Deciding to speak to a counsellor can take courage.
For some of us, the difficulty is admitting that something isn’t quite right. For others, it is finding the time, trusting another person, or wondering whether our problems are really serious enough to justify counselling.
And then there is another question that is rarely spoken aloud:
“Is it really right to spend this money on myself?”
For Christians, that question can sometimes carry an additional weight.
We are taught to serve others, to be generous, to carry one another’s burdens and to place the needs of others before our own. Against that background, paying someone to sit and listen to us can initially feel uncomfortable.
Perhaps even indulgent.
But I don’t believe seeking counselling is selfish.
Sometimes it is an act of stewardship.
Sometimes acknowledging that we need help is one of the most responsible things we can do.
And sometimes giving ourselves permission to be cared for allows us, eventually, to become better able to care for others.
When we are usually the ones who carry everyone else
Many of us who come to counselling have spent years being strong.
We are the person others depend upon.
The parent who keeps the family together.
The husband or wife trying to hold a relationship together.
The person everyone phones when something goes wrong.
The professional who appears confident at work while privately struggling.
The Christian who continues attending church, praying and helping others while quietly wondering why we ourselves feel so tired, anxious, lonely or overwhelmed.
There can be an unspoken expectation that we should simply cope.
And within Christian life, that can sometimes become spiritualised:
Perhaps I should pray more.
Perhaps my faith should be stronger.
Perhaps I shouldn’t feel like this.
Other people have much bigger problems than we do.
Yet Scripture rarely presents human beings as people who flourish entirely alone.
We are relational creatures.
We need one another.
Paul tells us:
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfil the law of Christ.”
— Galatians 6:2
Sometimes we carry.
Sometimes we need to allow ourselves to be carried.
There is grace in both.
What are we actually paying for in counselling?
This is an important question.
We are not paying somebody to care about us.
Compassion cannot be bought.
We are not paying for prayer, God’s love, forgiveness or grace.
Those things are not commodities.
What we are paying for is protected professional time and a particular kind of relationship.
For that period, we do not have to look after the counsellor.
We do not have to worry whether what we say might upset a family member.
We do not have to pretend that everything is fine.
We don’t have to provide the socially acceptable version of what happened.
We can talk about anger.
Doubt.
Marriage.
Loneliness.
Grief.
Anxiety.
Faith.
Shame.
Relationships.
Family.
The past.
Or simply the feeling that something isn’t right, even when we cannot quite explain what it is.
Counselling creates a space in which, perhaps for the first time in a long time, we don’t have to carry everybody else.
The focus can be on you.
The value of professional care
Counselling is compassionate work, but it is also professional work.
Behind a counselling session sits training, study, professional supervision, ethical responsibilities, insurance, continuing professional development, preparation and the commitment to maintain appropriate professional boundaries.
Scripture itself recognises the dignity and value of work.
When Jesus sends out the seventy-two, He tells them:
“The worker deserves his wages.”
— Luke 10:7
There is nothing inherently unchristian about receiving payment for meaningful work.
Christian teachers receive salaries.
Christian doctors are paid.
Christian tradespeople charge for their skills.
Christian counsellors are no different.
The more important Christian question, we believe, is not simply whether we charge, but how we regard the person who is paying us.
Because the person must always matter more than the payment.
One of Jesus’ greatest illustrations of compassion is the parable of the Good Samaritan.
A man has been attacked and left beside the road.
Others pass him.
The Samaritan stops.
He tends the man’s wounds, places him on his own animal and takes him somewhere safe.
But there is a small detail in the story that we find particularly interesting.
The Samaritan gives money to the innkeeper and says:
“Look after him, and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.”
— Luke 10:35
Care has a practical dimension.
There is an inn.
There is food.
There is someone’s time.
There are resources required for the wounded person to recover.
And none of this diminishes the compassion of the story.
Perhaps it reminds us of something important:
Care can be motivated by love while still carrying a practical cost.
Counselling is not a sign of weak faith
This is particularly important to us.
Christians sometimes approach counselling with an underlying fear that needing psychological support somehow represents a failure of faith.
I don’t believe it does.
Counselling should not be a place where somebody simply tells us to pray harder.
Nor should Christian counselling begin with the assumption that emotional suffering exists because our faith is inadequate.
Human beings are complicated.
Our present lives are shaped by relationships, experiences, childhood, loss, trauma, disappointments, choices, responsibilities and countless other influences.
Faith can be an extraordinary source of hope and meaning within that complexity.
But faith does not require us to deny the complexity.
The Bible itself contains remarkably honest expressions of human emotion.
There is grief.
Fear.
Anger.
Loneliness.
Confusion.
Despair.
Betrayal.
Hope.
Restoration.
Even Jesus weeps.
Christian faith does not ask us to pretend that suffering doesn’t hurt.
It gives us a language through which suffering can sometimes be understood, endured and ultimately transformed.
Counselling isn’t about being told what to do
People sometimes imagine counselling as sitting opposite someone who analyses us and then tells us how to fix our life.
That isn’t how we understand counselling.
The counsellor’s role is not to take control of our life.
We remain the people who know our circumstances, relationships and experiences better than anyone else.
Counselling is much more collaborative.
We might explore patterns.
We might consider why particular situations affect us so deeply.
We might notice how experiences from the past continue to influence relationships in the present.
We may look at thoughts, behaviours, fears, expectations or beliefs that have become difficult.
And where faith is important to us, there can also be space to explore that dimension of our life.
Not to impose answers.
But to understand.
Good counselling should gradually help us become less dependent upon the counsellor, not more.
The aim is not to keep somebody in counselling indefinitely.
It is to help them reach a point where they feel better equipped to continue without it.
Is spending money on ourselves selfish?
For some of us, this remains the hardest question.
We can spend money maintaining a car.
We invest in our homes.
We pay for professional development.
We might spend money on holidays because we recognise the importance of rest.
Yet investing in our emotional wellbeing can somehow feel different.
Perhaps because many of us were never taught to regard our inner lives as something worthy of attention.
Jesus tells us:
“Love your neighbour as yourself.”
— Mark 12:31
We often concentrate on the first part.
Love your neighbour.
Serve.
Give.
Help.
Support.
But there is an interesting assumption contained within Jesus’ words.
As yourself.
Christian love does not require the disappearance of the self.
Healthy care for others and healthy care for ourselves need not be enemies.
Sometimes investing in counselling isn’t merely an investment in ourselves either.
The changes we make can ripple outward.
Into marriages.
Families.
Parenting.
Friendships.
Workplaces.
Church communities.
When one person begins to understand themselves differently, relationships around them can sometimes begin to change too.
What if we cannot afford counselling?
This matters.
Professional counselling has a cost, but we never want somebody’s financial circumstances to become a judgement upon their worth or the seriousness of what they are experiencing.
There may be circumstances where lower-cost services, charitable organisations, NHS provision or other forms of support are more appropriate.
There can also be occasions when counsellors are able to offer concessionary arrangements.
We believe there should always be room for generosity and discernment.
Christianity asks us to hold two principles together.
The worker deserves his wages.
And:
We are called to care for one another.
We don’t believe those principles contradict each other.
The challenge is holding them in the right balance.
Perhaps we don’t need to have everything figured out
We don’t need to arrive at counselling knowing exactly what is wrong.
We don’t need a diagnosis.
We don’t need to be at breaking point.
And we certainly don’t need an eloquent explanation of why we want to talk.
Sometimes the starting point is simply:
“I’m struggling.”
Or:
“Something needs to change.”
Or even:
“I don’t really know why I’m here, but I know I’m not myself.”
That is enough to begin a conversation.
There is something deeply human about sitting with another person and slowly putting words around experiences that may have remained unspoken for years.
Sometimes understanding begins there.
A final thought
So when someone pays for counselling, we don’t believe they are purchasing compassion.
They are creating space.
Space to think.
Space to speak honestly.
Space to explore difficult experiences without having to protect somebody else’s feelings.
Space to understand themselves.
And, hopefully, space in which change can begin.
For us, Christian counselling sits somewhere between professional responsibility and Christian vocation.
Scripture tells us that “the worker deserves his wages.”
But Scripture also continually reminds us that people matter more than possessions, status or money.
Both principles matter.
We charge for professional time, training and experience.
We do not charge for compassion.
We do not charge for hope.
And we do not charge for grace.
Those things were never ours to sell.
If we have been thinking about counselling but aren’t quite sure whether it is for us, we don’t have to make a big commitment or have everything worked out beforehand.
Sometimes the first step is simply a conversation.
And sometimes that conversation is where things begin to change.
For more information on Christian Counselling please visit our website.
