Tag: Mental Health

A Double Dose of Psychedelics Content

I’m trying to balance my focus on the psychedelics movement with writing and content that covers a far broader array of topics (AKA my interests!). But this last week, the stars aligned for there to be a strong focus on the topic of psychedelics, with my first TGC (USA) article being released as well as a podcast conversation with the fine folks at What Would Jesus Tech (WWJT). Here’s a direct link to the YouTube version of the WWJT episode. I think they did a pretty good job with the podcast episode thumbnail image:

I wish I could say the same for the TGC article. The image they chose is a little creepy! Hah, oh well.

Many thanks to the hosts of WWJT for having me on and having such good questions. I really enjoyed our conversation. They are a legit podcast with some really legit and impressive guests. If you are a Christian interested in how technology (in all its manifestations) intersects with the faith, you need to check them out.

The TGC article, called “The Psychedelic Renaissance: A Story of Hype and Hubris,” is an “explainer” kind of essay where I try to inform the reader about this large and complex topic, but with an editorial twist where I render a verdict about the psychedelic movement in general. There is certainly some overlap with the article my late-2023 article at Mere Orthodoxy, but this recent one delves more deeply into the current state of the research and especially into the increasingly visible network of activists and funders who are pulling the strings behind the scenes of the public-facing pro-psychedelics movement. Here is how I conclude the first section of the article, which deals with this:

One thing ought to be clear: It simply isn’t the case that disinterested scientists have stumbled on surprising cures for mental health problems. Rather, advocates already committed to the promise of psychedelic therapies, usually bundled with New Age spiritual beliefs, have patiently pursued a strategy to build a veneer of scientific, medical respectability for their agenda.

This state of affairs makes it difficult for the public (and regulators) to parse the data and evaluate possible legitimate medical applications of these substances. It may be many years before those assessments can be made confidently, but that won’t stop a growing number of people from trying psychedelics for themselves.

One way I’ve started thinking about how Christians ought to respond to the psychedelics movement with with a dual response: one at low-resolution and a second one at higher-resolution. (I go into this idea a bit in response to some really thoughtful questions in the WWJT episode.) Here’s what I mean: the low Christian resolution response to the pro-psychedelics movement in general should be a giant waving red flag. In the article, I try to get this across with the following sentence: “The hype of healing will not ultimately deliver on its promises, and the hubris of spiritual exploration outside of Christ will expose many to unbiblical ideas and even demonic spiritual forces.”

That’s the first and most important thing for the church to get clear on, in my humble opinion. But there is a second, higher resolution response that is also legitimate. It has to do with a more narrow discussion about possible legitimate medical uses of psychedelic compounds for the treatment of specific issues such as PTSD, some forms of addiction, etc. This is separate from all discussion of spiritual or recreational uses, which are out of bounds if one takes the Scriptures as inerrant and authoritative.

I am still thinking through some of the nuances of this more narrow question about possible valid uses of these compounds in certain medical cases. The best treatment of the question I’ve come across so far is a journal article by Thomas Carroll, a Catholic medical doctor. He argues, convincingly in my view, that the specific problem with psychedelics is the mystical experience it generates for the user. This is what makes psychedelics unlike other substances, and why they rightly exist in a class of their own. Further, he argues that since Christians have a category for legitimate mystical experiences that are given by God, and since it has never been the teaching of the church that Christians ought to try and contrive these experiences themselves, that it is therefore illicit for Christians to intentionally take these substances for the purposes of some kind of therapy where the mechanism of healing is bound up with the mystical experience itself.

However, these substances have effects other than just the mystical experience. They make one more suggestible and they interrupt some of our deeply ingrained patterns of thinking; both of these effects have the potential to be powerful aids when coupled with wise counseling. There is indeed a little-known branch of psychedelic therapy known as psycholytic therapy (PLT) and it specifically focuses on using small doses in conjunction with talk therapy to work through problems. This approach has been eclipsed in recent years by the big push for and major coverage of psychedelic-assisted therapy (PAT).

Carroll’s article basically concludes that, since the mystical experience is the very mechanism by which psychedelic-assisted therapy functions, it should be considered illicit for Christians, but that participation in psycholytic therapy should be considered a question of personal conscience. This seems right to me, and it’s where I am landing at the moment.

A friend of mine sees this very similarly but takes a slightly different and more open position: he believes that a Christian could partake of psychedelic-assisted therapy as long as he regarded the mystical experience as a negative side-effect to be endured, a bug rather than a feature. This is very different from the general approach to psychedelic therapy, and although I’m not there myself, I don’t think it’s an unreasonable position for a Christian to take. My concern with it is how it actually plays out in practice. How do pastors counsel their church member to go through with this kind of therapy for their PTSD? How does one handle the possibility that despite going into it with the idea that I won’t place my hope in or even lend credence to this mystical experience, it ends up being so profound and powerful that I can’t help it? To me it seems to leave a door open that I think should remain shut.

That’s all for now. As always, thanks for reading and following.

Spurgeon’s Sorrows and Our Own

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, the famous 19th-century British Baptist preacher, is known for his booming voice, eloquence, and nearly-perfect memory. However, he has not generally been known for his long bouts of deep depression and despondence. This book seeks to bring balance to our view of Spurgeon, but it also manages to do a lot more, since it is not really a biography. It is not really a work of practical theology or advice for Christian living, either. It doesn’t fit neatly into any of these categories, and yet it is powerful and memorable.

At only 144 pages, it is a quick and edifying read.

Perhaps the best category for it is what we call retrieval: A modern writer, Zack Eswine, has immersed himself in the works of a historical figure and seeks to ‘translate’ it for a modern audience, to take the crucial insights and strengths of that older teaching and make it available for the present day. This is wonderful because most Christians, sadly, aren’t going to pick up a collection of Spurgeon’s sermons, or books by the early church fathers – not even short ones with an introduction by C.S. Lewis! And I can understand why. The linguistic and cultural gap is usually too great, requiring too much effort.

But if we are ignorant of the past, we are impoverished, cut off from the rich heritage of time-tested truths, and also far more vulnerable to the lies and half-truths embedded in the culture of our own day and age. This is why I am so glad to see so many publishers engaging in the selective reprinting of worthy and edifying classics.

Why did I love this book? It beautifully captures the merciful heart of God towards sufferers of depression and melancholy. You sometimes can get the sense that Christians from other ages were all made of granite and would have told the depressed to repent of their sadness. But Spurgeon does not even begin to fit this caricature. In fact, the more I read the writings of Christian leaders in centuries past the less this caricature seems to fit at all. This book helped me to be more merciful to those going through depression, and wiser in how I try to help.

It should come as no surprise that Spurgeon did not use the medicalized language of our modern time. He was not speaking in terms of “clinical depression,” although I think everything he said could be applied to the experiences we now label thus as well as all the other conditions of heart and mind he meant to cover: sadness, sorrow, despondency, melancholy, discouragement, and so on.

The road to sorrow has been well trodden, it is the regular sheep track to heaven, and all the flock of God have had to pass along it.

Especially judge not the sons and daughters of sorrow. Allow no ungenerous suspicions of the afflicted, the poor, and the despondent. Do not hastily say they ought to be more brave, and exhibit a greater faith. Ask not – “why are they so nervous, and so absurdly fearful?” No… I beseech you, remember that you understand not your fellow man.

Time for some highlights. Chapter 7 is titled “Help that Harms” and in it there is a small section called “Why We Are Harsh with Sufferers.” Allow me just to list the four items which the author expands upon:

  1. We judge others according to our circumstances rather than theirs.
  2. We still think that trite sayings or a raised voice can heal deep wounds.
  3. We try to control what should be rather than surrender to what is.
  4. We resist humility regarding our own lack of experience.

Whew. As someone who has failed on all these points to some degree, that is convicting but helpful. Some more quotes from the book:

“The mind can descend far lower than the body, for in it there are bottomless pits. The flesh can bear only a certain number of wounds and no more, but the soul can bleed in ten thousand ways, and die over and over again each hour.”

“But isn’t following Jesus supposed to change all of this? Isn’t Jesus supposed to heal our diseases? Many of us feel that if we were more true to Jesus we wouldn’t struggle this way. Others actually tell us earnestly that our salvation in Jesus is threatened and put into question. But just as a man with asthma or a woman born mute will likely remain this way even though they love Jesus, so our mental disorders and melancholy inclinations often remain with us too. Conversion to Jesus isn’t heaven, but [a foretaste of it]… Christian faith on earth is neither as escape nor heaven.”

“It has long been recognized that a spirituality focused only on sunshine, positive thinking, immediacy and quick-fix Bible quoting ‘breaks down impotently as soon as melancholy comes.'”

“It is here, when dealing with spiritual depression, that Charles takes a marked turn in his usually gentle approach as a caregiver and sufferer. Many circumstantial, biological, and spiritual pains outlast our abilities to control them or understand them. But, when we face this ancient foe, the devil, there remains only one thing we can and must do. ‘Fight!'”

“Six years prior to his death, as he looked back over his life, he startles us with his perspective regarding the use of suffering to do good in life. ‘I am sure that I have run more swiftly with a lame leg than I ever did with a sound one. I am certain that I have seen more in the dark than ever I saw in the light-more stars, most certainly-more things in heaven if fewer things on earth. The anvil, the fire, and the hammer, are the making of us: we do not get fashioned much by anything else. That heavy hammer falling on us helps to shape us; therefore let affliction and trouble and trial come.'”

Zack Eswine has written a wonderful little book that captures the merciful heart of God towards sufferers of depression and melancholy. He accomplishes this by exploring the life and teaching of Charles Spurgeon, that great preacher of the 19th century. Spurgeon was a remarkable man in many ways, but perhaps none more surprising than his deep understanding of human suffering, especially mental anguish.

My experience reading this book reminded me of how it felt to read Richard Sibbes’ The Bruised Reed and Thomas Goodwin’s The Heart of Christ. And since Spurgeon was steeped in the Puritans, perhaps that is no accident. These works all capture the lamb-like tenderhearted mercy of God to the weary, sad, and low.

Therefore I recommend this book highly to anyone struggling with depression and also to anyone in ministry (especially if you have never experienced depression). We who would speak for God better make sure we understand His heart towards the weak and struggling, and better still, to so meditate on that heart that it becomes our own.