Anxiety and Prayer

I sometimes think of anxiety as a genetic trait I don’t possess.

My paternal grandmother was terrified of bridges, to the point that she would assume the fetal position in the backseat when crossing the Cooper River Bridge in Charleston. Three minutes of absolute terror for a normally fearless southern woman.

My mom consistently thinks she has a brain tumor. Anxious thoughts will consume her usually rational mind, convincing her that every pain, every headache is a sure sign of fatal disease.

My sister Courtney can hardly even ride in a car on the highway-- the loss of control and memory of a bad accident nearly debilitating. Carting her around Atlanta is an exercise in patience, willful ignorance of the frequent gasps and frantic clutching of the door.

But me, nah, I’m totally relaxed. Sure, I’m afraid of heights and can’t ride roller coasters, but on the whole, I don’t consider myself an anxious person. I sleep soundly, like to relinquish control, and don’t keep a calendar.

What self-righteous self-delusion. This week, I learned powerfully that it doesn’t take much to expose the suppressed anxiety of my heart. Change paralyzes me. When I find out I may have to move, I immediately picture myself destitute, homeless, abandoned and alone, with only the trash bins and the Incarnate God my friends. My jittery heartbeat and furrowed brow reveal a fundamental doubt that God is good and sovereign, that He really cares for His children, that He really cares for me. Oh, but He does.

The Scriptures gently, sweetly, and consistently call us to rest, to trust, not in ourselves or some vague sense that ‘things will work out,’ but in the deep knowledge that we have a Father in heaven who lovingly ordains all things. The psalmist proclaims, "The Lord will keep you from all evil; the Lord will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore." (Psalm 112:7-8) God knows the sum of our days, the hair on our heads, the sorrows in the recesses of our hearts. Because the Lord lives, and we know that He is for us, we don’t have to fear. As the psalmist continues, the believer “is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord. His heart is steady, he will not be afraid." (Psalm 112:8).

Though I am thoroughly ambivalent about change in my life and worried about the days to come, I have been helped by the reminder in the Word that the Lord is sovereign and good all the time, that He Himself keeps my life. He is my refuge and trust. Our hearts can rest without fear. Jesus tells us that we can lay our burdens before our Father, we can tell him in panicky prayers of the trials we face, of unpaid rent checks and sick parents and uncertain futures. He already knows. Indeed, he knew before the foundation of the world, and yet still, in infinite love and compassion, he draws near to us as His children, comforting us with Himself.

“The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

If you ever ride a plane with me and see my lips moving in silent incantations, it’s probably this verse.