A Quiet Mind to Suffer With: Mental Illness, Trauma, and the Death of Christ

by John Andrew Bryant, Kathryn Greene-McCreight (Foreword)

Publishers Weekly starred review “This is a stunning book, so rare and so beautiful. I cannot recommend it highly enough.” ―Matthew A. LaPine Suffering has been made holy by Christ’s proximity to it. This is the story of Christ’s nearness to my own suffering―my mental breakdown, my journey to the psych ward, my long, slow, painful recovery―and how Christ will use even our agony and despair to turn us into servants and guests of the mercy offered in his gospel. We cannot answer suffering. And yet suffering demands an answer. If Jesus is the answer to suffering, what kind of answer is Jesus? Everything that could be taken from a person was taken from him. The worst things a person could be made to see and feel were seen and felt by Christ. All of this came to a point in the nails driven into his hands and became a word that cannot be unspoken―his body broken and his blood poured out for us. Suffering has been made holy by Christ’s proximity to it.

Genres: Memoir, Mental Health, Christian, Counselling, Nonfiction, Faith, Theology

300 pages, Paperback

Published September 13, 2023

Reviews

[Mark Jr.]

I can’t bring myself to rate this book, because I liked it and, well, didn’t. And in that tension lay its value for me.

On the one hand, I’ve met the author and liked him very much. We connected over urban ministry that he still does and that I used to do. On that same hand, his writing style is really special and yet not affected; it’s genuine. The personal stories and explorations in this book were instructive for me, as someone who is almost always confident and doesn’t really understand what the author’s trials are like.

And that’s the other hand: because I don’t really understand his mental trials, and because he doesn’t pretend to have surmounted them all, I found it somewhat draining—what a selfish thing to say about a book by a respected acquaintance—to follow the tortuous pathways of his quiet, suffering mind.

I just named those pathways as a sort of negative for the book. But they also constitute the prime value of the book for me: John gave me (some) understanding of his trials, and those of others in his position, by transcribing the thoughts he has faced over and over in what he calls the Realm of Ceaseless Cognition: "figure out, know for sure, defend myself, and make things right."

I got to hear John talk to himself rather than listen to himself. And I wonder if and when I will have to do the same—or help others do it. John’s self talk wasn’t self help, either; he pointed me to Christ and, like me, rests in Him. For that I am grateful.

John wrote,

"I love Jesus and am still very much mentally ill. My love for Jesus has not fixed that. And Jesus’ love for me has not fixed it either. I love Jesus very, very much. And I’ve still been made to see and feel horrors."

This is not the cross I bear. It is his. I pray for my brother John that he will indeed be relieved of his suffering while still on this earth. I know, however, like he does, that his redeemer lives.

[Abby · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can’t stop talking about this book. It’s beautiful and harrowing and pointed me back to Christ so poignantly through the author’s story and his reflections on Jesus and on prayer. Highly recommend.

[Haley Baumeister · Rating 5 out of 5]

There are many books on the biological, genetic, social, and psychological aspects of mental illness. And they serve their purpose. And there are plenty book on mental illness and psychology, written by and for Christians.

But where this one shines is in bringing you along for the journey into his mind. It's not a didactic lecture, a dismissing bandaid, or a person talking down to you. Instead, we plod along with him and discover that the life, death, and resurrection of Christ are things just as real as our suffering.

The plodding, repetitious nature of this book—in its naming of things and slow methodology—were not so much a cool style choice than the way the book seemed to NEED to be written. The medium is part of the message. It was written in a way to bring us along with his mind and heart, and through his life. A style that was unusual and perhaps annoying at first, became one of the only things I could stomach to read during some of my own dark episodes with a mind that was not at rest.

This deserves to be bundled with Alan Noble's "On Getting Out Of Bed" and Sarah Clarkson's "This Beautiful Truth" (both just as beautifully helpful, and also written by people with OCD.) These three books are comprised of wise and honest guides, and I recommend them to any and everyone.

[Alyssa Borwick · Rating 5 out of 5]

It would be a strange thing to “appreciate” suffering. And yet, after reading “A Quiet Mind to Suffer With,” I found myself genuinely refreshed with a new appreciation of the opportunity that we have as Christians to suffer. I was reminded (in a profound and meaningful way) that to suffer is to be united with Christ—and to be united with Christ is one of the highest privileges of the Christian life.

I took my time in reading this book and posting this review because I wanted to protect it from my own recency bias! And yet, as time has gone on, I can truthfully say that this is one of the most influential and impactful books that I have read. At the end of the book, I felt like I had a “friend” in Bryant…while his suffering is unique, he invites the reader behind the curtain into such an honest portrayal of his own life that it is nearly impossible to not be captivated by his genuine faith and the surprising comfort that he finds in the death of Christ.

A beautiful, beautiful book. This one needs more attention!

—

In describing his own perspective on an ordainary life of regular worship, Bryant writes:

“I had trusted Christ with what had been taken [from me].

[My life] had been consecreated. It had become His. Word and Spirit had been joined to my humiliation the way it had joined the bread and the wine and the waters of baptism. That unbearable dissatisfaction had been made holy by its proximity to Christ. Everything that could be seen and felt or done or taken was now the blood poured out and the body broken for us. Everything that could be seen, felt, done, or taken had been given back to us as Himself, as the forgiveness of sins” (pg 230).

[Wagner Floriani · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hauntingly beautiful. Hard to summarize this memoiresque theological reflection on mental suffering. But I’m left deeply impacted. If you want to learn how to cultivate compassion and have a softer heart toward sufferers, you need to wrestle with this book. Cannot recommend it enough.

[Grant Chlystun · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am so thankful for this book. I’m thankful for the soul-bearing honesty that never hides from those dark corners of the mind, all in an act of worship giving testimony to the faithfulness of God.

It’s a bad habit of mine to read books with a sort of consumer mentality, to just be looking for the things that apply to me and not really engage with the rest. I’m really glad this book didn’t allow me to do that. It’s written in a way that brings you into the mind, heart and soul of its author to experience both heartbreak and mercy alongside him. Sure, there were many moments that were illuminating for myself, but it is much more than that. The result is not just “self-help” but a greater view of God’s mercy, a deeper compassion for others who suffer, and a more whole-hearted trust in the Lord.

[Graham Gaines · Rating 5 out of 5]

This might be my favorite book.

I cried reading this book, which is not that rare of an occurrence. I cried as I finished this book, which I think has only happened twice in my life. If those tears could speak, they'd say, "I feel seen." Not because I have OCD, but I can deeply relate to parts of his story and the way he's made meaning of his experiences deeply resonated with me.

I deeply resonate with his concept of The Howling Boy, and my body and mind (when having symptoms of my own mental illness) do feel like terrifying strangers.

This book is a little hard to read at first, because his writing style is unique and his glossary of terms take some getting used to. I'm glad I got used to them. It took some effort, and his style is certainly unique. But it is also beautiful. His writing is compelling.

Not everyone will resonate with this book as deeply I did, I'm sure. But man. I so loved it.

I'd love to put in some of my favorite quotes, but there are too many. Look for my blog to find those, I'm thinking about writing a post about this book. But I'll leave you with just one...

Talking about the Gospel of Mark:

"Hearing those stories wasn't like learning about Christ. It was like being regarded by Christ. Reading the stories again and again was like having Christ take a good, long look at you. And to be healed as you were seen by Him. Healed in some deeper place than what you thought or felt. Healed by what you understood. Changed by who He is." (180)

[Simon Emmerich · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ein Buch, welches so unfassbar pur ist, dass ich echt Schwierigkeiten hatte es aus der Hand zu legen. Die ersten Kapitel sind etwas herausfordernd, weil man sich erstmal in Bryants Weise zu schreiben und zu denken gewöhnen muss. Aber es lohnt sich sehr!
Bryant beschriebt seinen Weg mit Jesus ein Leben mit Zwangsstörungen zu leben, und sein Ringen damit, dass Jesus diese Krankheit nicht einfach von ihm nimmt. Er beschreibt, dass er lernen musste Gott zu vertrauen mit seinen Leben, seiner Zukunft und seinen ängstlichen Gedanken. Wenn der auferstandene Jesus sich seiner Wunden nicht schämt, dann muss er das auch nicht. Er schreibt:
"In the fresh hearing of the Gospel I was not rescued from the appearance and power of awful thoughts and feelings. But only from the trust I had in them." (146)
Dieses Buch ist eine herzergreifende und zutiefst persönliche Meditation über Jesu Wort zu Paulus "Lass dir an meiner Gnade genügen!" und schafft es daher Schönheit und Stärke inmitten des Schmerzes zu predigen; und ja dieses Buch fühlt sich oft an wie eine Predigt, manchmal wie ein Tagebucheintrag und manchmal wie Poesie.
"The reason so few of us grow in our life with Christ is because it is so painful. There is no Growth to our dependance on Christ that is not also a wound to our dependance on self." 227.

[Caleb Browne · Rating 5 out of 5]

This has been one of the most transforming books that I have ever read and it has answered questions I never would’ve thought would be answered. I’m deeply thankful that this was recommended to me and I’m excited to dwell on it and to let it transform me through the work of the Spirit. “We think Christ is honored by what we think and feel. But Christ is honored by what we trust Him with.”

[Emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

So. First things first. Absolutely worth the read. 5⭐️ this will be a book that I keep on my shelf to reference for the rest of my life.

I’m always afraid of Christians who write books on mental illness. As someone with Bipolar disorder I am afraid that it’ll either insult my experience or insult my theology. This book handles both so well.

The author uses a lot of terms that he’s come up with to explain his experience. Which, given the nature of mental illness, feels necessary. There are a lot of times that I personally feel the need to use analogies to explain my experiences because it’s just too hard to put words on.
However, it is a little bit of a learning curve to get into the authors language. Because it is a little like another language. It took a little bit to understand what all the terms and references are about. So the beginning takes some time to get through.

However, even though it feels wordy at time, the nuggets of truth given all throughout this book are completely worth working for.

I wish I had this book years ago

[Catherine Meijer · Rating 5 out of 5]

This may very well be the best book I’ll read all year, and I would be very happy if it turns out to be true. The author narrates his experience of mental illness (OCD), trip to the psych ward, and return through the pattern of church liturgy. As a reader, I felt gently carried into a story that requires great vulnerability to share.

I think often about how, in the arts, form is content. This book makes use of form (via liturgy) in a way that supports the style and tone of the story. In a church, the liturgy provides a pattern for elements of a worship service to follow: prayer, scripture, silence, song (among others). Words and phrases may be repeated, but are not redundant. Liturgy also sets a pace, holding a congregation in unison for the time they spend in the sanctuary. In the liturgical churches I’ve attended, there is a sense of time that is not rushed or anxious; it is deliberate and inhabited. I loved how A Quiet Mind used an overarching liturgical framework to structure the book and how the writing style was personal, contemplative, and well-paced. Each time I picked up the book, I had the sense of entering into a journey with the author that was profound and meaningful.

I also loved that this is not a self-help book, nor does it try to be a blueprint for all Christians who are concerned with mental health. It’s an honest and well-told story of living with God in the experience of mental suffering.

I am just now catching up on all my book reviews for the last few months (moving internationally and starting grad school means some priorities had to change), so I don’t think I’m doing my enjoyment of the book justice, but for now, this is what stood out to me the most! Highly recommend to all interested in mental health and the experience of life in Christ.

[Jared · Rating 4 out of 5]

One man’s beautiful and hopeful reflection on his battle with OCD through the lens of cross, resurrection, and return. Bryant’s theology is deeply sacramental. He recognizes that full healing from mental illness may not come in this life but we can nevertheless hold onto victory by faith in the Word Christ daily gives. Like Augustine (and Paul in Romans 7), Bryant makes a distinction between the power corruption holds over us (in Bryant’s case his “Siren” brain) and actual, active sins with intention.

For most of the book, Bryant focuses on how healing comes in receiving God’s forgiveness but near the end when he apologizes to the “howling boy,” he seems to imply a therapeutic need to forgive himself. In one sense, the entire book models confession (like a modern-day Augustine on mental illness), but I wish Bryant had reflected on confession more explicitly. This would’ve helped his reader see more clearly how the Christian view of the corrupted body differs from a modern therapeutic mindset.

[Stephanie Erwin · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful book. One of the best Christian books I've ever read.
It's unfortunate that the subtitle and marketing are so focused on mental illness. While the author's OCD is obviously central to the book, it deserves to be read more broadly as a journey away from self-sufficiency to true humility, exploring what it means to find rest in Christ, and applying the gospel to your interior life.
I could list a few ways I would differ with the author on theology, but I don't think any of it was central enough to the book to matter. It's not meant to be a theology text or even a devotional. It is a poignant and humble memoir of a brother in Christ who has generously offered to us his pain and his reflections, to lead us to glorify God alongside him as we wait for all things to be made new.

From Romans 5:
"We also have joy with our troubles, because we know that these troubles produce patience. And patience produces character, and character produces hope. And this hope will never disappoint us, because God has poured out his love to fill our hearts."

[Abby Helmuth · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is in a category all its own. I’m still digesting it and rereading and underlining sections. I’ve never read a book that so clearly and poetically describes the reality of living with a mental illness, and that offers so much hope and comfort of Christ to the reader. At certain points, I would just read a paragraph and cry. And read another paragraph and cry again. 😄

Even if you don’t deal with OCD or with another mental illness, read this book! John’s insights on suffering are too valuable to be missed.

[Clarita Higginbotham · Rating 5 out of 5]

Not to be dramatic but this book changed my life

[Alex Strohschein · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a remarkable, unique memoir, intense, introspective, Christocentric. St. John of the Cross famously wrote of the "dark night of the soul" and in this book, John Andrew Bryant writes what might be the "dark season of the soul with OCD." Mental illness and trauma seem, sadly, to be increasingly prevalent in our world and the Church is only slowly coming to grips with how best to deal with the mental distresses of its members. Bryant's book is a powerful, hope-filled testimony to how Jesus Christ can meet us in our darkest places and shine the light of his love and grace. I found myself moved by many of Bryant's reflective observations such as:

When Christ comes back, what He will use to adorn Himself with, what He will count as precious, the crown He will wear, will be the tested and genuine trust of His people. It is our most precious means of communion with Him. By it we are involved in all the peril, promise, and power of His death and resurrection. What will adorn Christ as His return, what will shimmer off His crown, is the trust of shoeless, crazy people. His great home, His great cathedral, will be the trust of toothless schizophrenics (p.150).

And:

If our screaming and our howling have been consecrated, then our screaming and howling is the fear of the Lord. It is the trust we have in Christ. It is trusting Christ with things. We think Christ is honored by what we think and feel. But Christ is honored by what we trust him with (p.230).

Themes of trust, of prayer, and of the (very Reformation!) tenet of the HEARING of God's Word, the Gospel, are present throughout the memoir. 'A Quiet Mind to Suffer With' is a profound book that that led me into prayer, that urged me to cling ever-closer to Christ, and I would recommend it for it will do the same for you.

[Lauren Glenn · Rating 5 out of 5]

This memoir is a gem among stones that I will come back to for a long time. The author so lovingly and honestly opens up his interior life with Christ, and in doing so, he paints a picture of an incredible, mysterious tension of sin and suffering: recognizing where we are vulnerable and afflicted and sick, but also, importantly, where we have begun to agree with it, trust in it, and depend upon it. Then he points the reader to the One who does not promise to deliver us from living in this tension today, but instead has promised to return and deliver us completely.

He writes: "I learned what Christ would have to be for me if things were going to be okay... Not only the clothing of my shame, the casting out of my fear, the overturning of accusation, the bearing of History and the endurance of Affliction, and the burial of the Hardness of the Heart but / My composure in distress. My steadfastness in temptation. My standing-place in intimidation. My patience in frustration. My stillness in anticipation. My consolation in despair. My contentment in dissatisfaction. Body, mind, and soul did not have the future I could provide for them. They had the future provided by the forgiveness of sins" (97).

This book is not something you need to struggle with trauma or mental illness to understand, but for those who have suffered or been exposed to these things, it will be a deep breath of fresh air and a source of fellowship, borne carefully through prayer and lived dependence on Christ.

[Brandy B. Carter · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have conflicting feelings about this book. The first half was tough to get through. It felt like such difficult reading for me, and I think some of the problems could have been addressed by making some different editing choices.
The second half was better and the writing became more fluid toward the end.
If you are looking for a straightforward spiritual memoir, this is not the book for you.

On the other hand, Bryant makes himself vulnerable and is attempting to put into words an experience that is nearly impossible to describe. He is speaking as a sufferer to other sufferers in a unique and lyrical way. I found myself highlighting so many passages that were insightful and poignant.
I certainly came away from reading this book with some insights and I will probably look back at my highlights in the future.

[Asher Hougo · Rating 5 out of 5]

I took my time reading this book. I don't think I have ever encountered a book that felt like a great big hug. This book provided comfort, security, and a feeling of relatability. I have struggled with mental health for a long time, and it's so wonderful and reassuring to hear someone else's story, their battle, their fight—the culmination of feeling that everything will collapse on you, all your feelings and anxieties. Yet this book reminds you of one simple yet joyous reminder. Christ has been through it all before, He knows your suffering, he knows your anxieties, he knows how hard it feels when the weight of the world comes crashing down. He Himself is the suffering servant. And this book gives the powerful reminder that you can place all your trust in His word. I loved this book so much, what I would give to give this book to my younger self.

[John Bishop · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a strange read, in no small part because it was both an encouraging and discouraging look at mental illness through the lens of someone else also named John who struggles with OCD and intrusive thoughts in a manner very similar to myself. It was encouraging because of the way he shows how Jesus met him when he felt like his own mind had turned on him; it was discouraging because it showed how dangerous it can actually be if you reveal your struggle with intrusive thoughts to the wrong person and how you can be judged for it even if you don't actually do anything wrong. It was encouraging to understand that the way out of the hell of intrusive thoughts is to trust Jesus literally with you in your mind; it was discouraging to see that miraculous healing, healing I've prayed for what feels like a year now, doesn't always come, and maybe isn't supposed to come. Maybe it takes time, but I can't help but wonder...aren't there other ways than this to produce humility or remind us of weakness? Couldn't I have been given another trial instead of one like this? Maybe I'm reading too much into it; this John and I aren't the same person, even we have the same name and our symptoms are similar, differing by degree instead of kind. This started as a review and has turned into a ramble. It's a helluva book.

[Miri · Rating 3 out of 5]

Raw, unfiltered & intense. Bryant offers a deeply personal glimpse into life with OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder (damn)) as a follower of Christ and aspiring pastor. His style of writing mirrors the rhythm of his mind: fast paced, looping, despair and hope dripping between the lines (making some chapters a bit long-winded, yet it provides valuable insight into the mechanisms of the disorder.).
Through his words I came to understand, in a way I haven’t before, what D.C. Ortlund meant when he wrote: “Jesus dwells in our deepest pockets of shame“. Bryant doesn’t merely explain this truth - he describes how he experienced it, how he lived it, by following God even when his mind became a stranger and the body a „wounded thing“.
The book helped me understand the possible connection between mental illness, trauma and the suffering of Christ.



An example of the connection:
„Pulling up to the parking lot, I remembered how frightened I was when my wife drove me here (the 4th floor of the psych ward where he stayed in) a few years ago. And how now I wasn't frightened. Pulling up at that time I thought, "My life is over. This is where my life ends."
Pulling up now, and looking up at the fourth foor where all the crazies are fed and kept, I thought, "That is where I died with Christ."
I understood then, and am still learning to understand, that the fourth floor of the hospital is included in my pronouncement of the gospel, not ourside it. The psych ward had become a psalm.
The anguish that was here had become a prayer. I had a life in Christ that included coming back here. To speak of Christ was to speak of this place. That is what it would always be.“ (143)

[Ian · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.3? Not sure on the rating. The book shines in hammering home dependence on Christ. I can see the writing style and struggles depicted as being difficult for some to connect with. I didn’t have too much trouble relating to the struggles, at times though I couldn’t tell you why something came up when it did in the book. Maybe just my ignorance. I haven’t read a book that so continually reiterates dependence on Christ in the face of suffering and everyday life. What is depicted ought be normal for all Christians, in that we are always needing to depend on Christ and not on ourselves whether we are accused and haunted by our minds, our circumstances or we are flourishing. I appreciate how the book helps depict the painfulness and frustrations of suffering with ocd and anxiety (and not to minimize those specific struggles), but the example in it is for everyone. Though there maybe a number of wise and prudential things to do depending on our circumstances (medicine, exercise, sleep, friends, move, etc.), what’s most pressing of us in whatever circumstance we find ourselves in is to once again depend on Christ through ordinary means (prayer for help, scripture, sacraments). As the book shows this will be a worthy endeavor, not because it removes the affliction but it quiets it in light of the crucified Christ and what he has accomplished for us.

…and just some tender difficult moments to resonate with for anyone whose felt trapped, attacked or betrayed by their mind.

[Blythe Waldbillig · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a hard book to rate, but I think it merits 5 stars because I know I’m better for having read it, and the Spirit stirred my heart and affections for Jesus because of it. The writing style is something to get used to, especially in the first brief part, but it shines in its honesty and its willingness to be imperfect, vulnerable, even repetitive. Reading felt like listening to a friend who knows Jesus deeply and who “gets it,” and I found myself thinking a lot about the Sermon on the Mount through it. So overall, yes it’s a book about mental illness and that experience, but more fundamentally it’s about dependence on Christ, and it’s about the Christian life of learning to walk with, follow, and be led by Jesus. And it’s utterly compelling, beautiful, and convicting all at once.

[Lisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really liked this book though I didn't finish. The things I liked:
1. It read like the best poetry.
2. It helped me understand mental illness, OCD especially. We think OCD means you have to have everything just so, but it's so much darker than that, so much. This book takes you into the darkness.
3. It magnified the Person of Jesus Christ.

I think that, if I suffered from OCD, I would need this book. NEED. I would eat it up. It would be my daily food. Jesus, with His beauty, is on almost every page in the most refreshing prose. It's a devotional book.

Here are some of my favorite parts from the beginning, where he gives us an introduction into his mind.

My compulsion, my urge, is to go into my head and do 4 things: figure out, know for sure, defend myself, and make things right. My compulsion is excessive rumination. Over the last 30 years, this compulsion has formed into an immense, labyrinthe, tangled, trapdoor mansion located only in my head: a tangled nest of circuits, a constant and looping embroidery of thoughts to mitigate, satisfy, outrun, and overturn the verdicts handed down by the Siren, the horrors I can be made to see and feel if I don't think better and think more. I have learned to call this constant looping embroidery of thoughts, this vast network of compulsions, the Realm of Ceaseless Cognition. I will also call it the Haunted House. That is what it felt like over the years. This tangled network of compulsions has felt like a Haunted House.

I love Jesus. And am still very much mentally ill. My love for Jesus has not fixed that. And Jesus's love for me has not fixed it either. I love Jesus very, very much and I've still been made to see and feel horrors.

The Siren is still there, wailing, lying, bullying, intimidating. Still there, still so swaggering and urgent and full of itself, pumping my body with dumbstruck awe-filled dread, always coming up with something dark and horrible for me to be afraid of or look at. The only difference now is that those symptoms are a Wilderness I walk through rather than a god I worship.

What do I need to be okay? The Siren would say the only thing I need to be okay is to obey its warnings and commands. But it turns out the only thing I need to be okay is to know who Christ is and who I am, where I'm going, and what I'm supposed to be doing. That humility, that understanding, is all I need to leave the haunted House of compulsions and make my way through the Wilderness of bewildering symptoms.

But who is Christ? And who am I? Where am I going and what am I supposed to be doing? It is something I ask myself, and I have learned to tell myself, simply, that Christ is the Mercy that has been offered, that I am servant and guest of the Mercy that has been offered, that I am headed into the future provided by the Mercy that has been offered, and that, until it arrives, the only thing I can really do is behold, be patient, and bear witness to the Mercy that has been offered.

SEE WHAT I MEAN?

I was waiting for a memoir-like story, but I wasn't finding one, so I began skimming, turning pages, and looking for one, although I did enjoy the poetry. My daughter scolded me and told me to at least read the two sections about the psych ward: "Entering the Psych Ward" and "Leaving the Psych Ward." I'm so glad she did. Those two sections are an experience. I feel like I've been on a retreat. Especially reading it on the Dark Friday and Quiet Saturday before Easter.

First, he describes what he learned in the psych ward.

The steady lie I had taken on, and that had accrued throughout my whole life: that the best way to deal with anything in my life that bothered me, anything I saw or felt or thought that didn't feel right, was to go into my head and make it better. To defend myself and figure it out. To think about it more. If I explained myself correctly and brilliantly to myself, I would think myself into a beautiful place where nothing could get me, and where all the ugly things would scatter, and an abundant life free of rats would present itself to me again.

I would come up with a beautiful, stunning thought, and that great thought, that beautiful, correct insight into my own life, would pull me out of the deep waters and set my feet on beautiful country. There I would be, landing wide eyed, coughing up water, stunned with what the right thought had announced to me, which, as I understood it, would always, always, always be reality.

When I finally figured things out in my head, a way forward would present itself in the world.
I see now what I did not see then. There, in a gown, walking gently on shoeless feet and mumbling under the fluorescent lights of the local psych ward, was the life I had made out of thinking more. And thinking better. This was the life in the realm of ceaseless cognition. This is what you become when you only live there.

I would have to face it sooner or later. My best thinking was how I got here.

…I had used thoughts as a drug. Like a food addict or a drug addict, life did not feel right, life simply was not okay, life simply could not be tolerated unless I was thinking. Every problem in my life, everything I met, was an occasion for and was to be managed by ceaseless cognition. Every bad and confusing thing was a reason to think more.

Then he describes what Jesus did for him in the psych ward, and this is the Easter part.

I would close my eyes in that room… I saw I was a weary traveler who was very tired and wanted to sleep, but that I had to move through some kind of Wilderness, up to a clearing where Jesus Christ was, where there were three crosses on a hill, with Jesus silent and dead against a neutral sky…
And I got closer. And saw Jesus with His head hung down and His arms relaxed as He settled into His death. He had just finished offering Himself for the life of the world. And I can't explain why I felt so comfortable there, but maybe it was just the simple fact that if He was there, I could be there too. His death was not just being seen, it was a kind of company. It was someone I was with. And I know, because I worked in church and was in seminary, that the death of the Son of God meant many things, but today it meant that it was quiet. It meant I could be quiet.

And I would lie down with the back of my head against the foot of the cross, His dirty, dead feet just over my head. And I knew that Jesus Christ was not a beautiful thought or a special feeling, because a thought or a feeling could not get stapled to a piece of wood. Mercy wasn't a thought I had to think or a feeling that had to be felt. It was a reality that was understood. It was Christ himself. And what I had then was not the feeling of Jesus or the thought of Jesus, but Christ himself and the exact place where the Son of God died.

This death was his Word to us. I did not have a thought or feeling; I had his Word. By that Word, He had given himself to us completely. And I knew that life was not about what was seen, felt, done or taken, because it was always about this. Instead, it would always be about what was given.

That last sentence is my favorite.

Happy Easter

[Rachel Morgan · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book has so much potential. It describes living with mental illness in heartbreaking reality and doesn't shy away from the ugliness of it all. I like how the author uses his unique perspective and language to draw the reader into the intimacy of his inner mind.

However. While the stream-of-consciousness flow is almost refreshing, the repetitive repetition that is constantly repeated throughout the book drove me insane. I only made it through the entire thing because a beloved friend gave me the book.

I'm not trying to be harsh, but this book could have been written in 15 pages.

Honestly, this book could be really helpful, but the reader needs to be in the right headspace. Unfortunately, I was not that reader.

[Jessie Wittman · Rating 5 out of 5]

"The gospel fixes that" is bandied around so quickly and often seems to hollow—but here is a book that actually puts flesh on what that means. How are our intrusive thoughts, our wailing emotions, our past selves, our inner traumatised child all met by the quiet of Christ's death, and how it that enough? Bryant has experienced it, and his poetic mind brings it all to life in vivid imagery with clarifying vision. I am so thankful he wrote his experience down in this book for me to read, what a gift—what a strange redemption of terrible suffering.

I cannot recommend this book enough!

[Will · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have now read this book three times in five months, and it made me a little sad to finish it this time because it has been such a comfort to me. It has been like having a friend to walk through a brutal, confusing, terrifying, lonely mental illness with. It has given me a way to understand what is happening to me when I feel totally lost. I can't recall a book that means more to me, and I can't speak highly enough of it. I am sure I will read it again soon.

[Abram Martin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is a great book if you want to understand more about OCD and mental health. The author is very honest and raw about his mental health journey and reflects on what the gospel is.

[Michael Philliber · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the past two weeks I have sat down with, and listened to, three young men who are completely different. They have told me tales of how their inner voices have accused them, how their world has been consumed by feelings of doubt, dismay, and dread. Two have clinical diagnoses and the third doesn’t. But their internal stories that they have related to me have all voiced their obsession for vindicating themselves, fixing themselves, grasping for certitude, and more. They are haunted men, in some significant ways. “A Quiet Mind to Suffer With: Mental Illness, Trauma, and the Death of Christ” is the story of John Andrew Bryant, a caregiver, writer, and part-time street pastor in a small steel town outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, who has chronicled his plunge into mental illness and his gut-wrenching trek through the dark night of the soul in this 312-page paperback. As I read his tale, it struck me how similar – in all of the dissimilarities – these lives were. And I found that the author’s intention in this book could speak to all who have ears to hear.

Bryant chronicles the story of his life as he spiraled deeper into the brokenness of his mind. He describes what he went through, how his own mind became his enemy, accusing him, pushing him, haunting him, misshaping his whole sense of himself and his world. How his internal posse hunted him down, damning him, and roping his body into being an accusatory ally. The time he spent in the psych ward, howling, having unwanted, wretched thoughts break in and ransack his mind and soul. “I experienced almost every normal thing in life as a profound threat to my sense of self…It was the thing in my head that got to say what was meaningful. It got first dibs on saying what things are. Always jumping to conclusions. The Siren. The Bully. The Accuser” (156-7). His story captured my heart, and I had to force myself to set the book down.

The author swims in a different stream of the Christian faith than my stream, thus he found support in a few places that I wouldn’t want to recommend, such as the Icon of Lazarus being raised from the dead. Nevertheless, the gospel grounds his life, his treacherous and tortured life from one end of the book to the other. For example, “Our first priority is not to defeat sin but to behold the Christ who has defeated sin” (186). I read those words to one of the young men mentioned at the beginning, and the tears began to stream – down his face, and in my heart. Or in another place Bryant wrote, “What I have in Christ is the simple, painful renunciation of the urges created by my brain, the ability to say no to desires and compulsions that will not just go away. I wish it was more. But that is all it’s been: a foothold in the storm of thought and feeling” (17). Christ, a foothold in the storm of our roaring thoughts and raging feelings. My heart sang Hosanna and Gloria Patri more than once as I read.

One of the powerful themes that subtly and slowly trickles its way through the story, is God’s severe mercy that is also a saving mercy. “When Mercy strikes, when Mercy burns, we think we are being destroyed, we think we are being humiliated and crushed, when what is happening is that we are being seen, we are becoming safe, we are being fed, we are being changed by Christ’s death and resurrection” (26). I think the author would agree that his whole tale is a tale of severe mercy turning him right side up and right side out. In fact, at the end of the book he writes, “The Lord had not committed Himself to my plans. He had committed Himself to my freedom” (291). And that freedom, that growing freedom, becomes heartwarmingly clear as Bryant comes to the place where he can get out of his head, and begins to love his wife, be an uncle to his nephews, and a son to his father and mother. My heart was full by the end of the book.

What the author experienced is unique in its own rights. But in many ways, much more standard than we would like to admit, “we wounded, selfish people are such a mixture of pain and promise, of prophetic witness and self-deception, that we are uninterpretable to others and a deep mystery to ourselves” (55). Once in a blue moon I run across a work that touches me deeply. One that snags my emotions and grips my imagination. “A Quiet Mind to Suffer With” was such a book! This is a book for those who are in-and-out of mental illness. It will be a volume they can point to and say, “Those are my words! That’s what’s happening in here, in my head!” This is a book for those who have loved ones being walloped by various behavioral and mental disorders, to get a glimpse into their world so you can compassionately walk with them. But I found that “normal” Christians will want to enter Bryant’s story because you will hear the severe voices in your own head scrawled on these pages. You will know that you’re often asking for the same things, trapped into the same idolatrous dependence on yourself. And you will find that this man, who lives with mental illness, is preaching the gospel to you. The gospel that has pierced him and gotten hold of his life. And if you have ears to hear, you will find yourself being saved, not only from sin, Satan, death, and doom, but that you are being saved from yourself. I highly recommend the book.

[Grace Helmuth · Rating 5 out of 5]

This books provides a glimpse into an experience with OCD that is heartbreaking and difficult to read in parts. However, I think this book could be beneficial to anyone who is going through suffering of any kind. I don’t know how to do a proper review of this book, except to say that it stunned me, gave me a lot to think about, and will be a re-read for me.

“The reason so few of us grow in our life in Christ is because it is so painful. There is no growth to our dependence on Christ that is not also a wound to our dependence on self.”