Anxious Faith
I don’t much like praying because I usually end up a ball of anxious mess. Sometimes even the thought of “going to God” gets my heart pumping a little too much. I don’t know what it is exactly. Is it a lack of faith? A lack of trust? Is it the devil? Is it false doctrine? Is it my sin? Is it my fear of being wrong? Is it my fear of being right? Is it just my broken brain?
The end of my freshman year of college, I was asked to be a leader for my lifegroup. They told me to pray about it before I gave an answer, so I did. I wanted it so badly. It seemed like an obvious ‘yes’ to me. It didn’t seem like it was out of God’s will and I desired it, so why was I so anxious every time I prayed? Why did my heart race and why was I violently shaking? Why did I not trust anything I felt like God was “saying” to me when I asked him what I should do? Why did I fear everything?
I told a friend only that I had a “decision to make” and was struggling to discern God’s will. She asked me, “would saying yes get you closer to God?” The simplicity of that question gave me freedom and, for a moment, I felt peaceful.
I said yes, despite any real evidence that God told me to do it. In fact, in hindsight, sometimes I think maybe he was actually telling me not to do it. I wasn’t ready for it and I actually ended up kinda hating it and quitting my junior year.
Was it wrong to say “yes”? I don’t think so. I wanted it. How was I supposed to know what it would hold? There were a lot of good things in my time as a leader, and — no matter how screwed up I may feel — I wouldn’t be who I am today without that season.
This isn’t a story about how I learned from that experience and came to a deeper understanding of God and prayer. I haven’t outgrown the anxiety. I still shake when I pray. My heart still races. It still paralyzes me. Maybe it is just my broken brain. Maybe it’s just something that is going to take a lifetime to get rid of. Maybe it’s part of God’s redemption story for me.
Or, maybe I’m just constantly living in sin. Maybe I’ll be outcast. Maybe I’ll find out I never really believed in God in the first place. Maybe that’s why I’m so anxious.
There are the moments of peace, though. I’ve begun stating each day that I am confident that God loves me. I don’t know if that is doing anything for me, but I need to know God loves me. I need to be concerned less with how I’m “doing” as a Christian. That’s when I feel the most peace. When I’m not worried about getting anything from Him; when I simply rest in who He has always been. When I worry less about getting it right and just follow my instinct. Follow my broken brain in hopes that He will transform my mind.
I no longer profess to be right. I assume I’m probably wrong in a lot of ways. But, I want to feel safe. I want to feel peace and love. I want to feel okay. And, if prayer makes me anxious, I have to try to figure out why. And I have to spend some time following the things that make me feel peaceful. All the while trusting that I will find God there too.
Because, what I’m learning, is that the fear, the doubts, and the wrestling is not a lack of love for God. It is a desperate attempt to hold on for dear life.
