When Praying Isn't Enough

TRIGGER WARNING*

Nearly three years ago, a close friend of mine committed suicide. It wasn’t her first attempt. She had had an ongoing habit of downing an assortment of pills in flagrant attempts to make herself pass out, and finally, she was successful.

As much as I miss her and continue to mourn the loss of such an incredible spirit; it is not her death that bothers me so much, it is the array of events that led up to her untimely passing that still plague my mind in the late hours. I cannot shake this lingering feeling that I could have done more, spoken up more, and advocated on her behalf when others were too preoccupied to do so.

I was there. I was at her side. And too often when she attempted to express the sentiments that drove her into those dark places, she was silenced; or simply told to “pray about it.”

Just pray about it.

No comforting words, no offerings of emotional support or understanding. Simply an acute demand to fall to her knees and relentlessly plead into the void for a release. I understand that the sentiment was intended to encourage my friend, inspire her to relinquish all of her worries into the hands of God—but SHE didn’t. Her spirit was so far buried in the depths of her despair that she couldn’t lend a hand to the most High. It was too much to ask of her to trust in a power she could not conceive when she could not even maintain trust in her own will. To this day, I ruminate over the complexities of these issues and what can be done to uplift someone following in her footsteps. I think I have come to a conclusion, but its implications will be highly unpopular.

I yearn for the day when my Black sisters and brothers can become vulnerable with those that they love regarding their mental illnesses and not be catapulted to the pulpit. I crave a sense of understanding for them, compassion, and an unshakable sense of sensitivity. I understand that for many struggling, the modest request they have is to simply be listened to. In the Black community, there tends to be an oversight of this desire to be heard and they are instead ushered to church altars. Bless oil is smeared across their faces, hymns ring out in honor of their trials, and congregations pray aloud in unison to rid them of their emotional pain. I, too am a Christian. I share the same faith in our God, and yet, I realize that this pattern of spiritual treatment is extremely lacking in terms of credible, psychological analysis.

Sometimes praying isn’t enough. Talking to God doesn’t do it. In some cases, the individual in need deserves visitation with a psychological professional to truly find resolve. Not that spiritual support does not hold any weight, but a more holistic approach ought to be taken.

I have spent a staggering amount of time reflecting on this matter and how it has risen to be such a large issue in the African-American community. Like many social, mental, and economic conditions of Black people, the root of the issue can be traced to slavery. During enslavement, African captives hinged every ounce of their hope on the Christian steeple. Trapped within the confines of the Transatlantic Slave Trade, there were very few other sources they could turn to. There were no therapists for slaves—no such thing as inpatient treatment facilities—therefore, families had to find alternative means of hope, perseverance, and mental/emotional support. Christianity served as a soup bowl for all of those needs. If a mother’s perceived militancy led to the merciless beating and ultimate killing of her child, she was advised to pray. If a father was forced to watch as his brothers were strung like chattel from tree to tree, he was advised to maintain his composure and pray. This is not to say that African-Americans never retaliated and submitted humbly when harmed—they DID—however, it is to point out that Christianity unarguably served a major role in the mental and emotional aid of slaves.

To speak about this occurrence in the presence of many Black Christians is an abomination. It is a metaphorical spit in the face of God for standing as a pillar of security during trying times. Many Christian African-Americans are afraid to address the topic of God having a hand in enslavement. It remains a touchy subject and that alone is an issue. The time has passed for believers to address the tough questions, even when it makes one slightly uncomfortable in their faith for a short period of time. It is the avoidance of topics like these that leave individuals like my late friend feeling left out. Yes, she was raised in a Christian household with believing family members, but she also held sacred a host of spiritual concerns that she felt too embarrassed to publicly vent—many of which she shared with me. I urge Black churches to begin discussions on mental health with members. Unearth why it is so difficult to seek support in the Christian community when mental health is stated as a problem. It is my belief that we are missing a key element in healing those in need: listening.