Devout: A Memoir of Doubt
Devout: A Memoir of Doubt (2024) by Anna Gazmarian is a courageous and thought-provoking memoir that offers an intimate look at the intersection of mental health and faith. Through her personal journey of being diagnosed with bipolar disorder while navigating both the mental health system and the world of evangelical Christianity, Gazmarian’s story provides critical insights into the complexities of living with a mental health condition while trying to maintain a vibrant spiritual life that makes room for doubt. As someone who comes from a Reformed Christian background (alongside heavy influences from evangelical Christianity), I found Devout to be both deeply relatable and eye-opening, shedding light on a conversation that needs more space in the church today.
The narrative of Devout traces Gazmarian’s journey from her struggles with mental health and her attempts to reconcile these struggles with her Christian faith. We learn in the preface that in college Gazmarian is diagnosed with bipolar disorder. What follows is her account of what it looks like to navigate both the mental health world and the religious world with this diagnosis. Spoiler alert: both institutions have moments where they provide much-needed support and moments where they provide more confusion and pain.
A particularly poignant moment in Devout comes when Gazmarian shares her struggle with the church’s often harmful response to mental illness. After being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, she shares how her family’s initial reaction was a well-meaning but ultimately damaging phrase: “God will never put you through something you can’t handle.” This kind of positive spin on hardship is a common refrain in many Christian communities. As Gazmarian points out, however, it can minimize the very real and often overwhelming experiences of those living with mental illness. What resonates deeply in her story is the realization that the church, which often presents itself as a source of healing, can be woefully inadequate—or even harmful—when it comes to supporting those dealing with mental health struggles.
Throughout the book, Gazmarian reflects on her experience with psychiatric medications, including Tripleptal, Doxepin, Cymbalta, Lamictal, and Lithium. For many readers, this will be a relatable aspect of the book, as it offers a window into the complex and sometimes frustrating world of mental health treatment. It’s clear that while medication has been helpful for her, the journey to finding the right treatment was long and fraught with setbacks. This honest depiction of mental health treatment serves as an antidote to the well-meaning but misguided belief that faith alone can heal all mental health issues.
Halfway through the book, she transitions to a new chapter in her life, moving to the campus where I once worked. I remember audibly gasping and thinking, “I thought her author picture looked familiar.” I then found myself following a very basic human instinct: looking for myself in the story. Gazmarian does not give a detailed account of her experiences with the campus ministries program. And honestly, I felt both disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because we all want to think we could have been a soft landing spot for someone wrestling with their faith. Relieved because I am under no illusion that what might have been offered would have been a balm.
What stands out about her time in the institution that I loved is the community she finds among her professors and classmates. They see her for who she is and for the gifts she brings, offering the support and understanding she desperately needs during a time of immense personal struggle. This sense of belonging, rooted in being seen and valued, contrasts sharply with the more transactional and often harmful responses she receives from certain segments of the church.
The book is filled with theological reflections that enrich the narrative. Gazmarian skillfully weaves in reflections on suffering, the Paschal mystery, and the challenges of following Jesus while navigating the complexities of mental illness. Through well-known biblical stories—such as the suffering of Job, the prophets, and the stories of Jesus and his disciples—she explores the tension between faith and suffering, demonstrating how these ancient accounts can speak to contemporary struggles. As a reader from a Reformed Christian perspective, I appreciated how Gazmarian’s theological reflections aren’t mere intellectual exercises but are rooted in lived experience, a testimony to the reality that theology isn’t just about abstract ideas but about how we make sense of our own stories within God’s larger story.
A particularly poignant moment in the book is when Gazmarian shares how she burned her prayer journal as a symbolic gesture of releasing her past, yet still felt no different afterward. In this moment, she grapples with the existential question, “Can any of us ever be truly free from the ideas that shape us?” This thought is a powerful reminder of how our past experiences, even those we attempt to walk away from, continue to shape us.
As she moves forward, Gazmarian finds solace in poetry. Through writing, she learns to honor her losses, not as part of some divine plan, but as experiences “named, honored, and, through art, brought into the present, transformed.” This shift—seeing loss as something that can be named, honored, and transformed—becomes an important theme in her healing process.
Devout is a book that offers a wealth of insights, not just for those struggling with mental health, but for anyone interested in the intersection of faith and suffering. Gazmarian’s narrative challenges the Church to be more compassionate and less simplistic when it comes to mental illness. It calls on Christian communities to rethink their understanding of suffering, healing, and the role of the church in supporting those who are struggling. With her deep theological reflection, personal vulnerability, and emotional honesty, Gazmarian shows that true faith involves not just accepting the good but also facing the hard truths of our lives without pretending that everything is always “part of God’s plan.”
More than just a memoir of Gazmarian’s life, Devout provides an invaluable lens for understanding the broader challenges that come with a mental health diagnosis. Gazmarian’s insights are not just personal but deeply universal, giving voice to the experiences of many who suffer in silence, particularly those in religious communities that may inadvertently stigmatize mental health struggles. One of the most powerful aspects of the book is how Gazmarian’s faith, tested through her trials, remains a source of both comfort and tension. Her tenacity in not giving up on the idea that there is a place for her within the church is inspiring. Her instinct to “be a good Christian” includes space for deep doubt and opens space for others to find themselves in the story, too.
I highly recommend Devout to anyone, especially those in the Church, who wish to better understand the complexities of mental health within a Christian context. Gazmarian’s story is a powerful reminder that while faith is crucial, it is not a cure-all. Her reflections on mental health, doubt, faith, and community offer invaluable insights for anyone seeking a deeper understanding of both their own struggles and the church’s role in healing.
Thanks for this helpful overview and insightful reflection on this book, Kate! I wasn’t aware of it, but the issues Gazmarian explores in it are so relevant and relatable to so many people and communities. Thank you—and I love your bio, too! ❤️😊
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Thanks Kate. Trauma of all sorts is on the rise and our institutions that profess wholistic solace have often provided whatever is the opposite of solace. But … we are learning … and hoping.
As a retired social worker, I was particularly drawn to your excellently written review. The book might be a very helpful “tool” to both pastors and mental health professionals alike. Thank you.