Perhaps this one will be a true "musing"...
If you've read my most recent posts (though not terribly recent, I'm sorry to observe), then you're likely aware of my position as a psychology intern and therapist extraordinaire at a local hospital. I've enjoyed my unique (read: lonely) perspective as a Christian psychologist, poised to catch those moments in which psychology and faith intersect. Usually, the crossroads are sublime. Sometimes they are not. This is a musing about the latter.
Therapy is sort of an individual thing. Even in group therapy, the focus is on improving yourself, building your coping and interpersonal skills, learning how to overcome your depression/anxiety/self-pity/mass media-induced neurosis. Accordingly, self-esteem is paramount. Therapists exhort clients ad nauseum to use positive self-talk, make a list of positive qualities about themselves, identify strengths and successes, disregard the opinions and past abuses of others. And there is merit to this, in the sense that no person was intended to be a doormat, nor deeply and permanently depressed.
But the opposite of, and cure for, self-loathing is not self-worship. I don't believe the answer to low self-esteem is to build a shrine to self and lie there prostrate. How I want to scream this to my clients, even as I listen to my co-therapist encourage a group of used, abused, weepy-eyed, self-flagellating women (we had a gender-homogeneous group today) to put themselves first. These women roll out their laundry lists of thankless tasks: cleaning, cooking, caring for the kids, putting up with a sour (at best) relationship, enduring emotional havoc from aging parents. They pour themselves out daily for others and are realizing that this is draining, impossible to sustain indefinitely.
As I listen, I hear much of what is biblical about femininity: nurturing, caring, raising children, having a sensitivity to the emotions and behaviors of others. To an extreme, perhaps, and many of these women do not know how to set boundaries or to say no when it might be appropriate. I also hear much that is biblical concerning the human experience: it stinks sometimes to live in a fallen world among fallen people. And sometimes we feel ugly in our own skin.
I agree with secular psychology on one point: the answer requires a drastic re-aligning of priorities. But it is not a re-aligning that places the self in the top position. Far from it! Fulfillment will never - not EVER - come from selfishness, even well-intentioned selfishness designed to salve a wounded ego.
Rather, the answer is in reorienting ourselves so that our primary and ultimate allegiance is to the One who created us to be women (and men) bearing His image. My spirit resonates with the struggles of these women: I, too, feel the pressures of balancing a home and work, of pushing myself to sort the laundry when I don't feel like it, of cooking meals when I'm tired, of cleaning things that I'll never be thanked for. But I do believe that many of these tasks are at the heart of what it is to be a woman: a suitable help-mate for a man. I do not find the strength to do these things through scheduling regular bubble baths and pedicures (though those are nice when they happen), nor by washing my own clothes and dishes and letting the rest of the house go to pot (that was an actual suggestion today, to show the rest of the family what an important job she does). I find the strength to do these things through worshipping my God and believing His word that He created me to serve and to nurture. I find fulfillment in the thankless because I do all to the glory of God, not to the glory of me or my husband. I feel worthwhile because charm is deceptive and beauty fades, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
I wonder if our therapies are rendered less effective because we emphasize the self so heavily, to the exclusion of considering other, higher priorities. Ironically, our therapeutically self-centered culture is making us all the more neurotic because we can never raise our self-esteem high enough - until it is too high, and then we have a whole different set of pathologies.
Yes, we are to see value in ourselves and in our work. But that value is to flow from the ultimate worth-ship of our Creator, who created us in His image and declared that, behold, we are very good. And we are to always remember that our value is only because He has made it so: apart from His grace, we are in a state of abject wretchedness. The women in my therapy group are only feeling the reality of their condition! When my self-esteem is low, I return to the truths of Scripture and believe, even when my heart doesn't feel like it. I believe that God is God, and I am not. I believe that I ought to esteem myself lowly. And I believe that by His good pleasure and grace, He has placed me a little lower than the angels, nay, has clothed me in the righteousness of His Son and adopted me as a co-heir of heaven.
How could listing my positive qualities, filthy rags such as they are, possibly compare with the inestimable riches and beauty of the crown of life? What positive self-talk could I possibly craft to encourage me more than to say I am a daughter of El-Shaddai? When my spirit groans in this fallen world, may I not yield to therapeutic self-centeredness, but may the Lord help me to cast my eyes heavenward, to cry "Come quickly, Lord Jesus!" and to be faithful by His grace until He does.
Showing posts with label integration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label integration. Show all posts
God and Psychotherapy, Part the Second
I'm not sure I have the energy to make this post quite as eloquent as the one about angel-guy and reality, but as I witness the ongoing intersection between therapy and faith, I feel compelled to share.
Actually, this post will be more of a musing than a story (thus perfectly befitting the title of my blog, for perhaps the first time? do I often muse? how can one tell?) (I might not muse, but I certainly digress). ANYWAY...
I've noticed that clients seem reluctant to talk about their faith in session. I've had several who, just in passing, have mentioned something about God or religious beliefs, or some Christian song that they enjoy singing. Because I love Jesus and was trained at Regent University, I'm usually on that like a hawk. "Oh, are your beliefs about God important to you?" "Oh, do you enjoy singing Christian songs? What are your beliefs about that?" It is glorious when this occurs, like a sudden, unexpected beam of light shining down onto my therapy couch.
I'm always amazed when my clients seem surprised that I should ask. Those who have opened this door have turned out to identify as Christians, and to report that their beliefs are of core importance to them. How could such a person claim to desire healing without incorporating such a central component of their humanity? It blows the mind, really. Have we, as a field, professed so much hostility toward religion that our clients, the very ones for whom we exist, feel afraid to mention their love for the Lord?
One feels inspired to cuss. Or would, perhaps, if one weren't such a thoroughly sanctified girl.
I have one client in particular, whose name is startlingly appropriate to this story (we'll call her Faith, not her real name). She has been struggling with overwhelming guilt and shame related to her daughter's experience of abuse in the past. Faith has been stuck in a very deep depression for over a year, and to make matters worse, is somaticizing her distress as physical pain throughout her body. She feels little relief from her pain, even with medication and a sporadic exercise regimen. It is difficult for her to function from day to day because of the staggering weight of her guilt and sorrow.
I was trying to help her identify activities that lift her mood, even a little. She mentioned reading, and I asked what she enjoys reading. Her reading material of choice includes books about God, love, and becoming a better person. Choosing to believe that she was not referring to anything Olsteen-related, I asked about her interest in God. Does she have a relationship with God? Is this important to her? How has she experienced God since she learned of her daughter's abuse? Has she felt a disconnect between what she knows about God, and the way she feels her relationship with him is now?
Well oh my stars. If this woman didn't just light up at the mention of her God. We didn't solve world hunger, or even permanently do away with her depression, but we had such a conversation as has rarely graced a therapy room. It turns out she has felt very distant from God lately, and this is very distressing for her. She believes in Jesus, but it is incredibly difficult for her to let go of the guilt that comes from blaming herself for her daughter's abuse.
Does this not change everything about the way we will move forward in therapy??
In fifteen minutes we moved from a cold, stuck, barren place in which Faith has little hope for ever improving, to a warm, beautiful, living place in which Faith remembers her love for God, her passion for beauty, and her gift for writing poetry. Next time I see Faith, she will bring her old writings and we will speak of the only thing that is really True. Before she left that day, she smiled for at least five minutes and complimented my hair.
And all I did was agree with her that God exists, and He gives us good things, and that sometimes what we know about Him is very different from the way we experience Him. I gave her permission to speak about that which is Real in a way that her guilt and depression never will be. All I did was spot an unlocked door, and nudge it open enough for us to peer through together. And I do believe we'll be walking through it in the near future: the door to forgiveness and hope.
It will be interesting to see how this plays out. With depression as significant as Faith is experiencing, progress tends to be slow and recovery is not always complete - i.e. some symptoms and/or some tendency to relapse will always remain. I blame the genetic component of mood disorders. But if we can reduce the heavy burden of guilt, I would imagine that we will see some level of improvement.
You know, it's interesting. That morning, as I laid in bed struggling to wake up and leave my warm (canoe-shaped...but that's a different post...) cocoon, I said a prayer for the clients I would see that day. Wednesdays are my full days, and I am there roughly 11.5 hours, so it takes a fairly strong kick in the pants to get me going. I find that it helps to minimize my stress and fear of exhaustion if I pray over that day's workload (go figure). And I prayed for Faith, who previously had been a bit of a frustration to me because of her stuck-ness. And lo and behold, the Lord saw fit to enter into the healing process that very morning.
I love my job.
[editor's note: I guess this turned out to be both a musing and a story. I have such a gift for smooth transitions and combining literary genres.]
Actually, this post will be more of a musing than a story (thus perfectly befitting the title of my blog, for perhaps the first time? do I often muse? how can one tell?) (I might not muse, but I certainly digress). ANYWAY...
I've noticed that clients seem reluctant to talk about their faith in session. I've had several who, just in passing, have mentioned something about God or religious beliefs, or some Christian song that they enjoy singing. Because I love Jesus and was trained at Regent University, I'm usually on that like a hawk. "Oh, are your beliefs about God important to you?" "Oh, do you enjoy singing Christian songs? What are your beliefs about that?" It is glorious when this occurs, like a sudden, unexpected beam of light shining down onto my therapy couch.
I'm always amazed when my clients seem surprised that I should ask. Those who have opened this door have turned out to identify as Christians, and to report that their beliefs are of core importance to them. How could such a person claim to desire healing without incorporating such a central component of their humanity? It blows the mind, really. Have we, as a field, professed so much hostility toward religion that our clients, the very ones for whom we exist, feel afraid to mention their love for the Lord?
One feels inspired to cuss. Or would, perhaps, if one weren't such a thoroughly sanctified girl.
I have one client in particular, whose name is startlingly appropriate to this story (we'll call her Faith, not her real name). She has been struggling with overwhelming guilt and shame related to her daughter's experience of abuse in the past. Faith has been stuck in a very deep depression for over a year, and to make matters worse, is somaticizing her distress as physical pain throughout her body. She feels little relief from her pain, even with medication and a sporadic exercise regimen. It is difficult for her to function from day to day because of the staggering weight of her guilt and sorrow.
I was trying to help her identify activities that lift her mood, even a little. She mentioned reading, and I asked what she enjoys reading. Her reading material of choice includes books about God, love, and becoming a better person. Choosing to believe that she was not referring to anything Olsteen-related, I asked about her interest in God. Does she have a relationship with God? Is this important to her? How has she experienced God since she learned of her daughter's abuse? Has she felt a disconnect between what she knows about God, and the way she feels her relationship with him is now?
Well oh my stars. If this woman didn't just light up at the mention of her God. We didn't solve world hunger, or even permanently do away with her depression, but we had such a conversation as has rarely graced a therapy room. It turns out she has felt very distant from God lately, and this is very distressing for her. She believes in Jesus, but it is incredibly difficult for her to let go of the guilt that comes from blaming herself for her daughter's abuse.
Does this not change everything about the way we will move forward in therapy??
In fifteen minutes we moved from a cold, stuck, barren place in which Faith has little hope for ever improving, to a warm, beautiful, living place in which Faith remembers her love for God, her passion for beauty, and her gift for writing poetry. Next time I see Faith, she will bring her old writings and we will speak of the only thing that is really True. Before she left that day, she smiled for at least five minutes and complimented my hair.
And all I did was agree with her that God exists, and He gives us good things, and that sometimes what we know about Him is very different from the way we experience Him. I gave her permission to speak about that which is Real in a way that her guilt and depression never will be. All I did was spot an unlocked door, and nudge it open enough for us to peer through together. And I do believe we'll be walking through it in the near future: the door to forgiveness and hope.
It will be interesting to see how this plays out. With depression as significant as Faith is experiencing, progress tends to be slow and recovery is not always complete - i.e. some symptoms and/or some tendency to relapse will always remain. I blame the genetic component of mood disorders. But if we can reduce the heavy burden of guilt, I would imagine that we will see some level of improvement.
You know, it's interesting. That morning, as I laid in bed struggling to wake up and leave my warm (canoe-shaped...but that's a different post...) cocoon, I said a prayer for the clients I would see that day. Wednesdays are my full days, and I am there roughly 11.5 hours, so it takes a fairly strong kick in the pants to get me going. I find that it helps to minimize my stress and fear of exhaustion if I pray over that day's workload (go figure). And I prayed for Faith, who previously had been a bit of a frustration to me because of her stuck-ness. And lo and behold, the Lord saw fit to enter into the healing process that very morning.
I love my job.
[editor's note: I guess this turned out to be both a musing and a story. I have such a gift for smooth transitions and combining literary genres.]
Integration Capstone
At Regent, we talk a lot about the integration of Christianity and psychology. That is, how do I approach my clinical work from a Christian worldview? To what extent do I bring my faith into the therapy room, and to what extent to I view myself as a "Christian psychologist" as opposed to a "psychologist who happens to be a Christian"?
One of the last courses of our academic career at Regent is an Integration Capstone class, in which we spend hours just sitting around and chewing on the thoughts and ideas of high-profile integrationists, as well as our own perspectives on integration. Our capstone assignment, if you will, is to develop a 5-10 minute presentation of our own approach to integration, a landmark experience or event that shaped our integration journey, or just some kind of personal interaction with the topic of integration. I thought I might share my own presentation with you here. What a long, strange trip it's been as a Christian doctoral student in clinical psychology, alternately experiencing antagonism both from psychologists and the church. It is my prayer that, by the grace of God, my career will be a journey of integration and a testament to how God is Lord over all things, even psychology.
My thoughts, if you are interested...
My integration journey has been sort of a gradual one; that is, there is no particular landmark event or experience I would point to as “the one” that shaped my integration philosophy.
But as I look back over the past four years, I can identify a few driving forces and overarching themes that have been the most influential, so those are what I’ll focus on now.
The obvious driving force behind my integration development has been the hand of God. But as far as the particular instruments that God has used in my life, the most influential by far has been my husband. I know how that probably sounds, but it’s really true. As Joel has pursued God throughout our marriage, he has been constantly pushing me also to learn more about what I believe and why I believe it. He loves the Word of God and is always challenging me to compare my attitudes, opinions, and actions against the standard of Scripture. In fact, when I haven’t been reading about psychology, I’ve been reading up on my theology. As a result, I can see an overall trajectory in my life over the past few years toward a greater understanding and love of Scripture, and greater application of Scripture to all aspects of my life.
I obviously have not mastered this, and so I want to be careful to say this with great humility. But I can definitely say that God has been gracious in opening my heart and mind to see Him and His truth more and more clearly.
A major piece of this growing in my faith has been a growing knowledge of and appreciation for the sovereignty of God. If you had asked me at the beginning of our program if God was in control of everything, I would have said, “of course!”. Obviously. That was a part of my basic understanding of Scripture and my faith.
But as I progressed through my training and especially as I started to see clients, this truth became ever more precious to me. I started out with that whole idealistic thing, where I thought I could take every single client to a place of wholeness and happiness. As I realized how foolish that was, I became incredibly troubled at the thought that I couldn’t “fix” people. That’s why I signed up for this gig, right? But I learned to find comfort in two things: First, I had a supervisor who challenged me to think more realistically about my expectations for therapy. Duh, right? So then I started to view my relationship with my clients as a particular chapter of their lives, a small piece of their overall progress.
And second, I clung to the sovereignty of God and His promises in Scripture. He is often gracious even to those who don’t love Him, sending rain on the just and on the unjust, but He also declares that He will have mercy on whom He will have mercy. He is a God of healing and peace, but not everyone is guaranteed healing and peace in this lifetime. And that’s ok. My job is to be faithful to His calling in my life, to be obedient to His Word and do my part with excellence. As a psychologist, that will obviously mean offering compassion and working toward healing for my clients; but when healing doesn’t come in the form of gigantic therapeutic gains, I can be ok with that and acknowledge that this person is ultimately in the palm of God’s hand, along with the rest of creation and His children. God is God, and I am not.
One other aspect of integration I’d like to mention goes back to my husband. As I’ve spent the last few years wrestling with what it means to be a Christian psychologist, and as Joel and I have grown together in our faith, he has challenged me to apply Scripture to my work as a clinician. There have been some particularly tricky client situations that have stretched the limits of my understanding and pushed me out of my comfort zone. When I’ve shared these situations with my husband (in a strictly de-identified context, of course), he has questioned how my therapeutic goals line up with my beliefs as a Christian. At times I’ve been able to answer him easily, but sometimes – I just didn’t know. I feel blessed to have such a person in my life, who is not a psychologist but has sharpened me as an integrationist and pushed me toward forging a unified identity out of these two areas of my life.
So where do I stand now, in my integration approach? I’m not totally sure, I haven't quite worked all the kinks out; but I do know that if God is truly Lord of all and Lord of my life, then my psychological work must be subject to Him as well. I find great harmony between the techniques we use, and the truths of Scripture, so implicit integration is often easy for me. I love the opportunities for explicit integration as well – using Scripture in therapy, discussing spiritual questions, etc. For me the challenge to integration comes with those tough clients, difficult cases, and situations that might try to blur the edges of my Christian convictions. But I remember that at the end of the day I answer not to the APA, not to an ethics board, but to the God of the universe. I obviously will do my best to adhere to all legal and ethical standards of the profession: it’s not that I hope to be a renegade Christian therapist bringing everybody to Jesus. But I do hope to be so familiar with the Word of God and so attuned to His spirit that I can exercise discernment and wisdom in fulfilling my ultimate responsibility to Christ even and especially as a psychologist.
One of the last courses of our academic career at Regent is an Integration Capstone class, in which we spend hours just sitting around and chewing on the thoughts and ideas of high-profile integrationists, as well as our own perspectives on integration. Our capstone assignment, if you will, is to develop a 5-10 minute presentation of our own approach to integration, a landmark experience or event that shaped our integration journey, or just some kind of personal interaction with the topic of integration. I thought I might share my own presentation with you here. What a long, strange trip it's been as a Christian doctoral student in clinical psychology, alternately experiencing antagonism both from psychologists and the church. It is my prayer that, by the grace of God, my career will be a journey of integration and a testament to how God is Lord over all things, even psychology.
My thoughts, if you are interested...
My integration journey has been sort of a gradual one; that is, there is no particular landmark event or experience I would point to as “the one” that shaped my integration philosophy.
But as I look back over the past four years, I can identify a few driving forces and overarching themes that have been the most influential, so those are what I’ll focus on now.
The obvious driving force behind my integration development has been the hand of God. But as far as the particular instruments that God has used in my life, the most influential by far has been my husband. I know how that probably sounds, but it’s really true. As Joel has pursued God throughout our marriage, he has been constantly pushing me also to learn more about what I believe and why I believe it. He loves the Word of God and is always challenging me to compare my attitudes, opinions, and actions against the standard of Scripture. In fact, when I haven’t been reading about psychology, I’ve been reading up on my theology. As a result, I can see an overall trajectory in my life over the past few years toward a greater understanding and love of Scripture, and greater application of Scripture to all aspects of my life.
I obviously have not mastered this, and so I want to be careful to say this with great humility. But I can definitely say that God has been gracious in opening my heart and mind to see Him and His truth more and more clearly.
A major piece of this growing in my faith has been a growing knowledge of and appreciation for the sovereignty of God. If you had asked me at the beginning of our program if God was in control of everything, I would have said, “of course!”. Obviously. That was a part of my basic understanding of Scripture and my faith.
But as I progressed through my training and especially as I started to see clients, this truth became ever more precious to me. I started out with that whole idealistic thing, where I thought I could take every single client to a place of wholeness and happiness. As I realized how foolish that was, I became incredibly troubled at the thought that I couldn’t “fix” people. That’s why I signed up for this gig, right? But I learned to find comfort in two things: First, I had a supervisor who challenged me to think more realistically about my expectations for therapy. Duh, right? So then I started to view my relationship with my clients as a particular chapter of their lives, a small piece of their overall progress.
And second, I clung to the sovereignty of God and His promises in Scripture. He is often gracious even to those who don’t love Him, sending rain on the just and on the unjust, but He also declares that He will have mercy on whom He will have mercy. He is a God of healing and peace, but not everyone is guaranteed healing and peace in this lifetime. And that’s ok. My job is to be faithful to His calling in my life, to be obedient to His Word and do my part with excellence. As a psychologist, that will obviously mean offering compassion and working toward healing for my clients; but when healing doesn’t come in the form of gigantic therapeutic gains, I can be ok with that and acknowledge that this person is ultimately in the palm of God’s hand, along with the rest of creation and His children. God is God, and I am not.
One other aspect of integration I’d like to mention goes back to my husband. As I’ve spent the last few years wrestling with what it means to be a Christian psychologist, and as Joel and I have grown together in our faith, he has challenged me to apply Scripture to my work as a clinician. There have been some particularly tricky client situations that have stretched the limits of my understanding and pushed me out of my comfort zone. When I’ve shared these situations with my husband (in a strictly de-identified context, of course), he has questioned how my therapeutic goals line up with my beliefs as a Christian. At times I’ve been able to answer him easily, but sometimes – I just didn’t know. I feel blessed to have such a person in my life, who is not a psychologist but has sharpened me as an integrationist and pushed me toward forging a unified identity out of these two areas of my life.
So where do I stand now, in my integration approach? I’m not totally sure, I haven't quite worked all the kinks out; but I do know that if God is truly Lord of all and Lord of my life, then my psychological work must be subject to Him as well. I find great harmony between the techniques we use, and the truths of Scripture, so implicit integration is often easy for me. I love the opportunities for explicit integration as well – using Scripture in therapy, discussing spiritual questions, etc. For me the challenge to integration comes with those tough clients, difficult cases, and situations that might try to blur the edges of my Christian convictions. But I remember that at the end of the day I answer not to the APA, not to an ethics board, but to the God of the universe. I obviously will do my best to adhere to all legal and ethical standards of the profession: it’s not that I hope to be a renegade Christian therapist bringing everybody to Jesus. But I do hope to be so familiar with the Word of God and so attuned to His spirit that I can exercise discernment and wisdom in fulfilling my ultimate responsibility to Christ even and especially as a psychologist.
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