Sanctuary: A Beautiful Journey with God and Therapy

I can still remember the shock I felt when my Greek professor asked me to stay after class. I was in my thirties, working three part-time jobs while doing ministry, finishing up a Master of Divinity in Pastoral Care and Counseling, and having a moment that felt more like a little kid getting sent to the principal’s office. With an unsettling look on his face, the professor pulled me aside. He was short and to the point:

“Rob,” he said, “you need to see the campus counselor before returning to class.” After my initial surprise, I asked for an explanation. He told me the counselor would explain, and that was that.

Soon after, I found myself sitting in the counselor’s office, wondering what this was all about. The counselor didn’t mince words. “Rob, you are being disruptive in class, and you will need to see a therapist to continue your studies here. If you decide not to seek help, you will not be allowed to return.” Again, I asked him to please elaborate.

“It’s your anger and sarcasm,” he went on. “It disrupts the class while the professor is teaching.” I had been oblivious to any of this. He then recommended a few therapists, clarifying that whoever I chose would report back to him. I swallowed my pride, and off I went.

My first sessions with the therapist were awkward, not to mention costly. Back then, my care paradigm was strictly biblical. What else did a person need? Therapeutic care? Secular methods? I didn’t have much respect for any of these. The therapist got to work quickly, pressing me on where my anger might be coming from. It would be nice to say I broke down in tears and sobbing here, owning up to my faults in contrite confession. But the opposite happened. I clammed up, sitting in silence for 45 minutes in one session. The therapist did the same, and when the time was up, he said, “I will see you next week.” $125 for just a few words - ugh.

Despite my irritation, I went back, and my therapist continued exploring. It was like he was pulling on a small string, unraveling more of my story until we finally reached the source of all my unresolved anger: Seven years of childhood sexual abuse.

These memories were buried deep, but they began to emerge as my prayers and pleas for God to stop them from haunting me. I yearned for Him to keep the tears from falling and the rage from erupting. Who knew such pleadings could leave me exhausted, isolated, and hopeless? It was a raw time in my life that no one knew much about. However, something else was happening. Somehow, I knew God was inviting me to something. I didn’t see it then, but God was shepherding my soul, beginning a work, inviting me out of my hopelessness, and grounding me to see life differently.

Things weren’t perfect. I would still get irritated, especially by preachers. Phrases like “You must forgive because you have been forgiven” would anger me, no matter how true. I remember one fellow trying to cheer me up by saying, “God’s on the throne.” He sure was, but I didn’t feel cared for by such statements. They were not helpful. Old memories, buried feelings, and deep wounds still had strongholds in my soul. How do you forgive someone who has hurt you to your core? How do you walk in the truths of God’s word and His presence when your wounds are bleeding? I was stumped.

Ironically enough, I’d also been doing counseling (Bible-only, of course) at the time while also trying to be a decent husband and dad to 2 young children. Through all this, a deep ache remained in my soul. I began noticing what other people saw coming out of me—my stinging words, knee-jerk reactions, moods, etc. My heart longed for my life to be so different, but my living didn't fully reflect that—something still wasn’t right.

Months became years as the sessions with my therapist went on. Full disclosure: I was always on guard in those times. I worried he was somehow indoctrinating me with psychological mumbo-jumbo with a bit of scripture sprinkled in. My therapist saw this. He remained grace-filled, honoring my faith and working through my biases. Here was a man who modeled patience, forthrightness, and presence.

I view that chapter in my life as an “intermingling” between me and God. I was wrestling with Him, and He patiently guided me through the waters of ongoing therapy, my work in counseling, and my relationship with Him. I started seeing connections and believing things I previously hadn’t. God was my Sanctuary, and therapy was one of His tools for His redemptive work. God’s word spoke deeply, and His Spirit worked through people to teach and shape me. I wanted to embrace this work of the Holy Spirit and not stand in its way (Ephesians 4:30, John 14:16, Psalm 32:8).

I would like to say my life suddenly became all sunshine and roses, but that is not the real world. Sometimes, it was sitting in a dark basement, cloaked in depression, crying out to Him, and other times the sun shined, revealing glimpses of new life. Thank God that He met me in all those moments. How could the God of the universe inhabit such a dark space and in the places of brilliant light? It was a meshing together of two realities. Soul-rot and Sanctuary colliding for the benefit of my soul. That’s how God does it—He walks with us in places where it’s so dark we can’t even see. “Though darkness surrounds me, it is light unto you” (Psalm 139:11).

As the years went on, my sessions continued as the Lord used the presence of another soul to do His work. My therapist, you see, never treated me as a broken item he could fix or a puzzle he could solve. He saw me as a man, a fellow image-bearer who was worthy of not only his time but his empathy. Instead of pushing me further into rage, he welcomed me into a place of safety, a place where God could heal me and lift me to new vistas of life.

Because of that, I am still thankful for that Greek professor who pulled me aside and offered the rebuke I needed. That moment and the following decades have led me along a road of redemption to where I stand today. I can look back over my shoulder and see down that long highway, and the people God hand-picked to walk beside me. How beautiful and hard. I can see where the truths of Scripture shaped me, where therapy helped, and where the presence of another brought comfort. Today, it is God who pulls me aside—not in rebuke but in an everlasting invitation to wholeness in Christ, my true Sanctuary.

Allow me to invite you to walk this road with me, too. It is not a journey that requires any superhuman power but only the willingness to open your eyes, ears, mind, and heart to your invitation from a Living God. To allow room for questions such as:

❖ Is all truth God's truth, and if so, how does it apply to my story?

❖    How might the Lord use therapeutic disciplines and medicine to bring about change?

❖    What things is God uprooting in your life so He can shed His redemptive light on them?

❖    Where is God inviting you to heal, grow, and experience a deeper life with Him?

❖ Who is He calling you to walk with to begin your journey?

Just as God has stepped into my story, He desires to step into yours. Even now, He is inviting you into the Sanctuary. He’s made space for you to experience worship, nourishment from Scripture, healing, community with others, and more to be discovered. Let’s be fellow travelers, trusting the Holy Spirit’s infinite wisdom in our stories.

You, Lord, keep my lamp burning; My God turns my darkness into light.   —Psalm 18:28

Peace to you, my friends,

Rob