Leading in the Dark

Coaching college athletes is one of the most rewarding jobs a person can have. It’s also one of the most demanding. The hours are long, the expectations never really let up, and the emotional investment is real, not just something we talk about in interviews. Coaches pour themselves into developing athletes, solving problems, managing personalities, recruiting, traveling, and trying to be fully present for every person who depends on them. That responsibility is heavy enough on its own. Add depression, anxiety, grief, or another mental health struggle into the mix, and the weight can become almost too much to carry.

Most coaches are wired to serve. We want to invest in our athletes, challenge them, encourage them, and help them become better people long after their playing days are over. We spend so much energy making sure everyone else is okay that we forget to ask ourselves the same question. So what happens when the coach is the one barely holding it together? What happens when the person everyone leans on is quietly falling apart behind closed doors, still showing up to practice with a smile that doesn’t quite reach their eyes? People generally know how to show up for someone recovering from a physical illness. They bring meals, send cards, check in. Mental illness doesn’t get the same response. It gets misunderstood, minimized, or ignored altogether, and a lot of coaches end up suffering in silence because no one ever taught them another way.

Faith offers something the world can’t. Scripture never says that following Christ makes you immune to emotional pain. It says the opposite. Again and again, it reminds us that God meets us right in the middle of it. Psalm 34:17-18 puts it this way: “The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Read that again. Brokenness isn’t proof of weak faith. It’s part of living in a fallen world, and God doesn’t walk away from His people when they’re struggling. He gets closer.

David understood that better than most. He was a king, a leader, a man people looked to for strength, and yet the Psalms show us someone who wrestled with fear, grief, guilt, discouragement, and pain that went deep. After his sin with Bathsheba and everything that followed, David carried a brokenness that touched every part of his life, including how he led. But he didn’t pretend he was fine. He brought his mess to God, out loud, in writing, and people are still reading his words thousands of years later. In Psalm 42:5, he wrote, “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”

David didn’t deny what he was feeling. He also didn’t let those feelings have the final word. He kept bringing his pain to God, kept trusting Him, even when life didn’t make sense.

That’s an important reminder for every coach. Leadership doesn’t require perfection. It requires humility. There’s a real difference between carrying responsibility well and convincing yourself you have to carry every single thing alone. Coaches tend to be independent by nature. We’re problem solvers. We’re the calm voice in the middle of chaos, and a lot of us have quietly decided that asking for help would somehow make us look less capable. But isolation has never been God’s design. Sometimes we keep others out because of pride. Sometimes it’s because we genuinely don’t want to be a burden. Either way, suffering in silence isn’t strength. It’s just suffering, alone.

If we’re constantly telling our athletes to ask questions, seek guidance, and lean on the people around them, we need to be willing to do the same. Taking care of your mental health isn’t selfish. It’s stewardship. You can’t keep pouring into other people while ignoring what’s happening in your own heart and expect there to be no cost. Eventually the exhaustion catches up. The discouragement catches up. The emotional fatigue catches up. It shows up in your leadership, your relationships, your family, and your ability to actually be present for the people you love most, not just physically in the room, but really there.

Faith doesn’t eliminate the need for counseling, trusted friendships, or professional support. God often works through exactly those things. He gives us His Word for truth, His Spirit for strength, and the body of Christ so we don’t have to walk through life’s hardest seasons by ourselves. There’s real wisdom in reaching out before the weight becomes too much to carry, not after.

The truth is, coaches spend their whole careers teaching resilience, perseverance, and trust. Sometimes the hardest lesson is learning to actually live out those same things ourselves. There’s no shame in admitting you’re struggling. There’s no shame in asking for help. Your identity was never meant to come from how well you hold everything together. It comes from Christ. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

If you’re coaching while carrying the weight of anxiety, depression, grief, or another mental health struggle, hear me: you are not alone. God hasn’t forgotten you. Your struggles don’t disqualify you from leading others well. Keep seeking Him. Keep seeking wise support. And remember, the same grace you pour out on your athletes every single day, God pours out on you too.