by Rev. Rachel Sutphin
In third grade, I learned the meaning of life. Or, more specifically, I was taught to memorize the first question and answer of the Westminster Shorter Catechism:
Q: What is the chief end of man?
A. Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.
I remember thinking, “Yes, this is it. That’s what we are supposed to do.”
Throughout my Sunday School years and even into my seminary education, I continued to return to and reflect on this summary of our lives’ purpose. To me, this question and answer pair is both prophetic and profound, a lens through which to live our lives. Because we seek to glorify God, we do good works in God’s name: feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, marching for justice. And because we seek to enjoy God, we pay attention to the good works God has done and is doing in our midst: restoring creation, calling forth leaders, dazzling us with surprise beauty.
It is a feel-good, motivating goal: “to glorify God and to enjoy God forever.” Or at least, it can feel that way some days. Other days, it feels like impossible work. Forget protesting at town hall or stopping to admire a rainbow – I’m just trying to keep breathing. There are seasons when life seems to stretch on without direction or improvement, when our energy is limited and our sense of purpose feels distant. In those moments, glorifying and enjoying God may be the last thing on our minds.
What does it mean to “glorify God and enjoy God forever” when you are living with depression? If we cannot find glory and enjoyment in every moment of every day, are we failing at this thing called life?
I don’t think so.
Here’s where I draw on my human development background. One of the most commonly cited motivational theories is Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Maslow proposed that human beings have a wide range of needs, beginning with basic physiological needs such as food, water, and shelter, and extending toward needs for safety, belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. Later in his life, Maslow also described a further dimension he called metamotivation: the movement beyond simply satisfying deficiency needs toward creativity, meaning, growth, and the realization of our potential.
There is something important here for people of faith. We cannot demand transcendence when our bodies are crying out for bread, safety, rest, or connection. If we are not living at our most creative, adventurous, curious, and fulfilled, it is not necessarily our fault. In fact, it is impossible for anyone to remain in that state all the time. We are embodied creatures. We have needs. Sometimes those needs go unmet. Sometimes our mental health makes it harder to meet them. Sometimes the world around us creates conditions in which our needs cannot easily be satisfied. Our bodies and minds are not machines that can simply be commanded into flourishing.
Depression is complex. There are experiences and traumas of the past, as well as the current state of feelings, expressions, and experiences wrapped up in brain chemistry and other health factors. Depression does not have one face or one story. It is not some melodramatic, color-muted syndrome that only impacts middle-aged white women, as medication commercials sometimes seem to suggest. Depression can look like the teenager who cannot get out of bed. It can look like the grandmother who is constantly irritated with the sales clerk. It can look like exhaustion, numbness, anger, anxiety, isolation, physical pain, disrupted sleep, hopelessness, or simply the persistent sense that everything takes more energy than it should.
When we think about how we glorify and enjoy God while living with depression, we need both grace and compassion for ourselves. Some days, we are not going to feel up for gratitude lists, praise music, or getting off the couch. Some days spiritual disciplines look much simpler. Taking a shower. Calling a friend. Sitting quietly. Asking for help. None of these things are evidence that we are doing life “wrong.” In fact, they may be the very things that make life possible.
And what did Jesus do when he encountered an unmet need? He stopped and attended to it.
Jesus offered relationships to the marginalized, food to the hungry, healing to the sick, and companionship to those who were suffering. He also attended to his own needs. He withdrew from the crowds. He rested. He prayed. He sought out companions. Jesus did not treat human needs as an interruption to his ministry. Human need was the place where his ministry happened.
And that changes how I hear the Westminster Catechism.
The catechism says that our chief end is to glorify God and enjoy God forever. What if glorifying God does not always look like accomplishing something impressive for God? What if sometimes glorifying God looks like accepting our creaturely limits and tending to them?
The catechism itself gives us an intriguing place to begin. Its footnote after “glorify God” points us toward 1 Corinthians 10:31: “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” Eat, drink, or whatever you do. The glory of God is present in the ordinary work of caring for a body that is hungry or thirsty, frightened or grieving, sad or even depressed. Sometimes glorifying God means washing the dishes, letting someone else feed you, or giving yourself permission to cry.
The catechism then points us toward John 17:22 and 24 after the phrase “enjoy God.” These verses come from Jesus’s prayer on the night before his betrayal. Jesus knows that suffering is coming. He knows grief, fear, abandonment, and uncertainty, and in that space of undeniable human need, he prays that his followers might be with him.
The gospels tell a story of a God who enters human vulnerability. A God who weeps. A God who knows betrayal. A God who knows what it is like to pray in anguish. A God who remains relationally present in the midst of suffering.
This does not make depression or any other form of suffering “good.” It does not mean we should romanticize our undesirable condition or refuse treatment. It means that depression does not disqualify us from God’s presence, nor does it disqualify us from our chief end either. The primary purpose of a human life cannot be living in a constant state of spiritual achievement. We are too embodied, too wonderfully complicated for that.
There will be days when we march and feel God’s presence. There will be days when we stop and marvel at everything. There will be days when we preach at the top of our lungs. And, there will be days when we can barely breathe. Days when our prayer is contained in a sigh. Days when we can’t remember our purpose. All of those days belong to God.
To “glorify God and enjoy God forever” is not a denial of pain and heartache. It is an invitation to live honestly with God, bringing our joy and our sorrow, our dancing and our resting, our rainbows and our gray days. Our chief end is to care for our fragile, embodied selves, discovering that even when we cannot sing, God remains with us in the rain.
Rev. Rachel Sutphin (she/her) has served as Pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Hammonton (NJ) since 2024. She deeply resonates with the church’s history and identity of community outreach and mission with underserved populations. In her spare time, Rachel enjoys kayaking, reading, playing clarinet, and embroidery.
