In Which I Struggle With Anxiety and Find Rest

Last year, my husband who knows me well could see me struggling and told me he didn’t want me to lead anything in ministry.

I knew he was right even though I didn’t really like it.

And then the opportunity to lead presented itself. Perhaps it was the desire to have a clearly defined place in my world that seemed flipped upside down. Perhaps after years of leading bible studies, and internships, and children’s ministries, I just missed doing the work of the ministry. Perhaps, I struggled with pride and in my deepest heart of hearts, no matter how right I might have known my husband to be, I wanted to prove him wrong.

Whatever it was, I chose to take the position.

{And okay, I did sit down with my husband first. He listened to my heart, told me he didn’t think it was a good idea, but that if I really thought I was ready, he would support me.}

I was to be the home groups’ coordinator. I made a video announcement, I recruited hosts and facilitators, I had a plan and a vision, I shared my heart for it in front of the church.

One week before the launch date, I felt crippled beneath anxiety and panic. It was the final push before the start. And.I.could.not.do.it.

Anxiety is like this: Imagine you have someone actively hunting your life. You are on the run. You operate under a heightened sense of awareness, every sound, every change in the atmosphere, a sign you’ve been exposed. You struggle with sleep because it’s when you are most vulnerable to attack. And now imagine this isn’t true. There is no need to be ready to fight or flight at any given moment. And you know it, but your body doesn’t. And so, panic is just under your skin ready to erupt into a fit of heart-racing, rapid-breathing fight for your life. Sleep eludes you. Shame and embarrassment are your prizes.

Exactly six days before the launch, with meetings to have, details to nail down, phone calls to make… I found myself smack dab in the middle of one of the worst battles with anxiety I have ever had. I think if I was car, I would have been a car on the side of the road, with my tires blown, fumes coming out from under the hood, my timing belt off, and my engine fallen out some 200 yards back. This was not a patch job: you know pray, ask some of your closest to pray and keep going. Oh. No.

I was a mess.

Confessing that I could not carry those small groups to completion was one of the hardest and most humbling things I have ever done. Sharing the reason why was even harder: I was that broken, the struggle was that deep, and this supposedly seasoned leader/Christian was barely treading water. I wish I had the foresight to know that I couldn’t do it (I wish I had trusted that my husband did have that God-given foresight.)

After I sent that email, heartfelt and broken, I waited for a response. A prayer. Someone to tell me I was okay… that it was okay.

But no one did.

The only way I knew anyone had received my email was that the secretary called asking for my notes. I sat for a month with silence. They could have been angry. They could have been praying for me. I didn’t know. I only had God and His Words to comfort me.

Looking back, I am grateful for the silence no matter how it hurt. I had this unhealthy need for approval, this fear of failure. I got this chance to hear God’s heart for me without the competition of a person’s approval. I found that He could love me even when I failed miserably, even when I deserved judgment. Truly there is one voice from Whom we need to hear, “You are okay.” Only one voice that truly satisfies that deep inner longing for approval. God—Our Father.

I found myself like that banged up guy on the side of the road (Luke 10:30-35), overlooked by those who should have cared, and taken in by Jesus himself. The Best Neighbor. He bandaged my wounds and let me stay and rest—to take all the time I needed (and still need) to be made whole.

Truth is, God had been asking me to rest for a while. But I didn’t want to because it meant facing pain and brokenness. It meant stopping, slowing down. It meant coming face to face with this sinking fear I have always had that maybe God doesn’t really love me. That maybe my worth was in what I did rather than who I am, and, if I stopped doing, no one would see me.

My approval-hunt had led me to squeeze out the very last bit I could offer. And when I had nothing left, I found He was more than enough. And that He loved me still and He loved me big.

Tomorrow, I’ll be back talking a little more about this rest journey and reviewing a beautiful book and rest resource. I like it so well, I really want the chance to give it away to one of you, dear readers. Say it with me: Giveaway!

{You can click on over HERE now to read the Finding Spiritual Whitespace review AND to ENTER the GIVEAWAY)

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

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