Why Are We More Comfortable Praying Than Getting Therapy?
Last Sunday, after service at my local church in Lagos, I overheard a conversation that has stayed with me all week. Two women were discussing a mutual friend who had been struggling with depression for months.
“She should just pray more,” one said confidently. “God will heal her.”
“Yes,” the other agreed. “All this talk about therapy… it’s not our way. Prayer is enough.”
As I walked home through the streets of Victoria Island, I couldn’t shake the weight of those words. Here we were, in a country where mental health issues affect millions, yet the idea of seeking professional help remained wrapped in layers of stigma, cultural resistance and misunderstanding.
The Comfort of Familiar Ground
In Nigeria, prayer isn’t just a religious practice, it’s woven into the fabric of our daily existence. From the early morning calls to worship echoing across neighborhoods to the spontaneous “God will provide” that punctuates our conversations, faith permeates every aspect of life.
When we face challenges, whether it’s unemployment, relationship issues or emotional distress, our first instinct is to “take it to God.” There’s profound comfort in this approach. Prayer connects us to something greater than ourselves, offers hope in seemingly hopeless situations, and provides a sense of community through shared faith experiences.
But here’s what I’ve come to understand: the very familiarity that makes prayer comfortable can make therapy feel foreign and threatening.
The Walls We’ve Built
Cultural Conditioning: From childhood, we’re taught that strong people don’t need outside help. “Pray about it” becomes the standard response to emotional struggles. Seeking therapy can feel like admitting spiritual failure or lack of faith.
The Stigma Factor: In many Nigerian communities, mental health issues are still whispered about behind closed doors. There’s a pervasive belief that therapy is for “crazy people” or those who have “lost their minds.” This stigma creates shame around seeking professional help.
Economic Reality: Prayer is free, therapy costs money that many Nigerians simply don’t have. When you’re choosing between feeding your family and paying for counseling sessions, the choice seems obvious.
Accessibility Issues: Even in major cities like Lagos, Abuja or Port Harcourt, finding qualified mental health professionals can be challenging. The ratio of therapists to the general population remains dismally low.
When Prayer Meets Professional Help
I want to be clear: this isn’t about choosing sides between faith and therapy. Some of the most profound healing I’ve witnessed has occurred when people embraced both spiritual and professional support.
Take my neighbor, Kemi, who struggled with anxiety after losing her job during the economic downturn. She prayed consistently, attended church regularly, and had the support of her faith community. Yet the panic attacks persisted. It wasn’t until she combined her spiritual practices with cognitive behavioral therapy that she began to experience real breakthrough.
Her therapist, a Christian herself, helped Kemi understand that seeking professional help didn’t diminish her faith, it honored the mind that God had given her and utilized the healing tools available in the world.
Breaking Down the False Choice
The most dangerous myth we’ve perpetuated is that we must choose between faith and therapy. This false dichotomy has kept countless Nigerians suffering in silence, convinced that seeking help would betray their spiritual beliefs.
Consider this: we don’t hesitate to see a doctor for physical ailments while also praying for healing. We understand that God can work through medical professionals to restore our physical health. Why do we struggle to extend this same logic to our mental and emotional well-being?
The Path Forward
Change is slowly coming to Nigeria’s mental health landscape. Organizations like Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI) and Asido Foundation are working tirelessly to destigmatize mental health issues and increase awareness about available resources.
Religious leaders are beginning to recognize their crucial role in this shift. Progressive pastors and imams are acknowledging that mental health struggles aren’t spiritual failures but human experiences that deserve both compassion and professional care.
Social media has also become a powerful tool for change. Young Nigerians are sharing their therapy experiences online, normalizing conversations about mental health, and challenging traditional narratives about strength and vulnerability.
A Personal Reflection
As I write this, I’m reminded of my own journey. Growing up in a deeply religious household in Kano, therapy wasn’t even on my radar of options when I faced my own struggles with grief after losing my father. It took years of prayer, periods of despair, and eventually, the gentle encouragement of a friend who had benefited from counseling, before I considered professional help.
That decision changed my life. Not because prayer wasn’t valuable — it remained a cornerstone of my healing — but because therapy gave me tools, perspectives, and coping mechanisms that complemented and enhanced my spiritual practices.
Moving Beyond Comfort Zones
The question isn’t whether we should choose prayer or therapy. The question is: how can we expand our understanding of healing to embrace all the resources available to us?
This might mean:
- Churches incorporating mental health awareness into their programs
- - Faith leaders receiving basic mental health training
- - Families having open conversations about emotional well-being
- - Communities supporting members who choose therapy alongside their spiritual practices
A Call to Compassion
To my fellow Nigerians reading this: if you’re struggling with anxiety, depression, trauma, or any mental health challenge, please know that seeking help — whether spiritual, professional, or both — is an act of courage, not weakness.
Your faith doesn’t become less valid because you need professional support. Your strength isn’t diminished because you require tools beyond prayer to heal. Sometimes, the most faithful thing we can do is utilize all the resources God has made available to us.
And to those around us who may be struggling: let’s create space for healing that doesn’t force false choices. Let’s be communities that pray together and also support each other in seeking professional help when needed.
The Bottom Line
Nigeria is at a crossroads when it comes to mental health. We can continue to maintain artificial barriers between faith and professional help, or we can embrace a more holistic approach to healing — one that honors both our spiritual heritage and the mental health resources available to us.
The choice isn’t between prayer and therapy. The choice is between suffering in silence and pursuing every avenue of healing available to us.
In a country where we often say “God will do it,” perhaps it’s time to also acknowledge that sometimes, God does it through qualified therapists, counselors, and mental health professionals.
After all, healing is healing — regardless of the vessel through which it comes.
*If you’re struggling with mental health issues and need support, consider reaching out to organizations like Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI), Asido Foundation, or consult with healthcare professionals in your area. Remember, seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness.
What are your thoughts on balancing faith and professional mental health support? Share your experiences in the comments below.
-Zikora