God meets us at points of common struggle
How does a Christian relate to a friend with OCD? Here I lay my cards on the table. These are my starting points. They’re guided by the conviction that God meets us at common points of struggle.
In my previous post I shared that finding common ground is a great starting point for relating to a friend with OCD. (Or for that matter, someone with any psychiatric label.) It’s not assuming we know what our friend’s experience is like. But it’s trying to understand what its like for them and learning to see common threads in our struggles.
We can describe this in a number of ways: finding common ground, being more alike than different, struggles being different only in degree, relating alongside. They’re all ways of saying, “I’m like you. I want to hang in there with you because I struggle too.”
It’s a posture of humility.
This starting point has been impressed on me through a variety of experiences. Growing up in a local Salvation Army church instilled a sense of common struggles, relating to anyone regardless of presenting problems, not being better but alongside someone in their struggle.
I’ve also grown up as a struggler. Someone who hasn’t easily fitted in. That shy kid in primary school who was an easy target for bullies. The kid who would bottle things up inside until an outburst of rage. Harsh words. Hitting. Kicking. Pushing. Getting even.
These formative experiences have made the search for common ground feel intuitive. But putting it into words and getting better at doing it is something that’s come into sharp focus for me through my study with the Christian Counseling and Educational Foundation (CCEF). Let me share some of the nuance I’ve gleaned through this experience as it bears on relating to a friend with OCD. I see these as key starting points as we relate together with complex struggles. Struggles that threaten to overwhelm and confuse us. Problems that can make us think God has nothing relevant to say. They’re all subsets of finding common ground.
Moving toward
First, we move toward those with complex struggles. Not away. (Here, I’m indebted to Ed Welch. This theme threads through his Helping Relationships class.)
There are a whole range of psychiatric labels given to people today—depression, anxiety, ADHD, OCD, schizophrenia — just to name a few. We have trained specialists attempting to treat such issues: GPs, psychologists, psychiatrists.
What do we do if when someone says, “I’m Joe and I’ve got OCD”?
We can take a backward step. We can say things to ourselves like, “This sounds messy. I don’t want to get involved.”
“What if I make a mistake? Perhaps I’ll make things worse.”
“Perhaps I should leave Joe to the experts. There are people out there trained to deal with this stuff.”
We can give way to fear. We can feel overwhelmed. Powerless. Ill-equipped to help.
(By the way, I’m not dismissing the role of specialised help. Just highlighting how it can impact our role as a potential friend.)
The problem in giving weight to these thoughts is a movement away from loving Joe. Its a movement away from finding common ground. Its a movement away from showing interest. From trying to understand.
So we move toward. We show interest. We ask Joe, “Oh, what does that mean for you Joe?”
We try to understand. We listen. We listen for what’s important to Joe.
It sounds simple. But it’s often hard for us to do.
It can make the world of difference to our friends. Often our friends with a label have been burnt. They’ve opened up to others. But in the course of friendship something goes wrong (perhaps they asked too much, over-reacted to someone’s insensitivity or things have got too messy for their friend) and the person with OCD is cut off.
So that’s a starting point: moving toward under the heading of finding common ground.
Normalising the abnormal
Second, we normalise the abnormal. We try and find common ground in the OCD struggle where things seem foreign, weird, abnormal to us. (Again, this has been driven home to me through Ed’s Helping Relationships class.)
We move toward Joe and ask about his experience of OCD. He tells us about his fear of germs and constant washing. We can get that to some extent. We can’t see germs. Surgeons wash for some 15 minutes before an operation. There are real risks. Most of us take some level of precaution.
But then Joe mentions his number worries. He can’t leave his house at 10:42am. He avoids other number combinations. That might seem plain weird to us. Superstitious. Defying logic.
Normalising the abnormal is about finding the common ground even in those stranger problems.
Joe’s number worries might draw a blank for us the first time we hear of them. We can’t relate at all. So we reflect further on our experience.
Perhaps we went through something hard and concluded some small thing we did contributed to what happened. We desperately want to avoid that hardship again. Because we associate our small action with the hardship we decide we’ll never do it again.
Let’s revisit the bushfire experience from my last post. That was something I wanted to avoid happening again at all costs. Even though I didn’t set the Shapes box alight (my cousin did) I could’ve concluded that I’d never strike a match again. It’s too risky.
Now we’re getting closer to what Joe may be experiencing. Remember OCD is like fear on steroids. It’s not wanting particular things to happen. It’s being a victim of intrusive thoughts (obsessions) that suggest small actions we take — whether lighting a match or leaving the house at 10:42am — could have disastrous consequences. And its developing rituals (compulsions) to neutralise those outcomes — whether it’s staying away from matches or planning our movements either side of 10:42am.
Here’s a non-OCD example of normalising the abnormal. My Human Personality class involved reading on ‘wannabe amputees’ — people convinced they would be more whole if they followed through with voluntary amputation. (The article can be accessed here: ‘A New Way to be Mad’ by Carl Elliot.) Could I relate to the experience of wanting to lose a limb or two? The thinking that I would be more complete? A truer reflection of myself? Not at all!
But a closer look at this experience shows many ‘wannabe amputees’ look up to heroes in their life. People who are amputees. There’s something I can relate to.
At the time of reading the article I’d been working on growing a Ryan Clark-inspired beard. (Ryan’s a gifted graphic designer and lead singer of Demon Hunter, one of my favourite Christian metal bands.) In many ways Ryan’s someone I want to be like: creative, bold, uncompromising in his faith. I have this desire to be like him in some way. That extends to my appearance. Maybe if I can look a bit like him, I can be a be a bit more like those things I aspire to?
See the similarity with ‘wannabe amputees’?
That’s normalising the abnormal.
Knowing truth from the inside
Third, when we discern opportunities to bring wisdom to our friend, we do it as one who knows truth from the inside. We hold back from speaking too soon. There’s danger in assuming we know our friend’s struggle before really getting to know them. We take opportunities to speak after showing persistent interest and building solid understanding. We do so as one who knows what God says to us at common points of struggle.
Ed Welch suggests we start with a simplistic understanding of our friend’s story. (By story, I mean the way someone make’s sense of their world.) “Joe has OCD so that probably means …”
But as we really get to know someone’s story it gets very complex. “There’s so much detail to Joe’s story. How has Joe’s father’s checking patterns impacted on Joe?”
“I can understand some of Joe’s experiences of fear that have led to his compulsive checking rituals. But others seem different. There are so many layers! It’s all so confusing!”
The final stage is coming out the other side of the complexity where things seem simple, clear. We understand some of the same patterns in our own lives. Yes, they may be different in degree. But there’s a striking resemblance in the pattern.
At the point where things are simple, it’s no longer me and the one who struggles. We both struggle. This is when we’re able to speak with relevance to our friend’s life.
Even if our wisdom is well-intentioned sharing too early risks having no traction in someone’s life. Our words may be seen as irrelevant. “What do they know?!”
So it’s simplistic > complex > simple. (More content from Helping Relationships.)
Let’s make this a bit more visual. It’s like being at the beach and being knocked around by a dumper.
We go through stages of getting to know our friend. Before the wave comes we think we have some sense of what’s going on. “I can handle this! It looks safe!”
Then the wave comes! Overwhelming details. Too much to make sense of. We dive under the wave and are pummelled by its force. “Why did I offer friendship in the first place?! I want to get out of here!”
We get up a bit disoriented. The wave has past. We stand up on our feet. On the other side clarity emerges. We have a fuller understanding of our friend’s struggle. It’s not the naive perspective we had before the dumper of detail and complexity. We understand the struggle to the point that we see similar patterns in our hearts.
Part of this process is learning to think in biblical categories.
At first glance we might conclude the Bible has nothing to say about OCD. But as we start to see that OCD involves fear Scripture starts to open us to us and our friend. We all experience fear. God speaks tenderly to the fearful.
We see Scripture has much to say about our desire to control life. (Often, it’s part of pride though we don’t always equate pride with control.) God focusses in on the the anxiety that comes from trying to control what’s beyond us. Again Scripture opens up to us.
As we explore our own experiences of fear and anxiety we can identify with our friend’s struggle. We can move together in responding to what God says to our fear and anxiety.
We do it by connecting ‘one-bit of Bible’ to ‘one-bit of life’. David Powlison illustrates this in his article Think Globally, Act Locally (available in this issue of the Journal of Biblical Counseling.). In helping Teri, a woman prone to fearing other people, David chooses Hebrew 13:5b-6 as a helpful place to go. Why? One key reason is he knows it’s impact firsthand:
I know it from the inside. I know what it means. I know how it works. I know how it connects both to people and to the wider context of God’s revelation. I’ve seen how the dynamic it portrays works out into real life. I’ve seen how it adapts to different people facing various troubles.
David Powlison, Think Globally, Act Locally, 7.
How do we do that?
As I’ve met with a friend suffering from OCD I’ve zoomed into one of my own areas of struggle. Securing the front door at night. An area where God can be absent from my thinking. I become a practical atheist. I go ‘blank’ to God. I think it’s just me and the threat of an intruder. I fool myself into thinking if I just go through my routine of double-checking the front door we’ll be safe and secure as a family. I fail to realise that whether the door is locked or unlocked God is the One who watches over us (e.g. Psalm 121). There are any number of other possible scenarios threatening our safety: an intruder smashes a window, a tree falls on the house, an electrical fire starts. They’re things I can’t control.
How do I hear God’s words in such a moment?
I remind myself that it’s not just me and the potential threat. Yes, it’s good to lock the door. That’s acting responsibly. And at the same time God grants safety. Our lives are in his hands.
Psalm 27:1 is helpful for speaking to such moments of fear:
The LORD is my light and my salvation —
whom [or what] shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life —
of whom [or what] shall I be afraid?Psalm 27:1 (NIV)
I’m realising that sharing these experiences with a friend with OCD are very helpful. It opens up our common struggle with fear. Our tendency to leave God out of the picture.
It turns out that the points where I need to take Scripture to heart in those fearful moments connect very directly to where my friend needs to take Scripture to heart. God meets us at points of common struggle.
That’s knowing truth from the inside.
Helpful resources
I’m mentioned some CCEF classes I’ve taken and a JBC article. But here are some more specific resources on OCD that have shaped my thinking from a medical and biblical perspective:
- OCD with Mike Emlet: a two-part podcast on OCD that’s conversational and a really helpful orientation to OCD.
- Obsessions and Compulsions: Breaking Free of the Tyranny by Mike Emlet: a JBC article in Volume 22.2 which goes into more depth of understanding OCD and providing biblical help.
- Descriptions and Prescriptions: A Biblical Perspective on Psychiatric Diagnoses & Medications by Mike Emlet: I’m yet to read this book but was privileged to hear Mike share his insights on this topic at a conference in 2017.
You’ll notice Mike Emlet’s been formative in my understanding of OCD. He is a medical doctor, has completed theological study and is now on faculty at CCEF. I’ve greatly benefited from his nuance in understanding psychiatric labels—their benefits and limitations, providing holistic care to those who suffer in this way, and understanding their struggle from a biblical framework.
What’s next
In my next post I’d like to share some of Mike’s insights in the strengths and limitations of such labels as OCD as I start to engage directly with The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Washing.
I’ve shared these overarching starting points: moving toward, normalising the abnormal and knowing truth from the inside. Each are subsets of finding common ground.
- But do I apply them in the detail?
- Are there differences between these initial starting points and Judith Rapoport’s professional model of care?
- What particular insights can we glean from ‘The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Washing?’
- What of these insights can we wholeheartedly take on board as ‘common grace’ wisdom? I.e. what’s consistent with what God says about our humanity?
- Are there any places in Scripture that shed light where Judith may be lacking?
For discussion
If you feel comfortable I’d love to start some discussion on these ideas online (you can respond below). If you’d like to reach out and share your reactions directly you can email me: jeremy@wisdominconversation.com.
- What’s your reaction to these starting points? Are they compelling? Or do they raise concerns for you?
- Can you see any of these starting points in the way others have related to you? What’s been helpful or unhelpful?
- What questions do you have as I start interacting directly with The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Washing?
