Anxiety. As unfortunate as it is to admit, it’s pretty much become a buzzword in our culture, an explosive reality to the past decade. Having recently graduated from Moody with a degree in counseling, I at least understand some of the most basic definitions, trends, reasons, and even coping mechanisms for anxiety. Hearing someone say they struggle with anxiety is becoming as normal as saying you saw a bird fly outside your window. While various arguments can be made for the recent upsurge of anxiety from a cultural and theological perspective, I think the accounts of people, friends, who genuinely struggle are powerful, sobering, and very real.

When Tabitha asked me to write something regarding keeping the faith in the midst of life’s difficulties, many things came to mind. But everything that came to mind was very past-oriented, and I could feel the Lord prompting me to speak about the present—my own battle with anxiety, a reality that I’ve come to realize is much more persistent than I would have ever thought (or at least acknowledged). If I’m being completely honest, writing about this actually feels quite uncomfortable for me, partly because it’s not something I’ve talked about to many people, and partly because I don’t want to get lumped into the millions of others who also struggle with anxiety in some form or another, to become simply another percentage in the epidemic.

However, I want to share a bit of what I’ve come to realize has really been a life-long struggle, not to be pitied, but to hopefully offer some encouragement about how I’ve seen the Lord in my life, and how I’m seeing him still. Sharing this is a recognition not just of what I have seen the Lord do and the lessons I’ve learned, but of where he is right now, and of all the things I still have yet to know or understand.

 If you were to have asked me five years ago if I struggled with anxiety, I honestly don’t know how I would have answered that question. I knew that I had tendencies towards worry and nervous habits, but I didn’t realize until college just how much apart of my life these tendencies were. When I was nine and ten years old, I struggled with insomnia for about a year, and was so anxious and scared every night that it perpetuated my insomnia even more. My journals from that time are full of “I’m trying so hard to trust the Lord,” and “please Jesus help me sleep.” For a while, the only place I could sleep was in my parents’ bed before they came in at night. I remember as a kid being on an inhaler for a little while because I felt like I couldn’t breathe well at times (which for a little while even affected by ability to eat). Looking back, it was simply because I was anxious…it went away as suddenly as my insomnia did. Into my middle school years, my journals tell of how worried I was about almost everything…I worried over boys, I worried over whether I was doing a good enough job in school, or if I was being a good enough daughter or sister. In high school, the verse I honestly clung to most was Philippians 4:6-7 which tells us to not be anxious about anything. Every time I would get up in front of people, I felt like I wanted to puke, which was hard when I lead worship as often as I did. I clung desperately to relationships that ended, I didn’t get my license till I was 17 because driving scared me, and I either studied incessantly or majorly procrastinated on anything that made me nervous.

My college years feel like they’ve all melded together in some ways, but it’s when I started to realize how anxious I really was, and how I had been suppressing it for so long. When I was younger, I would just tell myself to knock it off or try to comfort myself with vague platitudes about Jesus being able to help me. I was left frustrated and confused when the anxiety would not go away, no matter how much I prayed that the feelings would. To be honest, I didn’t really even know what anxiety was till high school, and in high school I denied it or shrugged it off, not wanting to acknowledge how much of a fearful worrier I really was, especially when everyone complimented me on my shining faith and peacefulness. However, coming to Moody was a greatly transformative experience, and I have come face-to-face with the depths of myself and my faith more than ever before. Things that I could deny and suppress before became harder and harder to do, as I was placed in a community, jobs, classes, and environments that started to both break me down, build me up, and strengthen me more than I could have ever known was possible.

However, this past year has probably been my darkest season of anxiety, and is the reason I’m even writing this at all. In the fall of 2019, I started experiencing physical symptoms of anxiety that seemed to come out of nowhere, and at times felt completely crippling. I started experiencing anxiety attacks, a consistent inability to breathe well or even eat, increased pain in my neck and back, and stabbing heart pains. I remember it got to the point one day where I went to the school nurse because I had no idea what was happening to me, and she simply told me I had anxiety. Up to this point in my life I was able to find some strength in myself to push through what I was feeling or simply just push it away, but by Christmas of last year it was completely unavoidable. I was exhausted from the physical feelings, and it was coming in my busiest college year. For an excruciating month I was even deeply anxious about whether I should marry my now husband, even though I knew without a doubt this was the man I wanted to marry—the man the Lord gave to me. As soon as I got back to school from Christmas break I started counseling, and for the next several months and even at times into the present, I struggled with the pain and loss of COVID-19, intrusive fears about death and sickness and sometimes about the most random things, and started experiencing a few full-fledged panic attacks, often completely out of left field, like while driving or washing dishes.

 When I was younger, I didn’t even quite know what I was experiencing or how to even bring it before the Lord, but prayer journaling from a young age became a huge respite for me. As I got older, and especially into my college years, I would at times tangibly feel the Lord so near in the midst of my worries and anxious feelings, and other times I would hardly feel him near for months. There were many times I felt like a terrible Christian for feeling worried or anxious about things when I knew Scripture told me not to worry or be anxious, and gave truth for the things I was worried about. Sometimes the truth of Scripture would sink in deeply, other times it would almost feel out of reach. If I’m being fully honest, this past year has felt more like a desert place with the Lord—more of a battle. He has almost felt like when you look into a foggy mirror—I see him like I would in the mirror, but not as clearly.

However, in the midst of these seasons (in the midst of this season), and in the midst of this struggle, the Lord has graciously shown me some profound truths and comforts. One of the sweetest comforts has actually been something my wonderful husband, who also deeply understands the struggle with anxiety, has helped me to realize: sometimes the bodily realities we face on this earth aren’t always sinful, even if they’re a result of the sinful realities of this world. Sometimes there is an inherent difference between worry that can actively be brought before the Lord and surrendered to his Word and truth and given over in humble repentance, and sometimes there are realities of anxiety that come and go like the wind and our minds and bodies have no control over whatsoever. I have learned that the Lord is so much more compassionate than I honestly ever give him credit for; he is not a perfectionist even as he is perfect. I’ve also learned, and am learning still, the great weight of being united with him, body and soul—the reality that even though he might feel far, he is never far because I am intrinsically tied to his death and resurrection. What hope this carries for the weary soul! He was not far from the Israelites in the desert. He was not far from David, from Abraham or Joseph, or from anyone who called on his name. Isaiah 45:19 has been a great comfort to me in this season: “I did not speak in secret, in a land of darkness; I did not say to the offspring of Jacob, ‘Seek me in vain.’ I the Lord speak the truth; I declare what is right.”

I think that moments of feeling most left to one’s self are truly the times of most maturing and refining—realizing that I need to go back to the basics once again, to be a child of my Lord. I am in desperate need of the Gospel; I am in desperate need of truth. And the beautiful thing is, my anxiety cannot keep me from this. Even though anxiety can feel at times like a whirlpool leading to deep frustration and almost despair, Christ still dwells within. For what can separate us from the love of Christ? The Lord does not require I am rid of my anxiety to be with him. I am with him even still; I can call on his name. May we not believe the lie that we are in the darkness when we are still children of the light. May we eat the daily bread of Christ, the “hearty oatmeal and daily sustenance” as my husband calls it, and may we not despair when we are in seasons that feel less than spiritually full. Here the Lord is still doing a work, whether we feel it or not, whether we even comprehend it or not.

If you are also struggling with anxiety, I plead with you not to lose heart—if you know Christ, know you are intrinsically tied to him, and he does not leave you nor forsake you. And if you do not, know that he would not ask to be sought if he could not be found.

About the Author: My name is Ireland (formerly Mitchell) Mast, and I am a recent graduate of Moody Bible Institute, graduating with a dual degree in counseling and Bible. I still live in Chicago and also recently celebrated four months of marriage with the love of my life, Ben, who also happens to be Canadian—which means I’m starting to get into the great sport of hockey and all things Canadia now. I’m thoroughly midwestern, I love my family and friends deeply, I love to write and blog whenever I can, I will eat pretty much whatever is set before me, I’m not actually Irish, and most importantly, I’m a sinner and saint saved by the grace of Christ. If you’d like to see more of my writing, you can visit https://irelandjoy.wordpress.com.