On Marriages, Transmissions, and Bicycle Races

Because there are aspects of my life that I’m unable to navigate well without help, I regularly meet with a psychologist. I readily admit that I have needs that others don’t. Not everyone needs a therapist as much as I do, but those who do will find the path to therapy strewn with a variety of surprising obstacles. The resistance appears in several forms, but has been with us for a long time. Harrison Scott Key in his book about his failing marriage writes, “When I was growing up, nobody I knew went to therapy because therapy was for weak people on TV with disposable income. . . .”¹ And with that he exposes two of the key roadblocks to therapy.

As Key notes, pride often keeps us from seeking help. Most of us like to believe that we have life figured out. We’ve grabbed the bull by the horns, the tiger by the tail, and we’re good. We avoid appearing weak or lost or confused even when we’re weak or lost or confused. Ask for help? Nah. We’ve got this.

Until we don’t.

My forty-six years of marriage could have been so much healthier and happier, for Barb as well as for me, if I’d not been so proud when I was young. Forty years ago a good therapist could have redirected our trajectory in a way that would have born beneficial fruit. Believing that I didn’t need help is the lie that I regret believing. Pride is a sour mistress that keeps us from so much that is necessary and good.

We also believe that therapy is financially out of reach. It’s a Mercedes expense that our used mini-van budgets can’t absorb. To find the budgetary room for something that can cost $150 or more per weekly session seems impossible. Though many churches are willing to help, to even ask requires our facing the pride with which we are already struggling. Any way you slice it, therapy is costly.

But so are cars, and we still drive them.

What have we judged marriage or mental stability to be worth? If our barely controlled anger causes us to belittle or frighten those around us, what is it worth to make them feel safe? When anxiety causes life to be lived in a prison of fear, isn’t it worth something to find a way to lessen those fears? Necessary things do cost money, but because they are necessary we spend the money. When my pickup’s transmission went bad a few years ago, I judged that the prospect of walking everywhere made the $2500 it cost to keep the truck functional worth every penny. We find the money for the things that we value.

But even if we admit we need therapy, and value it enough to pay for it, how do we begin to find the right therapist? Shopping for a therapist is unlike shopping for other useful things like refrigerators or dentists. Asking for recommendations, as we should, invites both raised eyebrows and awkward questions. Then, to assess our trust and comfort with the therapist recommended requires opening our soul to strangers who might not handle it well. We are tempted to quit before we begin.

When difficult family dynamics finally drove Barb and me to seek help, the first counselor we saw didn’t even let us finish telling our story before he was presuming to fix us. We never returned. The next was wonderful and gentle but didn’t really get around to giving us any clear direction. He lasted only a few sessions. The third seemed unable to discern the seriousness of our situation. All three were recommended, but none worked for us, and so, yes, we gave up.

But life didn’t. It continued to press against us until we found the help we needed.

As I’ve said before, a good therapist is one whose training and practice is psychologically sound. Our mental health and our human relationships are too valuable to allow for quackery. But training can only go so far to make a good therapist. Therapy is as much a gift and an art as it is a career path. Finding the therapist we did, a gifted PhD child psychologist with a kind heart was something only God could do. This sharp, insightful, and patient therapist has leveraged her thorough training and particular gifts to change me. Through her wisdom and that of others, Barb and I began to stabilize and to heal.

Getting there was hard, but I’m so incredibly grateful for the end result. I want to encourage others who need the help to persevere in finding it. Perhaps that’s the role we pastors are to play. We may not be the ones equipped to do the work of therapy ourselves, but we can help those who need it to get it.

We have friends whose bicyclist son races to win. When they asked him how they could encourage him best, he suggested they position themselves about two-thirds of the way up steep inclines where they could cheer him at his points of greatest exhaustion. Perhaps that’s our role as pastors in this whole process. We can’t control every situation or its outcome, but for those who are seeking help, we can position ourselves at the points of greatest resistance, at the places where they’re most likely to give up, and there we can cheer them on.

And perhaps we can be that for one another as well.

1. Harrison Scott Key, How to Stay Married: the Most Insane Love Story Ever (United States: Simon and Schuster, 2023), p. 2.
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