The Artist & The Gospel: Depression

Related Texts: Psalm 69; Luke 22:41-44

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is the seventh of a multi-part series entitled “The Artist & The Gospel” where we will discuss what it means to be a “Christian Artist” who is sold out to the Gospel of Jesus Christ and wants their art to reflect their faith. You can read the previous installments by choosing the appropriate link below:
Part 1 // Created to Create
Part 2 // Deflecting Glory
Part 3 // Gospel-Infused Art
Part 4 // Mission-Oriented Art
Part 5 // The Easter Story
Part 6 // Rest
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I found myself softly sobbing in solitude, with a feeling of anxiety pulsating through my body. The top of my head, my shoulders and my fists were tense. Then it would move to my lower back and my thighs. Then the tenseness would be in my feet and chest. It would work its way back up to my throat in the form of a lump that I couldn’t swallow and my teeth would clench tight as my knees locked up. The stress would cycle back up to the top of my head and start all over. Around and around and around. My breathing was heavy and slow and my lips trembled. The worst part about it was that I had no idea how to get out of it, no control over my own body. I couldn’t cry hard enough to feel like my emotions were finally depressurizing, but I also couldn’t choke everything down and straighten my mind back out. The hopelessness was agonizing. Darkness had a foothold because my mind couldn’t even comprehend why this was happening. It just spiraled, with no rhyme or reason. Like the tightness moving around my body, the chaos of unclear-yet-overwhelming-thought kept swirling around and around and back and forth and up and down.

This is what an anxiety attack looks like for me, and how depression took ahold of my waking hours. Even when I’m describing it I can feel it trying to come back and take over my body again. I really never experienced depression to this scale until I was already an adult and a parent. For whatever reason, as a child and teenager and adult in my early twenties I was able to process stress and depressive feelings a lot more effectively. It could have been that the catalysts of my sadness were less serious. It could have just been that I had more time to myself to deal with these emotions. It could have even been that my suburban upbringing sheltered me more than I realized, so I wasn’t even really exposed to real stress until I got older and experienced “grown up” issues. There are plenty of possible reasons why I was able to avoid this until I was 26, and it honestly probably wasn’t just one singular reason. But the point that really matters is that the experience that I just described was a darkness that I had never really faced before, and it terrified me. For several months suicidal ideations filled my thoughts, and my brain was fully consumed. And yet, nobody knew.

consumed by depression

It’s no secret that creatives and artists can be emotionally uneven and erratic. Other types of people would be quite upset to be described in such a way, but artists not only struggle with emotional depression- they are often fully aware of it. These individuals tend toward being hyper-aware and feeling shame for such a mindset, so much so that they hide it and stuff it down into their souls. This is actually the reason I hear most often that has led to someone having interest in the arts. These emotions have been buried so deeply without being worked out that at some point the artist needs to express them and give themselves room to breathe. Art is one of the few activities that allows an individual to process deep-seeded emotions externally without any outside input. In a moment we’re going to tackle the pros and cons to that, but first I think it’s important to share a few important clarifications on my input on this subject:

-I am not a licensed counselor or psychiatrist
-I am speaking from my own experiences and the experiences of my friends and family
-Not everything I have to say is prescriptive for everyone, but simply descriptive of my own experiences and observations
-This is an exploration into the mind of an artistic and creative type, described by an artistic, creative type
-If you find yourself triggered toward self harm or suicidal thoughts while reading this, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or the Crisis Text Line by texting HOME to 741741, I would also recommend calling a close friend that you trust or a pastor who will walk alongside of you through your struggles

With this in mind, I think it’s fair to continue walking through what this looks like for us as creatives, but most importantly what the Gospel means for us when we battle depression. Clearly there are no scripture passages that are sudden and automatic cure-all’s for mental health and emotional instability, so instead of using scripture to prove a point or to break down “10 Ways To Defeat Your Depression Demons” or some other horrendous hyper-practical concept (that if you ever hear come from a pastor’s mouth you need to turn and run as fast as you can to another God-fearing, Bible-literate christian), we’re going to start by taking a look at someone in scripture who faced depression in their own lifetime over and over again by reading one of his most transparent writings:

“Save me, O God!
    For the waters have come up to my neck.
 I sink in deep mire,
    where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
    and the flood sweeps over me.
 I am weary with my crying out;
    my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim
    with waiting for my God.

 More in number than the hairs of my head
    are those who hate me without cause;
mighty are those who would destroy me,
    those who attack me with lies.
What I did not steal
    must I now restore?
 O God, you know my folly;
    the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you.

 Let not those who hope in you be put to shame through me,
    O Lord God of hosts;
let not those who seek you be brought to dishonor through me,
    O God of Israel.
 For it is for your sake that I have borne reproach,
    that dishonor has covered my face.
 I have become a stranger to my brothers,
    an alien to my mother’s sons.

 For zeal for your house has consumed me,
    and the reproaches of those who reproach you have fallen on me.
 When I wept and humbled my soul with fasting,
    it became my reproach.
 When I made sackcloth my clothing,
    I became a byword to them.
 I am the talk of those who sit in the gate,
    and the drunkards make songs about me.

 But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord.
    At an acceptable time, O God,
    in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness.
 Deliver me
    from sinking in the mire;
let me be delivered from my enemies
    and from the deep waters.
 Let not the flood sweep over me,
    or the deep swallow me up,
    or the pit close its mouth over me.” // Psalm 69:1-15 (ESV)

King David was the prominent songwriter in the collection of songs that we have in scripture title the Book of Psalms. David, the same one who defeated the giant Goliath as a young boy, was a skilled harpist who had a prominent spot in King Saul’s, the preceding king’s, chambers so that David could play the harp in order to calm him. His musical talent continued to be a part of him even as he grew up and eventually became the king. David, as we can read in the above Psalm, had a very vulnerable approach to working out his feelings through songwriting. It almost reads like it’s melodramatic and sensational. Yet how often have I personally thought or even said similar things to “I am weary with my crying out; my throat is parched. My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God” when I’m feeling in a dark place? How often have I felt this alone- even when I’m in settings where I have no reason to feel so isolated!

David begins lamenting over how many enemies he has, over exaggerating the number by comparing it to the number of hairs on his head. He vents his disappointment in needing to correct mistakes he never made. David milks the woe-is-me by begging God not to bring others down because of just how darn depraved he is, and even his more even-keeled conclusion seems so extreme that he would be afraid of the pit of darkness closing down on him. I don’t need to explain anymore that David’s writing in this Psalm was in the midst of some dark, dark depression in his mind. And how different is this from a songwriter creating songs of frustration? How different is it from a painter creating with aggressive or trembling brushstrokes? We all create out of the overflow of emotions, and we can be grateful that David found this practice useful, even therapeutic, so that he would leave us with works such as this one as an example and insight into his own mind.

If I were to show you the rough versions and original writings of many of my own songs, you would find that my heart has been on my sleeves for well over a decade-and-a-half of songwriting, but a better image might be that my hearts sits on the inside of my sleeves where people only really see it when the light hits it just right. It’s fascinating how artists lean into their art to help process the most difficult of concepts and events, and yet with how much ease we are able to cloak the true subject matter just right so that nobody can see what we are really, truly wrestling with. We even will go so far as to horde these poems away as “personal art” that never sees the light of day. Are we so ashamed of how we feel that we would withhold some of our most honest works of art in order to protect ourselves, yet ultimately remove ourselves from the community who desires to walk with us and keep our own hearts protected?

Trust others

I hope you hear me correctly, I don’t necessarily mean that every time we find inspiration through pain that we absolutely must share it. But when we are brought to a mental place where creating art is not just therapeutic but is being used as an escape from truly dealing with the subject matter then it is crucial that we let others know. We can see a great example of this through Psalm 69.

Biblical history through artifacts like the Septuagint affirms that David wrote this Psalm for “the choirmaster”. The choirmaster would have been a separate individual kept around to minister to David in times of stress, possibly not unlike how Saul enjoyed having David around to play harp for him in his own moments of mental chaos. David knew that these writings needed to be heard by others in his life and was also ministered to by the reciting in artistic form. He wasn’t afraid of the response from others. We also know that David loved to dance, and utilized it often. If I may speculate, could it be that David would “dance it out” to the tune created by the choirmaster and the lyrics composed by King David himself? I mean, if it worked for Rod Kimble and Kevin Bacon then it probably worked for David, right?

Short of punch-dancing out your emotions and falling down a comically long hillside, we really can take away some important elements from David’s practice. First off, his process required an additional party to take part in the creative process. Collaboration and possibly discussion must have occurred in the creative process. The choirmaster knew exactly what was going on. Not only that, but you can’t be a choirmaster without a choir. How many more people were privy to the depression and frustration and anxiety of their king?

Now let me flip this over to you: how many people in your life are aware when you struggle with this darkness? Who are you going to when hope seems lost and you feel isolated?

My own experience was filled with pride. I sat in self-loathing by self-instituted isolation and was trying to self-diagnose and self-help myself back to normal. Instead, this would lead me to the beginnings of these episodes of horrifying anxiety attacks. This happened at least four or five times per week. Sometimes I was driving. It went on for about six months. How selfish (and dangerous) this was to keep bottled up to myself! When I finally opened up to somebody about it, it was the first time that I felt the permission from myself to just weep. And I was in the middle of a Starbucks. Being able to share openly with a close friend, then a mentor, and by their suggestions (more like requirements) finally my wife, I was able to take the first steps towards healing. I had spent so much time being afraid and prideful that I lost all of this time to heal. Had I shared the songs I had been writing and the prayers I had been praying and the emotions I had been feeling all along, I might not have lost all of that time and energy to those anxiety attacks.

It doesn’t end with people

I need to be very clear: none of these friends saved me. Not even my wife, in her near-lifetime of battling anxiety and depression, was able to pluck me out from the darkness by herself. Even the collective support of the friends in my life who walked through it with me wasn’t enough to change what was happening. It was another person who had fully experienced the same thing on an even deeper scale than I ever would and ever will. You see, what would be more stressful than untraceable and unstoppable anxiety? It would be knowing that you were going to die, suffer, and experience the deepest and most disturbing pain, asking for help to avoid it, but still knowing that your great burden would not be taken from you.

“And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, ‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.’ And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” (Luke 22:41-44, emphasis mine)

I read this passage and the whole narrative leading up to and following it several times after I shared my struggles with my wife. What ended up striking me so differently than previous read-throughs was that Jesus Himself was able to empathize with the stress and fear and anxiety that I wrestled with. He was able to look me in the eyes and say “I understand”. I never comprehended just how deep His empathy went. Jesus doesn’t just feel bad for us from a distance, He walked through the same mental experiences and emotional rollercoasters that we do. You see, we can talk about how Jesus is a healer, the Great Physician, all that we want but He is also the epitome of empathy. He is the personification of the phrase “I totally get it”. He is the purest example of suffering that has ever existed.

Not just suffering-without-sinning, or conceptually understanding suffering. He is the foremost and paramount representation of suffering. And He knew my suffering better than I ever did or ever could.

Now what?

I’m mentally healthier than I was a year ago when this all came to a head. I’m grateful that I was able to seek friendly wisdom and care, pastoral insight, and encouragement from my family. But what really has changed me is my pursuit to better understand the savior who sees me and knows my struggles. I can’t tell you that if you “just read the Bible more” that you’ll suddenly and miraculously stop being so depressed. I can’t promise that if you talk it out with friends every day that the load will certainly get easier. I couldn’t even be sure that expressing your emotions through your art will give you the relief you need to press on through the day. One thing I can, however, promise is that Jesus is a person that will change your life should you get to know Him.

You should try to emulate His outlook on life. You should learn about the things He valued. You should seek to understand his priorities and the way He speaks between the lines. I can’t promise that Jesus will take away anxiety or depression on this side of Heaven, but I can promise that if you get to know Jesus that He will walk with you through the things that you struggle with. And one day, either here on Earth or on the other side of death, He will heal you. But He’ll heal you by giving you the fullness of the one thing your soul truly needs: all of His presence. We can look at the end of David’s psalm as an example (a description certainly, and a prescription possibly) of what happens in our hearts and is reflected through our art as we pursue healthy avenues centered on the Gospel for dealing with our depression:

“But I am afflicted and in pain;
    let your salvation, O God, set me on high!
I will praise the name of God with a song;
    I will magnify him with thanksgiving.
This will please the Lord more than an ox
    or a bull with horns and hoofs.
When the humble see it they will be glad;
    you who seek God, let your hearts revive.
For the Lord hears the needy
    and does not despise his own people who are prisoners.
Let heaven and earth praise him,
    the seas and everything that moves in them.” // Psalm 69:29-34 (ESV)

May we walk through our struggles so that we may come out the other side and be able to praise God, the Lord who hears the needy, the one who brings salvation, and the savior who revives dead hearts.

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Kevin McClure has been leading worship in the local church for over 10 years in different capacities of student and adult ministries. As a songwriter, musical artist, and worship leader he has had the honor of touring the United States both as a performer and worship leader over the better part of the last decade. With a heart to see believers learn how to take the act of worship beyond the setting of a group gathering, Kevin is incredibly intentional with his time on and offstage to help teach the practice of worship as a lifestyle. Kevin lives in Omaha, Nebraska with his bride Hailey and his two daughters, Everleigh (8) and Eliska (2). His favorite food is coffee (lifesource), loves bonfires, and is convinced that Jesus is a Chicago Cubs fan.