Jesus, I’m anxious.

I know that You know that, but I need to say it. I’m anxious, and my anxiety is affecting my health.

Most of the time, I don’t even know what is making me anxious. Yes, we are in the middle of a global pandemic, yes, I have loved ones that are vulnerable to the Covid-19 virus, yes, things have changed.  I’ve had to take a leave of absense from work, I’m confined to my home aside from the weekly outing for supplies, and the occasional visit to Urgent Care, because my anxiety is messing with my body. Yes, there are things that warrent concern at least, even anxiety.

Too often, though, my anxiety feels detached from what’s happening around me, as if it has a life of it’s own. I feel like I’ve been drinking way too much coffee, shaky and irritable. My chest feels like there’s an angry badger in there, trying to make an escape, Alien style. And I’m exhausted.

You and I have talked about this a lot. It can be hard to talk to other people about this because I don’t want to look like I don’t have enough faith. I know, that’s my pride talking. I feel like that desperate father in Mark 9 who cried out to You, “I believe, help me overcome my unbelief!” I always want to trust You more than I do at any given moment. And what I need to trust You with now is this anxiety.

The thing that keeps coming back to me is the fact that “perfect love drives out fear” (1John 4:18) I don’t think the opposite of fear is necessarily courage, or fearlessness. I think the opposite of fear is love. Your love in me, Your love for me, Your love through me for others. In that place where Your love is filling me and pouring out onto others, I may be courageous, even fearless, but the key is love.

I can’t control what this anxiety disorder is doing to me, to my body. I can, however, control who I am in the midst of it.  I can keep my voice gentle, my hands soft, I can love in the means and ways that You set before me each day. If I am irritable, I can apologise, and then I can have patience for those that are irritable with me.

I can try. And try and try and try. I can remember that the perfect love that drives out fear is not just in me for others, it is rooted in You, Jesus, and it is for me, too. Your love. Your forgiveness. Your compassion. Your patience.

Today is Good Friday. It’s an emotional day, when I remember the road that You walked, to the cross. To Your death. All I can see is love. Passionate, sacrificial, determined, radical, messy, bloody, hard and fierce. Your love and sacrifice on the cross of Calvary ripped the veil that separated You from Your people. From me. You tore it to shreds with Your love for me. Like a mother ripping through a wooden door to get to her child, in danger on the other side. There is no power in Heaven nor on Earth that is as mighty as Your love. Your love is the air I breathe, the blood in my veins, the life in my hands and the beating of my heart.

Your love is the definition of perfection, and in Your love, I can live. With the angry badger in my chest and hands that tremble, I can live. When I’m easily distracted and falling asleep in my chair, I can live. With achy muscles and countless apologies, I can live.

Jesus, I’m anxious.

Still, in You I live and breathe and love and am loved.

Amen