Still Life is very much what its title suggests—it is a memoir of life with depression, not an extended theological reflection on depression or a guide to coping with the condition. I found this important to keep in mind as I read the book—which isn’t even, precisely, a straightforward narrative of illness and recovery. The reader is invited to walk with Gillian through memories and daily household scenarios, hearing her frank and often painful commentary on depression’s distorting effects.

Marchenko writes about the impact of her depression on her roles as a wife, mother, pastor’s wife, and as a believer in Christ. Her honesty in each of these areas is moving, though she shares details about her marriage, for one, that I would blush to tell my dearest friends. It was her remarks on life as a depression-prone Christian that I found most compelling—and familiar. At one point, describing the pain of prayer in the midst of her illness, she puts it this way: “In my depression, my focus is me. When in the pit, I am thinking about how to get out, not that God is in control. I’m not praying for help, even though I act like I do sometimes. I’m not sure I even want to align myself with what God wants to do in me and in the world, because I am afraid it will mean more pain.” She wonders what it means to glorify God as someone who struggles to brush her teeth some days. Though it is often impossible to bring her emotions in line with her faith, she perseveres in the knowledge of God’s faithfulness, hoping that he is bringing about something more beautiful in seasons of suffering than in times of strength.

Marchenko speaks to some of the pedestrian struggles that come with depression, such as the horrible process of “blind dates” when seeking a therapist. She even gets into the grittiness of fighting her way back to daily functioning with the help of cognitive behavioral therapy. The key to it all is summed up when she writes, “I’ve come to accept the reality that as a chronically depressed person, I can be in two states of mind at the same time. I can live life and also fight my thoughts and emotions to keep the darkness at bay.” There may not be a total cure for her depression in this life, but there is, she concludes, still life. While there is nothing rosy about the picture she paints, she presents it with grace, humility, and even humor. Readers who know depression will draw strength from her companionship, and those who don’t will be better equipped to love struggling brothers and sisters. ( )

Very rarely have I found a Christian memoir that deals with depression in such a way that I'm not completely turned off by it. Gillian Marchenko did what I thought was next to impossible. Her faith was real and true, but not the kind that called attention to itself as the kind that instantly heals because, well, Jesus. I wish I had been able to read this twenty years ago when my life had fallen apart due to Christians who seemed to think that was what was supposed to happen.

I received this book through Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. ( )