Anxiety. Even typing that word sends my stomach roiling. The mind racing, faith numbing, heart pounding monster. It brings waves of heat and shivers of cold. It lurks in the dark places of the heart, whispering urgency behind every fear.
I scoffed at it before, deeming those who struggled with this beast as weak in the faith. If only they prayed more or believed the gospel more fervently, their fears would melt away. But I didn’t understand it. I didn’t grasp the complete physicality of its grip, the terror of the mind and flesh that it sprung. I look back and hang my head. What callousness, what unkindness my words of advice must have been. I didn’t understand.
I descended in my pit of despair soon after I got back to America. I spent two years overseas and when I got back to the States, I felt completely out of place. My heart was in Africa, but my body was firmly planted in the arctic cold of a Minnesotan winter. I stayed with my family and struggled to keep my anxiety hidden. I wasn’t supposed to be afraid or sad. I was supposed to be happy! I should feel “normal” here, but I didn’t.
The monster ate away at me from the inside out. It began with an occasional racing pulse. I took deep breaths and went on. Things got worse. I couldn’t sleep. I dreaded the night because there was nothing to divert my thoughts. I fought for breath against my ever tightening chest. My mind raced and nothing would calm it. I’d lay in bed, listening to soothing music, willing my mind and body to relax. But no. I shook. I wept. Something was terribly wrong.
But what? Nothing was really wrong. Nothing bad had happened. No one had hurt me nor had I lived through a traumatic event. When people asked what I was anxious about, I had no words. I honestly didn’t know. The monster continued to stalk me.
I read my Bible. I devoured it. I spent hours reading. But the words didn’t make the anxiety go away. It worsened it. I’d read and feel nothing. My faith was numb. When I prayed, all I heard was static. I cried for help and heard nothing from God. I wept in prayer. I read David’s psalms through tear blurred eyes, begging for God to come and aid me. I thought I was going crazy. I had an annual physical, but didn’t go into details with my doctor on the extent of my issues. I didn’t want anti-anxiety medication to lull me into a daze. The feelings were drowning me, but I knew that if I didn’t face this now, it would only return later. I couldn’t even sing anymore. I sat in church and wept. And still. He didn’t relent.
God broke me. He shattered me into a thousand pieces. I had nothing to offer. My uncontrollable trembling hands were empty. Absolutely empty. And today, by his grace, I praise him for that dark valley. It was his great mercy that he tore down my idols of control, self-righteousness, and fear of man. And he taught me a priceless lesson.
In the suffering, he is there.
When I couldn’t speak, he was there. When I couldn’t sleep, he was there. When I couldn’t breathe, he was there. When I couldn’t believe, he was there. When I begged for him to relent and the anxiety persisted, he was there.
God gathered up all the shattered pieces and painstakingly pieced me back together. It took time. It took prayer. It took a lot of tears. One of my roommates, a remarkable woman of the faith, wept with me every night for a season, praying scripture, begging God to relent. God heard those prayers and answered them in his own perfect time. I went through counseling. I pressed into the community in my church and found support and accountability. In his perfect time and way, God relented.
I still struggle with anxiety. Sometimes it’s tied to anxious thoughts, but mostly it springs on me as I’m drifting off to sleep, jolting me awake. God is still working on me. Thank the Lord!
Psalms 16 was one of the passages of scripture that I read a lot in the pit. Every verse is full of rich, beautiful truths, but the first two verses sustained me.
Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge. I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you.” Psalms 16:1-2
I prayed this countless times. I have no good apart from you. At the time it certainly didn’t feel true, but in the measure of grace God gave me, I was able to pray this in faith. I clung to this truth when my own mind and body were in tumult. He was there, and his words are true.
Kristi P. Powell 