Be Not Afraid... (yeah, right)
I got a rare gift the other night. My high schoolers were both in a musical production, and my husband and 12-year-old went to see it. Because of family members coming in, I was going to the show Thursday and Saturday, so on Friday I stayed home—gasp—ALONE.
I had spent the entire day working intensively on demystifying book promotion and hadn’t actually gotten to spend any time, y’know, writing a book. So I was excited about having the house to myself. I wrapped up in blankets on the couch, turned off all the lights, and worked (without once checking Facebook) until my laptop battery died.
And then the anxiety hit.
My oldest is currently overseas—our first time having a child out of country, far from our ability to rescue him.
Also, there have been profound stressors in our family life in the last few months. I can see the hand of God moving us through the minefield, and I’m confident that on the far side, we’re going to be stronger and healthier for it. Still, it’s been hard.
And Friday night, without the normal chaos around, anxiety found a way in. The details don’t matter; like all anxieties, it contained a sliver of reality, just enough that it couldn’t be dismissed out of hand. Not enough to make it reasonable, but enough to give it power. I talked myself through it, but reason doesn’t have much influence when anxiety is in play.
I’ve recently run across two variations of the same scientific tidbit—totally separate contexts (can you say “signpost from God”?)—saying that when you are anxious, you lose up to 30% of your brain function. Not only that, it’s the 30% that fuels creativity, which is the part of your brain you need in order to figure out how to get out of stressful situations.
In light of this, the drumbeat of Scripture seems particularly meaningful:
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. (Philippians 4:6-7)
Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. (John 14:27)
“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on.” (Matthew 6:25-34)
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9
“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Matthew 6:34)
Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)
Say to those who have an anxious heart, “Be strong; fear not! (Isaiah 35:4)
And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? (Matthew 6:27)
It’s not particularly subtle, is it? At a minimum, Scripture proves that anxiety is a perennial human condition, and one that God wants to heal.
But when has being told “don’t worry” ever made someone quit worrying? It’s like telling a person suffering infertility, “Just relax and you’ll get pregnant.” If that has ever worked, in all the long history of humankind, I’d love to hear about it, because even now, nearly thirteen years after my own infertility journey ended, those words still provoke a desire to punch someone in the face.
Plus, let’s just call a spade a spade. These are anxious times. Everything feels fraught: Ukraine, Gaza, the election. The triggers are real.
But when, in Scripture, people do succeed… or at least, claim to succeed… in banishing fear and anxiety (I suspect that a lot of those Scriptures are aspirational prayer, rather than a reflection of one’s true spiritual reality), it’s when they bring God into it. i.e. “I will not fear because the Lord is my strength.”
Which is the obvious point I want to get to. I have a long history with anxiety. I believe that everybody needs counseling. We’ve got to get over the feeling of shame. When you have an ear infection or a chronic physical pain, you don’t feel ashamed that you need to ask a doctor for help. Why should wounds of the mind and spirit be any different?
But God has to be part of it. And I believe the most effective way to let God be part of it is to seek silence and stillness. We, collectively, culturally, don’t have enough silence and stillness—enough emptiness, in our lives.
I spent Saturday morning at a diocesan centering prayer event that was part of the United in Prayer event put together by Contemplative Outreach. I started the day feeling kind of scattered and left feeling gathered. Not for the first time, it occurred to me that almost everyone—possibly everyone—needs the experience of God in stillness, and maybe I should talk more about this. I touched on it once before, but in a couple weeks I’ll dive in a bit deeper… maybe during Holy Week. Stay tuned!