I have a recurring dream that I’m driving through my hometown looking for a coffee shop that doesn’t exist. If you know me personally, you know how apropos this dream is. On the hunt for a mythical coffee shop in a town I love? That sounds about right. In this dream, I make turn after turn on familiar streets, convincing myself that I’ve been to this coffee shop before. I know it’s there—if I can just find it. In my dream, I have been there before. I know it’s there.
I don’t know why, but we do this a lot in dreams, right? We spend the whole dream trying to get somewhere without success. Maybe it’s the location of an event you’re supposed to be at or a meeting for work that you’re late for. Or perhaps it’s your homeroom class from high school twenty years ago. You’re trying to call someone to pick you up but can’t get your fingers to dial the right numbers on your phone. You know that feeling of being stuck in a loop of longing to be somewhere if you could figure out how to get there. The obstacle to your destination can take any form in a dream.
The other night I sat on my bed with my journal in my lap and scribbled furiously. My handwriting grew poorer with each line, and the pressure from the pen pushed the letters through to the next page. My husband walked in to get ready for bed and asked what I was doing.
“Writing down all my anxieties to get them off my chest so I can breathe.”
It had been a strange day at the end of a strange week at the end of an even stranger month. A string of events had triggered a familiar, foreboding feeling. Fear uncurled itself in my belly and ran ice through my veins. There was that strange sensation of your face turning immediately hot then cold. It’s been a long time since I’ve struggled with anxiety, but here lately, there’s some kind of fearful occurrence everywhere you look: civil and political unrest, a global pandemic (which claimed the life of one of our dear church members last week), hurricanes, wildfires, earthquakes, an explosion that leveled a densely populated city. And that’s just 2020. Add to that the pre-2020 anxieties of cancer diagnoses, car accidents, summer storms, and more. It’s a strange time to be alive, and it’s an easy time to be constantly afraid.
On that strange day, panic was building in my chest with a lot of “what-ifs.” I pressed my fears hard into the pages of my journal, but I couldn’t fight them all alone. To stare them down by myself is to be swallowed whole. I can’t get around fear, can’t get to the other side of it without help.*
I know there is peace on the other side of this, but I just can’t seem to get there on my own.
I asked my husband to pray over me, and I gripped his hand tightly while he prayed. If I can step to the periphery of fear, I can find peace when I view things in a logical way. But anxiety is a fence that keeps me from the edge of rational thought. I’ve had this struggle for nearly fifteen years, and in that time, I’ve found that Scripture helps me climb that fence. Memorization gives me the boost I need to get to the other side.
I laid in bed that night turning over Psalm 4 in my mind repeatedly until I slept.
“Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness! You have given me relief when I was in distress. Be gracious to me and hear my prayer!”
“The LORD hears when I call to him.”
“In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.”
My husband had prayed the words, “Lord, be our peace.” And He is. Logically, even in the grip of fear, I know that to be true. But in the quivering of my heart and the racing of my thoughts, I need to meditate on this truth until I know it heart, soul, mind, strength. Peace is found in God’s unchangeable, persistent, constancy. Not in peaceful circumstances which can be found and lost in a moment. No, He is peace. And the more I meditate on Scripture, the more I know, really know, that to be true.
A couple of days after that anxious night, I felt frustrated by my proclivity to fear. Shouldn’t I be past this by now? I hate this weakness of mine, hate when it rears its ugly head and dominates my thoughts. And yet, I know that God doesn’t waste anything in our lives. He can use our weaknesses to wring from our hearts a deeper dependence upon Him. Thinking back over the Scripture I had to memorize, meditate upon, and apply, I see the gift in my weakness, the purpose in a thorn. God’s grace is sufficient for me, and He can use fear to teach me to treasure His Word. In that way, it is a privilege to struggle. The hard climb over the fence of fear is a gift if it pushes me into the arms of my God.
This morning after dropping off the kids at school, I took my regular neighborhood walk. I turned on my Bible app and listened to the book of Colossians while I walked. The words of the Lord stilled my restless thoughts. The fence looked smaller. I could see the other side. And I could see what a gift God’s Word is to us. Scripture helps me see what’s true in life. My soul is secure in Christ (Heb. 6:19), the Lord will use suffering for my good and His glory (Rom 8:28), He is with me in the life’s most fearful moments (Isaiah 43:2), and He hears when I call out to Him in fear (Psalm 4:3).
Whether we’re waging war against sin like Paul, fighting fear like David, holding fast to faith like the author of Hebrews, or grasping the love of God like John, Scripture is relevant, true, and everlasting. The more we saturate our days with the words of the Lord, the more we will think like Him. That’s a true gift in times like these. And times like these are a gift if they turn our hearts to the words of our Lord who holds all things together (see Col. 1:17).
The hard climb over the fence of fear is a gift if it pushes me into the arms of my God. Share on X
*If you find yourself struggling with chronic, debilitating anxiety that inhibits your daily living, please see a doctor or counselor for professional help.
Photo by Simone Dalmeri on Unsplash
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.