Todd Peperkorn

Are many religious flocks simply too afraid to help depressed, suffering people?

Are many religious flocks simply too afraid to help depressed, suffering people?

Week after week, the Rev. Todd Peperkorn listens as pastors talk -- in private -- about people wrestling with loneliness, depression and urges to commit suicide.

Most ministers believe they know their own people and their struggles. Then things start happening that reveal dark secrets and pain in the lives of members of their parishes, said Peperkorn, senior pastor at Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Rocklin, Calif.

"What I hear pastors saying is, 'I didn't know. I didn't see it. Now I see it everywhere and I can't stop seeing it,' " he said. "Pastors want to help. They want to do the right thing. Most of all, they are scared that they will do something wrong and make a situation worse. …

"At some point, you can get so involved in the details of people's problems and their needs that you feel like you don't have the time or the energy to pray for them and carry on with all the other things that pastors need to do."

There's a reason that Peperkorn ends up on the other side of these conversations over coffee or on the telephone. He has openly discussed his own experiences as a patient diagnosed with clinical depression.

A decade ago, he shared what he has learned in a book entitled "I Trust When Dark My Road: A Lutheran View of Depression." Here's one unforgettable image from his story: During one busy Holy Week, he found himself writing an Easter sermon -- while, at the same time, pondering how he could commit suicide.

Right now, many pastors -- especially evangelical Protestants -- have been shaken by the death of the Rev. Jarrid Wilson, associate pastor at the Harvest Christian Fellowship megachurch in Riverside, Calif. He was best known as the co-founder of Anthem of Hope, a mental-health ministry dedicated to helping people struggling with depression, addiction and suicide.

On Sept. 9, Wilson appealed to his Twitter followers for prayer as he prepared to lead the funeral of a "Jesus-Loving Woman" who took her own life. A few hours after that service, Wilson sent out a poignant tweet.

"Loving Jesus Doesn't Always Cure Suicidal Thoughts.

Pastors must help suffering people wrestle with broken bodies, minds and spirits

Pastors must help suffering people wrestle with broken bodies, minds and spirits

There was good news and bad news in LifeWay research that probed whether Protestant churches in America were ready to minister to people suffering from mental illness.

Good news? Only 21 percent of people who attended worship services once a week disagreed with this statement: "If I had a mental health issue, I believe most churches would welcome me." Alas, 55 percent of those who never went to church disagreed.

More bad news? Nearly half of self-identified born-again and evangelical Protestants said prayer and Bible study alone could defeat schizophrenia, depression, bipolar disorder and other serious mental illnesses.

To suffering people that sounds like, "Take two Bible passages and call me in the morning," according to the Rev. Todd Peperkorn, author of "I Trust When Dark My Road: A Lutheran View of Depression."

Many pastors and counselors still think mental illnesses are spiritual problems caused by "sinful choices" alone, instead of complex puzzles of brokenness in body, mind and spirit, he said, at a Lutheran Public Radio conference earlier this summer in Collinsville, Ill. 

Thus, they believe mental illness is the "result of a lack of obedience. And so, if you could only manage to obey God a little more, a little better, then any mental illness that you had would magically go away." This leads to a blunt prescription: "Sin less! Got that? All of your problems are going to go away if you would just stop sinning. So get on with that. … You kind of turn Christianity into Weight Watchers."

Peperkorn stressed that he has seen this hellish struggle from both sides -- as a pastor and as a patient with clinical depression. Just over a decade ago, he said, he found himself working his way through Holy Week to Easter, while also pondering the end of all things -- as in suicide.