When Anxiety Becomes an Invitation

I am an anxious person by default. When William died full-term unexpectedly, my anxiety went into overdrive. If you are experiencing increased anxiety because of your loss, I know how uncomfortable, debilitating and disorienting it is. I am sorry you are dealing with this on top of the incredible grief you are knowing. 

The anxiety we can experience in loss is unfortunately normal. In a previous article, I wrote about the natural biological effects of grief on our bodies, which include a major stress and anxiety response. 

Anxiety’s Disruptive Nature
Loss’s effect on mankind is not only biological; it also touches our deeper, intangible parts. C.S. Lewis once remarked “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”1 Upon witnessing death, especially the death of our precious babies, we are hit square in the face with the fragility of life–not only the fragility of their lives, but also the vulnerability of our own. We worry if we will survive the pain ourselves. We worry it will break us, sending us into utter chaos. We worry about our spouses and other family members. 

We are also faced with huge questions about the meaning of life, our place in the world, and our identity. Everything that was familiar, expected and hoped for has been shattered. We worry we did something to cause the death, or should have done something more. We worry if we will get to have any more children. We worry we didn’t love our baby enough while we had them. We worry we didn’t have enough faith. 

And our most intimate relationship of all, that with God, can be challenged. A threat to this attachment with our Lifesource, our Shepherd, our Father causes anxiety-producing doubts. Who are you that You let this happen? What else will You let happen? Can I trust you? 

If you’ve ever felt the snowball effect of anxiety, you know that once one worrisome thought gets rolling, it’s really hard to stop, which can feel quite scary! 

Since anxiety is so uncomfortable and blocks clear thinking, access to prayer, and a sense of peace, we naturally want to fix it. We live in an information age that promises explanations, how-tos, and solutions to just about anything we experience. I am a trained mental health professional, so I definitely ascribe to some of the wisdom and techniques recommended for anxiety treatment (and I practice them myself!). But if we only seek to rid ourselves of the feeling of anxiety, we will miss out on the invitation of anxiety. 

What if the uncomfortable, overwhelming experience of anxiety was actually God’s way of getting us to talk with him about things that are too big for us? Things that are too big for us, but not outside of his reach and his love. As one author puts it, “anxieties are doorways, not walls, taking us into intimacy with the Sovereign One.”2 

Anxiety, as disruptive as it is, gets our attention and points out the places in our hearts that need him. It reveals where our true questions lie. Anxiety may not be as unfortunate a thing after all.

An Anxious Dad
In Mark 9, there is an account of a very worried father: his son is enslaved by a demon, seeking to kill him. Before healing the son, Jesus tends to the father: “How long has this been happening to him?” (v21). 

What is Jesus doing here? Does Jesus not actually know the span of time? Of course he does. Rather, he is inviting the man to consider
the duration
the depth and
the desperation
of his trial. 

The father’s answer (in literal Greek) is “since infancy.” That is a long time! At the very least, this dad has witnessed his child traumatically oppressed for years. 

By asking about the length of suffering, Jesus invites this man to pause and acknowledge how this enduring trial and its accompanying anxiety has affected his faith. Maybe the dad’s faith has chilled after months and years of failed remedies, unanswered prayers, and false hopes. Maybe he has become anxious about all of life–if God hasn’t healed his son yet, who does that make God out to be? What else will happen?

Jesus is bringing attention to the man’s worry because it is a doorway into deeper parts of his heart.

Next we see the dad open up that door and invite Jesus in: “Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (v. 24). The worried father recognizes the limits of his belief, and how they are impeding his relationship and trust in Yahweh. So, he talks to Jesus about it. He offers up whatever faith he does have, and asks for more. 

When Anxiety Comes Knocking
Sometimes I think God doesn’t help me overcome my anxiety with my own methods alone because He wants to meet me in it. He wants us to talk about it together, because there is more to my worried condition than just the anxiety of the moment. He knows I need to be able to release whatever worries I am holding tightly to in order to be filled up with whatever truth he is ready to feed me. 

What about you? What will you do when anxiety and worry threaten to hijack your peace? You can try to fight it and overcome it yourself. But you could also respond to the invitation: talk to Him about it. 

I believe, help my unbelief!

Learning to respond to anxiety with you,
Kelly

1C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (1961) p. 1.
2Megan Fate Marshman, Relaxed (2024) p. 14. 

Kelly is the Ministry Support Lead for Hope Mommies. She and her husband Dan live in Brenham, TX with their two earthside children, Annabelle and Eli (and lots of pets). Their firstborn, William, went to Heaven in July 2017. To balance out the fullness of life, Kelly enjoys gardening, yoga, and sipping on some matcha while reading historical fiction. She considers herself beyond privileged to share the amazing news of Jesus’ Hope to all who need it, and loves that William gets to be a part of that message.