died. As He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, He told His disciples, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.”13He shouted and overthrew tables when He was angry with the money changers in the temple. Pretty strong emotions, wouldn’t you say? If strong, painful emotions are a sign that you are immature, mentally ill, and faithless, then Christ must have been all three.
Now, allow me to speak out of the other side of my mouth. While it is good and healthy to feel sad, angry, and anxious at times, it is also true that we sometimes (oftentimes?) have versions of these emotions that may very well suggest that we are immature, are emotionally unhealthy, and possess a weak faith. How can we tell the difference? Let me suggest that you ask yourself three questions: How often do I feel these emotions? How intense are these emotions when I feel them? How long do these emotions last in me?
Painful emotions that show up frequently should make us question what’s going on. For example, some Christians are anxious all the time, regardless of the circumstances. Such chronic anxiety reflects a lack of mature faith in the fact that God does control the universe and that He will never allow us to have problems too big for us to handle with His help. Painful feelings that occur too frequently are a warning signal that you have a problem.
Emotions that are overwhelmingly intense may be a sign of psychological problems and an immature faith that needs tending to. If I lose my job and become so intensely depressed that I cannot function, I probably do not really believe that God is in control and has the ability to help me find a new job. Emotions that are so intense you can’t function normally are a warning signal that you have a problem.
Painful emotions that last too long may signal psychological and spiritual problems. If we stay anxious, depressed, or angry about an event for, let’s say, three years, we probably need some help. I can’t tell you exactly how long you should feel a certain emotion—no one can. How long, for example, should someone be deeply grieved over the death of a loved one? I don’t know. But most of us have an internal timer on these matters that tells us when it’s time to move on, and listening to that clock is wise. Emotions that stick around too long are a sign you’ve got problems.
“Ann, your feelings about being diagnosed with cancer are strong and painful, and they should be. Stuffing them isn’t going to do anything but cause you more pain,” I suggested.
“So, letting all this out is okay? I don’t have to feel that I am some kind of horrible person or that my faith in God is weak?”
“No, of course not. If Christ wept, you should weep. If He got angry, you should get angry. If He felt sad, you should feel sad. Where we do have to be careful is that we are sad, angry, and grieved over the right things. Sometimes we weep or get angry over things that don’t warrant it.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Well,” I replied jokingly, “sometimes I feel like weeping over the Texas Longhorns losing a football game, or I feel really angry over being out of milk when I was really looking forward to having some with my favorite cookies.”
Ann laughed, one of the few times she did so in our sessions. “I get it. Some situations don’t warrant certain reactions.”
“Right. As another example, it would be inappropriate to be happy about someone falling down a flight of stairs. That would be the wrong emotion for that situation. That’s one issue. The second issue here is that even when we feel the appropriate emotion toward something, we may feel it too strongly or too often, or it may last too long. It would be appropriate to feel sad
over being laid off a job you love, but if you become clinically depressed and can’t function for the next ten years, you have gone too far.”
“So, even when you are appropriately feeling angry or sad about something, you still have to be careful not to become overly hysterical about it all,” she acknowledged.
“You got it. And in the case of your diagnosis of cancer, I would say that warrants some pretty strong feelings, don’t you?”
“Yes, I guess so. What you are saying makes sense. Maybe I do need to let myself feel some things about having cancer that I have been keeping stuffed down inside.”
Ann did “get it” and was able to let herself cry about having cancer, feel angry that it had happened, and be appropriately scared about what the surgeries and chemotherapy would involve. As a result, she faced her cancer as a much healthier person emotionally, and I believe that was a significant factor in the success of her treatments.
Feel sad. Feel happy. Feel angry. Feel peaceful. Feel depressed. Feel content. Feel grieved. Feel joyful. Feel scared. Feel!
“God Can’t Use Me Unless I’m Spiritually Strong.”
I want to conclude this chapter with a short discussion about a very widespread lie. As a college student, I remember playing this tape over and over. I would want to tell friends about Christ, but I felt my life was such a mess that God wouldn’t want to use me. I was convinced people would look at my life and say, “Hey, you aren’t any great shakes of a human being. Why should I listen to you?” Even today, I’d love to tell some close friends about God, but I find myself still playing that same old tape in my head: How can I tell them about God if my life doesn’t show shining proof of all I’m talking about?
Yet one of Christianity’s paradoxes is that through our weaknesses, God can show His power. Through our imperfections, He can be glorified. Through our sin, God can show that He is God. God has chosen to implement His plans through very flawed people, and He wants to use us even if we are not as together as we should be.
The Lies We Believe Page 13