Part 1 of an 8 Part Series called: When Anxiety Speaks
I wasn’t expecting her.
She didn’t knock.
Didn’t send a heads-up or schedule an arrival.
She just showed up.
Anxiety.
Before that day, I didn’t even know what a panic attack felt like. Sure, I’d walked through stressful seasons—I'm no stranger to pressure. I’ve led in ministry. Moved across the ocean as an MK and even a missionary. Raised kids while navigating hard, heavy things behind the scenes. But nothing really prepared me for the moment anxiety barged in like an uninvited guest I didn’t know how to evict.
It was youth camp, 2003.
I was sitting at a luncheon for youth pastors’ wives. Nothing unusual. The kind of gathering I’d been in many times. Until the youth director’s wife casually said, “Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves.”
And something shifted.
My heart started racing. My chest got tight. I could feel my body reacting before my brain even caught up. It was like I was being pulled underwater and didn’t know which way was up.
I made it through the moment, barely.
Cracked a few jokes as I said my name.
Made everyone laugh.
But inside—I was shaking.
I didn’t know it then, but that was my first panic attack.
And it wouldn’t be my last.
In the years that followed, anxiety became a visitor that showed up during certain seasons. Not always. Not constantly. But enough to make me wonder: Why now? Where did this come from?
And for a while, I chalked it up to “just life”—overwhelm, hormones, stress. You know, the usual culprits. But deep down, I knew there was more going on.
Because here’s the thing:
Anxiety may feel like it comes out of nowhere, but it doesn’t.
It has a root.
It has a reason.
And even if it blindsides you, it didn’t start in that moment—it started somewhere deeper.
For me, that root goes back to a season of intense spiritual warfare.
My ex and I were missionaries in Ireland.
God had warned us—five prophetic words before we even left the States—that we were walking into a battleground. And they were right.
Four months in, it hit.
My ex slipped into a deep depression that never fully lifted.
Meanwhile, I was battling my own health crisis.
Trying to hold the mission together. Trying to raise our kids.
Trying to be okay.
I wasn’t.
But I didn’t know how to say that.
By the time we came back to the U.S., something in me was frayed. Tired. Torn. I didn’t have the words for it then, but I do now:
That was the soil where anxiety began to take root.
This week, I’ll be walking through a 8-part series over the next three weeks called “When Anxiety Speaks.”
Not as a counselor (because I am not). Not as someone who’s got it all figured out.
But as someone who’s lived through it—who’s fought it and come out breathing on the other side.
And if that’s you—if you’ve felt the tension, the racing mind, the tears that come without warning—this is for you.
You’re not alone.
You’re not broken.
And this isn’t the end of your story.
Jesus didn’t save you so you could live in fear.
He came to give you freedom.
And that freedom is still possible, even when anxiety speaks loud.
Psalm 94:19 (NLT)
“When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer.”
🎧 Listen to my Heart Talk Podcast replay related to this topic:
“How To Walk Away From Anxiety” – click here to listen
Scripture reflection:
Psalm 139:1-2 (NLT)
“O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.”