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I was recently invited out with a group of friends from church to celebrate a forthcoming wedding. I was really looking forward to it.

On the day itself, however, I knew I couldn't go – not because I didn't want to or because I couldn't find anything to wear, but because of my anxiety. The prospect of sitting round a table with around 20 other people was more than I could cope with, despite the fact these people were my Church family. I pulled out, sending a vague "sorry I can't get there" text message. Because let's be honest – saying you're struggling with anxiety is a bit awkward, isn't it?

Despite huge leaps forward within the Church, mental health continues to be a sticking point, with so many people still unable to be honest about the things they struggle with, even among Christian friends. We recognise this far more readily with our young people and provide them with opportunities to talk about issues such as self-harm, eating disorders, depression and anxiety, but what we're failing to appreciate at times is that not all young people will have resolved their difficulties before adulthood. As youth group membership and college days begin to fade away, so too do the familiar support networks, often being replaced by additional responsibilities and an assumption that all is well.

Just this week it was reported that self-harm is one of the biggest causes of death for those in their early twenties, a fact that we cannot ignore. Our churches are teeming with adults of all ages who continue to struggle with the same issues they experienced as teenagers, but who now find it incredibly difficult to ask for help. It's tough enough admitting you self-harm when you're 15, but it feels close to impossible when you're 35 and have a spouse, children, mortgage and dog.

Church should be the very first place Christians feel able to turn to when things are difficult, but many fear the response they may get and worry that both their faith and ability to serve the church will be brought into question. It doesn't have to be like that.

1. Walk: When someone's struggling with a physical illness, we don't rush them to get better. We pray for them, help with hospital visits, provide meals – but we don't push someone with a broken leg to start jogging. That often isn't the experience of people affected by mental health struggles, which makes it so much harder to speak out on the bad days: "What, still?" is what we assume you're probably thinking. Enduring mental health issues may span a lifetime, while others may just be seasons of difficulty. Care for them as you would anyone else, and just walk alongside. Feeling supported and accepted will encourage someone towards recovery more effectively than anything else.

2. Talk: Be a Church that discusses these things – and lead from the front. When you're struggling with self-harm you don't just want to hear that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, no matter how much truth there is in it. Sometimes we need the gritty reality that while life can feel impossible, we have a safe, welcoming sanctuary in the church and a God who continues to love. It's vital to communicate messages of hope, but it's also important to look at some of the darker bits of the Bible and the lives of those who had some stinking moments, like Job, David – and even Jesus. People who enjoy good mental health still have their bad days and so being able to turn to the Bible and wrestle with those feelings is essential. Naming these things in church starts dialogue and gives people permission to speak out.

3. Include: Jesus didn't wait for a crowd of perfectly well adjusted disciples to turn up; he appointed a real mixed bag of personalities, in spite of their weaknesses and struggles. There's a place for everyone in the Church and it breaks my heart when I hear of people who've been stripped of responsibilities with no explanation or discussion, and all because of their mental health. In all circumstances there are ways of doing things that are honouring and encouraging, so be a kind church. Make sure everyone feels valued. A struggle with self-harm or an eating disorder doesn't mean a diluted or broken faith. In fact it's often quite the opposite; sometimes it's when you're at your lowest ebb that you feel closest to God, as your dependency on Him soars. Sometimes, those people may actually have the most to give.

I don't want the next generation of young adults to see a church in which mental health problems have to be silenced and struggles kept out of sight. I want them to understand that we saw it, talked about it and then did something about it.

Rachel Welch is the Founder of Freedom From Harm. Follow her on Twitter: @RachelWelch @FreedomFromHarm