It was fifteen years ago, the summer of 2009, when I read Rev. (now Dr.) Todd Peperkorn’s book, I Trust When Dark My Road: A Lutheran View of Depression. I had known Todd for a long time already then, as a good friend and colleague, and I was confident the book would be worthwhile and of benefit in my pastoral care of others. I was not wrong on either count, but what I had not anticipated was the significance it would have for my own well-being.
Todd’s little book opened my eyes to the signs and symptoms of clinical depression that had crept into my own heart, mind, and life, which I had not previously recognized for what they were. And Todd’s advice, encouragement, and personal example, as described and discussed in the book, prompted me to seek out and avail myself of the help and assistance I needed in order to address and deal with my own situation, including both pastoral and medical care for myself.
Without Todd’s book, I don’t think I would have realized what was happening until things had gotten much worse. As it was, though, I found help readily available from my father confessor on the one hand, and from our family doctor on the other hand. The insightful and evangelical counsel and advice of a brother pastor was hugely beneficial in addressing the underlying factors that had become a catalyst for clinical depression, whereas the care and guidance I received from our physician provided a remedy for the chemical imbalance that had developed in my brain. The latter help was certainly no substitute for the Gospel, but it was a First Article gift of daily bread, which enabled me to better serve my several vocations and stations in life. To this day I remain profoundly grateful for the blessing of Todd’s book, my father in Christ, and our family doctor.
Along with all that, what I also found remarkable in reading Todd’s book was the realization that, even though I had been interacting and communicating with him at that low point in his life, I had been utterly oblivious to how he was struggling and what he was dealing with at that time. I simply had no idea, perhaps because Todd was hiding it well and still functioning at a high level, but also because I wasn’t paying attention or listening as carefully as I should have been doing.
Christ be praised for His tender mercies and steadfast loving-kindness toward His servant Todd, and for the pastors He provided to care for him at a particularly precarious time and beyond. And Christ be praised, as well, for the many others – myself included – who have since been blessed by Todd’s book and the deeply personal and painful story that he was willing to share with us all.
There are at least two lessons to be learned from these examples: First of all, be aware of your own fundamental need for pastoral care and fraternal fellowship – and, similarly, also be aware of your need for physical, emotional, mental, and physiological care in this earthly life. And by the same token, make a point of being your brother’s keeper, to the extent that you are given the opportunity. Pay attention to the hurts and fears of your neighbor, and all the more so if he has absented himself from the mutual conversation and consolation of brothers in Christ Jesus.
These thoughts and concerns are routinely on my mind, but they have been brought closer to the surface recently, in light of the news we have received this past month of a brother pastor a few states west of us who recently succumbed to the burdens of depression and took his own life. It has been yet another sobering reminder that pastors are likewise subject to the same frailties and weaknesses of mortal flesh and blood that we address and deal with in those dear people of God whom we are given to serve and care for. In that light, it is so crucial and vitally important that we not attempt to “go it alone,” nor resort to “self-medication” of one sort or another.
I urge you, brothers, to avail yourselves of pastoral care from a father confessor and from other brothers in office. And I ask you, as well, to be proactive in reaching out to your brothers, even (and especially) when they make it difficult to do so!
I am deeply grateful for the pastoral care that was provided to our brother in the midst of his dark valley, notwithstanding the tragic ending of his earthly life. Despite his sorrows, which overtook him like a spiritual mugging in the night, his final days, weeks, and months on earth were filled with the Word and promises of God, thanks to the persistent care of a brother in Christ. Although we can never be certain of anything else in this body and life, nor can we ever know for sure what is happening in our neighbor’s heart and mind, we can always be sure and certain of what our Lord says and does and gives. So, I give thanks for that pastoral care. And I likewise give thanks for the resources our good and gracious Lord has provided within our Indiana District, including the newly-established Concordia Counseling Center in Seymour, the ongoing work of Rev. Ed Keinath and CrossLife Ministries, the benefits of Cross Connections in Fort Wayne, and the efforts of Deaconess Carole Terkula and the Lutheran Foundation in mental health advocacy.
It is crucial to recognize the blessing and benefits of mental health awareness, advocacy, and care as temporal provisions for this body and life. Let us thank God for those good gifts of daily bread, receive them, and use them in due season, sanctified by His Word and prayer, in caring for ourselves and for our neighbors in this world. But in doing so, let us never lose sight of the even more significant and salutary need that everyone has for the Gospel above all else – for this life and the next – as the singular and unique responsibility of the Christian Church and Ministry.