OCD is Not a Faith Problem: Why the Church Must Listen to the Muffled Cries of the Tormented

A Tale of Two Churches

Photo by XIBEI JIA on Unsplash

The Agony of OCD: Chris’s Torment

Chris was visibly tormented. His face contorted with all the shame and fear of years’ making. “There’s something terribly wrong with me. People tell me to trust God. To stop spinning on these fears. That God loves me, but I have unconfessed sin.”

He paused. And sighed.

With an almost visible other part of his brain, he shifted and said, “But I don’t think that’s entirely true.” He went on to explain his Christian faith, his current practices, his close relationship with his wife, and his two wonderful children.

He felt like a fraud. His attention was so split between nearly constant intrusive thoughts and mental images that plagued him—images of blaspheming God, thoughts of irresponsibility, and harm to others. It was a struggle every day to play with his kids or cook dinner. The eyes often revealed the challenge of focusing, appearing distant as he was fighting an inward battle. It was notable that he hadn’t entirely avoided his significant roles in life, but he was barely hanging on. Some nights, he turned off the lights and literally hid in the closet to try to pray, review, and figure out what was wrong and what he needed to do. His marriage was good, but his wife, Beth, was at a loss for what to do and felt she had lost much of the man she had married.

Chris was hurting. In pain. In the church and among the health providers who treated him, they just didn’t understand. They used the same old, worn-out cliches, no matter how well-meaning.

• “God has a purpose.”

• “Have faith.”

• “Be not anxious.”

• “Keep a journal of your fears.”

• “Replace inaccurate negative thoughts with the truth.”

After almost 25 years of worsening symptoms, he began thinking death would be better than this—the tipping point. Chris was always full of life despite his suffering, so to even begin to have passing thoughts that life would be easier if he weren’t here both scared him and motivated him.

Hope Found Far Away: Olivia and the Listening Pastor

“Would you like to swing by the church offices this week? I would like to hear your story and how we can be of help,” Pastor Mark said.

Olivia was guarded and started to blush. “Um, okay. I mean, I don’t have to, I don’t want to trouble you.”

“No trouble at all. I see it as part of my God-given role to meet with congregants when they are suffering. And believe me, we all suffer and need resources. It’s just a matter of whether we admit to it or not.” After Pastor Mark calmly assured Olivia that it was no trouble whatsoever, she tentatively said, “Okay.”

Tuesday couldn’t come quickly enough.

“When you shared with our staff your question, ‘What if I’m at risk of drifting away?’ I didn’t hear someone who needed a theological education. In fact, Suzanne in women’s ministry says you’ve been a crucial part of supporting many others, including fielding questions well when they come up in Bible studies.”

“You know,” pastor Mark continued, “It reminded me of myself when in seminary, and many saints have wrestled with what we call ‘scruples.’ Can you tell me more about what your struggle is like?”

Olivia’s posture softened, and she leaned back in the chair, taking a sip of water. “Well, I think I know the answer that I believe, but I have this nagging suspicion I’m wrong. I mean, isn’t that the Holy Spirit, convicting me? Or something deep down inside? Whenever I study some tough passages that warn me against falling away, rejecting Christ, or Jesus saying, “Depart from me….I never knew you”—I just think that’s me. But other times I think that’s ridiculous, and I’m always looping back and forth between the faith I believe I have and the doubt of what I don’t.

Mark smiled in that sort of way that’s annoying and relieving when someone else is confident in a way you desperately wish to be. Olivia felt embarrassed enough to share her faith doubts and even her other “odd” behaviors, like counting until she thought right and praying repeatedly when she got a bad feeling. She had some comfort, only to be met immediately with more fear that she might be tricking her pastor into thinking it wasn’t that bad. “Surely he wouldn’t be so calm if he really knew what was going on?” She grew quiet, and her mental looping began again. Mark asked if it was happening again—the doubts. Olivia didn’t realize it was so obvious. “Yes, they’re always in my head.”

“I have some good news,” the pastor said.

The Lesson from Acts 6: Listening to the Muffled Cries

The squeaky wheel doesn’t always get the grease. The immediate, actual needs of people are important to our Lord, and the early Christian Church revealed many growing pains that we still must wrestle through as we consider the reality of Christ’s kingdom here on earth.

In Acts 6, two groups of Jewish people comprised the church in Jerusalem: those who were predominantly Hebrew-speaking and those who spoke mainly Greek. Living in Texas, I see the tensions that can arise between people cheering for two different Texas university football teams (I’m not kidding, it actually can get heated). I can imagine these linguistic and cultural differences were huge, much like in the parable of the good Samaritan (Lk. 10:25-37). Because the early church was the first example where people were coming together under the authority of King Jesus, in unity, they also bumped up against the very human divisions and differences. The Greek-speaking widows (and likely their children) were getting the short end of the stick when it came to being fed.

A total side note from the Bible: assertively raising our cry for help is not condemned as selfish in many places. It’s only selfish when the focus is unhelpfully self-focused.

A leader (Stephen) was appointed to specifically handle the food distribution and ensure appropriate care and fairness. Stephen clearly had more abilities than foodservice—he later shared one of the most inspiring Gospel accounts that got him killed because of its boldness, conviction, and brilliance.

From Doubt to Discernment

Pastor Mark was the first person in Olivia’s life to say she might look into OCD treatment. He shared about the pernicious, repetitive loops (intrusive thoughts) and the tormenting entanglement of the urge to perform compulsions, only to breed more internal chaos.

Olivia went on to find an OCD specialist and was treated until she was “subclinical” (meaning her symptoms were so minor they didn’t impair her in any meaningful way). During treatment, her therapist (who wasn’t a Christian, believe it or not) continued to ask her what beliefs she held and valued, and used those as a reference point for what was compulsive or not. She is now fully involved in her church again, this time without the constant questioning of her obsessive loops. She has days that are worse than others, but she can pull back from her ruminative loops. Hers is a story of success—she was seen.

Stephen “saw” the women who were getting missed and cared for them. It started with them raising their voices to let the church know they were getting missed. But sometimes, raising one’s voice is filled with so many tears that others think it’s fake (just like Hannah in 1 Samuel 1:10).

The stories of God seeing the downcast are too many to even bullet-point here. They are all over Scripture. And all over the world, Pastor Mark and churches like his exist. Also, Chris’s church exists in many places around the globe, too: minimizing, patronizing, offering up weak platitudes.

Therapy’s Mirror: How Mental Health Reveals the Church’s Blind Spots

It’s no surprise that people come into counseling revealing problems in society and the church. Sometimes, it is the world of psychology, recovery, and treatment that first spots problems.

Our understanding of PTSD among veterans moved away from a simple “shell shock” or a weak constitution to understanding a real neurobiological illness.

AA had a significant influence on helping the world understand family dynamics and issues of “codependency” and poor boundaries within families, thereby shaping the study and research of family systems.

Behavioral economics and social psychology help us understand why people make the choices they do with their money, including how addicted we can become to screens or money.

However, I think OCD is a fabulous example of a consistent, significant hole in the church: people are not getting what they need in terms of care. Church participation is deeply on the hearts of many Christians. Yet, they often get a double whammy of worse symptoms from OCD when they attend and minimization by others who don’t understand.

Here’s a small sample of things that are considerably harder for many with OCD:

• Being around crowds

• Handshakes

• Social interactions

• Reading the Bible and especially difficult passages

• Taking part in communion/Eucharist

• Going to someone’s home / or the reverse

• Confession

• Prayer

Sure, sometimes people see someone suffering in the pews, and there are gracious, persistent attempts in the church when someone struggles. I think addictions are a great example of this. Churches have often been among the first and most common places to host recovery meetings. People can get multiple layers of support if they struggle with an addiction, including referrals out. While most opioid addicts probably need something way more frequent and involving than their local church recovery program that meets once per week, great successes exist while growing in faith. At a minimum, the Church can be very collaborative in pointing people to medical care, counseling, and recovery groups.

People with OCD today might be what alcoholics were viewed as a century ago: “weak-willed,” “self-focused,” “difficult,” “lacking faith.” It’s just not true. OCD is not a problem of faith.

The Dividing Line: Inconsistent Care

I have come to believe that there’s a dividing line right down the middle of churches, similar to Acts 6. Some people are doing fabulous when they come across someone deeply stuck in their OCD. The other side is faltering. The strange thing about this divide, I think, is that it’s not cities vs. country churches. Large, resource-filled megachurches aren’t necessarily better than the average church size of 65. In some ways, they are worse.

Meeting people from all walks of life, all over the world, some have Olivia’s experience, others have Chris’s. In Dallas, TX, I have many friends and clients with a variety of stories to tell. In some churches that really teach the Gospel and care for some people well, it can be appalling how mistreated others are in that church’s Bible studies. Other churches have some critical, harsh teaching from the pulpit, and yet a strong community of people who navigate personal struggles well.

It’s strange, and I certainly haven’t figured it out. Nor do I pretend to set myself up as some savior to this problem—only our Lord is.

A Special Heart for the Suffering: Following the Call of Christ

The life of Christ (and the whole of Scripture) reveals God has a special heart for the suffering, especially the poor:

• “The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.” (Psalm 9:9)

• “Whoever closes his ear to the cry of the poor will himself call out and not be answered.” (Prov. 21:13)

• “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.” (1 John 3:16-18)

• “So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought him all the sick, those afflicted with various diseases and pains, those oppressed by demons, those having seizures, and paralytics, and he healed them.” (Matthew 4:24)

• “...remember the poor…” (Galatians 2:10)

Jesus has called us to love the person who is suffering. And before we get too nit-picky with whether a 6-figure earning member of our church is really “poor” and needing of our attention, let us remember the parable of the good Samaritan when we start splitting hairs about who to love—anyone who is our “neighbor” (Lk 10:25-37). LOVE THEM.

And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward. (Matthew 10:42)

Beyond Basics: OCD and the Mature Believer

In Practicing the Way, John Mark Comer (2024) discusses stages of apprenticeship to Jesus (i.e., following Jesus, or being a disciple). At its heart, this is what “Christian” is supposed to mean.

He suggests three ways people walk with Christ, with each stage going deeper into the Christian walk:

1. Purgation—gross and conscious sin removal. This is the earliest stage of believing and is a “repentance from dead works” (Heb. 6:1).

2. Illumination—growth in a deeper understanding of unconscious sin and transforming thoughts (Rom. 12:1-2).

3. Union—abiding with God continuously (John 10:10; 15:4-7)

I am convinced that many with OCD are asking what appear to be immature faith questions, but may have a more mature faith than many around them. It takes deeper conversations, relationships, and knowing more about their story to feel out whether these “baby faith” questions are because of immaturity or fear. Sure, there are plenty of examples of those who need to be taught the basics. However, someone who is obsessing on whether they “ honestly know” Jesus—and the like—is often in category two above.

Comer’s model (based on early church teachings) helps us see beyond the surface. It suggests that where people are and what they need, while still Jesus and all of the basics, may differ with the passing of time, and especially the person’s walk with Christ.

However, many churches try to fit people into boxes or programs that already exist. OCD will break the standard reference point every time.

Therapy Is Not the Church’s Replacement, But Its Partner

And therapy can sometimes do a better job than many local churches in caring for individual suffering. However, therapy at its best doesn’t step on the church’s toes, because it is supposed to stay in its lane of tools and treatments. It is not a cohesive worldview or support system sufficient for life. It is to address specific goals or problems, not be an end unto itself.

Therapy isn’t an abnegation of the power of God. I’ve often heard 2 Tim. 3:16-17 and 2 Pet. 1:3 quoted as ‘proof texts’ for the claim that nothing besides Scripture and the Church is needed for human problems. That is a hyper-narrow lens that quickly falls apart when a person relies on any schooling, method, or training that lacks a chapter-and-verse reference.

The beauty of the church is that we are Christ’s and fully loved and accepted through Jesus.

As St. Patrick said:

Christ with me,

Christ before me,

Christ behind me,

Christ in me….

(“St. Patrick’s Breastplate”)

The very failings that exist are evidence of God’s truth at work: we are still desperately dependent on God while he works to make all things right—meaning there is a mess that hasn’t yet seen its full completion. His death and resurrection mean He has overcome both sin and death, but in His wisdom, He partners with us only when we willingly yield to Him.

So yes, the church is messy and sinful still. It’s a beautiful thing that we are allowed to fail, because it means He is letting us grow as people, like a child, and He will redeem every bad thing in His timing. Let us heed the call.

Let Us Love: Actionable Steps for the Church

An admonition and encouragement: in both friends and clients who have OCD, I know the variety of stories—tales of hurt, rejection, pain, but also those of pressing into the Lord and walking with the imperfect people that comprise those who follow him.

There is a simple yet challenging task ahead.

• Slow down, listen.

• Ask questions to understand.

• See if it fits patterns of repetition and distress, and whether people struggle to find the peace most others do with the usual answers given.

• Ask for help.

• Be there for them in the way you know how. Offer to pray. Follow up. Bring them a casserole. Tell them you may not understand, but you want them to know they are loved. Make it tangible.

• Keep following up.

I am a joyful member of the church universal (all who follow Jesus through all of time) because of Jesus, and certainly not because of me or the mess of people. It’s God working in and through us all—and God sees fit to be long-suffering. That’s the Gospel for those who receive it.

Another beautiful part of the story is that Chris and Olivia are both well-adjusted in their churches and serve there. As a therapist, I see people growing stronger and more committed in their faith as they progress through treatment. This is one of the things that opened my eyes as a junior clinician into the importance of finding care that actually fit the person’s struggles rather than a checkbox—it really helps. Rarely do I see people “crash out” in their faith or church involvement once they do treatment. In fact, I think people are more at risk of giving up if they neglect addressing the deep hurt and pain that OCD brings (particularly if the church pokes at the wound).

Stop cliches. Start the casseroles.

What is your church like? How do you walk with pain and suffering? How have you given or received care? What’s going well? What’s going poorly?

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*The examples used in this post involve composites of very real symptoms and suffering, despair, and hope. The information doesn’t identify any specific individual. You can take comfort in the fact that the themes, challenges, and breakthroughs are very real. I sometimes take narrative liberties so conversations and stories flow together, which means creating conversations in a story format.