Posts tagged ‘Anxiety’
Casting Your COVID Anxiety on Christ
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As states, cities, and businesses begin what will likely be a long, slow, and uncertain process of reopening as the COVID-19 pandemic begins to show signs of receding, a new normal is sure to emerge. Social distancing will likely continue for some time. Face masks will likely be commonplace. E-commerce will almost certainly dominate. And we will be encouraged to sanitize, sanitize, and sanitize.
For some, the transition out of staying at home will be exciting. They are ready to go. Others I have talked to are experiencing a fair amount of anxiety over re-entering workplaces and public spaces. There is, after all, still a lot uncertainty surrounding how far this virus will continue to spread and how much more damage this virus will continue to do.
In the early 60s of the first century, one of Jesus’ followers, Peter, was living under a lot of uncertainty. The ruler at this time was a Roman Emperor named Nero, who became a famed persecutor of early Christianity. When Peter writes his first letter to the church-at-large, though he does not quite yet know the future holds, he knows he has to encourage Christians to be ready for potential trials and persecution to come:
You greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. (1 Peter 1:6)
Even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. “Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened.” (1 Peter 3:14)
Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you … If you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name. (1 Peter 4:12, 16)
Such looming trials, understandably, caused a lot of anxiety among many in the early church because they did not know where, when, or if they were going to suffer and be persecuted.
Peter, however, does not want these Christians to be trapped by their anxiety. So, he writes these famous words:
Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. (1 Peter 5:7)
Peter knows that anxiety often arises because of circumstances that are beyond our control. In order to deal with anxiety, Peter instructs us to give what we can’t control to the One who is in control. And He assures us that what we can’t control is safe with Him, because “He cares for you.”
When Peter invites us to cast all our anxiety on the Lord, the word “cast,” in Greek, is a participle – “casting.” This verse, therefore, can be translated as a phrase that piggybacks on the verse that comes before it:
Humble yourselves…under God’s mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time, casting all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. (1 Peter 5:6-7)
It turns out that casting our anxiety on the Lord not only helps us feel better, it helps us learn humility, because it reminds us that we are not masters of our own destinies and captains of our own ships. Our calling is not to be in control, but to humbly submit ourselves to God’s control – to live under His mighty hand, which, Peter promises, will take care of our problems, even when our problems are as thorny as how to re-enter workplaces and public spaces in the midst of a still-very-ominous pandemic.
As anyone who has dealt with intense anxiety knows, anxiety is not an emotion one can simply “turn off” or “un-feel.” It bubbles up inside of us, often when we least expect it. But even if we cannot stop it, we can confront it. Clinically, we can receive help for it. And spiritually, we can cast it on Christ. He’s strong enough to take care of it. And He’s compassionate enough to take care of us.
Who’s Afraid of Election Day?
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Tomorrow is the big day. Tomorrow, we the people turn out to vote for the next President of the United States. Though literally thousands of other politicians will be on the ballots that are cast tomorrow, the presidential election is the one that looms largest in the minds and hearts of most people. Indeed, I’ve heard it repeated over and over again throughout the course of this political season that “this is the most important presidential election of our lifetimes.” I honestly do not know whether or not it is. I do know that Walter Mondale told a crowd in 1984, “This is the most important election of our lives.” I would argue that history has probably proven him wrong. And history, eventually, may prove today’s claim about the importance of this election wrong – or, perhaps, right. We’ll just have to wait and see.
But whether or not voters and pundits prove to be historically correct in their estimation of the weightiness of this election, I do know that the immediate perceived importance of this election is enormous and is engendering deep fear in the minds and hearts of many. I have had conversation after conversation with people who are scared of what has happened and what will happen to our political system and to our nation.
This past weekend, I listened to a sermon on the topic of this year’s election. The pastor who preached this sermon argued forcefully, powerfully, and, at times, eloquently for what he believed about this election and even for whom he believed we, as Christians, should vote in this election. But what struck me most about this pastor’s sermon was its closing. He ended by talking about two fears that he has for the future of this nation. First, he explained his fear that there may be too many of “them” and too few of “us.” He sees postmodern secularism winning over the masses and driving Christianity to the fringes and he is worried that there is nothing we can do politically to beat it back. Second, he expressed his worry that we may simply be too late to make any difference. He thinks too many Christians have been too silent for too long, and now a day of reckoning has come.
Politically, this pastor seemed very knowledgeable. Theologically, however, if I can be so bold to say this, as I listened to his sermon, I became more and more convinced that he missed something very important. Here’s why I say that.
First, if anyone thinks that there are too many of “them” and too few of “us,” I would encourage that person to read the story of Gideon. When God takes the army Gideon has mustered to fight the Midianites and reduces it in force from 32,000 men to 300 men – a reduction of over 99 percent – it looks like there is no way Gideon and his tiny army can defeat the massive army of a whole tribe of people. But God specializes in doing great things when there are too many of “them” and too few of “us.” God made a whole nation out of one man Abraham. God redeemed a whole people from slavery through one man Moses. God changed the whole course of human history through twelve men He deemed “apostles.” And God brought salvation to our whole world in one man He calls His Son. God can do a lot with a little.
Second, if anyone thinks it is simply too late, I would point that person to the story of Jesus’ friend Lazarus. When Jesus learns that His friend has fallen ill, rather than rushing to see him, He waits for him to die. Why? Because, as Jesus says to Martha, He is “the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25). Even death is not too late for Jesus because He can snatch life from the jaws of death. When the hour on our clock strikes eleven and we begin to struggle and scramble, Jesus can bring forth a new dawn that we never saw coming.
What struck me most about this pastor’s sermon is that although he issued a clear call to his congregation to get out and vote, he never explicitly reminded his congregation to have faith – to trust in the One who holds everything from your house to the White House in His hands.
Politics has a bias toward action. Legislation gets passed when deals get made. Public officials are elected when votes are cast. Social change can be engineered when Supreme Court verdicts are rendered. Action is important to politics. But as Christians, we must remember that the centerpiece of who we are is not in what we do, but in whom we believe. “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved” (Acts 16:31). Faith is the centerpiece of our life in Christ.
I think it’s this that gets to the root of our fear. Because if we get so stuck on the action of our vote and the action of our legislators and the action of some guy or gal who sits in an office that is shaped like an oval that we forget that our hope is nothing that we have done, are doing, will do, or can do, then we’ve missed what’s most important. Because we’ve missed Jesus. And you don’t get Jesus by action. You only get Jesus through faith. There’s a reason the Psalmist says, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in You” (Psalm 56:3).
So, if you are afraid of the outcome of this election and the future of this country, go ahead and vote, but don’t expect your vote to calm your fears. Because your fears cannot be calmed by electoral majority. Your fears can only be calmed by a Savior who died for you and me.
Trust in Him.
On Edge…About Everything
Last Wednesday morning was an unexpectedly frenzied one. Within the scope of a few hours, all United Airlines planes were grounded, the website for the Wall Street Journal went dark, and trading at the New York Stock Exchange grinded to a screeching halt. The problem in each instance? Computer glitches.
It didn’t take long for people to begin to fear that we under some sort of cyber attack. Lester Holt, anchor of NBC Nightly News, opened the newscast that night with an honest acknowledgement of the anxiety so many were feeling:
A lot of us got that uneasy feeling today when within hours of each other separate computer outages grounded all United Airlines flights and halted trading on the New York Stock Exchange.
Uneasy feeling, indeed. What happened was so startling, it got the attention of Homeland Security.
In the end, it was discovered that United’s problems stemmed from “a failed computer network router that disrupted its reservation system.” Trading on the New York Stock Exchange went down because of a “botched software upgrade” the night before. As for the Wall Street Journal, though no definitive explanation has been offered for its problems, some are speculating that the trouble at the Stock Exchange drove people to the Wall Street Journal for updates, which, in turn, crashed the website. Cyber terrorism had nothing to do with anything. We had no need to fear. But we did.
Fear is plentiful these days. It doesn’t take much to make us apprehensive. Sadly, fear is just as prevalent – if not more so – in the Church as it is in wider society. I have talked to Christians who are wringing their hands over what could very well be an erosion of our religious liberty. I have talked to Christians who are terrified by what is happening oversees – and, for that matter, close to home – with ISIS. I have talked to Christians who are anxious about our nation’s economic path. I have talked to Christians who are frightened by just about everything.
For Christians who are full of fear, this description of who we are as the Church from Pope Benedict XVI strikes me as timely:
Is the Church not simply the continuation of God’s deliberate plunge into human wretchedness? Is she not simply the continuation of Jesus’ habit of sitting at table with sinners, of His mingling with the misery of sin to the point where He actually seems to sink under its weight? Is there not revealed in the unholy holiness of the Church, as opposed to man’s expectations of purity, God’s true holiness, which is love – love which does not keep its distance in a sort of aristocratic, untouchable purity but mixes with the filth of the world, in order thus to overcome it?[1]
This is an impressively clear, cogent, and, I should affirm, broadly, even if not comprehensively, correct ecclesiological statement from the former leader of the Roman Catholic Church. The Church, Benedict reminds us, is incarnational in her character and missional in her charter. She goes to places no one else would dare to darken – filthy places, impoverished places, wicked places, sinful places. As the Church ministers in sinful places like these, she, like Jesus, in the words of the former pope, can “actually seem to sink under [sin’s] weight.” But, of course, when Jesus sank, He didn’t sink for long. Three days is all sin got of Him. So it is with Christ’s Church. “The gates of Hades will not overcome it” (Matthew 16:18), Jesus promises. Sin may attack the Church, but it will not overcome her.
When we, as the Church, become afraid of the sinfulness in our world, we stop acting as the Church should for our world. We become so scared of sinners because of what they might to do to us that we forget to love sinners as Christ has loved us. The fearfulness of the faithful, it turns out, can be just as dangerous to the Church as the sinfulness of the world, for it stymies the Church in her mission.
In 1931, Swedish theologian Gustaf Aulén published Christus Victor where he wrote of how Christ “fights against and triumphs over the evil powers of the world, the ‘tyrants’ under which mankind is in bondage and suffering.”[2] To this day, his book is a standard-bearer for discussions about Christ’s work and accomplishments on the cross. But we must always remember that Christ’s victory is also our victory. Christus Victor is the promise of Ecclesia Victor.
Do not, then, be afraid. Instead, be the Church. The world needs us.
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[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Introduction to Christianity, Second Edition (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2004), 342.
[2] Gustav Aulén, Christus Victor: An Historical Study of the Three Main Types of the Idea of Atonement, A.G. Hebert, trans. (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2003), 4.
Decidophobia
Credit: thebeaconmag.com
I have a confession to make: I suffer from decidophobia.
Now, before you accuse me of making up words, this term is not my own. Walter Kaufmann, who served as a philosophy professor for over 30 years at Princeton, coined it. He explains decidophobia like this:
In the fateful decisions that mold our future, freedom becomes tangible; and they are objects of extreme dread. Every such decision involves norms, standards, goals. Treating these as given lessens this dread. The comparison and choice of goals and standards arouses the most intense decidophobia.[1]
Here’s what Kaufmann is saying: decisions form futures. Those who suffer from decidophobia worry that their decisions will tank their futures.
Now, to a certain extent, this is true. Foolish decisions can lead to bad futures. If one wracks up a lot of debt now, it leads to a lot of bills in the future. If one is having an affair now, it can lead to a heart-wrenching divorce in the future.
But there are other decisions – decisions that don’t always carry with them the ethical clarity that getting into a bottomless pit of debt or having an affair do. Decisions like, “What job should I take?” “What vehicle should I buy?” “What house should I live in?” I am trying to make a decision on the last of these three quandaries. And I have come down with a bad case of decidophobia.
As I have looked at neighborhoods and floor plans and features and storage space, I’ve become worried and concerned. Will I make the right decision? But here’s what I’ve come to realize: decisions like these, though not always easy, are not devastatingly determinative of my future. If a house does not have all the features I might like, it will still provide me with a roof over my head at the end of the day. If a job you take does not meet all your dreams and expectations, you will still have a paycheck at the end of your pay period. If a car you buy isn’t the one you’ve dreamed of since you were a teenager, it will still get you from point A to point B by the end of your trip.
I have long suspected that God gives us some decisions to make not to teach us about decisions themselves, but to teach us about the anxiety that so many of us feel when we are in the throws of a decision-making process. I read somewhere that we should “not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself” (Matthew 6:34). Many of the decisions we make carry with them no biblical mandate. Any decision we make will be fine. Being free from worry, however, does carry with it a biblical mandate. That’s why it’s time to stop incessantly fretting. Decidophobia is sinful.
So what’s causing you decidophobia? Before you get your stomach tied in knots, remind yourself of Christ’s words in Matthew 6:34. These decisions are not worth your worry. You are in God’s care.
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[1] Walter Kaufmann, Without Guilt and Justice: From Decidophobia to Autonomy (New York: Peter H. Wyden, Inc., 1973), 3.
ABC Extra – Deep Anxiety
It’s called hematidrosis. Dr. Frederick Zugibe, the Chief Medical Examiner of Rockland County, New York, explains the disease: “Around the sweat glands, there are multiple blood vessels in a net-like form. Under the pressure of great stress the vessels constrict. Then as the anxiety passes the blood vessels dilate to the point of rupture. The blood goes into the sweat glands. As the sweat glands are producing a lot of sweat, it pushes the blood to the surface – coming out as droplets of blood mixed with sweat.” What a gruesome picture Dr. Zugibe paints of someone so stressed and so anxious that he actually sweats blood!
The evangelist Luke recounts Jesus’ final hours:
Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and His disciples followed Him. On reaching the place, He said to them, “Pray that you will not fall into temptation.” He withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, “Father, if You are willing, take this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done.” An angel from heaven appeared to Him and strengthened Him. And being in anguish, He prayed more earnestly, and His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. (Luke 22:39-44)
Jesus’ final hours before His crucifixion were so anxiety inducing that He developed a case of hematidrosis. Indeed, when Luke relays that Jesus was “in anguish” in verse 44, the Greek word is agonia. I’ll let you guess to what English word this is related. But needless to say, it’s not related to a word for peace and serenity.
One of the things that never ceases to impress me about Jesus’ life and ministry is how Jesus not only experiences all that we experience, but He experiences it in a deeper and fuller way that we experience it. We experience anxiety. Jesus experiences anxiety to such a level that He develops the extremely rare condition of hematidrosis. It is not surprising, then, that the preacher of Hebrews would say of Christ, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have One who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet was without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). Being tempted in every way means that a mammoth amount of temptation was leveled at Jesus, greater temptation than any of us know, for who of us can say, “I have been tempted in every way?” But Jesus was. Jesus experienced it all – literally. Thus, it behooves us to take Jesus at His word when He says things like:
Do not worry, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first His kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:31-34)
If Jesus warns us against anxiety, then perhaps we ought to listen. Because if there’s one person who knows anxiety, it’s Jesus. After all, He experienced tremendously – indeed, He experienced it infinitely – in the Garden.
So then, how are we to combat anxiety, for anxiety is something which we all experience? Jesus says that pagans try to combat anxiety by running. They run after food and drink and clothes, thinking that if they could just acquire the right things or the right knowledge or the right securities, then their anxieties would be alleviated. But such a run is futile. It only results in more anxiety. Instead, we are to seek. We are to seek the things of God, even as Jesus Himself seeks the will of God as He experiences anxiety in the Garden. Jesus prays, “Not My will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42). May we, like Jesus, seek God in our anxieties. For He alone can give us strength to confront them and walk through them.
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