For years, I wrote of learning how to walk, Of following the Master of the waves, Of choosing to obey instead of balk, Of trusting in the God who loves and saves. But I misdiagnosed anxiety, Embracing fear as if it was the Lord. I was a slave to scrupulosity. My death was unto him but was untoward. But light was shining though I could not see, And love was better than I ever dreamed. In time, he led me through and set me free, And all that I had broken he redeemed. I lost my hold but still was held by grace. Through suffering, I better learned his face.
Life has at times been like a playlist driven by uncertainty and fear, sometimes frantically skipping songs until the “right” one plays, sometimes tryingtokeepupwithwhateverpla ysnextnomatterthecost(ohgosh it’s“ThroughTheFireAndFlames” andIcan’tstop)untilI hit a wall, experience the stillness of a soundtrack (ah, Shore’s “The Shire”), and make time to heal.
Now, life is like a song sung by my favorite songwriter, the comfortable tempo perfect for walking.
When my thoughts were all gum on my shoe-bottoms, tripwires, and straitjackets, my decisions were all running away, confused striving, and well-intended wounds.
Too few of my steps were right, and I was left at a loss for direction.
But every misguided misstep, every freezing fear, and every burned bridge became a step toward truth, life, and love, and I see now you are sovereign over time even when I can’t tell it.
I cannot change biology, I know. I cannot strip the seasons of their weight. I fight and fret to get my mind to slow. I will not e’er be freed this anxious state. My life is often tension, sometimes ease. I wrestle with my measure of control. But God reigns over all my -ologies, And he remains the Shepherd of my soul. I do not want this lot, but it is mine To steward till the Master comes again. I may now shudder, but I also shine With grace sufficient from the Light of men. My mind and heart malfunction. He redeems And leads my anxious mind by peaceful streams.
Unsafe, unsettled, captive to my mind, Caught by impending ambiguity, Lost in a steady rain of thoughts unkind, Just out of reach of true reality. I know the signs and triggers, subtle clues That signal shifted thinking, but I feel A restlessness and see in starker hues That taint the truth and dull my sense of real. This state distorts perspective, leaving me The least equipped to navigate the haze. My greatest need is objectivity, But I stay subject to uncertain days. But truth is truth and real is real despite My inability to see the light.
My mind disfigured your face in my mind, Painted piercing eyes, uncompassionate, Shaming, in place of those you said I’d find. My view of you and you were disparate Persons, known too well and not well enough. “You” imposed a self-imposed prison cell, Held hopeless standards, always called my bluff. I was always guilty, not free, unwell. Thus I assumed from this false gospel, lie Of law’s freedom. Truth is not so broken. You are love. Your yoke brings rest, peace, a sigh Of relief, rooted in words you’ve spoken: “I have overcome the world.” Now I see Your overcoming work extends to me.
For roughly a year, I’ve been going to counseling through the counseling center at my school. I entered nervously, uncertain of what to expect but certain that I needed help. I noticed myself becoming more isolated and distant than I could remember being. Social circles were shifting around me, stresses and emotions were stacking up inside me, and I found myself feeling disconnected and lonely and stuck. I knew there was a problem, but I couldn’t seem to fix it. I was surviving, but I wasn’t doing well.
Counseling, in many ways, was exactly the thing I needed. There, I could voice the things that weighed upon me and receive help in processing through it. I could share my fears, my anxieties, and my shame and receive encouragement and perspective. My counselor helped to put names to the things that bothered me, thereby helping me both to identify and to understand the more difficult aspects of my life. Though I’m not sure I could list all the ways God used counseling in my life, a few reflections stand out.
I accept my emotions and am a bit more open about them now. Historically, I’ve not been very good at acknowledging my feelings. I’ll try to approach situations academically if possible, operating as if emotions shouldn’t have a say in my response. But I’m learning such an approach isn’t feasible. God created us with emotions, and life in his world requires that we come to terms with that truth. Sure, learning to accept emotions and feel them isn’t always easy. Facing difficult emotions and dealing with them can be painful. But there’s a freedom that comes with such growth, a fresh perspective on life and how God means us to live it. I’m still learning, but I’m slowly growing to allow emotions their rightful place in my life.
I still struggle with my emotions. Therapy didn’t make life’s difficulties go away. While my counselor did a fantastic job of listening and guiding me toward a healthier mental and emotional state, she didn’t fix my problems. Instead, she reminded me that people never outgrow the growing process. We’ll always be working on something, improving in some area, finding ourselves still lacking in some respect. Growth, both spiritual and mental, is an ongoing process. But while I’m not “perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” (James 1:4), I think I’m further along than I was when I started counseling. I’ve achieved some goals, seen measurable success, and have found that the difficulties that often overwhelm me aren’t quite so unique or crushing as they may feel in the moment.
I love the Lord more than I once did. Because I’ve been unsure of my emotional intelligence for so long, I’ve tended to lean into more comfortable ways of loving God. I would think of Jesus’s instruction to love the Lord with the heart, soul, mind, and strength (Mark 12:30), and I would see in that a justification for pressing into academics. If I’m not good at feelings, let me prioritize thoughts. But as I reflect on my time in counseling, I’m starting to see that Jesus’s statement isn’t a list of options. Instead, his is a call to love God wholly, bringing every aspect of the self to him in surrender. Counseling has helped me to do this better. As I’ve faced my fears and my anxieties, I’ve seen areas where my faith is weak, where what I affirm mentally isn’t reflected in how I follow Jesus practically. And as I’ve sought to bring my heart into submission to the Lord, the work has entailed a submission of my body as well as I’ve seen how my physical health influences my mental health. I’ve begun to pursue growth on all fronts, learning to love the Lord not just with my mind but with my heart, strength, and soul as well.
The work isn’t complete. I still wrestle with fear and insecurity, with anxiety and doubt, with disappointment and discouragement. I still feel overwhelmed and stuck sometimes. I’m not sure we ever escape such things this side of glory. But counseling gave me perspective and resources to respond to my emotions, and to all situations, with more faith than fear, more courage than cowardliness, and more hope than hopelessness. I thank God for counseling, and I highly recommend it. Whether you feel crushed by the weight of life or you simply want to better understand yourself and your place in this world, counseling can serve you well. I pray you take the step, and I pray God uses it mightily in your life.
as i learn to walk 