Yesterday one of the girls announced that she doesn’t think we have enough fall decor on our front porch. “We need some pumpkins or some Halloween decorations out here soon,” she said. “Our house looks kind of lame.”
In my defense, we have a mum, a fall wreath, and a pumpkin pillow on the porch bench. But, apparently, this is a “lame” way of celebrating the harvest season. Ah, October, you are beautiful and busy. And maybe a little demanding.
My right hand has started shaking again. It’s not something I notice all the time, but I feel it when I’m typing or trying to sign an iPad with a finger signature. I could give up coffee and tea, but I’ve decided I’d rather deal with the consequences than forfeit two of my favorite pleasures.
There are seasons where life feels more intense and I have to work harder to keep my nerves at bay. This fall is one of those seasons. I’m not doing a great job of balancing work, parenting, marriage, and daily life in general, and the result is a chronic low-grade anxiety that I can feel in my hands, jaw, and neck. I’ve always been an anxious person, but I’m noticing that a lot of people I know and love are dealing with some serious anxiety and similar tensions lately.
A few years ago I started paying attention to the number of people I encounter each week who have visibly shaky hands. It might be a waitress, a teacher, a receptionist, a grocery clerk, etc. Last week a co-worker was showing me something on her phone and I noticed her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly steady the screen.
I know people can be jittery for a variety of reasons, including medical conditions. But there are other physical signs of our collective nervousness. Fast-talking, exaggerated hand gesturing, teeth-grinding, foot-shaking, hair-twirling, lip-biting, nail-biting, and so on.
Living a fast-paced, overwhelmed, life is typical for many suburban people. We’re pinged by our devices with information twenty-four hours a day: breaking news, an “urgent” email, a text thread, appointment reminders, unmet fitness goals, weather warnings, and social media updates. Our bodies and brains weren’t designed to intake the amount of information coming at us 24/7 in this digital age, and anxiousness seems like the cost of simply being alive and in the know.
As a Christian, though, I think chronic anxiety can be especially frustrating, if not isolating. I feel shame when I read verses that say: “Do not be anxious about anything…,” or, “Cast all your anxiety on him…,” and can’t follow the directions to grab hold of the peace being promised. I’m quickly discouraged when I can’t overrule my own anxiety or “take captive” my thoughts to make them obedient… or at least rational. Surely a believer would be calm, cool, and collected, right?
The way anxiety is addressed so many times in scripture indicates that God knows its power to overwhelm us, no matter where we are on our journey or in our geography. Like anger, anxiety itself isn’t a sin or a shortcoming. We exist in a fallen world full of pain and problems. What we do with the inevitable anxiety of being human and how we allow it to simmer and become a more distracting, if not debilitating, condition (anxiousness) of our mind and heart is the issue.
I used to believe only the rehabbed could help the afflicted. But I’m beginning to think it’s possible that those of us who acknowledge our weaknesses and are struggling toward healthiness have something significant to offer others along the way—a simple extension of our own shaky, world-weary hands.
What if we let go of our pretenses and entered our anxious classrooms, boardrooms, exam rooms, and living rooms with more humility and compassion? Instead of intimidating or discouraging people with our feigned togetherness, we could empathize and acknowledge our own neediness and reliance on something bigger and more unflappable than ourselves.
What if we even went so far as to reframe our unrelenting anxiety as a gift—a gateway—to more authentic conversations and relationships? As an opportunity to bond and band together in our ”casting off” of the anxiety?
“So the state of the world… the tension in your marriage… that problem with your child… the unstable economy… the recent diagnosis… has you feeling overwhelmed or a bit despairing?”
“Me, too.”
The hand of God is often described in the Bible is as a “mighty hand.” No unsteadiness, no weakness. One of the most frequently quoted verses on anxiety, 1 Peter 5:7, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you,” follows a verse that explains why we can. “Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.”
A few seasons ago when our middle daughter was having all sorts of anxiety about getting sick at school, it took me weeks to realize that she didn’t need me to extend a steady, self-righteous hand. She needed to hear me say, “You know what? I have your same fear. I’m afraid of getting sick, too. The fear is real. And this problem is bigger than you or me. Neither of us can make ourselves stop worrying. But we have a safe place to take all this worry.”
I still have to remind myself that my kids and others don’t need my sermons as much as they need my honesty and confession that I don’t have all the answers to life’s problems and uncertainties. Sometimes they don’t even need a solution as much as they need my “with-ness” and support.
Maybe sometimes the best gift we can offer another anxious person is to share that we have to daily—even hourly—keep taking all our own anxiety back to a Lord who holds all things together, including us.
Thanks be to the God who welcomes us and our weaknesses every time… with a steady hand and the promise of an unshakable kingdom.
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