A few years ago, I found myself in a place I never expected—overwhelmed by anxiety, buried in depression, and silently crumbling under the weight of it all.
As a pastor, I felt the constant pressure to lead well, preach clearly, make sound decisions, and care for others, all while appearing strong and spiritually steady. But beneath the surface, I was breaking.
Ministry can feel like a relentless grind. We face the crushing weight of our own self-imposed expectations, not to mention the often-unrealistic expectations of those we serve. Add to that the ripple effects of post-COVID-19 challenges, the rise in spiritual warfare, and the increasing polarization of our culture—and it’s no wonder so many of us are weary, discouraged, and quietly suffering.
For a long time, I believed I was alone in this. But I now know I’m not.
In fact, a 2023 Barna study revealed that “nearly one in five Protestant senior pastors in the U.S. (18%) [said] they have contemplated self-harm or suicide within the past year.” If we imagine a population of 30,000 senior pastors, that’s 5,400 leaders who have seriously wrestled with thoughts of self-harm or suicide—just in the last year. That number should stop us in our tracks.
There is a crisis among pastors and ministry leaders—and far too many of us are walking through it alone, in silence, weighed down by shame, fear, and the false belief that seeking help is weakness.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
From conversion to calling
When I was 25, a friend invited me to a businessman’s Bible study, and through that, I came to faith in Christ. The Holy Spirit changed my life in a profound way. I felt a new freedom from the weight of others’ expectations—and my own. But while salvation is immediate, sanctification is lifelong. Even after coming to Christ, I continued to wrestle with insecurity and the pull to prove my worth.
After five years in the business world, I entered seminary and began serving in full-time vocational ministry. That was nearly 30 years ago. I’ve seen God work in countless ways—but I’ve also learned how easy it is, even as a pastor, to neglect what’s happening beneath the surface.
When the cracks began to show
It is difficult for me to pinpoint my first encounter with depression. Looking back, I can see signs as early as high school. I grew up in a loving household, but I felt most loved when I was celebrated for performing well in school and tennis. Somewhere along the way, I bought into the lie that my worth was dependent upon my performance. I worked hard to perform well in every area, hoping that would make me lovable—not just to my family but to everyone around me.
Shortly after seminary, I joined the staff at Perimeter Church. It was in those early days that I hit a “bump” in the road. Matt, my boss at the time, recognized this and recommended that I see a counselor. Following his suggestion, I did—and was prescribed medication. For many years, this helped level out my struggles with depression and anxiety. However, the lies I believed about my identity, value, and worth continued to bring discouragement and shame.
By early 2020, that earlier “bump” gave way to a spiraling depression and anxiety much deeper than anything I had experienced before. I was serving on the executive leadership team at Perimeter and leading a movement of churches throughout Atlanta. The deeper my depression went, the more believable the lies became:
“The movement is not going well, and it is my fault.”
“I’m supposed to have it all together as the senior guy on our executive leadership team at Perimeter.”
“What would people think of me if they knew what was really going on inside of me?”
I began to share my struggle with Matt, as we had grown close over 30 years of friendship. One day, as we sat across the table at lunch, he looked at me and said, “You’re in a bad place.” I knew he was right.
Had Matt not lovingly confronted me, I’m not sure how much longer I would have gone without seeking help. Right then, he picked up his phone and called a counselor we both knew. He set up an appointment for the three of us to meet that afternoon. For me, it was a baby step of faith to say, “I really need help.”
Three days later, I walked into one of our executive leadership meetings at Perimeter with my counselor and some prepared notes. Mentally, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to share coherently. I confessed that I needed help and couldn’t keep going without a break. I admitted I was functioning at less than 20 percent—exhausted, unfocused, and emotionally drained. I struggled to make decisions. I would stare at emails on the screen, unable to respond. At times, I couldn’t even speak in complete sentences. I was experiencing a breakdown. It would be the first of two over the next few years. Each time, I was out of work for more than two months.
Breaking point
I was scared, and I truly believed I would not get better. I was scared I would lose my job, and more importantly, I was fearful that I could not be the husband and father I once was and needed to be.
Over time, I’ve come to see that all of us experience anxiety and depression at some level. Some of you may resonate with more profound experiences like mine. If so, I want you to know: You are not alone.
How healing began
Whenever I share my story, I am often asked, “How did you get better?” I usually give a two-part answer. I believe significant depression and anxiety are both physical and spiritual issues. We are psychosomatic unities—body and soul—and the Fall affects every part of our being, including our physical and chemical makeup. On the physical side, I experienced positive effects from prescribed medications. I am not saying that medication is for everyone, but for some of us, it can be deeply beneficial.
My depression and anxiety were also spiritual issues. I am full of pride. I have insecurities. At times, I misplaced my identity in things that reveal idols of performance and approval. Confessing and leaning into the transformative power of God’s Word and my community allows me to find victory in the spiritual side of the issue. I don’t fully understand how all the physical and spiritual issues connect to lead me where I’ve been—but God does. This is all part of his sanctifying work in my life.
During my two collapses, healing began when I was reawakened to the incredible love of Jesus for me. He met me in the deepest parts of my story—the places I was most ashamed—and reminded me that my value and worth are not dependent on how I perform or what others might think of me. It is all about Jesus! Knowing he was there in those times was what I needed. He loves me through my family and my friends who are with me in my vulnerability and love me at my worst.
A verse that continues to anchor me is 2 Corinthians 12:9: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Weaknesses are not liabilities. It is through our weaknesses that the Lord does some of his deepest work in and through us.
Jesus showed me that I was not alone and I didn’t need to suffer alone. Through the gospel and the power of the Holy Spirit, he gave me two things that made all the difference: courage and community.
Courage
You are not alone in this battle. You don’t have to read too many biographies to discover many Christian leaders and pastors have struggled with depression and anxiety—Martin Luther, Mother Teresa, Charles Spurgeon, and Martin Luther King Jr., just to name a few. There is no shame, and there is no condemnation in these struggles (Rom. 8:1).
The Enemy whispers:
“Because of this struggle, you are not worthy to be a pastor.”
“If your faith was stronger, you wouldn’t be struggling.”
“How can you lead this church or this ministry if you’re barely holding it together like this?”
These lies amplify our fears and isolate us. But when we truly grasp that our identities are in Christ, the cycle of shame is broken. Christ assures that your struggles do not make you less of a pastor, less of a leader, less of a Christian, less of parent, or less of a spouse.
Refuse to stay silent. Show courage by sharing vulnerably with a trusted friend, a counselor, or another pastor. Share your struggle with depression, anxiety, or whatever it may be. Reaching out is a critical first step. Please—do not suffer in silence. Finding even one trusted person to walk with you can become the turning point in your journey to recovery and healing.
Community
We need each other. I do not think I would have made it through these episodes if it were not for the community God placed around me. I call it my “team,” and it includes the following:
- My family—My wife, Leigh Ann, and our children. Leigh Ann has been an incredible, steady rock through these times. She shouldered her own share of the burden, stepping in to lead and make decisions during times when I simply couldn’t. She suffered too, in ways most people never saw.
- Professionals—
- A counselor—I needed a sounding board and a safe place to process the negative and unhealthy thoughts that would overwhelm my mind.
- A psychiatrist—As I mentioned earlier, not everyone who has depression or anxiety needs medication—but some of us do. I know I do because I have seen the significant difference it makes for me. I did not go to a psychiatrist until my first collapse, and I wish I had gone much sooner. Medication can help us fight the physical side while we continue fighting on the spiritual and mental fronts.
- My church and church leadership—I’m incredibly grateful to be part of a church—and a leadership team—that responded with grace and compassion through these difficult times. They sacrificed on my behalf, and I am deeply grateful. I know not every pastor has that kind of support, but just as the Lord provided for me, he can provide for you, even if it looks different.
- A band of brothers—This may be the missing ingredient for many. I have my “one”—Matt—who has spent countless hours with me through these times. I also have several other “bands of brothers,” longtime friends from different seasons of life, as well as a group of pastors who have met regularly for years. We call ourselves the “Hermanos.” Over the years, we have chosen each other over our differences, leaning into the hard moments with vulnerability and walking in the gospel together. We’ve walked through all kinds of crises together over the years. A band of brothers does not develop overnight, but it can start with you reaching out to one other friend or pastor.
You don’t have to face this battle alone. So don’t suffer in silence. By God’s strength, be courageous. Share the truth about what you are experiencing, and begin building a community around you. We serve a loving and all-powerful God who is generous to provide. It may look different for you than it did for me, but the outcome can be just as real. After all, we serve the same faithful King.
Practical next steps
If you’re struggling, you don’t have to walk through it alone. Here are a few next steps to consider as you seek healing and support:
1. Reach out to a fellow pastor.
Sometimes, all it takes is one trusted friend to begin the journey. Start with someone you already know—a local pastor or ministry leader.
2. Find a Christian counselor or psychiatrist.
Don’t be discouraged if it takes time to find the right fit. Keep going. You’re worth the effort.
- Local referrals—Ask fellow pastors, church members, or denominational networks.
- Online option—Global Counseling Network is a group of licensed counselors that offers remote Christian counseling to pastors online.
3. Look into retreat centers for pastors.
There are spaces designed to give you rest and help you reset. Ask your counselor or others in your network for trusted recommendations.
Wherever you start, take one step. You don’t have to do everything—just something. I trust that the same God who sustained me will be faithful to meet and deliver you too.
Chip Sweney serves on the executive leadership team at Perimeter Church, where he has been a pastor for nearly three decades. He is also the executive director of the church’s Greater Atlanta Transformation initiative, which leads Perimeter’s outward-focused ministries across the metro Atlanta area.
