What do you think?
Rate this book
Evangelical Anxiety: A Memoir – A Spiritual Story of Struggle, Transformation, and Peace
In this riveting spiritual memoir, the writer, scholar, and commentator tells the story of his struggles with mental illness, explores the void between the Christian faith and scientific treatment, and forges a path toward reconciling these divergent worlds. For years, Charles Marsh suffered panic attacks and debilitating anxiety. As an Evangelical Christian, he was taught to trust in the power of God and His will. While his Christian community resisted therapy and personal introspection, Marsh eventually knew he needed help. To alleviate his suffering, he made the bold decision to seek medical treatment and underwent years of psychoanalysis. In this riveting spiritual memoir, Marsh tells the story of his struggle to find peace and the dramatic, inspiring transformation that redefined his life and his faith. He examines the tensions between faith and science and reflects on how his own experiences offer hope for bridging the gap between the two. Honest and revealing, Marsh traces the roots of shame, examines Christian notions of sex, faith, and mental illness and their genesis, and chronicles how he redefined his beliefs and rebuilt his relationship with his community. A poignant and vital story of deep soul work, Evangelical Anxiety helps us look beyond the stigma that leaves too many people in pain and offers people of faith a way forward to find the help they need while remaining true to their beliefs.
256 pages, Hardcover
Published June 14, 2022
47 people are currently reading
2070 people want to read
About the author
Charles Marsh
22 books23 followersMarsh is professor of religious studies at the University of Virginia and director of the research community "Project on Lived Theology." He is the author of eight books, including "God's Long Summer: Stories of Faith and Civil Rights," which won the 1998 Grawemeyer Award in Religion. He lives in Charlottesville, Virginia.
Librarian Note:
There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
Librarian Note:
There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 61 reviews
July 22, 2023
I know it’s subtitled as a memoir, but I wasn’t ready for this book to be so self-interested. It’s akin to sitting through a lecture by someone who expects you to know every reference and ideological rabbit hole he does. Marsh’s writing is very difficult to parse, even for someone raised as a Southern Baptist Iike me who has read some of the endless titles and authors he mentions. I was utterly lost in his sea of references, and he barely uses any footnotes or endnotes to help the casual reader. Moreover, with such a provocative title, I expected a bit more philosophizing or insight about anxiety and how it can be rooted in and exacerbated by evangelicalism. He barely theorizes at all beyond himself, instead forcing us through paragraphs of his own sexual angst and long history of objectifying women. Everyone has their issues, and surely the church has made sex a primary concern, but it’s pretty tone-deaf for a cishet man to talk about women in this way with almost no discussion of his current opinions on it (or his wife’s), no suggestions for others struggling, no insight or theological epiphanies, and an otherwise blasé attitude. I’d much rather read someone’s theories of the relationship between evangelical culture and the rising plague of anxiety disorders.
June 23, 2022
”There’s no reason to think God wants you wasted and bare, and that is very good news.”
How does one reach a point where they truly believe they are God’s beloved—boundless and unconditionally—especially when experiencing mental illness in a community that rejects psychology and psychiatry outright?
I’ve been waiting for this book ever since I read his essay by the same name a few years back. That essay (pieces of which are scattered throughout the book) has been one to which I return regularly for its resonance with my own life. He dives deeply and honestly into the ways his mental health has been affected by his evangelical upbringing, and how he has processed his own wounds, failings, and fears rooted in the guilt, shame, and self-loathing of particular theological understandings of sin and embodiment.
Poignant, heartbreaking, occasionally shocking and discomfiting, he tells his story with such candor and humanity (and a fair dose of wit) that I found myself often laughing and crying at the same sentence. His exhaustion at the constant need for *intensity* in evangelicalism, the rituals and repetitions that take the place of professional help in moments of crises, his distaste and distrust of sermons, the solace of liturgy—all these things resonate with my own experiences. It is a comfort to know that I am not alone, that this conversation is being had, that maybe acceptance and true grace—the grace of therapy, the grace of medication, the grace of awareness and openness—can be found by more and more people experiencing similar pains.
This will be joining Christian Wiman’s beautiful My Bright Abyss on my bookshelf, right where it belongs.
How does one reach a point where they truly believe they are God’s beloved—boundless and unconditionally—especially when experiencing mental illness in a community that rejects psychology and psychiatry outright?
I’ve been waiting for this book ever since I read his essay by the same name a few years back. That essay (pieces of which are scattered throughout the book) has been one to which I return regularly for its resonance with my own life. He dives deeply and honestly into the ways his mental health has been affected by his evangelical upbringing, and how he has processed his own wounds, failings, and fears rooted in the guilt, shame, and self-loathing of particular theological understandings of sin and embodiment.
Poignant, heartbreaking, occasionally shocking and discomfiting, he tells his story with such candor and humanity (and a fair dose of wit) that I found myself often laughing and crying at the same sentence. His exhaustion at the constant need for *intensity* in evangelicalism, the rituals and repetitions that take the place of professional help in moments of crises, his distaste and distrust of sermons, the solace of liturgy—all these things resonate with my own experiences. It is a comfort to know that I am not alone, that this conversation is being had, that maybe acceptance and true grace—the grace of therapy, the grace of medication, the grace of awareness and openness—can be found by more and more people experiencing similar pains.
This will be joining Christian Wiman’s beautiful My Bright Abyss on my bookshelf, right where it belongs.
April 27, 2022
This book fits somewhere between Phil Yancey's memoirs about growing up in the segregated South and Paul Schrader's recollections about growing up a fundamentalist Calvinist. There is much discussion about growing up in a fear-ridden Bible Belt town in the late 60s, realizing how that informed the author's sense that if he did any sin, lightning would strike. There is much discussion about the peculiar pathology you get when Christianity's emphasis on blood and submission mix with arrogance to create a cocktail of suppressed fear and anger. There's also some fascinating meditations on the author's struggles to figure out what healing he needed in an era where most evangelicals thought medication was unnecessary and therapy for liberals.
Since I've read my fair share of Christian books on anxiety/depress where evangelical authors tried to explain everything into organized little boxes, it was interesting to read someone take a more literary, introspective approach.
Since I've read my fair share of Christian books on anxiety/depress where evangelical authors tried to explain everything into organized little boxes, it was interesting to read someone take a more literary, introspective approach.
August 5, 2023
I don't know. I struggled in reading this, both because of the meandering prose and the unresolved issues brought up and dropped over and over. I understand what he communicates about the shaming of the body in fundamentalist Christianity, but he seems to swing so far and hard the other way that I can't relate and feel that version of life is even worse (indulging your sexual desires and fantasies to the hilt vs repressing them).
I appreciate his words about the shame surrounding mental health concerns in white Christianity, and his questions about his great grandfather who immigrated from Sweden to Mississippi and ultimately died by suicide years later made me think of my own great grandmother who jumped off Lake Street bridge in downtown Minneapolis in the early 1950s because she was so afraid for her daughter, my grandmother, who was returning to Thailand as a career missionary with my father and grandfather. I wonder how things in both of our families could have been different if we could speak to what their lives were like and what haunted them to the point of death.
As a woman, it's hard to read about his objectification of women in his mind. I held on and kept reading, hoping for some sort of resolution and ultimately found none. I'm glad he's found therapy beneficial and addresses the nonsense fear of it in white Christian circles, but he's not likely to convince those who are afraid of it that it's safe in the way he describes his outcomes. I also found myself constantly wondering what his wife thinks.
A Fundamentalist/Southern Baptist upbringing combined with a family of origin that can't address anything of substance has definitely left me confused and feeling very hopeless and lost at times, so there was some measure of comfort I found when those issues were spoken to, but overall I didn't feel much hope at the end.
I appreciate his words about the shame surrounding mental health concerns in white Christianity, and his questions about his great grandfather who immigrated from Sweden to Mississippi and ultimately died by suicide years later made me think of my own great grandmother who jumped off Lake Street bridge in downtown Minneapolis in the early 1950s because she was so afraid for her daughter, my grandmother, who was returning to Thailand as a career missionary with my father and grandfather. I wonder how things in both of our families could have been different if we could speak to what their lives were like and what haunted them to the point of death.
As a woman, it's hard to read about his objectification of women in his mind. I held on and kept reading, hoping for some sort of resolution and ultimately found none. I'm glad he's found therapy beneficial and addresses the nonsense fear of it in white Christian circles, but he's not likely to convince those who are afraid of it that it's safe in the way he describes his outcomes. I also found myself constantly wondering what his wife thinks.
A Fundamentalist/Southern Baptist upbringing combined with a family of origin that can't address anything of substance has definitely left me confused and feeling very hopeless and lost at times, so there was some measure of comfort I found when those issues were spoken to, but overall I didn't feel much hope at the end.
April 7, 2025
At times, Marsh succeeds in the stream-of-consciousness-adjacent writing style he seems to be going for. His mental breakdown, for instance — or the scenes he paints of watching film of his childhood — are particularly interesting and well-written sections. Largely, though, the organization of the book was lacking. I found myself flipping pages back and forth, trying to understand what point in his life he was referring to.
More importantly, I believe the book is mistitled. It is about a man with clinical depression and anxiety who happened to be raised in an evangelical context, not about anxiety caused by evangelicalism itself. Of course, his faith affects him in deep ways, and he delves into that, but his anxiety itself is not evangelical in nature. It feels like he used a buzz word to title it, and it’s disingenuous and misleading.
Also, his cynicism and bitterness comes through the pages in a way that a cynical and bitter person might like, but I like to think I am not those things.
More importantly, I believe the book is mistitled. It is about a man with clinical depression and anxiety who happened to be raised in an evangelical context, not about anxiety caused by evangelicalism itself. Of course, his faith affects him in deep ways, and he delves into that, but his anxiety itself is not evangelical in nature. It feels like he used a buzz word to title it, and it’s disingenuous and misleading.
Also, his cynicism and bitterness comes through the pages in a way that a cynical and bitter person might like, but I like to think I am not those things.
September 5, 2022
This book felt a bit pre-mature. I appreciate Marsh’s vulnerability and openness in sharing his story, but to write a memoir about it at this point feels like it misses the resolution that a good memoir usually delivers. I’m left with questions raised in the text but never answered. How did his marriage navigate all that he discussed? It seems that it did, but the grist would have been in taking the reader through the story of how it did.
Marsh is a great writer and offers a good apologetic for why evangelicals can seek psychotherapy without abandoning orthodoxy, which often seems to be the fear. Would love to see Marsh revisit this in a few years.
Marsh is a great writer and offers a good apologetic for why evangelicals can seek psychotherapy without abandoning orthodoxy, which often seems to be the fear. Would love to see Marsh revisit this in a few years.
June 21, 2022
Summary: A memoir primarily focusing on mental health and its connection to religious faith.
I believe I have read two of Charles Marsh's books and that I own two others. Marsh is the author of the Deitrich Bonhoeffer's biography that I believe most people should start with. And he has written widely about social justice, especially the Civil Rights movement, and how Christianity has fueled the Civil Rights movement.
Because I enjoy reading memoirs of people writing late in their lives (especially theologians and authors), I preordered Evangelical Anxiety without reading anything else about it other than that it existed. Marsh is not that old; he is 64 years old. So he is not writing the last book like John Stott, John Perkins, Eugene Peterson, Howard Thurman, Charles Pearson, and Billy Graham. Or even a memoir giving a broader overview of their life like Philip Yancy, Nicholas Wolterstorff, Will Willimon, Julie Andrews, Stanley Hauerwas, Dovey Johnson Roundtree, Melba Pattillo Beals, or Thomas Oden did. Marsh is writing a memoir that gives an overview of his life but primarily focuses on how he has grappled with his mental health over his life, especially how his faith has interacted with his mental health.
Evangelical Anxiety is a book that I think many will not appreciate. Just like a lot of Evangelical fiction is not very good because it has to meet the narrow boundaries of what is acceptable. Evangelical memoirs and autobiographies tend to present a neat, problem-solved perspective on their lives. Charles Marsh's memoir does not have a nice bow on it. He has grappled with debilitating anxiety and depression and other mental health issues, and the language and revelations will offend or scandalize many.
There is some (appropriately used) language. It is not crude language for the sake of crude language, but rightly used words to express a natural range of emotions and feelings that fit with the story. Probably even more disturbing is that Marsh discusses sexuality openly. From masturbation as a boy and the way, Evangelical understanding of sin made things worse, not better, to adult temptation. Some books leave very little to the imagination, but this is not that type of book. This is a book about Marsh. And when discussing sexuality, he is doing it openly, but from the perspective of how he grappled with his Evangelical theology of sin with the added complications of the distortions of his mental health. That is to say; this is not a tell-all book but a book that reveals how mental illness, sexuality, and sin can interact. This is not unlike Hauerwas' memoir about his marriage to his first wife and her grappling with mental illness, but from the perspective of the spouse with the mental illness.
As I was drafting this, I saw a tweet from Dante Stewart that I thought was relevant.
Charles Marsh has moved toward a theology that is liberating. He admits he is not all there. And he admits that part of the reality is that he is less involved in church than he might prefer. But he has not left either the church or Christianity. Instead, he is attempting to leave versions of Christianity that are not liberating. It may be messier than many of us would like to see, but real life is messy.
I believe I have read two of Charles Marsh's books and that I own two others. Marsh is the author of the Deitrich Bonhoeffer's biography that I believe most people should start with. And he has written widely about social justice, especially the Civil Rights movement, and how Christianity has fueled the Civil Rights movement.
Because I enjoy reading memoirs of people writing late in their lives (especially theologians and authors), I preordered Evangelical Anxiety without reading anything else about it other than that it existed. Marsh is not that old; he is 64 years old. So he is not writing the last book like John Stott, John Perkins, Eugene Peterson, Howard Thurman, Charles Pearson, and Billy Graham. Or even a memoir giving a broader overview of their life like Philip Yancy, Nicholas Wolterstorff, Will Willimon, Julie Andrews, Stanley Hauerwas, Dovey Johnson Roundtree, Melba Pattillo Beals, or Thomas Oden did. Marsh is writing a memoir that gives an overview of his life but primarily focuses on how he has grappled with his mental health over his life, especially how his faith has interacted with his mental health.
Evangelical Anxiety is a book that I think many will not appreciate. Just like a lot of Evangelical fiction is not very good because it has to meet the narrow boundaries of what is acceptable. Evangelical memoirs and autobiographies tend to present a neat, problem-solved perspective on their lives. Charles Marsh's memoir does not have a nice bow on it. He has grappled with debilitating anxiety and depression and other mental health issues, and the language and revelations will offend or scandalize many.
There is some (appropriately used) language. It is not crude language for the sake of crude language, but rightly used words to express a natural range of emotions and feelings that fit with the story. Probably even more disturbing is that Marsh discusses sexuality openly. From masturbation as a boy and the way, Evangelical understanding of sin made things worse, not better, to adult temptation. Some books leave very little to the imagination, but this is not that type of book. This is a book about Marsh. And when discussing sexuality, he is doing it openly, but from the perspective of how he grappled with his Evangelical theology of sin with the added complications of the distortions of his mental health. That is to say; this is not a tell-all book but a book that reveals how mental illness, sexuality, and sin can interact. This is not unlike Hauerwas' memoir about his marriage to his first wife and her grappling with mental illness, but from the perspective of the spouse with the mental illness.
As I was drafting this, I saw a tweet from Dante Stewart that I thought was relevant.
Christian faith would be so much healthier and healing if we lived like we believed faith liberates us from self-hate and God’s love liberates us from self-shame. Trust me when I tell you this: you can shout, give, and preach all you want, but if your theology makes someone believe they have to hate themselves or be ashamed of themselves to be loved, then your theology is not the good news of Jesus.
Charles Marsh has moved toward a theology that is liberating. He admits he is not all there. And he admits that part of the reality is that he is less involved in church than he might prefer. But he has not left either the church or Christianity. Instead, he is attempting to leave versions of Christianity that are not liberating. It may be messier than many of us would like to see, but real life is messy.
May 16, 2023
Gold-plated trash
June 18, 2024
This was.... Weird.
It had good and useful stuff in it but I guess I thought it was going to be more about his journey with anxiety and the discovery of how religion helped breed his disorder. I guess it was kinda about that but he often went on tangents and there was a LOT of talk about his sexual repression - which is something that happens in religious environments of course, but he talked about it like it was the main thing and I guess... That's not something I can relate to, and it seemed more about that than anxiety. He also got very long-winded and super wordy and it felt like it detracted from the whole long and he seemed to go from one topic to another with no warning and it was hard to read.
It had good and useful stuff in it but I guess I thought it was going to be more about his journey with anxiety and the discovery of how religion helped breed his disorder. I guess it was kinda about that but he often went on tangents and there was a LOT of talk about his sexual repression - which is something that happens in religious environments of course, but he talked about it like it was the main thing and I guess... That's not something I can relate to, and it seemed more about that than anxiety. He also got very long-winded and super wordy and it felt like it detracted from the whole long and he seemed to go from one topic to another with no warning and it was hard to read.
Read
June 30, 2022For years, Charles Marsh suffered panic attacks and debilitating anxiety. As an Evangelical Christian, he was taught to trust in the power of God and His will. While his Christian community resisted therapy and personal introspection, Marsh eventually knew he needed help. To alleviate his suffering, he made the bold decision to seek medical treatment and underwent years of psychoanalysis.
This was a quick and fascinating read, for me not coming from a religious background I found myself a bit confused with some of the terminology mixed with an impressive vocabulary that left me googling some words. That said, it was easy to dive deeply into this memoir. It was a powerfully candid look at his own mental health, and as a therapist reading this I felt the ups and downs right along with him and was cheering him on. Marsh openly shares his messy path to finding his way through his upbringing, the ideas and values, understanding and questions that religion and his childhood experiences gave him.
Most of us struggle with mental health issues at some point in our lives, and there are some truly wonderful and helpful treatments out there to support us during these times.
This was a quick and fascinating read, for me not coming from a religious background I found myself a bit confused with some of the terminology mixed with an impressive vocabulary that left me googling some words. That said, it was easy to dive deeply into this memoir. It was a powerfully candid look at his own mental health, and as a therapist reading this I felt the ups and downs right along with him and was cheering him on. Marsh openly shares his messy path to finding his way through his upbringing, the ideas and values, understanding and questions that religion and his childhood experiences gave him.
Most of us struggle with mental health issues at some point in our lives, and there are some truly wonderful and helpful treatments out there to support us during these times.
August 6, 2025
I’m very confused. This reminded me of someone I knew once. The way the author talks reminds me of stories I’ve heard before and I felt like this was almost a generational issue?
However. I feel so bad for K during all of this. And I don’t think the author had any insight to his wife at all, which is absolutely heartbreaking. He writes over her accomplishments, desires, the betrayal he did to her, and her motherhood with a blase response. I’m heartbroken for a woman I don’t know. Another woman who lived by a man, raised his children, and was given what in response?
However. I feel so bad for K during all of this. And I don’t think the author had any insight to his wife at all, which is absolutely heartbreaking. He writes over her accomplishments, desires, the betrayal he did to her, and her motherhood with a blase response. I’m heartbroken for a woman I don’t know. Another woman who lived by a man, raised his children, and was given what in response?
July 28, 2022
See my review on the Regent College Bookstore blog.
July 15, 2022
I liked most of the content in this book. Marsh is incredibly open and raw when discussing his evangelically-induced anxiety. This is unusual for a practicing Christian (albeit one who is liberal in both theology and politics). Still, I greatly appreciated it and found these sections to be the most powerful parts of the book. However, the writing often felt scattered and lacking in direction, causing me to question the relevancy of some passages. Goodreads needs half stars because this was a 3.5.
March 29, 2025
This was a brutally honest, intense read. I listened to the audiobook so maybe people perceived it differently but I was a bit confused by the writing jumps. There were a bunch of a little personal stories in between the authors experience growing up in the Deep South as an evangelical Christian.
This is most definitely a memoir rather than the history of Christianity and mental health. I thought it was going to feel more like emotionally healthy spirituality as a memoir and that was not the case haha. Definitely an interesting read.
This is most definitely a memoir rather than the history of Christianity and mental health. I thought it was going to feel more like emotionally healthy spirituality as a memoir and that was not the case haha. Definitely an interesting read.
November 27, 2022
Charles Marsh's memoir resonates in many ways with me. I have a somewhat similar background in baptist cutlure, and have struggled against my evangelical roots, particularly regarding my understanding of sexuality and to a lesser extent mental health as well. Nevertheless, it was hard for me to fully see and understand Marsh's experiences earlier in his life, particularly the mental breakdowns in graduate school and dealing with sexuality issues then. The sexuality questions that I experienced out of a similar background were primarily addressed theologically/philosophically/intellectually and over time that filtered over into my ways of being without much mental anguish about it. I felt dirty and sinful on my wedding night (it was hard turning off the sex is bad, bad, bad! thoughts after marriage like I was supposed to), but that didn't stay around too long.
As for mental health, by the time I'd had my first mental health breakdowns, I'd given up the theological baggage that was endemic to Christian or "Biblical" counseling, and it wasn't even something that entered into my thought at the time. I think Marsh's experience was different from mine partly because his mental health struggles and anxiety arose before he's excised that theological and religious baggage.
The results of some of those challenges made me not like the early Marsh in the book. It really wasn't until I got to the end of the book when Marsh would talk about raising his children and trying to do so in a context where they felt love and acceptance from their parents and from God that put them in a position to be comfortable in their bodies and positioned them to love others well that I began to see more of my own situation and struggles in Marsh's.
In particular, when he talked about having a conversation with his son where he expressed regrets about not talking about his love of scripture enough and so forth. That resonated with me, but then his son's response was heartening to me. Roughly, "Dad, you talk about that all the time... remember... x, y, and z." It gave me some hope that maybe my own worries about communicating a similar faith to my kids will be fruitful. I worry about that often.
Also, "K", Marsh's wife, seems like something of a saint in the book to put up with all of that. :)
As for mental health, by the time I'd had my first mental health breakdowns, I'd given up the theological baggage that was endemic to Christian or "Biblical" counseling, and it wasn't even something that entered into my thought at the time. I think Marsh's experience was different from mine partly because his mental health struggles and anxiety arose before he's excised that theological and religious baggage.
The results of some of those challenges made me not like the early Marsh in the book. It really wasn't until I got to the end of the book when Marsh would talk about raising his children and trying to do so in a context where they felt love and acceptance from their parents and from God that put them in a position to be comfortable in their bodies and positioned them to love others well that I began to see more of my own situation and struggles in Marsh's.
In particular, when he talked about having a conversation with his son where he expressed regrets about not talking about his love of scripture enough and so forth. That resonated with me, but then his son's response was heartening to me. Roughly, "Dad, you talk about that all the time... remember... x, y, and z." It gave me some hope that maybe my own worries about communicating a similar faith to my kids will be fruitful. I worry about that often.
Also, "K", Marsh's wife, seems like something of a saint in the book to put up with all of that. :)
June 18, 2023
I read this at the same time as watching the docuseries Shiny Happy People, and i am filled with sadness for those who grew up in the toxic atmosphere and teachings of the Southern Baptists.
Marsh writes boldly and beautifully, if a bit too honestly, about his traumatic upbringing in the southern US evangelical church, his descent into psychological illness, and his search for healing through psychotherapy. Marsh honestly and grapples with debilitating anxiety and the harmful/disturbing effects of purity culture. There is no happy bow on this story, as there is no miraculous cure for mental illness, despite what some Christian theologies try to propose, but as Marsh writes, "there's no reason to think God wants you wasted and bare, and that is very good news."
I appreciated how he described his ongoing journey towards grace, and the goodness of the body, as well as his desire to be a good father to his children and partner to his wife. (I'd love to hear her side of the story, she seems like quite the woman.)
Marsh writes boldly and beautifully, if a bit too honestly, about his traumatic upbringing in the southern US evangelical church, his descent into psychological illness, and his search for healing through psychotherapy. Marsh honestly and grapples with debilitating anxiety and the harmful/disturbing effects of purity culture. There is no happy bow on this story, as there is no miraculous cure for mental illness, despite what some Christian theologies try to propose, but as Marsh writes, "there's no reason to think God wants you wasted and bare, and that is very good news."
I appreciated how he described his ongoing journey towards grace, and the goodness of the body, as well as his desire to be a good father to his children and partner to his wife. (I'd love to hear her side of the story, she seems like quite the woman.)
January 4, 2023
This is a memoir about anxiety, sexuality, deconstructing an (unhealthy) evangelical legacy, theology, psychoanalysis, family, and--in the end--faith. I was gripped by the beautiful prose, the searing honesty (not PG-13), and the redemptive arc. The audiobook narrator does great work.
Byron Borger's review, which may have been the reason I put it on reserve at the library, is spot on: https://www.heartsandmindsbooks.com/2...
Marsh has some really snarky one liners:
"Lars [Elizabeth Elliott's third husband] managed her career and book sales, fetched her drycleaning and the like, while she promoted her views on the Christian woman's obligation to submit to male authority."
"I kept a copy of Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest up high in the closet where other men might stash porn or a handgun."
"How hard it is to bring erections under the lordship of Christ."
Byron Borger's review, which may have been the reason I put it on reserve at the library, is spot on: https://www.heartsandmindsbooks.com/2...
Marsh has some really snarky one liners:
"Lars [Elizabeth Elliott's third husband] managed her career and book sales, fetched her drycleaning and the like, while she promoted her views on the Christian woman's obligation to submit to male authority."
"I kept a copy of Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest up high in the closet where other men might stash porn or a handgun."
"How hard it is to bring erections under the lordship of Christ."
April 29, 2025
There is no reason to think God wants you to lay wasted and bare, and that is very good news.
There is a lot here. This memoir reads muddled, yet I found myself really enjoying the candor of Charles Marsh even in the trifling details of his life. His writing made me realize how nearly impossible it is to put to words the torment of religiously-oriented anxiety, specifically in an evangelical context. There is so much to this experience that is impossible to pin down and articulate with full clarity. But I treasure some of these passages where Marsh gets a closer to the crux of it than anyone else I have read so far. Here is one such quote:
They relieved me of the burden to turn inner torment into a sacrament... The language of the therapeutic hour felt like prayer reciprocated.
There is a lot here. This memoir reads muddled, yet I found myself really enjoying the candor of Charles Marsh even in the trifling details of his life. His writing made me realize how nearly impossible it is to put to words the torment of religiously-oriented anxiety, specifically in an evangelical context. There is so much to this experience that is impossible to pin down and articulate with full clarity. But I treasure some of these passages where Marsh gets a closer to the crux of it than anyone else I have read so far. Here is one such quote:
They relieved me of the burden to turn inner torment into a sacrament... The language of the therapeutic hour felt like prayer reciprocated.
December 20, 2025
I love vulnerable memoirs where a soul's brokenness creates space to encounter the divine; this, however, was more akin to a flasher opening his trench coat. I found Marsh to be a self-obsessed jerk throughout the first half of the book. I was willing to revise my opinion in the atrocity he experienced with a sadistic youth minister (146-8), but empathy gave way to annoyance as Marsh delved into masturbation (152-5) and kink with his wife (166-9). Marsh's whiny victimhood comes from a place of unbelievable privilege--e.g., pp. 211-2 are a case study in first world problems. I snorted as, presumably after winning the $150,000 Grawemeyer Award, he grudgingly began paying his poor shrink $10 an hour (162). (I know, I know, taxes and inflation and all; but good grief, a decade later that's what I had to pay my babysitters!)
Ultimately, though, I'm saddened that Marsh received his childhood evangelicalism as a gospel of shame and works-based righteousness rather than a relationship with the living God. It's that relationship that brings victory over sin, not earnestly attempted moral self-improvement. He seems to have heard "self-denial" to mean self-hatred; it really means self-forgetfulness. I wish, instead, he'd heard of true repentance--turning away from himself, and turning to God. What a different memoir this would have been if Marsh could forget himself, learning instead to love God and love others with all his being.
Ultimately, though, I'm saddened that Marsh received his childhood evangelicalism as a gospel of shame and works-based righteousness rather than a relationship with the living God. It's that relationship that brings victory over sin, not earnestly attempted moral self-improvement. He seems to have heard "self-denial" to mean self-hatred; it really means self-forgetfulness. I wish, instead, he'd heard of true repentance--turning away from himself, and turning to God. What a different memoir this would have been if Marsh could forget himself, learning instead to love God and love others with all his being.
July 13, 2025
What an odd book. First of all i would rate this R. It’s explicit. Not gonna give this one to mom. However, I think I am rating this book so highly because of how relatable it was to my own evangelical background and only now realizing how steeped I was in that tradition as I start to explore others. I loved it, but I’m not sure everyone else would too
July 29, 2022
got bored cause it was a lot of unnecessary facts about his life rather than his mental experiences , but i didn’t finish it so take this w a grain of salt maybe it got better
September 16, 2024
More like 3.5!
March 2, 2025
If this book wasn’t so short, I would’ve DNFed it.
January 3, 2023
4.5 stars because I can’t stop thinking about religious OCD and his musings on grace.
August 5, 2022
Enjoyed this one. So good to read from Christians who have found better alternatives to “biblical counseling” and who have been able to broaden their faith beyond evangelical’s obsession over “sexual exclusivism” (this is Samuel Perry’s helpful terminology). Marsh’s vivid and often times hilarious language around sexuality is shocking at times, yes...but also liberatory therapy because it deals head-on with the shame that these kinds of evangelical subcultures create.
April 15, 2022
Parts of this are brilliant but it’s primary focus on the author’s sexual distortions and his accusing his evangelical upbringing for them grew old fast.
November 27, 2023
Very eye-opening and deconstructing. Sometimes a little too much to read because it caused me to ask a lot of questions, but I’m very glad I read this book. Definitely recommend!
July 16, 2025
I’d hate for this horny asshole to be my religious studies professor.
March 23, 2022
I am really conflicted about reviewing this. Yes it's titled Evangelical...and yet it doesn't line up with Evangelical thinking, which he shows us in his commentary and thought process. You follow Charles through his life in both his path in trying to fix and/or heal his mental health, which went against the typical path of the church by using psychoanalysis, because in his day which was more based on biblical counseling rather than on new modern medicine (the church in general has been more receptive to modern medicine in this regard) as well as his faith and how that was shaped during this time frame between different denominations; Baptists, Presbyterian, Catholics and more realistically, his struggle with understanding both the power of his sex drive from puberty on into adulthood, singleness, dating, and into marriage, and the means of how to honestly and appropriately navigate that path while being within the boundaries of what his faith allows, which is purity before marriage and monogamy within marriage. It's Charles's real, raw, and unvarnished and unfiltered journey through every high and every low of these three paths that are presented to you and me. I'm not afraid of his rawness. In this world that tries to shame you for not thinking in line with everyone and everything else, it's about time some says exactly what they're thinking. I'm not flinching at his word usuage nor his theology, though I do wonder if the latter is based on the different denominations he's been in and picked up, but that is neither here nor there. I guess I just have a conflict with the unfiltered approach he presents, which makes me wonder how brutally honest am I in all areas of my own life. It's a conversation that bears asking and an audience willing to listen as well as respond to.
*I received a copy of this book from NetGalley. This review is my own opinion*
*I received a copy of this book from NetGalley. This review is my own opinion*
January 6, 2023
Charles Marsh is a professor of religious studies at the University of Virginia and director of the Project on Lived Theology. Marsh holds a Ph.D. from the University of Virginia, a MA from the University of Virginia, and an MTS from Harvard Divinity School. His research interests include modern Christian thought, religion and civil rights, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, religion and mental health, and lived theology. Among Marsh’s significant works are Reclaiming Dietrich Bonhoeffer: The Promise of His Theology, God's Long Summer: Stories of Faith and Civil Rights, Wayward Christian Soldiers: Freeing the Gospel from Political Captivity, and Welcoming Justice God's Movement Toward Beloved Community. His latest work, Evangelical Anxiety, discusses Marsh’s mental breakdown and the destruction of self he experienced while at Harvard Divinity School. Such anxiety was the result of his deep South evangelical upbringing, particularly as it related to segregation and the nature of sexuality. This form of Christianity stigmatized mental health care as a lack of faith, leaving Marsh both wayward and confused. In time, Marsh was able to discover the benefits of therapy and a kind of Christianity that brought self-acceptance and healing. This book seeks to deconstruct much of the fear, shame, and anti-psychology present in Christianity, reconstructing the prior categories into a narrative of love, grace, faith, and greater physical/spiritual health.
Book reviewed for Eleutheria, Liberty Divinity Journal (Volume 6, Issue 1).
Book reviewed for Eleutheria, Liberty Divinity Journal (Volume 6, Issue 1).
Displaying 1 - 30 of 61 reviews