One perpetual debate among Christian counselors for the last several decades is the extent to which secular therapy techniques or medical interventions can be used by believers. On one extreme, proponents of nouthetic counseling (like Jay Adams) argue that Scripture alone is sufficient to address mental health needs. Others welcome nearly all insights and techniques from the secular mental health industry. Most fall somewhere in between.

Greg Gifford’s book Lies My Therapist Told Me: Why Christians Should Aim for More than Just Treating Symptoms clearly places him closer to the nouthetic end. As assistant professor of biblical counseling at The Master’s University, Gifford sets out to deconstruct the secular mental health field and present a biblically grounded alternative for treating “problems of the mind.” In particular, Gifford wants to tie these problems to spiritual struggles or issues to be addressed apart from medical interventions or secular therapy.

Gifford starts by identifying a fundamental worldview clash between our therapeutic culture and Christianity. He writes, “My goal is to let the Bible frame our perspective of people, to correct our secular anthropology” (xxv). While many Christians will agree that our anthropology must be biblically based, Gifford takes this further by arguing that many mental health diagnoses are “arbitrary” (63), secular therapy is almost exclusively focused on “symptom relief” (109), and the term “mental health” should be replaced by the biblical language of “mind renewal” (232).

There’s much to glean from his discussion of anthropology and resulting implications, but it goes beyond what many Christian counselors—including me—can affirm.

Critiquing Secular Mental Health

Gifford critiques common mental health practices, echoing arguments from books like Abigail Shrier’s Bad Therapy. He identifies several valid concerns: a hyperfocus on the self, the overpathologization of normal human experiences, and therapy’s self-incentivization. When we combine this with rapidly expanding diagnostic categories in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), Gifford argues, we’ve created a mental health crisis we’re ill-equipped to fix.

However, Gifford’s critique seems to overlook some glimpses of grace that have arisen with the expansion of mental health treatment. For instance, 20 years ago, counseling was often seen as something only “crazy people” needed. When I started pursuing my vocation as a biblical counselor, fellow church members openly questioned its value for the church.

Thankfully, the stigma has greatly diminished. While I agree with some of Gifford’s concerns, I’m grateful that counseling and medical interventions are more readily available. If humans are both body and soul, and both are broken, then we need holistic help, which sometimes isn’t available within the local church.

Differentiate Brain from Mind

A large portion of the book focuses on distinguishing between the brain (physical) and the mind (immaterial). Gifford emphasizes their mutual influence but shows they aren’t the same. Thus, treating the brain (with medication, for example) cannot renew the mind. He calls Christians to pursue transformation through biblical sanctification rather than merely seeking symptom relief. According to Gifford, secular therapy is fundamentally flawed in that it leans too heavily on medication to treat a brain that cannot cause the mind to think rightly. Only Christ can do that.

I appreciate his theological rigor. However, his argument seems to underestimate how substantially the physical brain can limit our ability to live out the desires of our renewed mind. For example, someone in a coma may want to speak but physically cannot. Similarly, someone with a neurological disorder may be limited in how they can apply mind renewal. As those who affirm both unity and distinction between body and soul, we shouldn’t downplay the role of the physical body—particularly the brain—in mental health and well-being.

As dualists who affirm both unity and distinction between body and soul, we shouldn’t downplay the role of the physical body in mental health and well-being.

In the book’s final section, Gifford offers a biblical alternative to secular therapy. He critiques the use of medication (arguing symptom relief merely masks deeper issues), discusses topics like addiction and insanity, and tellingly closes with a chapter titled “Christ Offers More.” His conclusion is clear: True mental health in this life comes only through Christ, by the renewing of the mind with the Word, in the context of the church (245). It cannot happen elsewhere.

Again, there’s much here I can affirm, though I fall at a different place on the biblical counseling spectrum. Gifford is biblically faithful and cares deeply about people and their healing. His theological anthropology is solid, and his heart for the church is compelling. However, I hoped for more nuance in two key areas.

Missing Conversations

First, Gifford seems to presume there’s no place for Christian therapists or psychiatrists. As someone who teaches in a seminary-based, biblically grounded counseling program aligned with state licensures, I know many faithful believers working in these fields who don’t fit Gifford’s framework. They would align with Gifford on all major points of doctrine, but they see benefits in treatments he discards. The book’s argument doesn’t adequately explain that discrepancy. He’s also highly critical of the DSM in ways that at times seem reductionistic, as if no good at all comes out of the manual.

Along these same lines, Gifford sometimes reads his own convictions into his assessment of secular therapy. For instance, when he visits a psychiatrist to more accurately assess a typical psychiatric approach, he notes a few positives but then reads a great deal more into “negative” aspects of his experience that fit his presuppositions. In this section, he also conflates a DSM diagnosis with automatic medication use, which isn’t always the case—even in his experience, it was offered, not prescribed, and “therapy was recommended first” (61). These oversights leave parts of his argument underdeveloped and disclose bias in his retelling of his experience.

I appreciate Gifford’s careful use of Scripture and his desire to help people find lasting healing in Christ. He’s careful with his terminology, though I disagree with some definitions and conclusions. I also affirm his assertions that we need more discipleship in the church; that would certainly curtail many (though not all) situations I counsel in.

But I believe there’s room for a more balanced conversation about how Christians can benefit from secular mental health approaches, specifically when Christians are called to work missionally in these spaces. Overall, Lies My Therapist Told Me is a worthwhile, thoughtful read, even for Christians who land in a different place than Gifford does.