In 2015, I was in Atlanta sitting in an arena attending a youth conference doing what I thought I was supposed to do as an “on fire,” Jesus-loving college student. I scrunched my 6’4” body between my seat and the row in front of me to land on my knees and beg God to deliver me from a number of issues in my life that I couldn’t get to go away: a pornography addiction, undiagnosed depression, fear, and a few problematic relational patterns.

I’m not sure if it was the fog-filled arena, the emotional high I was on from the tune of the famous worship band or seeing the tears of all my friends. Regardless, I left convinced I was delivered. At least from some struggles. 

But those struggles, those lies from the enemy, were back within weeks.

I felt defeated. I wish I could say this night at a worship conference was a permanent solution to my struggles, but it wasn’t. I asked God daily for deliverance from my common struggles as a human instead of inviting Him into those struggles. Sometimes it worked and I struggled less, but most days I felt defeated. 

I assumed fear and anxiety were evidence of a lack of faith. I thought depression was the devil’s hold on you, and mental health struggles were moral failures that you must rid yourself of, or after your failed attempts, ask God to do it for you. 

The Problem with “Just Pray It Away”

Today, I’m a licensed therapist who sits with people carrying similar stories. In most cases, when someone you care about is struggling with anxiety or depression, even with the best intentions, telling them they just need to be “delivered in Jesus’ name” turns out to be very unhelpful. 

I know the heart behind this sentiment. If you’ve said something like this before, I’m not here to shame you. You may have wanted to see someone you love experience freedom from their pain. But those words often land like a brick on a heavy heart. 

Anxiety and depression aren’t demons hiding in your chest. These struggles are not proof that faith has failed. More often than not, they’re the body’s honest response to the ache of being human in a broken world. 

As a therapist, I sit with people in the middle of that ache every day. The suffering that lingers the longest isn’t always caused by the anxiety itself — it’s caused by the individual’s response to it. While carrying shame and panic, they say, “I shouldn’t feel this way.” They hold fear that God is disappointed with them. 

When we start to believe our nervous system is in rebellion against God, we end up fighting with our own body instead of listening to what it’s trying to tell us. That leads to disconnection and disease. 

What If We’ve Got the “Enemy” Wrong?

In my office, I often describe emotions as messengers or guides. There are parts within our bodies that carry information from point A to point B to live. But anxiety might say, “You’re carrying too much. Or there’s a real threat present.” Depression might whisper, “You’ve been disconnected from what gives you life and you need a break from this character you’re trying to play.” We, or those struggling with anxiety or depression, often silence these messages as enemies and bypass the pain. 

We encourage people struggling to pray harder, memorize more Scripture, and distract with improved spiritual performance. Despite those responses, they still feel anxious, exhausted, or burdened by shame.

What if these uncomfortable feelings and mental health struggles aren’t the enemy?

Our Emotions Aren’t Enemies

When we listen to our emotions instead of fighting them, we often find a younger part of our selves who is scared, overwhelmed, and longing to be seen.

Someone struggling with anxiety or depression may need to be reconnected to that younger part of themselves. As a trusted loved one, you can help bear the weight of their suffering, remind them they’re not alone, and reflect God’s presence in the middle of their pain. You can offer that younger self safety, truth, compassion, love, and patience — the “daily bread” of Jesus’ real presence in our pains and trials. 

How to Really Love Someone Who’s Struggling

If you know of a friend, significant other, sibling, or loved one dealing with anxiety or depression, it can be helpful to know what they need from you.  

Stop treating their struggle as a merely spiritual failure.

Your friend’s panic attacks aren’t evidence that they don’t have enough faith. Their depression isn’t proof that the devil has a hold on them. Their struggle is evidence of the human condition and life in a broken world. When you treat mental health like a demon to be cast out, you’re adding shame to an already overwhelming burden and missing a chance to approach them with a posture that is compassionate, kind, curious, and encouraging. 

Learn to sit with discomfort.

When I was talking about this concept once, someone responded with something that was so good I had to write it down. “When we respond to people’s struggles with clichés, we push them deeper into shame and isolation,” they said. “Spiritual bypassing reveals our discomfort with emotions and that we have not processed our own stuff with God. We don’t know how to sit with our own discomfort, so we aren’t able to be present with others in theirs.” The easiest thing you can offer someone isn’t a quick fix or a Bible verse as a Band-Aid. It’s your unconditional presence and willingness to sit in the tension with them.

Listen more than you speak.

When someone opens up about their mental health, they’re not always asking for advice. They’re often looking for presence and to be heard. Instead of jumping to solutions or spiritual prescriptions, try asking questions. “What does this feel like for you?” “What do you need right now?” “How can I support you?” 

Encourage professional help without shame.

Therapy isn’t a sign of weak faith. Medication isn’t giving up on God. These are tools that God can use to bring healing. If someone you love is struggling, encourage them to talk to a mental health professional or a primary doctor. Offer to find resources. Drive them to appointments. Remind them that seeking help is an act of courage, not defeat.

Remember that healing isn’t linear.

This person you know might have good days and bad days. They might make progress one day, and the next, struggle. Healing is a daily posture of surrender rather than a one-time deliverance. God can set people free, but when that doesn’t happen in the way someone expects it to, it doesn’t equate to failure. It proves endurance. Don’t give up on them if they’re not “fixed” on your timeline. Keep showing up. Keep checking in. Keep being a safe person for them. 

An Honest Faith

Jesus never rebuked His own sorrow. While sitting in the garden of Gethsemane, He said, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Mark 14:34, NIV). 

The psalmists didn’t hide their despair, they sang it in a way that was honest and authentic to them. 

Nowhere in Scripture do we read God saying, “Come to Me once you’ve calmed down.” We read Him saying, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, NIV).

When He says “all,” He means all people, but also all parts of us. Even the parts we don’t like and wish weren’t there. God is with us — in the body that trembles, in the mind that races, and in the heart that aches.

The Invitation

To your loved one who faces anxiety or depression, encourage with, “You don’t need deliverance from your humanity, you need permission to be human, fully, honestly, and still deeply loved — and I’m here for you.”

To those reading this and find themselves struggling with anxiety or depression, maybe the invitation isn’t to cast the anxiety out. Maybe it’s to sit with it long enough to hear what it’s asking for. Trust that God will meet you there with enough bread for today. Healing looks like learning to stop treating our emotions as enemies of faith, and instead, start trusting that God can hold what overwhelms us. 

The most Christlike things we can do for someone struggling with their mental health is to love them right where they are and to remind them that their worth isn’t tied to their wellness and that even in the darkest valley, they’re not walking alone.

That’s the kind of love that heals.

This article was originally titled “Love That Heals” in the May 2026 issue of Peer.