How Christ Cuts Through our Anxiety

 

When mom sat down with Delores that morning, she poured out her fear of change, of isolation, of loneliness on the other side of a big move. Dad had gotten a job at a hospital six hours away near Reading, PA.

 

To understand mom a little better, lets just say she’s a community-building wizard. When she walks into the room, you believe the light in the wattage of the lightbulbs has gone up. She’s warmth. Light. Sunshine. Encouragement. Love. Hospitality. For any C.S. Lewis’ Great Divorce fans, she’s Sarah Smith of Golders Green. 

 

There in Columbus, OH, she had begun a community for spouses of those going through medical training, to support families and shore up marriages. There were over 100 women who came every Wednesday morning and a community of over 10 leaders. It was her dream job. This was her baby. She had trained for this all her life. These were her people. And now she was leaving. 

 

Mom has moved over ten times during her and dad’s married life. She was no rookie to packing boxes, the sound of the tape dispenser as it squealed over a cardboard box. And when she thought through this next move, she was no rookie to starting over.

 

But when she started laying down her fears to her counselor one at a time, Delores looked her straight in the eye, “Beth, you’re painting a picture of a life without God in it.” 

 

Delores’ words shook something in mom. Where WAS God in the picture she was painting? Over and over she was practicing the absence of God. Over and over she was painting a picture of her new location and Christ was nowhere in sight.

 

 

 

For six years the young man we now know as St. Patrick woke up on the hills around Slemish mountain, in and out of the forest of Forclut, a cowherder and a slave. He’d been captured by raiders and pirates when he was 16 from a small Roman outpost in Britton, probably on the western coast of Wales. He was sold to the chieftan Milchu from what is now County Antrim. It was the 5th century and a time of incredible danger. Clan against clan. Chief against chief. Druid against druid.

 

Although Patrick had been born into a Christian family, he never chose to serve the god of his fathers. His grandfather was a priest and his father, a deacon, but he had remained god-less. Everything changed as he walked those hills as a captive. His autobiography says this:, I was constantly humbled through hunger and nakedness.” It also described how God became his companion and constant prayer, his life-line. 

 

Six years later he escaped. But back with his family, he kept having dreams: The Irish people sending him a letter: “Walk among us again.” After weeks of dreams he decided to go back to his captors, this time filled with compassion and wanting them to have the hope he knew in Christ. He began studying for the priesthood. No short task. It took at least a decade, maybe two. He studied in Gaul at the monastery of Martin of Tours. Learning scripture. Learning Latin. The oldest in the room. Finally, he was ordained. 

 

Back in Ireland, we know he travelled back to his captor the chieftan Milchu, which must have been a time of incredible anxiety. But in the end, Milchu became one of the first Christians on the island.

 

We have very little from his life.

We have an anti-slavery letter, a brief autobiography, and a prayer, St. Patrick’s breastplate with words I want you to hear…Every day he woke choosing to walk into danger and poverty carrying nothing more than his faith. These are the words he armed himself with.

 

Christ with me,

Christ before me,

Christ behind me,

Christ in me,

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ on my right,

Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down,

Christ when I sit down,

Christ when I arise,

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in every eye that sees me,

Christ in every ear that hears me.

 

Every morning he was acknowledging himself wrapped in the Presence of God. He painted a picture of the day with Christ in every brushstroke. 

 

 

God set the table in the wilderness with sensory reminders of His Presence: A cloud by day. A pillar of fire by night. Daily Manna with which to feed their family. He was training them to depend on the Presence of God for every step and literally eat out of His hand. He was training them to look up and look out for the Presence of God.

 

Moses refused to move unless the Presence was going with him: Exodus 33:14-16

“And the LORD answered, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” 15“If Your presence does not go with us,” Moses replied, “do not lead us up from here. 16For how then can it be known that Your people and I have found favor in Your sight, unless You go with us? How else will we be distinguished from all the other people on the face of the earth?”

 

David subdued his fear by practicing the Presence of Christ: “I have set the Lord always before me. Because His is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”

 

It’s the main thread running through Psalm 23: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.  FOR YOU ARE WITH ME & “You have set a table before me in the Presence of my enemies.” What a beautiful, domestic, picture of God, setting table.

 

Psalm 139

Where can I go from your Spirit?

    Where can I flee from your presence?

 

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

 

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

    if I settle on the far side of the sea,

 

even there your hand will guide me,

    your right hand will hold me fast.

 

David was practicing finding God in every eventuality his imagination could whip up.

 

What would happen if we placed the truth of the living Christ, attentive, responsive, and engaged in the middle of every future worry?

 

What if, when we followed an over-active imagination down the path we discovered His embodied Presence? How would that transform our fear?

 

 

Brother Lawrence taught that practicing the Presence could change ordinary dish washing into abiding with God. Missionary Frank Laubach found that the loneliness of a Filipino island was made into a cathedral of joy in God’s Presence. And 2 time Christianity Today’s book of the year author, LeAnne Payne encouraged people that the doorway to a mature faith and ministry was always through Practicing the Presence of God. She encouraged people to simply repeat the words, “Lord, I thank You that You are here.” 

 

Oswald Chambers in his devotional, My Utmost for His Highest encouraged this: 

“Notion your mind with the idea that God is there. If once the mind is noticed along that line, then when you are in difficulties, it is as easy as breathing to remember—Why, my Father knows all about it! It is not an effort, it comes naturally when perplexities press.” 

 

How do we begin to paint a picture with Christ in it?

We start small. Very small. 

 

One sensory reminder of the Presence of God at a time. A flicker of a candle set in front of our sink as we do dishes. A small cross on ink on our wrist. A temporary tattoo. A scent diffused through our house. A clinging cross in our pocket? The sound of water from a tabletop water fountain. Ask God what sensory reminder you could take through your day.

 

We’re slowly establishing what attachment specialists call, object constancy.

 

 

 

We’re going to practice recognizing the truth of the Presence of God in the midst of our worry.

{Join me in the podcast above around  minute 14:30 for this prayer time.}

I want you to think of an experience of everyday life which brings you anxiety: An actual place. A person. 

Look around the room. Where are you standing? The touch of the place. The smell of the place. Where are you sitting? Now invite the embodied Presence of Christ into the room. Watch how He comes in. How does His Presence change the room? Stay right there for a moment. Enjoy His company.

 

Listen:

 

The GOD who holds all the Universe in order. Is here.

The God who spoke and out came The Milky Way. Is here.

The God who creates and recreates and lovingly makes a mosaic of all our broken pieces. Is here.

The God who had you in mind before the foundation of the world. Is here.

The God who sees you and knows how the brokenness of the world bares down on your shoulders Is here.

The God who hears the toxic swirl inside your mind and treats you tenderly. Is here.

The God who knows how many hairs are on your head, who catches your tears in His bottle. Is here.

The God who sets a table before you, …Is here.

The God who sets a cross between you and all people…Is here.

 

This God walks with you into every door, down every trail, into every unknown is present with you.

 

Christ with you,

Christ before you,

Christ behind you,

Christ in you,

Christ beneath you,

Christ above you,

Christ on your right,

Christ on your left,

Christ when you lie down,

Christ when you sit down,

Christ when you arise,

 

You are not alone. He wraps you in His Presence. You are held.

 

 

 

{All photos by Unsplash: Photo by Khara Woods on Unsplash;  Bench Accounting ; Nathan Dumlao, Florencia Viadana;  Jonas Stolle

And headshot by the fantastic Jessie Parks}