You guilt me. Time and time again. You claim my faith is weak if I take medicine. Between you and my PTSD, anxiety, and borderline personality, I am fighting against a lot. And yet, you are a constant whisper in my ear trying to convince me that I am without faith if I treat my body. That I’d get better if I just believed God would heal me.
But we live in an imperfect world. A fallen world. A world in which we will inhabit imperfect bodies until He returns.
So, Depression, I choose not to believe your whispers oozing with guilt. Faith is very much a part of my recovery. And yet, weak faith is not the cause of my mental illness. My brain is not working correctly. And that’s ok. It’s not only ok, but it is good, that I can get help from a psychiatrist and a counselor.
Your guilty whispers no longer work. It’s over for you.
Child of God
Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned— Romans 5:12 NIV