I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. - Psalm 34:4
I didn't grow up observing Lent. Now as an adult, it's one of the most intentional times of the year for me. It's interesting to me that even though it falls in the Hebrew month that symbolizes joy and fruitfulness, Lent itself is recognized by the church as a time of repentance and sorrow. I guess the thing that intrigues me even more is that these two contrasting themes can and do beautifully coexist within my heart.
God has been teaching me a lot of lessons lately. If my spiritual life were to be compared to a college education, I feel like I'm currently earning a triple major with a double minor! He's teaching me about Himself, how He loves me and extends mercy unconditionally, how to relate to others, how I interact with my own thoughts, how even my own experiences can deceive me when not viewed through the lens of Scripture... I thought this season of life was going to be "down time" for me, but God had other plans.
Today God highlighted yet another lesson. I spent the day minding my own business, working on sermon prep, creating powerpoint presentations, finalizing upcoming travel plans, searching for community resources, and doing some supplemental reading to help augment my Bible study. I didn't think much of my day until a friend texted me asking if I was okay. She said I'd been "awfully quiet," and she just wanted to check on me. I was vaguely confused by her text for just a moment and responded that I didn't have anything to be "unquiet" about. But all of the sudden I realized how much I thoughtlessly reach out to people out of anxiety. Sure, I send texts and make phone calls because I genuinely care for people. But often times keeping in constant contact stems out of fear that someone will up and leave me without my consent. So I need to know they're still there, still willing to talk to me, still being my friend, still loving me, still not leaving me.
It feels pathetic and too vulnerable to admit that. To admit that I actually want - or even need - people to love me. And anxiety somehow fuels that. It was the exclamation point of the lesson when another good friend of mine chuckled a little too readily last night when I mentioned I didn't think I struggled "too much" with anxiety. She laughed. I laughed with her but inside I was smarting, hurt by knowing my anxiety was so evidently on display for others to see. Deep sorrow followed by genuine repentance accompanied me to bed last night and woke up with me this morning.
So today, when I received that text checking in because I'd been quiet all day, my sorrow and repentance had to make room for joy and fruitfulness. Just last week, I asked God to dissolve my old ways of thinking. I specifically used the word dissolve because I told God I didn't think I could handle an abrupt change. Basically, I asked Him go easy on me! I realized that for the first time in a long time - maybe weeks or months or years - I experienced no anxiety over any relationships today. Even when I had to cancel plans with a friend for tonight... I was sad, but not anxious.
And when I realized that, joy came. There was still a remnant of sorrow and maybe even regret of all the things anxiety has stolen from me, namely the ability to genuinely enjoy my relationships for what they are. But that sorrow had to make room for joy. And then came the awareness of fruitfulness... The fruit of peace and self-control. I sought the Lord and asked Him to dissolve my old ways of thinking... He is certainly answering me and delivering me from fear.
