Part 2: When Anxiety Speaks
Sometimes anxiety doesn’t come in loud.
It doesn’t show up screaming or stomping.
It slips in quietly, through the cracks we didn’t realize were even there.
A racing heart in a calm room.
A restless mind in the middle of worship.
Tension in your chest when there’s no real threat in front of you.
It doesn’t make sense in the moment.
But when you go beneath the surface?
There’s always something more.
And for a lot of us, that “something more” is the cost of keeping it all together.
We’ve worn the smile. We’ve shown the strength. But somewhere underneath… we’ve never fully healed.
In Part 1, I shared how anxiety first introduced itself to me—out of nowhere, in the middle of a youth pastors’ wives luncheon. One minute I was fine, the next I was panicking—heart pounding, chest tight, unsure what had just happened. I laughed my way through it, but inside, I was shaken.
That was the moment anxiety finally spoke.
But it wasn’t where the story began.
Looking back, I believe the real beginning was in Ireland.
We had just stepped into full-time missions. Five separate prophetic words had confirmed we were walking into spiritual warfare—and within four months of arriving on the field, we were in it.
My ex slipped into a deep depression. I don’t mean a “bad week.” I mean shut-down, pull-back, life-on-pause depression that stretched for years on and off. It had surfaced in earlier seasons, but nothing like this.
Meanwhile, I was fighting for my life—literally. I began experiencing violent, unexplained health issues. It wasn’t until much later we discovered I had a severe MSG allergy that was nearly killing me.
So there I was…
On a small island.
Battling sickness in my body.
Holding up a household.
Raising our kids.
Keeping up appearances.
And spiritually covering ground that felt more like a war zone than a mission field.
And all the while, I was dying inside.
But I didn’t have time to fall apart.
I didn’t feel like I could say, “I’m not okay.”
There was no safe space to break.
So I did what I’d always done.
I kept going. And with a smile on my face.
But just because you keep going doesn’t mean you’re actually okay.
“When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown.”
—Isaiah 43:2 (NLT)
That verse is a promise—but it’s also a picture of what it feels like to be in over your head.
That was me in Ireland.
Surviving.
Not drowning, but definitely not breathing easy.
And somewhere in all that chaos—emotionally, physically, spiritually—the seed of anxiety got planted.
I never processed fully what I was carrying.
I didn’t have a safe place to grieve or even name what was happening inside of me.
So I buried it.
I shoved it deep into the corners of my soul and told myself I was fine.
I focused on my family. Ministry. On survival. On strength. Because that is what an overcomer does, right?
But strength without surrender always has a breaking point.
And when anxiety showed up a few years later in the form of a panic attack, it wasn’t because of that lunch at camp—it was because of everything I had never dealt with.
But just like Elijah under the broom tree, there comes a point where even the strong ones have to say, “I can’t do this anymore.”
And don’t miss this part: Elijah wasn’t under a mighty oak or peaceful shade tree. He was under a broom tree—a scraggly desert shrub that barely gave him cover. It was dry, barren, and unimpressive. Kind of like the space many of us find ourselves in when we finally break down. He had just come off a spiritual high on Mount Carmel, calling down fire from heaven… but here? He was empty. Afraid. Done.
And what did God do?
He didn’t rebuke Elijah for feeling weak.
He didn’t say, “You just saw a miracle, get it together.”
He met Elijah in his exhaustion.
God sent an angel—not with a sermon, but with bread and water. Not once, but twice. He let Elijah rest. He tended to his body before addressing his calling. Because the Lord knows we’re whole beings—body, soul, spirit. And sometimes, what we need first isn’t a word… it’s rest and something to eat.
That’s the heart of God.
The beauty is—God already knows.
He never shames us for what we carry.
He just wants to carry it with us.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”
—Psalm 34:18 (NLT)
If anxiety is whispering in your life right now...
If your thoughts are racing and your body is screaming and nothing on the outside seems to explain it...
Maybe it’s not about this moment.
Maybe it’s about the ones that came before it.
The ones you didn’t get to process.
The ones you pushed aside.
The ones you buried just to survive.
So let me ask you—gently, but honestly:
What moment broke your sense of safety?
What chapter of your story introduced fear or shame or guilt that you never dealt with?
When did you stop trusting God with your emotions because it just felt like too much?
Was it a divorce? A move? Ministry wounds? Childhood trauma? Betrayal? Loss?
Maybe it wasn’t loud.
Maybe it wasn’t dramatic.
But it left a mark.
And instead of healing it, you got busy.
You got numb.
You got distracted.
And life went on.
But that cause? That deep emotional bruise?
It’s still talking.
Not because you’re broken.
But because God wants to heal it—fully. Finally. For good.
Here’s how you can begin to uncover the cause:
Pay attention to patterns.
When does anxiety tend to rise? What themes are always nearby—control, rejection, fear of failure?Reflect on your earliest memory of feeling anxious.
Emotionally. Spiritually. Physically. It doesn’t have to be dramatic to be defining.Ask the Lord, gently:
“Where did this begin, Father? Show me the moment so I can invite You into it.”Don’t rush past what comes up.
Journal it. Sit with it. Bring it into the light—not with shame, but with expectation of healing.
You were never meant to carry all of this.
And you definitely weren’t meant to carry it alone.
God sees what’s under the surface.
And He’s not backing away—He’s drawing near.
Just like He did with Elijah.
Not with a lecture.
But with rest, food, and presence.
We just have to let Him in—and let Him do what only He can do.
Coming Monday: Part 3 – Digging Up What We Buried
A deeper look at the cause—not just the moment anxiety shows up, but the wound that gave it space to grow.