This is part 3 of a 3 part series. You can find part 1 and part 2 here: Part 1 Part 2

(Originally published on March 7, 2016)

Practicing Priesthood

In the previous posts in this series, we looked at the need to set the culture in regards to depression, as well as provide training for the church. Now we come to the third aspect to consider, namely, we are a royal priesthood and are called to act as priests toward one another (1 Pet. 2:9). These are the trenches of one-anothering. Our maturing and training is lived out within a culture for the purpose of aiding one another in growth. A person struggling with depression feels isolated and alone. They scream out into the darkness, “Why?!” not, “How?!” He or she is not looking for steps but for meaning. We can easily err in this priestly role and try to be engineers—dealing symptomatically to restore normalcy. In walking with someone who suffers with depression, the priest seeks to help with the deeper struggle.

Recently Jennifer (not her real name), who battles depression, told me that, “It feels like I can’t live, but I can’t die either. My heart is continually ripped out over and over again.” Such words echo Bunyan’s Giant Despair in The Pilgrim’s Progress, “Why should you choose life, seeing it is accompanied by so much bitterness?” The Proverbs tell us that, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick” (Pro. 13:12). Such hearts need voices of hope, to speak into their pain. In endeavoring to impart hope, we must ensure that the hope we impart is Gospel hope.

We can easily impart false or trite hopes in an effort to lighten spirits. Gospel hope, however, is the sustaining wind that carries us through the storm to our desired haven (Psalm 107:30).

Below are four different ways we can seek to unveil this hope:

Befriending

Just this week, I spoke with Edward (not his real name) whose neighbour committed suicide. Edward, oblivious to his neighbour’s depression, assumed his neighbour was simply avoiding relationship. While he may have been avoiding relationship, it was expressive of his isolation. But the greater our suffering, the greater will be our sense of feeling alone. Hope says, “You are not alone.” “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity” (Pro 17:17). Befriending one who suffers, brings Christ near to them through his Body. God said he would never leave us nor forsake us (Deut 31:6). He declares us His friends (John 15:15). We can model the hope of God’s presence in befriending those struggling with depression.

Remembering

Second, when we remember people, it tells them that, even though we are out of sight, they are still in mind. In Ed Welch’s book, Side by Side, he says, “If we are affected by someone’s suffering, we will remember it, which is one of the great gifts that we give to each other” (pg. 103). The Apostle Paul certainly communicated this in his prayers for the church, “I always remember you in my prayers” (I Tim 1:3, see also Eph 1:16; Phil 1:4). Remembering communicates,“You matter.” It is certainly true that we are created for a purpose, and we are meant to be shaped by one another (Pro 27:17). Remembering brings solidarity, and there is beauty in solidarity, “Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them… since you also are in the body” (Heb 13:3).

Sufferers of depression often feel that they are incapable of expressing their anguish. Our remembering their anguish says that at some level, “I feel your pain.” Knowing another feels their pain helps unbolt the doors of solitude. This too is a reminder that we have a high priest who can, “Sympathize with our weaknesses” (Heb 4:15). The fact that weaknesses is plural means we cannot exclude a category of weakness (such as depression), from Christ’s sympathies.

Grace Hunting

Third, as we enter into their pain, we obtain a new vantage point. Our first response tends to be going on an idol hunt. We want to find the sin or the idol that is at the heart. Whilst there is a place for this, the depressed person is likely heavily engaged in morbid introspection and thus would be greatly helped seeing signs of God’s grace at work in them. Saying something like, “You are so courageous. God has given you grace this week to get out of bed and get the kids to school.” We want to commend manifested grace where we see it. For those who feel hopeless and alone, this is a reminder that God is near and working even in the mundane.

Jesus’ Suffering

Fourth, the suffering of Jesus is both our example and help. We may want to speak of the glories of heaven obtained by Jesus’ suffering. But there is also consolation in Christ’s suffering itself. Spurgeon, who suffered from depression, said, “It is an unspeakable consolation that our Lord Jesus knows this experience.” Zack Eswine, in his book Spurgeon’s Sorrows writes, “To feel in our being that the God to whom we cry has Himself suffered as we do enables us to feel that we are not alone and that God is not cruel.” Here we can begin to see our burden as belonging to him.

When Amy Carmichael struggled with an unbearable burden in India, she considered Christ and his burden bearing in the Garden, “Under one of those trees our Lord Jesus knelt, and He knelt alone. And I knew that this was His burden not mine. It was He who was asking me to share it with Him, not I who was asking Him to share it with me.” She found great comfort knowing that she was partaking in the sufferings of Christ. Jesus not only knows our pain, he endured it, and we kneel beside him in it.

Continuing Work

God is a redeeming God, who continually works his redemption into us. As we walk with depression sufferers, God is not only continuing to work in them, he is continuing to work in us. We mutually grow, building one another up in our most holy faith, as we await the day when all sin, sickness, and death gives way to the glorious liberty of the children of God (Rom 8:21).

This is Part 2 of a 3 part series. You can find Part 1 here:

The Church & Victims Of Depression

Providing Training

In our last post in this series, we looked at promoting culture. This is almost like saying, “Imagine what could be,” and then making steps in the direction of what could be. However, such things will never be without those of us in church leadership providing training for the saints. This is Paul’s call to the Ephesian church, so every joint is outfitted with the training they need for redemptive up-building in love (Eph. 4:11-16). These verses teach us that ministry is a participation sport.

In my experience with Anita, I began to think that people who suffer with things like depression could only be helped by highly skilled professionals. Whilst professional involvement may be needed, this should not relegate the body of Christ to the sideline. The leadership of the church can empower the church to help and not harm people further. We harm them further when we toss out trite sayings like “Let go and let God,” or “If you were trusting Jesus, you wouldn’t be depressed.” Many of these types of responses see depression merely through the lens of sin rather than the lens of both sin and suffering.

If we as pastors are going to shepherd well, we need to think about how we can help our congregations incarnate into people’s sufferings.

We must help them to think biblically about the role of suffering in a Christian’s life. In some cases, such as my own, I had to begin studying these things at a deeper level in order to aid my congregation. Much of this training will boil down to helping the church walk in humility, preferring one another, and walking alongside one another. One way I have learned to help train my congregation is to apply the sermons with the understanding that 1 in 5 of my congregation will suffer from depression, and the other 4 in 5 will have the opportunity to walk with someone who suffers from depression.

If we bring this struggle out of darkness into light, the sufferer is better enabled to run to Christ, and the church can help point the way. This helps give the body of Christ something to grab hold of. And since we are more alike than different, the church will learn more about ourselves as well in addition to truths we already know, just applied more deeply.

Originally published on February 29, 2016

The phone rang at 2am again. I knew who it was before answering. In recent weeks, Anita (not her real name) often called in the middle of the night.

She claimed to feel the fires of hell all over her body with no desire to live.

My wife or I would drive to her home and sit down and pray with her. We would speak to Anita and rally the church to pray for her. After a couple suicide attempts through overdoses, she was hospitalized for several months. We rallied around Anita as best we could. We would encourage her and read her Scripture, but it felt like talking to a wall. It was a discouraging time, but also a time when my wife and I felt utterly helpless. We were frustrated with Anita for not listening, and yet, grieved for her inability to listen. We felt defeated as if we had let Anita down.

Anita is not a unique case.

Although her depression was severe, 1 in 5 people in the UK will suffer depression. This highlights the importance of the role of the local church in helping sufferers of depression. But how do we help? Should we feel as helpless as my wife and I felt with Anita several years ago? There are many ways the church can approach depression.

In this three-part series, I would like to briefly look at three things we can do as the church by: Promoting Culture, Providing Training, and Practicing Priesthood.

Promoting Culture

A culture is the way in which groups of people live and think.

Everyone brings their culture into the church, and as the church, we have developed an Evangelical culture that is more based on moral excellence and stoicism than on the realities of our humanity. On Sundays, it is not uncommon for a family to be falling to pieces, yelling at one another in the car, and then walking into the church building with smiles, hugs, and handshakes. Typical church culture relegates life’s hardships and sufferings to behind closed doors. The emperor’s new clothes are “I’m ok, you’re ok.”

Any sufferer in that context can scream on the inside, but fear being viewed as inferior for having a quivering upper lip. In many ways we have an anti-suffering (and anti-depression) theology within the church.

The purpose of suffering is often not considered, and so when suffering strikes (and it will), many find difficulty weathering the storm. Suffering seems an obscure stranger, and our legalistic bent suggests that intense suffering comes upon those who are not trusting God. David Murray is right when he says in his book Christians Get Depressed Too that, “There is still a stigma attached to mental illness and to depression in particular.” Sometimes that stigma is not just that a person does not seem to be coping well, but that he/she fails to trust God.

In promoting a biblical culture, the local church must promote a culture of progressive sanctification. In other words, we are all in process.

We put on a sanctified show for others to see whilst ignoring the fact that we are not as together as we portray. Truly, we make sure the scaffolds of sanctification are erected on the inside of the building rather than the observable outside. This is why D.A. Carson wrote his book on suffering, How Long, O Lord? Carson begins by saying, “This is a book of preventative medicine. One of the major causes of devastating grief and confusion among Christians is that our expectations are false.” Suffering is a human problem, and depression is a form of suffering. People suffer from depression because of others (abuse, expectations, etc.), Adam (the curse, physiological factors, misery in work, death, etc.), and Satan (conspiring with the curse, spinning lies, etc.). These contributors work along the grain of our sinful hearts.

There is no single cause for depression.

Every one of us finds him/herself living amongst the same brokenness vulnerable to its effects. When Paul speaks of overcoming temptations, he points out that they are common to all (1 Cor. 10:13). Thus we must promote a new culture in the church—a culture that recognizes our likeness to one another. Truly, our struggles and temptations are more alike than different. That means that we are not a church that loves to help people with problems, but a church of people with problems.

In other words, we need a church culture that locates ourselves in the community of sufferers, rather than the community of the perfected.

Practicing such a culture would help invite openness about struggles, including depression, so that the sufferer receives care. In many cases, it may provide a preventative dynamic as the community can help hear and carry one another’s burdens before they break an individual’s spirit! This allows us to see ourselves included as sufferers; thus, we can enter into the world of the depressed without excluding them from our world.

More than likely, you’re aware that Joker is in theaters. Maybe the film’s marketing reached you. Or more likely, you read about it in the news. My local theater had to close their release screenings¹ of it, a story that was featured in national news. Other headlines describe nervous audiences,² nervous theater owners,³ even warnings from the military.⁴ While some remain blissfully indifferent to the agita that has surrounded the release of this film, many are troubled by the culture, the portents and the moral weather patterns that come with Joker. As Christians, those portents and patterns in our culture are worth paying attention to.

Inspiring Violence

People fear that the film will encourage violence by glorifying violence. They fear the titular character will be inspirational to potential mass-shooters. In an age where mass shootings happen with increasing frequency, there are fears that a movie like this will empower such people to carry out their dark visions, committing twisted acts of “justice” against the evils of society or venting personal frustrations in an outburst of bullets. Concerns have been raised about the glorification of the character himself, whom the filmmakers are portraying in a much more sympathetic/relatable light than in previous interpretations. Joker is given a “real world” backstory, one that doesn’t involve toxic waste or superpowers. His creation is much more human, much more heartbreaking and, therefore, much more identifiable, especially to those more likely to commit acts of real-world violence.

Many found the very idea of such a film distasteful in light of the perceived connections⁵ to the Aurora Colorado mass shooting during a 2012 screening of The Dark Knight Rises. While that film didn’t actually feature the Joker character, negative links were drawn to his character from the series’ prior film, The Dark Knight, which had come out four years earlier.

Regardless of subjective connections to the Aurora shooting, the new Joker film from director Todd Philips has received its share of bad press, receiving the stigmas of “insensitivity” and “irresponsibility” from the media and the public alike. And this is my biggest issue with the tempest surrounding the movie.

Allow me to illustrate: The film is about a person confronted with increasingly difficult circumstances. As he attempts to cope, he also attempts to restrain himself; he has the tools to deal with bad situations, but he doesn’t want to go there. He must resist the temptation to give in to his “true self.” However, when bad people push him too far, he takes action. And that action reveals the justification he needs to abandon his inhibitions: a just cause. Even though people die, his actions are justified by the viewer because:

• He didn’t ask for any of this (innocence).

• The bad guys deserve what they have coming (guilt).

What ensues is a crusade of righteous indignation, as the “hero” rights the many wrongs that they (and especially the people they care about) have suffered. In the end, we applaud their vengeance because the hero did what we could never do: bring justice to an unjust situation and deliver some much-deserved retribution.

Now ask yourself this: What film or Netflix series did I just describe? Was that Tombstone or John Wick? The Equalizer or The Punisher? Perhaps a Tarantino? Or maybe the Taken series? Better yet, how many films can you think of that follow this formula?

Not a New Movie

This leads me to my first observation. This film isn’t new. What I mean is, it’s not an altogether new idea. It doesn’t cover new subject matter; it’s not a new plot; its essence isn’t new. Hollywood has been cranking out films very similar to this one for years. The context changes, the characters and their circumstances change, but the major plot arc is routine: Injustice occurs ↠ the protagonist is triggered to action ↠ moral lines are crossed ↠ retribution to evildoers ↠ the protagonist rests from his work. And far more than simply being prevalent, these sorts of movies are incredibly popular at the box office and among critics. So it shouldn’t be any surprise that direct similarities have been drawn between Joker and older films that seemed less worrisome, at the time, to the general public. Among those are works from renown director Martin Scorsese. What’s interesting to me is that his films have featured similarly disturbed characters, doing similarly disturbing things, but have been lauded by audiences, critics and the press for decades. Yet here we are, with a very similar film inciting fear and restlessness among modern audiences.

Another aspect that isn’t new about this movie is one of its key thematic ideas. It’s the concept of being yourself, being true to yourself, letting go of people’s expectations of you and becoming who you really are. But this idea is so commonplace. In a sense, the admonition is almost “Disney-esque:” “Believe in yourself; follow the desires of your heart, and all of your dreams will come true.” Scripture condemns this concept with a slap of reality: The human heart is desperately wicked and unknowable, and its depravity needs to be resisted. The syrupy advice from fairytales takes on a more insidious tone when you apply it to people whose heart’s desire is selfishness, who pay no heed to the harm they cause to others. The concept of surrendering to your desires is Edenic in origin: see and take. Don’t let anything hold you back from realizing your dreams, and you will find satisfaction. This has remained a prevalent and popular ethos in our culture from the very inception of humanity.

Not A New Character

Another observation about the climate surrounding the film: The Joker character isn’t new in the most literal sense. He’s been around for nearly 80 years. And for all of those years, he has embodied murderous chaos with a flair for theatrics and humor. His depravity has never been sugar-coated. From the beginning, he’s been portrayed as a remorseless, laughing, gloating serial killer/criminal mastermind nemesis for Batman. His methods and motives have been illustrated unflinchingly, from his first appearance in the Batman No. 1 comic, through Jack Nicholson’s portrayal in 1989, to Heath Ledger’s (posthumously) award-winning depiction of the character.⁶

Somehow though, our culture seems uneasy about embracing this newest depiction, in the form of Joaquin Phoenix’s troubled Arthur Fleck. But what makes me uneasy about the whole character is how joyfully our culture has embraced all of his previous incarnations. It seems much scarier to me, and much more telling about our culturally-endemic desensitization, that people laugh and clap approvingly at a Joker who can “humorously” murder people with pencils or spray people with acid from his prank lapel flower or dance and joke over the bodies of people he’s just poisoned. Shouldn’t the taking of life feel sorrowful? Shouldn’t it feel wrong? Why aren’t we relieved when, in a sea of movies that casually devalue human life, this film conveys that killing is wrong and that the taking of lives is a violation, or at the very least, negatively impactful?

We Don’t Like the Context

In part, the distaste comes from the portrayal of the people who die. In the case of those murdered by the Joker in 1989’s Batman, the people seem so ridiculous and fake that it’s hard to feel any emotional pull when they meet their demise. They’re almost like cardboard cutouts who simply get pushed over: We don’t know them or care for them. Sure, there are the bad gangsters who die and, in a sense, get what they deserve. But for the people in the art museum, or in the streets of Gotham, their deaths are handled so humorously, numerously and callously, that we can hardly connect or identify with them. However, the on-screen deaths committed by this new Joker feel intimate, visceral and heavy.

Another aspect could be that, in the new film, the “bad guys” who die aren’t people we necessarily believe to be bad. There are even some we think aren’t bad at all; their only perceived guilt comes from simply being part of an unjust system, or “guilt by association.” Unlike the scores of Nazis that are brutally, sadistically dealt with in one popular film, we don’t necessarily identify the victims in this film as evil. But those who are less affluent, with less hope or less opportunity in life might. Hence, the public support of the killings from the general population within the film. They view Joker as a symbol: one man standing up against the system of oppression. The people who are killed in Joker are all either liars, cruel antagonizes or people benefiting from perceived corruption. In some way, and from a particular perspective, they’re all part of a system of hurt and abuse.

The problem though is that we don’t like how subjective their guilt is. Nevertheless, isn’t that the point-counterpoint between secular humanism and Christianity? The secular humanist would argue that right and wrong are subjective to the individual, while Christianity would hold to the objectivity of God’s Word.

To that point, there is a pivotal scene in the film when Arthur Fleck asks the question: “What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? Exactly what you deserve!” From his unhinged, subjective perspective, he’s doing what is right, giving out what he thinks is deserved. In a sense, the unease that comes from seeing his insanity and the perceived rightness of his crimes should find relief in the concept of a just God whom humanity is accountable to. Instead, the film depicts a subjectivity to the concepts of guilt and sin. Granted that it’s told from the perspective of an unhealthy mind, but it’s nonetheless the subjectivity of this framework that should make us very uneasy.

Sadness and Compassion

This aspect is new to the Joker story, at least to the film versions. This is a sad, sad film. The story begins within a financially depressed economy, where the circles of work and homelife are permeated with the stench of crime, shame and inescapable poverty. Building on this is the weighty responsibility of caring for an ailing, elderly mother. Add to that the aforementioned mental illness countered only by prescription drugs and weekly, state-afforded counseling sessions. Finally, add a neurological condition that makes you burst into uncontrollable laughter when stressful situations arise. But this particular facet is handled humorlessly. The emphasis is on the social awkwardness that such a condition would create. Imagine how quickly any argument would escalate if, after listening to a person’s issue, you burst out laughing. This is Arthur Fleck’s reality. The result is misunderstanding and isolation, compounded by the weight of all the other difficulties that surround him. This establishing tale of the Joker character doesn’t involve an accident with toxic waste creating a criminal mastermind, arch-villain and crime boss. This film is told from the perspective of desperation, depression and hopelessness. This is someone with no means, no friends, no hope, trudging through life under the weight of very identifiable sorrow.

Making the film more complex, the handling of sin is theologically interesting. As my Professor, Gerry Breshears, recently remarked in class, psychology usually only deals with the sins committed TO a person, and pastors usually only deal with sins committed BY a person. But this story deals with both. The protagonist is laden with difficulty from outside: systemic poverty and the burdens of trying to “put on a happy face” for a loved one, all within a world that views him as worthless. He’s also burdened with difficulty from within: the portrayal of mental un-health is intimate, personal, sorrowful and disturbing. Between these paradigms, we sadly observe the abuse, deception, lying and disappointment that he endures at the hands of others.

But we also see the evils that he commits as just that: evil. In a fashion reminiscent of Sophocles, Shakespeare and Vince Gilligan, each evil action he takes is just as destructive to himself as to those around him. His environment doesn’t vindicate his monstrous actions; nothing does. And his actions are never justified by the outcomes; they simply add momentum to his downward spiral. While you feel compassion for him, you’re never led to thinking that he’s “right,” or that his actions are acceptable, let alone funny.

Controversially Thought Provoking

And this raises another interesting aspect about the film: It doesn’t cram a message down your throat. Maybe we wish it would have. Maybe the press would be less nervous in their reporting if this were a morality tale, teaching that evil actions come from an evil environment. Or that embracing evil leads to an evil end. Instead, the film leaves the viewer with the abstract, existential question of evil itself. What is it? Where does it come from? How do you deal with it without becoming it? How do you prevent it? These questions form great conversational springboards for the Christian. Everyone recognizes evil in the world. Engaging in conversations about ultimate evil and its ultimate answer in the form of The Ultimate Love of God is like a slow pitch for anyone looking to share the truth and comfort of the Gospel.

What’s really interesting is that the film doesn’t “say” much at all as far as conclusion or application. It’s more revelatory than didactic. It’s left to the viewer to understand and interpret the tale. And perhaps therein lies the problem. Maybe it’s the ambiguity of evil that has caused so much tension, anxiety and fear. The secular humanist has no explanation of evil, let alone advice on what to do with it. The Bible does, but that’s the one place that “rational secularists” aren’t allowed to go for answers. However, when a film or event reveals gaps in the collective reasoning of our secular world, we as Christians need to be ready to address the unease, to use God’s Word to explain it and to cast light on the darkness.

_Notes:

_{¹ Cameron, Dell. “U.S. Military Issues Warning to Troops About Incel Violence at Joker Screenings.” September 24, 2019. (accessed October 06, 2019).}

_{² Daniel, Anslee. Bristol, “TN Drive-In Bans Costumes for Showing of ‘Joker.'” October 5, 2019. (accessed October 6, 2019).}

_{³ Desta, Yohana. “The ‘Joker’ Didn’t Inspire the Aurora Shooter, but the Rumor Won’t Go Away.” October 02, 2019. (accessed October 08, 2019).}

_{⁴ Fry, Hannah. “Credible Threat Targeting ‘Joker’ Screening Forces Huntington Beach Theater to Close.” October 4, 2019. (accessed October 4, 2019).}

_{⁵ Reeves, Jay. “Security, NY Incident Leave Some Unsettled After ‘Joker’.” October 5, 2019. (accessed October 6, 2019).}

_{⁶ Ledger’s portrayal garnered him 32 award nominations, leading to a staggering 28 wins, including an Academy Award for “Best Supporting Actor,” a Golden Globe for “Best Actor in a Supporting Role,” and a SAG award for “Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role in a Motion Picture.”}

_{CalvaryChapel.com does not necessarily endorse or agree with every message or perspective in the diverse film reviews posted. By providing these film reviews, we hope to help you stay informed of important events and conversations taking place in the world that are relevant to the Christian faith.}

_{Joker is rated R for strong bloody violence, disturbing behavior, language and brief sexual images.}

Cleopas and another disciple were deep in conversation as they walked the Roman road from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Their steps were slow and labored. Their conversation was so intense that they hardly noticed the stranger who drew near to them and joined their dialogue.

The stranger immediately perceived their depression and inquired as to its source. To this the disciples responded, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem, and have You not known the things which happened there in these days?” (Luke 24:18).

The men went on to explain how they had put their hope in the man Jesus, who had demonstrated the power of God in His Word, demeanor, and deeds. The disciples were further disillusioned when their own religious leaders arrested Christ and delivered Him over to death.

Then they explained to the stranger the newest additions to the story. Women, who they knew, had gone early that morning to the tomb and found it empty. The women reported seeing angels who asserted that Jesus was alive. Other disciples went to the tomb and found it empty, but did not see any angels.

The stranger then gently rebuked the confused disciples, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe in all that the prophets have spoken! Ought not the Christ to have suffered these things and to enter into His glory?” Then the stranger (beginning at the books of Moses and continuing through the Old Testament) “expounded to them in all the Scripture the things concerning Himself” (Luke 24:25-27).

They constrained the stranger to eat with them. At the table when the bread was broken, suddenly Cleopas and the other disciple recognized Him. It was Jesus. At that instance Jesus disappeared from their midst.

Jesus had led Cleopas and the other disciple through the Word while on the road to Emmaus. Jesus had showed them the surety of the Word of God. Jesus had expounded to them the Scriptures that He Himself fulfilled. It was only after the disciples had been in the Word that they were able to recognize Jesus.

Herein is the remedy for discouragement, disillusion, and depression: the examination of the Word of God. While meditating on His Word, there is the necessity of reviewing the fulfilled work of God, the promises of God, the principles of God, and the character of God. Only after returning to the Word of God does Jesus become visible, even in life’s most horrific circumstances.