“He Restores My Soul”

(Psalm 23 :3)

As I was doing my daily devotional…

I came across a story shared by a pastor about his struggle with depression.
He told how his wife prayed with him for help and encouraged him to see a doctor.
The doctor, also a friend, offered both lifestyle changes and medication.
He said he didn’t want that kind of help—he wanted to pray or serve his way out.
But his wife said something that changed his mind:

“You asked God for help. He sent you a doctor who loves you and offered you medicine, and now you want to negotiate how the help actually arrives?”

He finally took the pills, later saying:

“Who do you think put the thought into the chemists’ brains when they came up with something that could actually help?
I believe Jesus did a miracle through that chemistry.”

When Help Changes Hands

That sounds compassionate—but the question must always be tested by Scripture, not sentiment.
Where does help come from, and when does it become dependence on man?

“I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where does my help come?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.”
— Psalm 121 :1-2

Help comes from the Lord, not the hill, not the bottle, not the chemist’s hand.
He may use earthly means, but the means never become the miracle.

“Cursed is the man who trusts in man
and makes flesh his strength,
whose heart turns away from the LORD.…
Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD.”
— Jeremiah 17 :5-7

“A Miracle Through Chemistry”?

Yes, God gives intelligence—Bezalel was filled with the Spirit for craftsmanship (Exodus 31 :3)—
but not every invention carries His breath.
The builders of Babel also used their brilliance to defy Him (Genesis 11).
A thing can be clever and still godless.

“Now the works of the flesh are evident…
idolatry, sorcery (pharmakeia)…
those who do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.”
— Galatians 5 :19-21

Pharmakeia—the word translated sorcery—means using mixtures or potions for relief or control apart from God.
When a substance promises peace that bypasses repentance, it trespasses into idolatry.

God’s Pattern of Healing

“I am the LORD who heals you.” — Exodus 15 :26

“Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders… and the prayer of faith will save the sick.” — James 5 :14-15

“Do not be anxious about anything,
but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving
let your requests be made known to God.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4 :6-7

The guard on the mind is peace of God, not chemical sedation.

Lawful — Yet Not Beneficial

The Bible does not forbid caring for the body:
the Samaritan poured oil and wine on wounds (Luke 10 :34);
Isaiah told Hezekiah’s attendants to apply a fig poultice (a simple herbal wrap—natural, not mind-altering) (Isaiah 38 :21).
Those were restorative, not mind-altering.

Early Christians drew clear lines:

Body aids are lawful when they restore creation’s order.
Soul aids must never replace repentance or prayer.

“Medicine may serve the flesh, but only God heals the heart.” — Augustine

Where Healing Crosses the Line

There’s a holy difference between using something and depending on it.
A balm may comfort the body; only God restores the soul.

It’s not sinful to care for our flesh — a little sleep, a clean meal, a good doctor.
But when the heart begins to trust the thing instead of the Healer, we’ve already crossed the line.

When medicine stays in its place, it serves.
When it takes God’s place, it enslaves.

The same oil that soothes a wound can become an idol if we start believing it’s our savior.
The same pill that calms the body can become rebellion if it silences conviction.
The world’s cure numbs; God’s cure transforms.

True healing restores what He created.
False healing simply muffles the pain so we can keep running from repentance.

The Early Church on Melancholy

Evagrius Ponticus called depression “the noon-day demon.”
He said it tempts the soul to abandon prayer, whispering that faith is useless.
His cure? Perseverance in psalms, tears before God, and honest labor.

Augustine wept beneath a fig tree until he surrendered:

“You have made us for Yourself, O Lord,
and our heart is restless until it rests in You.”

Melancholy, for him, was homesickness for God.

Martin Luther fought despair by singing Psalms aloud.
Richard Baxter wrote, “Melancholy is cured by faith, hope, love, and patience — not by fleeing from duty but by walking with God.”
Spurgeon called his own dark moods “the fainting fits of faith,” saying,

“The remedy for depression is to remember God’s goodness in the past,
and trust Him for the future.”

None of them sought a pill to silence sorrow; they sought the Presence that transforms it.

False Comforters Then and Now

The Puritans warned of “false comforters” — wine, opium, amusements, even over-busyness — that mimic peace but drain faith.
Today’s pharmaceutical gospel is the same serpent with a new label.
It says, “You will feel better,” and often you might—but at what cost? Read the warning labels: confusion, dependency, even death.
The promise of comfort always comes with a price tag.
It says, “You will feel better,” instead of “You will be made new.”

A Moment from My Own Walk

Honestly, we all go through it — depression, anxiety, overthinking, exhaustion, the kind of hopelessness that makes prayer itself feel heavy.
When that shadow comes, the world offers easy escapes: a drink, a meditation app, a crowd that laughs too loud to notice the ache.
But none of it gives peace.

When we get depressed, anxious, overwhelmed, stressed, worried, confused, or hopeless — that is precisely the time to pray and seek His Presence.
Not just to say words into the air, but to draw near to the real Presence of God — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit — and in this battle for the mind, especially the Holy Spirit, our Comforter.
That is where peace begins.

We often pray for healing, for provision, for answers—and yes, Scripture tells us to ask, seek, and knock.
But how rarely do we knock simply for His Presence?
When we lay down every desire, even the good ones, and cry only, “Lord, let me dwell where You are,” something shifts.
His Presence itself becomes the answer.
You will know it when it comes: a peace deeper than language, the calm that silences panic.
Look at David—he didn’t pray for Saul’s healing; he worshiped.
And when praise filled the room, the evil spirit fled.
Darkness cannot stay where the Light Himself abides.

The Battle Behind the Names

The world will call it mental illness or depression, but the Word of God calls it what it is — a spiritual attack.
Psychology will name it and medicate it; the Spirit calls us to kneel and pray.
Instead of accepting the world’s label, bow before the Lord and ask, “Father, show me the door I opened. Close it in Jesus’ name.”
Confess, repent, and invite His Presence to fill every place that fear and darkness have occupied.

Remember David playing the harp before Saul — the evil spirit fled when worship rose.
That was anxiety, anger, torment — not chemical, but demonic.
And David didn’t counsel it; he conquered it through the Spirit.

We have to fight like Esther — “If I perish, I perish.”
Yes, it’s harder than words.
But this is war — not of flesh and blood, but of spirit and truth.

Just a few days ago, I felt crushed under it myself.
After our car accident — pain in my body, sleepless nights, insurance refusing to cover the damage, the bills piling up —
I prayed and prayed for guidance and help.
Then suddenly, I stopped asking for answers and asked simply for His Presence.

And there it was.
Peace.
Unexplainable.
Unmistakable.
The Holy Spirit came near — not to fix the paperwork or erase the pain, but to remind me that He was here.

That’s when I understood: the enemy’s attack wasn’t only on my circumstances; it was on my peace.
And the victory wasn’t in solving the problem—it was in abiding with Him.

“You make known to me the path of life;
in Your presence there is fullness of joy;
at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”
— Psalm 16 :11

And I can’t help but notice—while I was resting in that peace, gratitude kept rising in me without effort.
We didn’t break a single bone, didn’t bleed, not even a scratch.
Just the soreness that comes after a hard hit.
It could have been worse—so much worse.
Even death.
Yet here we are, alive, walking, talking, breathing grace.

I even found myself thanking God for what I was learning.
Yes, even about insurance! (That alone deserves a miracle emoji.)
I realized the Holy Spirit was teaching me through every frustrating detail.
We discovered later that our policy had only the bare-minimum coverage — no collision — because my husband, new to handling insurance, assumed the lower premium offered full protection. It reminded us how easily good intentions can meet fine print—and how God still provides even in the gaps.
Can you imagine if we had been at fault?
We’d be in a far worse situation!

Even though we’ll only receive up to $10,000 for property damage when our car is worth $35,000, I still hear that voice inside me saying,
“Be thankful.”
And I can’t ignore it.
Because it’s true.
It could have been tragedy.
Instead, it became training — a lesson in trust, humility, and divine protection.

My body still aches in new places as the days go by—whiplash, joints, back, neck.
Healing is slow, and the paperwork, therapy visits, and waiting are wearying.
The car will carry the scar of the accident on its title, and so will we in memory.
Yet even in that inconvenience, I hear the same whisper: “Be thankful.”
God is still writing provision into every delay.
Each ache reminds me that survival wasn’t luck—it was mercy.
Each appointment reminds me He’s still providing.
The body may be sore, but the soul rests.
And that’s the peace no insurance claim can buy.

The Real Miracle

“We were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself.
But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.”
— 2 Corinthians 1 :8-9

Depression becomes the crucible where self-reliance dies and resurrection faith is born.
That is the miracle no laboratory can engineer.