Gracious is the Lord, and righteous;
our God is merciful.
The Lord preserves the simple;
when I was brought low, he saved me.
Return, O my soul, to your rest;
for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.
- Psalm 116:5-7
Yesterday, I wrote that dealing with anxiety begins by letting God into the experience of fear, turmoil, and apprehension – not just asking Him to pull you from it. We must not wait for God to remove us from every trial and tribulation, but instead we have to “walk before the Lord in the land of the living” (Psalm 116:9). Here, in this world – full of pain and sorrow and sickness AND love and beauty and joys – we must recognize, appreciate and enjoy God’s presence with us.
But in the midst of anxiety, it is fair to say that your relationship with God can become somewhat strained. I know the truth of God’s word, all the promises of hope and security and my ultimate good. But when my stomach is in knots and my thoughts have spun out of control, obviously a disconnect exists between my head and my heart. My brain can recall the promises, but my heart will not be quieted. When my heart is racing and my body is tense and worry is overwhelming my internal dialogue, I can’t help but notice that my experience is not conforming to my expectations of a Christ-centered peace.
So I have a choice to make. There are a few ways believers can handle this. Some believes do the whole “word of confession” thing. They say to “confess” your health and happiness and holiness, even if what you see and hear and feel and think does not match. They name their preferred state of existence, then claim it. They deny their emotional state and press on in faith. I don’t think this matches the example we’ve been given in the scripture.
Others run the opposite way. Rather than expressing faith in faith, they let their faith slowly collapse around them. They begin to doubt the promises of God. “Maybe God doesn’t love me like I thought…” Rather than denying the reality of their experience and making confessions of faith, these people let their experience overshadow the truths about God they once believed with certainty.
A better way is shown by the psalmist. He cries out:
I believed, even when I spoke,
“I am greatly afflicted”;
I said in my alarm,
“All mankind are liars.”
- Psalm 116:10-11
He invites God into his experience and then denies neither his pains and fear or his trust in God’s goodness. He simultaneous believes and complains. God is not afraid of our complaints. It is perfectly safe to go there with God; we just cannot stay there. God knew the psalmist’s afflictions anyway, so the psalmist takes them before the Lord. He comes to God just as he is.
Honesty with God is essential in dealing with anxiety. Obviously, this is for our sake and not His. The process of expressing all our fears and troubles to Him can take some time, but through this the Lord leads us to a better understanding of what we dread. Confessing the reality of our experience is not informative to God but to us. Journal your thoughts. Put them on paper. Talk to another, asking God to guide your conversation. Do whatever you have to do to get the jumbled words and feeling in your head out, processed, cleared, and articulated.
But don’t over-think it. Verse 6 says, “The Lord preserves the simple; when I was brought low, He saved me.” We do not need to be strong; the Lord is our strength. We do not need to be wise; Christ is our wisdom. We do not need to be creative; our Father is the Creator. We need to be simple. We need to honest about where we are. In anxiety, we have been brought low.
Yet in the midst of this venting to our heavenly Father, all that we think and say must be tempered by that reminder of faith. “I believed, even when I spoke…” As we invite God into our experience and begin to share with Him the truth of our fears and worry, we need to keep the Gospel in focus. When God looked down at fallen humanity, brought low by sin, He did not rescue us by throwing down a rope. He entered into the pit with us. The Son took on flesh:
Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.
- Hebrews 2:14-15
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
- Hebrews 4:15-16
Christ suffered, too. He cried out to the Father, too. He experienced what I am experiencing. Inviting God into the pain and being honest with Him about how I feel should serve as a reminder of the depth of His willingness to save me. God saved man by becoming a man. He knows, not just because He is God, but because He lived it. This Gospel truth gives me hope. My suffering is not an indication that the Father has abandoned me. My suffering is not something Jesus does not understand. And my suffering – which I know is so small compared to the suffering of Jesus – is not beyond being redeemed for glory. In fact, suffering is as it should be for me. “We suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him” (Romans 8:17).
The Lord, the righteous God, in His mercy entered into the lowly state in which we all have lived to save us. He came near. He did not do it from afar. He came into our reality and lived it with us so that we might be set free from fear and, looking to Him as our Leader in this world of sorrow, find confidence to be honest about our pains and ask for help in time of need.
I cannot leave God out of my anxiety. The truth is that He is already here.