There Were Victims and There Were Students

 

Healing, discernment, tools and fear 

Recently Stephanie Snuffer gave a talk that really resonated with me. As I've  pondered it, I've realized it has connected to things I’ve been trying to sort through for a while now, particularly when it comes to healing, growth and how we actually learn to live what we believe. This post is (in part) an attempt to work that out more clearly.

Also, in a bit of irony that isn’t lost on me, I write as part of my healing process. Which is funny, given how hesitant we can be about therapy. Apparently I’m perfectly willing to do the work…. as long as I don’t label it too directly. So now I have a collection of drafts to prove it. This one is jumping the line, thanks to the current conversations and a little bit of pushback that made it harder to ignore

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There’s something I’ve been noticing more and more. We're not opposed to using tools to improve ourselves. In fact, that pattern is woven into how we already live.

When something feels off physically, we don't usually stop at “I just need more faith” and leave it there. We start paying attention. We look for patterns. We adjust what we eat. We take supplements. We rest more. We learn how the body works and try to support it. If we break a bone, we don't  hesitate to go to someone who understands the structure of the body and how to set it so it can heal correctly. If we want to get stronger, we don't just "try harder" and hope for the best. We follow a plan. We learn about consistency, recovery and what helps or hinders growth. None of that seems controversial to us. No one calls it trusting in the arm of flesh. We call it wisdom or stewardship. We call it learning how God designed the body so we can care for it responsibly.

The same thing is true in so many other areas of life. We use tools to learn how to study better, how to communicate more clearly, how to manage our time, how to raise children, how to strengthen a marriage, how to build businesses, how to create better habits and how to function more effectively in the world we actually live in. We don't assume that because something is good, right or commanded, we'll automatically know how to do it well. We understand that growth often requires learning, practice, correction and support. That has never seemed threatening to our faith. It has simply been part of living faithfully in mortality.

But when the conversation shifts to the mind, emotions, trauma and behavior, something changes. Suddenly many people become suspicious in a way they're not in almost any other area. There's often a sharper resistance, as though understanding patterns in thought, fear, attachment, or emotional regulation is somehow fundamentally different from learning about nutrition, sleep, recovery or any other created system. People become far more likely to say things like “just forgive” “just trust God” or “just pray more.” Those things are true. They're part of the path. But knowing what's true and being able to live it consistently are not always the same thing, and this is crucial.

Some people deeply want to forgive and still find themselves flooded with fear. Some want to trust God and still feel internal resistance they don't fully understand. Some want to be patient, meek, stable and loving,  yet they keep getting pulled into patterns that feel larger than simple unwillingness. That doesn't mean truth has changed. It certainly doesn't remove responsibility. It doesn't make sin righteousness or confusion clarity. It does mean that human beings are more complex than slogans allow, and if God made the whole person, not only the body but also the mind, the nervous system, memory and the way people process experience, then learning how those systems function shouldn't automatically be treated with suspicion.

We already trust God’s design in one part of ourselves. Extending that trust more fully is worth considering.

Scripture itself gives room for this kind of pursuit. We are told to seek learning by study and also by faith. We are told to seek out of the best books words of wisdom. At the same time, we're warned against trusting in the arm of flesh and against receiving the vain teachings of man as though they were truth. I don't believe those teachings contradict each other. I believe they require discernment. They teach us to remain anchored in God while also seeking truth carefully, humbly, prayerfully wherever it can genuinely be found. Scripture is the governing lens. Christ remains the authority. Truth doesn't become false simply because its discovered outside the canon, but neither should anything outside the canon be accepted casually or elevated above revelation.

That  has become more personal for me over time. I was raised in an environment that was deeply abusive. My childhood was full of harm and darkness caused by my father, and that shaped far more in me than I understood for many years. Even being open to the idea of trusting a loving Heavenly Father was difficult. That kind of background doesn't disappear simply because someone learns correct doctrine. It affects the body, the mind, the emotions and the way a person receives love, authority, safety and truth. For a long time I didn't fully grasp how tied together my physical health, mental health and spiritual life actually were.

There was a period when I was praying very specifically to Jesus about my physical health. I was seeking answers, and the answer I received was not one I welcomed. What I felt impressed with was that some of what I was dealing with physically was tied up in unprocessed emotions. At that time I had my dukes up against anything that smelled like psychology, so I resisted .... hard. I was genuinely open to the Lord guiding me toward practical steps, a specific diet to try, a supplement, more rest, or whatever felt like straightforward, faithful stewardship. But the impression that I needed to face and process old wounds landed like a shock. It felt sideways and far messier than I had expected. Looking back, that was one of the turning points for me. Eventually I had to face the reality that learning to process what was happening internally was not a betrayal of faith. It was part of learning to respond to the Lord’s counsel, even when that counsel didn't fit my preferences. But here's the thing, I had no idea how to actually do it. Up to that point, I'd believed the deeper I buried things, the closer I was to wellness. So I had to find someone who understood these patterns to help me begin unpacking them. I still feel like I'm at the beginning of that journey in many ways, and I still resist the Lord more than I want to admit, but I can see now that this wasn't a diversion from Him. It was part of how He was teaching me.

My daughter’s experience added another layer of clarity that I can't ignore. She has been diagnosed with an SMI that makes approaching life in the way some people think she should incredibly difficult. When she first started showing signs, I was open to the idea that what we were dealing with might be spiritual in a very direct sense. We gave her blessings. We fasted for her repeatedly. We sought help through the avenues we knew. I understand why people go there first, because I did too.

Over time, it became clear that what was happening couldn't be reduced to a simple explanation. Medication was necessary. Therapy was necessary. Diet change was necessary. Those things weren't enemies of faith. They were part of what made stability possible. They weren't a replacement for God, and they weren't evidence that prayer had failed. They were tools that became part of helping someone I love function more safely and more clearly in mortality.

Because of that, its very difficult for me now to hear people speak as though those with mental illness simply need an evil spirit cast out of them , or worse, that they should be cast out from among us. (Yes, people have actually said this) I understand the instinct to interpret suffering through a spiritual lens. I understand that there are spiritual realities. I'm not denying that. But I have seen firsthand how much harm can come from forcing everything into a single category. I've seen how quickly people can move from discernment into oversimplification, and from concern into accusations that crush rather than help. What may look like a spiritual issue often has other layers too. Sometimes there are overlapping realities at work, and responding wisely requires more humility than certainty.

This is very important because not everyone approaches the gospel from the same starting place. Some people come with wounds that have distorted their ability to trust. Some come with nervous systems shaped by trauma. Some come with severe mental illness, developmental limitations or other internal barriers that make ordinary functioning difficult, let alone spiritual steadiness. Some are carrying damage that other people cannot see, and often don't even know how to explain. That doesn't remove accountability, but it should deepen compassion. It should make us slower to accuse, slower to assume and slower to flatten another person’s struggle into a neat explanation.

I think this is one reason the psychology conversation matters so much. The fear people have isn't entirely imaginary. There are absolutely therapeutic approaches that stroke the ego, lower moral standards to avoid guilt, excuse sin or even shift authority away from God. There are frameworks that subtly train people to worship the self, redefine righteousness around comfort or treat repentance as pathology. Those dangers are real, and I don't think they should be brushed aside. We're right to be cautious and to test everything.

A quick note on discernment and therapy

I also want to mention something, because I don’t think the concerns people raise about psychology are baseless.

There are branches of psychology I’m deeply skeptical of. Some of the more Freudian approaches feel reductionist at best and harmful at worst. There are therapists who push ideological frameworks that don’t align with truth, encourage unnecessary family estrangement or  guide people toward conclusions that aren’t actually grounded in reality. That kind of influence is 100 percent real, and can cause serious damage.

Therapy isn't neutral. A therapist’s worldview shapes how they interpret your experiences and what direction they point you in. That makes discernment crucial.

Because of that, I think it's essential to find the right fit. Not just someone who is technically trained, but someone who respects your beliefs, honors your values and is actually invested in helping you move toward truth, instead of away from it.

Finding that kind of help can take time, and I think it should. Not every therapist is a good fit, and being willing to evaluate that carefully is part of using these tools wisely.

Caution isn't the same as blanket rejection. We already know that in every other area of life. We don't reject all medicine because some medicine is harmful. We don't reject all books because some are false. We don't reject all counsel because some counsel is misguided. We don't reject all diet advice because some of it is stupid. We evaluate. We compare. We observe fruit. We test what we are hearing against what we know to be true. The same kind of discernment is required here.

Using a tool isn't the same as worshiping it. Learning how something works isn't the same as making it authoritative. The better question isn't , “Did this come from man?” Nearly everything we use in ordinary life comes through human hands at some level. The better question is whether something is aligned with truth and what kind of fruit it produces. Does it increase humility, accountability, repentance, love and obedience to God? Does it help a person become more honest, more stable, more capable of forgiveness, more able to receive correction, more willing to live what Christ actually taught? Or does it harden the heart, lower the standard, center the self and pull the soul away from God?

If a person uses insight into trauma, emotional regulation, thought patterns, attachment or human behavior in a way that remains subordinate to Christ and scripture, I just don't see that as competing with the gospel. I see it as  helping people live it more faithfully in the real mess of mortality. Scripture gives us the truth. It gives us the ideal. It gives us the standard. Sometimes a well chosen tool can help bridge the gap between hearing that standard and actually being able to walk in it.

That's already how we think in other areas. We accept that proper nutrition can help a sick body function better. We accept that physical therapy can help a damaged joint regain strength. We accept that education can sharpen the mind. We accept that communication tools can improve a marriage. We accept that structure and habit can help us become more disciplined. We don't treat those things as spiritual betrayal. We treat them as support. So I find myself asking why this becomes so threatening when the tools are aimed at the inner life. If God made us as whole beings, then perhaps learning how that whole design works isn't an act of distrust. Perhaps, when done rightly, its one more form of stewardship.

“Out of small things proceeds that which is great.”

I don't think the answer is to lower our guard. I think the answer is to deepen discernment. We need more scripture, not less. More prayer, not less. More dependence on revelation, not less. But I also think we need more humility about the complexity of human suffering, more compassion toward those whose path is different than ours and more willingness to let God teach us through means we didn't expect.

We're here to grow. To be shaped. To be healed. To be refined over time. Along the way, we have always used tools to help us improve ourselves in this life. I don't  see why the mind and heart should be the one place where many insist those tools must be rejected in principle. The issue isn't whether tools exist. The issue is whether they remain in their proper place, under God, tested by scripture, weighed by the Spirit and used in ways that lead us toward greater truth rather than away from it.

That's the path I want. Not naïve acceptance, and not reactionary rejection. Discernment. Humility. Careful testing. Scriptures as the anchor. Christ as the source. And a willingness to keep seeking His light, wherever it is genuinely found.

A quick note before you listen.

This piece is raw. It includes profanity and explores some intense themes. If that’s not something you’re comfortable with, I completely understand and recommend skipping it.

I’m sharing it because it captures something I’ve struggled to explain, especially when it comes to the internal experience of mental health and spiritual tension. This is someone telling his own story honestly, without trying to clean it up.

I’d encourage you to listen all the way through to the end, as he reveals more as it unfolds and there’s a level of honesty here that can be easy to miss if we only listen for what we expect to hear.