Seeing People as God Sees Them

 What do you see when you past an unhoused person in your community?

Who do you see in the people involved in the drug deal you saw happen across the parking lot?

Do you try to ignore or walk more quickly past the person doing drugs on the sidewalk?

How do you react when someone whose behaviour doesn't fall in the boxes of what's normal walks into the space you are in?

I've had a few conversations recently that made me think about questions like these. They're not easy questions to think about or answer.

We all have an initial reaction. And I would guess that for most of us, it's a pretty judgemental response. Even as someone who works at an organization where we interact with those who are unhoused, people struggling with addiction and mental health challenges, and those whose lives don't fall within society's norms, I can be pretty quickly judgemental of what I see.

But, God is gracious enough to remind me that every person I see, no matter what their life looks like has value and is loved and is far more than what others see.

He reminds me as I hand a cheque to someone I grew up with, knowing they're going to go straight to the cheque-cashing place down the block to cash it to buy drugs. The money belongs to this person, so I have to give it to them. As I do, I remember how they found the humor and made everyone laugh all the time growing up.

God reminds me as I run into someone else I grew up with and they thank me for how I handled our last interaction. The last time I saw them they were very drunk and stumbling. I didn't push them away; instead, I wrapped my arms around them in a hug as they fell towards me. They didn't remember our conversation from that day, but they remembered that I put my plans aside and grabbed a couple coffees and sat with them while we waited for a safe ride home for them.

I didn't see in the moment of these situations how God was gracious to me in them. If you'd asked me at the time, I would have told you that I wished they hadn't happened. But, in the last few years, I've become incredibly grateful for these interactions, because they've taught me a life-changing lesson.

Genesis 1:26-27 says:

"Then God said, 'Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness' . . .So God created mankind in His own image, in the image of God He created them."

All of humanity is created in the image of God. It's part of our DNA. It's part of who we are.

The fall has buried that. It's difficult to see in probably most of the people you see on a daily basis. But it changes everything when we remember that.

These two people I grew up with were created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

The person who is unhoused is created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

The people involved in the drug deal are created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

The person struggling with addiction is created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

The person whose behaviour doesn't fit in is created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

When I remind myself that every single person I see in a day is created in the image of God and loved by God, it changes my thoughts and, as a result, it changes my actions. I don't look at certain people with disgust; I see them with compassion and love, as people who are worthy of respect simply because they're people created in the image of God and loved by God. I no longer wish harsh realities or death on people.

Instead of seeing the things that are easy to judge people for, I begin to look for glimpses of who God created them to be and call them out in them- even as they struggle and circumstances may not change.

So, I leave you with the question I'm continuing to wrestle with: How would you see and treat people, who you normally judge, differently if you reminded yourself that everyone is created in the image of God and loved by God?

Anxiety and the Church

 As today is a day where many are talking about mental health struggles, I'm taking a break this week from my series on singleness and the church to talk about another topic we still need to discuss more in the church.

Mental health struggles . . . depression . . . anxiety . . . and the church.

I think it's an important topic to discuss because it's misunderstood too often and the simplified answers or advice we give does more harm than good.

This is something I'm passionate about because I've lived this struggle. I go through life with social anxiety disorder and tendencies toward general anxiety. At times, individual people within the church have been very supportive and helpful. I'm incredibly grateful for the friends and acquaintances who had sought to better understand what this actually means and how they can love me best and walk through it with me.

These are the friends who follow me when I leave abruptly and sit with me when I' struggling. The friends who et me know they're with me. The friends who have sat outside with me in all kinds of weather. The friends who have offered the words of their prayers when I wasn't able to say them myself.

But, I've also, unfortunately, experienced judgement, a lack of caring, and accusations of not having enough faith in God when I've shared about this. While I have seen a much greater desire to understand and support people in the 20+ years I've lived knowing I have social anxiety disorder (although likely long before knowing that, it impacted me), there are times when I realize that there's still a ways to go in understanding it all. 

It really is a journey to learn and understand. It took me some time to really start to get it and I was living it. So, when it doesn't hit personally, I can only imagine that it takes more work.

So, where to start?

Let's start with the idea that a struggle with anxiety is a reflection of a lack of faith or trust in God. Honestly, this is probably the hardest thing to hear, because nothing could be further from the truth. The truth, my struggle with anxiety has driven me to trust God and call out to Him more than pretty much anything else in my life. It's how I get through the hard days. And I've talked to enough Christians who also live with anxiety to know that it's true for many. 

I often wonder if part of our struggle is how broad the definition of anxiety is. But, we take a one-size-fits-all approach to how we understand the word. 

According to the Meriam-Webster Dictionary, anxiety is defined like this:

apprehensive uneasiness or nervousness usually over an impending or anticipated ill

medical: an abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear often marked by physical signs (such as tension, sweating, and increased pulse rate), by doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat, and by self-doubt about one's capacity to cope with it

mentally distressing concern or interest

That's a pretty broad definition that encompasses many things. From the force that gets you to move quickly out of the way of a car coming at you, to the everyday worries and concerns that we all deal with, to a fear that completely paralyzes you. I think this is one of the reasons why we struggle to handle conversations about anxiety well and have so much misunderstanding.

We hear the word anxiety and, rather than trying to understand what the person means by it, we jump straight to verses like Philippians 4:6-7 and 1 Peter 5:7 as the solution. And those are great verses from Scripture, filled with truth and great practices for all of us to incorporate into our lives.

But, there's so much more that anxiety could be. We often use the word to describe an actual medical disorder, where our brains don't work like they should. I know I have often said "I have anxiety" rather than an anxiety disorder and that has contributed to some of the unhelpful conversations I've had.

Maybe we need to learn to ask a little more and then listen to what someone says when they start talking about anxiety, before we make assumptions about what they actually mean.

So, why is just quoting a couple of Scriptures or telling someone to pray or have more faith a problem?

It's presenting a simplified answer to something that's usually much more complex. 

Sure, the Scripture you quote is absolutely true.

Yes, prayer can help.

And faith in God is definitely important.

But, if I (and others) say I'm anxious in that moment, my brain is likely going so crazy I can't focus enough to read my Bible or pray much. I'm using every ounce of energy I have to try to maintain some semblance of control on the outside.

I don't need direction on what I should do. I need support as I walk through it. I just need to know you care.

So, what can we do to handle this better in the church?

1. Ask what someone means by anxiety before we throw Scripture or other directives at them.
2. Pray for them while you're with them.
3. Most of all, stop before we make assumptions about someone's faith and trust in God.

What If We Stopped Trying to Always Have an Answer for People's Struggling?

 "I'm really struggling with anxiety right now. I'm not sure I can handle going to that tonight."

"You just need to give it to Jesus. The Bible tells us to cast our anxieties on Jesus. You just need to do that to be okay."

That conversation, or a version of it, is one I've had more times than I can count in my life - and always where I was the one struggling with anxiety.

"My anxiety has been really high lately. I'm struggling to keep it under control and I don't know what to do."

"You should read Philippians 4:6-7. Those are good verses about how to deal with anxiety."

When you finally get the courage to let someone know you're struggling, and you get a few verses of Scripture essentially thrown at you and then the other person walks away.

In both of these conversations, the other person means well. They want to care and support, but they don't know how.

Why?

Because, far too often in the church, we've turned a struggle with mental illness into a faith issue. We read the verses that talk about anxiety and assume they apply to every person who struggles the exact same way.

We all have times when we get caught up in worry, caught up in some anxious thoughts about something. And, we can easily assume that everyone who talks about having anxiety is talking about exactly this.

But, for some of us, it goes beyond that. It's not just some anxious thoughts; it becomes something that controls our lives. We often know that the thoughts in our heads are irrational, that they've gone so much further than someone else's would. But, that doesn't mean we can stop them.

So, these words to give it to Jesus or to read Scripture feel like they fall short. Because they do; they don't acknowledge the full picture.

In a book I was reading on this recently, the author wrote about it this way:

"The problem is, we often confuse mental health with spiritual health, but the two are not one and the same. If anything, mental health has more in common with physical health than it does with spiritual health because the mind-body connection is on that can't be denied by modern science. The brain is a vital organ of the body, and when the brain is sick, it impacts every other part of the body. Mental illness doesn't reflect a character issue. it reflects a chemistry issue." (Debra Fileta, Are You Really OK?, pg. 160)

Changing how we respond to this in the church is important. And, it is something that has improved significantly in recent years in the church. We've come a long way, but we still have a ways to go.

When I bring this up with people in conversation, I often get the question of what they should do instead.

What is helpful? What can you do when someone says they're struggling with anxiety?

I'll be honest, I struggled for a while with knowing how to answer this question. What did I really need from someone when I said that?

But, I've realized that I actually have examples in my life of exactly what I do need in those times. From friends who did what I needed without them knowing they were doing it or me knowing I needed them to.

What did they do?

They sat with me. They let me know they were there and didn't try to fix it. They just let me know I wasn't alone in the struggle.

They were present with me, exactly as I was in the moment.

I think we often feel like we have to have a great response when someone tells us they're struggling. But, in doing so, we easily make other people's challenges out to be something simple and easily solved, when they're often much more difficult.

But, what if we learned to sit with people. To be present. And not feel like we always had to have an answer.

I think that can be much more powerful and encouraging for people.

The Danger of Labels Becoming Indentity

Labels are everywhere in our society. We use them to categorize jobs, places, experiences, things, people. It's that last one that I think often gets us into trouble.

We label people. And we end up doing more harm than good. People are more than whatever label we try to give them. I think we know this, but that doesn't change how easy it is for us to label people.

But, I think there's a place where we can do even greater harm with our labeling.

As part of the launch team for Rebekah Lyon's new book, Rhythms of Renewal, which will come out on October 1, I just finished reading the book. So much of what I read resonated with me and challenged me. Over the next few weeks before the books is released, I'm going to share a bit about the book and how it challenged me. I think the message of the book is a needed one and I'm excited about it being made available.

It's from this book that I was challenged in this area where our labeling does great harm. One of her chapters is on labels, and Rebekah writes:

"The problem is, when we use of these labels to describe us, they often give us our deepest sense of identity. We believe the lie that the label defines us. We shift from believing a particular label is something we face to believing it's something we are."

When I first read those words, I had to stop and read them again . . . and again . . . and again. The realization of how true they are hit me hard.

I do it all the time. I label myself as single. I label myself as my anxiety disorder. Rarely are these labels positive. They almost always describe things about myself in the worst possible way. And they become my identity.

But, I'm learning that I don't have to let those labels become my identity. Yes, I'm single, but that's not everything about me. Yes, I have an anxiety disorder, but that's far from the only thing true about me.

We have to learn our identity from something or somewhere other than the labels we've given ourselves or have accepted that others gave us. This is how we really learn to live.

A little bit later in the same chapter, Rebekah goes on to say:

"When we don't view our identity through a label, we're able to find ways to thrive in spite of whatever label we're living under."

Because our labels are so often used to limit us, they hold us back. But, when we find our identity where we should, in God, everything changes. To quote Rebekah one more time:

"When our identity is found in who God says we are rather than in our highs and lows, our successes and failures, our desires, affections, or shortcoming, we experience the freedom we were meant to enjoy."

Freedom comes when we find our identity in God and nothing else. Then we experience the life Jesus said He came to bring us in John 10:10.

This is something I've learned and am still learning.

When I allow my anxiety disorder to become my identity, I'm held back by it. I've limited by the box I put myself in. But, when my identity is found in who God says I am, the anxiety disorder I have is not the focus and I can all sorts of things and experience a life the label of anxiety disorder as my identity prevent.

What are the labels you've placed on yourself that have become your identity?

What does God say about your identity?

What would change about your life if you lived out of your identity from God rather than your labels?

Doing the Best You Can with What You Have

As I sat down in my seat, I felt the person behind me leaning forward with their hand out. I sat quietly, looking straight ahead, willing myself to breathe normally. Praying this person would just sit back and not push this interaction.

But, that wasn't going to happen this time. The hand moved uncomfortably close to my shoulder and they leaned in, right up to my ear . . . or, at least that's what it felt like.

I did my best to respond in a friendly way, but that night, I'd greeted as many people as I had it in me to greet. I was done and I just needed a bit of space.

As soon as I could after that, I headed for outside. I just needed some air and no people around me with expectations of how I would interact.


If you haven't figured it out, that situation occurred during the "greet the people around you and shake their hand" part of most church services. While it's never been my favourite part of a church service, sometimes those are the words I dread hearing come from the pastor or worship leaders' mouths. The part that can make me want to just skip church altogether some weeks. And other times, it's not really that big of a deal to me.

Every time I do say hi to someone and shake their hand, I'm worrying in my head about how they're seeing me in that moment. Is my handshake too strong or too weak? Did I actually smile at them? Was I clear and friendly in my words? What are they thinking about me?

Even as I write those words, I know how ridiculous they sound. But, for me, that's the reality of what social anxiety looks like. I know rationally that this isn't the big deal my brain is making it out to be to most people, but sometimes I don't seem to be able to interrupt the thought process with more rational thoughts. Or it takes all of the energy I have to do so and I have nothing left to give to interactions with other people.

Back to the situation from the start of this post: That particular evening at church, I had already reached my capacity for those interactions. I usually try to just quietly sit down and avoid further interactions at that point. I tried that on this evening and, unfortunately, it didn't happen that way.

I truely believe this other person had the best of intentions and definitely had no idea they were pushing me towards a panic attack. Thankfully, this time, I was able to return to the church service after a few minutes outside, but this isn't always the case.

I have no idea what went through the mind of the other person in this situation (although my anxiety brain tried to tell me it was full of judgement of me). I only saw the look on their face for a moment and they had no idea what was going on for me.

Here's what I do know: Having been on the other person's side of similar situations myself. Most of the time, maybe even all the time, it's nothing personal. There's something going on in their life that's making this more difficult for them. It's easy just to judge someone as rude or unfriendly, but I think we're better off being more gracious with each other.

How would it change your interactions in this situation if the thought in your head was that they're doing the best they can with what they have in that moment?

Seeing God in the Middle of Not Being Okay

Everything is going good, until it isn't. Often with very little warning, or indication of the reason why. Very suddenly, life is not what it was before. Getting out of bed, getting out of the house, getting anything done becomes an overwhelming thought. But, life goes on, and somehow I must figure out a way to keep going with it.

These words describe the reality of what living with an anxiety disorder looks like. At least for me, and some others I have talked to. But, I also know it's different for others, as anxiety disorders are a pretty broad category and everyone's experience of it is different.

But, it is a reality I've been living the last week or so. It's happened before and I'm sure it will happen again. Each time with a few more tools to use to get through the time than I had the last time. Sometimes these times last only a day; sometimes they could linger for weeks.

For a long time, I didn't tell people what was going on, because I wasn't sure I could handle however they responded. But, I've learned over the last few years that the right people will respond with love and support. And, I've realized how much I need those people in the times when I'm not okay.

This is probably the first time I've attempted to write a blog post in the midst of it. It can be challenging to make sure my words make sense in the middle of the chaos in my head right now. Some might even wonder why I would try and why I would share this now. I haven't done it in the past for exactly those reasons. But this time, I'm feeling compelled to do so.

I think this place I'm in right now is a place we don't talk about much because it's unresolved. I don't have a lesson I've learned from it to share yet. I don't know how it's going to end. I can't relay how God has used it for His glory yet.

But, I wonder if those are sometimes exactly what we need to talk more about. When we only talk about the end result, I wonder if we actually miss what God is doing. I wonder if we miss the beauty that is still there when things are unresolved and all we can do is cling to God and trust that He has plan to use it, even when we couldn't possibly see how yet.

So, let this be my encouragement to you today if you're in the middle of an unresolved and messy time: Look for the beauty of God in it now. Don't wait until you get to the other side to look for it.

I'm not saying it's easy to do. It's not something that will come naturally. But, I'm being reminded again now, that it changes everything when we look for God in it before we see the end. It's worth the effort, and it makes it possible to get through the messy times when we're not okay.

Blessing in the Struggle?

I've written a lot about the struggles and challenges of living with an anxiety disorder. I've tried to share honestly about what it looks like. In doing so, I've also started to see a side of it that I hadn't thought too much about before now. In the midst of the daily battle, it's easy to just see the challenges. But, as I've written more about it, I've begun to more clearly see the blessing in it and the way God is using it in my life.

Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." I've always struggled with this verse - especially in regards to this part of my life. If God is about working for my good, then why do I have this struggle in my life?

But, I've recently come to see that this verse isn't about God only allowing good things in our lives. It's about God taking all that happens in our lives and using it for good - for His purposes. He will take it and use it to bring Him glory in and with our lives.

As I've begun to grasp this, I still don't think I would say I'm thankful for this particular struggle. But, I am thankful that it doesn't mean God can't use me and I'm thankful for what He has done in me through this. I'm sure God could have taught me some of these lessons in other ways, but I know I've learned them, at least in part, because of living with social anxiety disorder.

One of the biggest things I've learned is that there's nothing that prevents God from using you. I know that in my own strength, I can't do a lot of what I do. It's all God choosing to use me that way despite something that would seem to disqualify me from doing that.

I've had to learn to rely on God in a deeper way than I would without this. On the days when I'm really struggling to just keep going, the only way I can do it to rely on God. Sometimes all I can do is pray and trust Him to do it when I can't.

As someone who likes to be able to do it well on their own, this hasn't always been easy. And I haven't always seen it as a blessing. For a long time I saw it just as a weakness. But lately, I've been learning that it's a blessing to be completely dependent on God for everything. It's how we were created to live, and it's a much better way than trying to do it all on our own.

Sometimes I Just Want to Avoid this Part of Church

Greeters at the door when you walk in the building.

Ushers at the door when you go to find a seat.

At some point during the service someone up front will tell you to introduce yourself to the people around you.

I get why. I see the importance of making sure everyone feels welcome. And it's part of being the family of God to actually get to know each other, and that often starts with a simple greeting. It is an important part of what we do as a church. If you came to the Bible study I lead on a Monday night, you would find me doing exactly these things.

But, it's also the part of church I struggle with the most. In a typical service, at least three times I feel like I have to make brief conversation with people I may or may not know. I'll be honest that I do my best to avoid it sometimes. Sometimes that's just easier for me, because of how I'm managing that day.

And, the unfortunate reality is that, sometimes, the responses of people when I do need to avoid that part that time are far from helpful. When I've chosen to sit down while everyone else is greeting each other, I've had some people make it a big deal about coming over to shake my hand then. Of course, I smile back and shake their hand, but inside I'm dying. I've had greeters follow me to make sure they say hi to me and shake my hand. Again, I respond in as friendly a manner as I can muster, but inside I'm wishing I could just run.

I don't assume people are trying to make things hard for me on purpose. My assumption is that they have a desire to make sure everyone feels welcome. And, in the process of doing so, they don't even realize that they're actually making me feel unwelcome. I can end up feeling singled out or overwhelmed - like there's something wrong with me because I sometimes have a need to avoid these types of interactions.

For me, it's the reality of living with social anxiety disorder and still being a part of a community. Some days when I go to something at church, I don't have the capability or capacity to engage in these sorts of interactions because it is taking all I have in me just to be there. I know I still need to be in church community, but, to manage, I will do my best to avoid these situations. I'm not trying to be rude, although I know it may look like it sometimes; I'm simply trying to have as normal a life as I possibly can.

And there are other times when I'll engage with these parts of church more readily. They may still be difficult for me, but that day isn't a struggle just to be there, so I have some capacity for this. And I know that the more I do so, when I'm able to, the more it will help to manage in the more difficult times.

I've spent a few days trying to figure out how to end this post, but really haven't been able to come up with a way to end. I'm not even sure there really is some neat conclusion or helpful advice I can end with. This is one of those things where we need to keep doing these things, because they are important. But, there are also always going to be people who struggle with them and try to avoid them.

When I think about my purpose in writing this post, which usually gives me some way of ending, I think it is about sharing an experience of things that falls outside of what many people experience. This isn't about just not enjoying these sorts of things and wishing they wouldn't happen. This is about an anxiety that comes in social situations that actually makes it more difficult to engage in these "normal activities."

Talking About It Despite The Fear

I guess this is becoming part in a bit of a series about anxiety (you can read part 1 and part 2 here) on here about this. When I wrote that first post, I never really intended to write more on it, but here we go.

One of the questions I've been asked recently is:
If it's so scary to out it out there for others to read, why do I do it?
If it's so easily misunderstood by people, why do I take the risk?

I guess my answer is that, while it's scary, it's also liberating. There's no longer a feeling of pretending in my life. There's no longer an added fear of being "found out" when something happens.

For the first 8 years after I was told I had social anxiety disorder I didn't tell anyone. I kept it to myself and just did my best to structure my life in a way that (at least I thought) wasn't overly obvious to people. But, about 3 years ago a series of events rendered that impossible to do anymore. Everything became too much for me to manage on my own. As it impacted more and more areas of my carefully structured life, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore.

I no longer had a choice about telling people. Those first conversations terrified me (even more than the first post I wrote a couple of weeks on this), but afterwards I felt a sort of freedom I hadn't expected. There's something powerful about letting other people into your biggest struggles. I was no longer alone in it. And I found incredible love and support in those people I told.

As I moved slowly beyond that time and was able to manage better again, I realized my biggest help had come from being open about my struggle with this. That inviting and allowing other people in was important. I also realized how many others may be struggling with the same things we are, but staying quiet because we thing no one else will understand.

I was also painfully aware of the stigma that still often comes with any kind of mental health struggle - both inside and outside of the church. And I knew the only way this would change would be for people to keep talking about it, so we can one day change the conversation about it.

All of that is why I choose to continue to talk about this. Keeping it to myself didn't help me, it doesn't help others, and it will never change the conversations we have about it. The changes when we talk about it, despite the fear and misunderstanding. Our silence leaves everything the same.

So I choose to keep talking about this, despite the fear. I will talk about this despite the comments that all it would take to be "cured" is more faith in God and more prayer (believe me, I pray and I believe God can heal me of this, but it hasn't happened yet). I will talk about this despite the times other misunderstand what I'm trying to say.

But, mostly, I will talk about this because it brings freedom - for me and for others. Keeping silent about our struggles binds us up. When we talk about them, freedom can come.

Why it's Scary to Admit to Anxiety?

I've been thinking a lot about the post I wrote last week and why it was really so terrifying to hit publish. What makes it so hard to let people know that I deal with this on a daily basis? Why was I hesitant to share in that way?

The more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that it really does come down to the way it is seen by some people . . . and, unfortunately, especially the way it's seen by some people in the church. We talk often about the stigma associated with mental illness in our society, and our need to remove it. We've made great strides in this - both inside and outside of the church.

But, there have definitely been times when it has been easier to let the stranger in the grocery store or the coffee shop know what was going on when I'm struggling with anxiety when I'm out, then it has been to let someone at church know. This reality saddens me. The place where it should be easiest to admit my struggle is often actually the most difficult.

So, why is this the case? What is going on here?

I'm going to say that most of the challenge comes from the multiple meanings of the word anxiety. It's a word that is used to mean anything from the worries of everyday life to crippling fear and worry that interferes with the ability to live a "normal life." Most of the people I've talked to about this in the church understand the first definition, but they miss the other possible definition.

When someone is talking about the worries of everyday life, then it is perfectly reasonable to talk to them about praying and giving them over to God - about how Scripture tells us not to worry about tomorrow - and leave it at that. Scripture's prescription for this kind of anxiety is abundantly clear.

But, when it's a life-altering level of anxiety? When it's anxiety that interferes with the ability to live and do the things everyone else does?

Absolutely, the truth of Scripture still applies. But, when we stop there, we leave those who live with this type of anxiety feeling less than, or like their problem isn't seen as being real. It can make you feel like less of a Christian because the "solution" that people are giving doesn't work for you.

I don't want to discount the truth of Scripture, or the role that doing what Philippians 4:6-7 says plays in my ability to manage my anxiety. The truth of Scripture is powerful to change thinking and I don't want to minimize it.

But, when I'm struggling with my anxiety in the moment, I don't need Scripture basically just thrown at me as the solution to my problem. It's not actually going to help. 

I also don't want to make it sound like the church always gets this wrong. Many in the church handle this well. They truly care and support and try to understand. I get that it's hard to understand what it's like and I might not always be able to explain it well. But, I'm appreciative of those who try.

So, how do we fix this?

1) Don't assume you know what someone means when they say they're struggling with anxiety. Ask questions to get a better understanding of what they mean.

2) Don't rush to offer you solution to their problem. Even when you feel like you have a suggestion that might help, offering it right away will actually be counter-productive.

3) Listen to what they're saying and care about what's going on. A listening ear makes a big difference. Often just being there makes all the difference.

No Idea What to Call This

As I stood to the side and looked out over the busy room - the church gym transformed into a place for a women's conference - I was reminded of a conversation I had a little less than 15 years ago. A conversation where I was told that I likely wouldn't be able to do what I was doing that weekend. Attending a women's conference with more than 170 women at it was not supposed to be something I could manage, let alone also helping to put the event on.

You see, I was told I had Social Anxiety Disorder in that conversation. As I've chosen to talk about this more in the last few years, I've discovered that many people don't know what this is, don't understand what I mean when I say that.

There's a lot of good information out there about it, but it doesn't seem to be very widely understood. For the sake of clarity and simplicity, I'm going to share the definition of it from the Social Anxiety Association:

"Social anxiety is the fear of social situations that involve interactions with other people. You could say social anxiety is the fear and anxiety of being negatively judged and evaluated by other people. It is a pervasive disorder and causes anxiety and fear in most all areas of a person's life." 

It is the third most common mental health issue in the world today. And 7% of the population (including in the church) is dealing with it at any moment, and 13% will at some point in their lives.

Now that we've established some basic facts, on to my purpose in writing this post . . .

I'm incredibly appreciative of the friends I have who have learned what this looks like for me and how they can support when I'm in settings like this women's conference. They're a large part of what makes it possible for me to be a part of them. Even though these types of events are exhausting for me, I'm grateful I can be a part of them.

As I speak up more about this battle in my life, I frequently realize how little about it is understood by so many in the church. Despite the facts about its prevalence that I share above anxiety disorders often seem to be misunderstood in Christian circles.

I think a lot of the misunderstanding comes from the word anxiety having multiple meanings in how we use it and we're not always clear on the differences. Everyone has moments when they feel anxiety over something. The difference is that, for most people most of the time, it doesn't interfere with their ability to do things. They're not so paralyzed by it they can't move on from it.

I can't even begin to count the number of times well-meaning people have quoted Philippians 4:6-7 or 1 Peter 5:7, or any other myriad of Scriptures when they find out I struggle with anxiety. Don't get me wrong, those verses contain great truth. Truth I cling to when my mind is going crazy. Truth that does help me to calm my mind sometimes. They remind me of what I need to be doing, and they're a part of how I function everyday.

There is a spiritual aspect to all of this and it absolutely must be dealt with if I'm going to be able to live a full life. But, for me, and for others who also live with this, it goes beyond that. The physical and mental part of this is just as important to deal with as the spiritual part. Whether it be medication or counselling or some combination of that, we cannot ignore that this is a part of dealing with this in our lives.

I guess I'm writing this to try to explain some realities, but as I put this out there, I'm also realizing that it doesn't do much good if I don't get to something practical.


So, what can or should you do when someone you know is battling an anxiety disorder?

1) Ask them what they need from you in social settings that make their battle more difficult. 

They likely know what others can do that helps, but they're not going to ask, because that opens them up to being negatively judged, which is part of their anxiety. When you offer, you're letting them know you're not negatively judging them.

2) Be patient - even when it's awkward.

Maybe, especially when it's awkward.

Sometimes I'll be managing okay in a situation, until I'm not. I can't predict when that will happen and I often can't see it coming until I'm at the point where I can't manage anymore. I know it's awkward when that happens. It's why I go through seasons where I just avoid everything. But, avoiding everything doesn't help, it makes it worse. When I have people around me who are patient when my anxiety makes things awkward, it makes it easier for me to manage the next thing.

So, be patient. Stay with them. Let them know, that's not enough to make you leave.

3) Don't be afraid to lovingly, gently speak the truth.

When my anxiety gets going, I know my thought patterns are ridiculous and full of lies, but I often can't stop them myself. That's when I need people in my life who will gently and lovingly remind me of the truth.

Don't yell it. Don't try to argue me into believing it. But keep speaking it. And remind me that I need to speak it out loud too. Eventually it will get through and help.

4) Don't decide that this struggle means they can't be there for you.

Just because we have a struggle in this area of our lives doesn't mean we're not capable of supporting you in whatever you're going through. We all need friendships where the love and support goes both ways. Let us be there for you when you have a need, the same way you're there for us when we have a need.


Obviously, every person is different, so every person's battle with anxiety is different, but I think these suggestions are general enough for everyone. That's why I started with asking the person what would help them.

I know these things make a difference, because I have friends who do these things all the time. Ultimately, it's God Who makes it possible for me to be part of a team to put on a women's conference. But, He often chooses to use those around me to be the way He does that. I'm incredibly grateful for the community I have.

Something we don't Talk about Enough

I've started and deleted this post probably 100 times in the last few months. I haven't actually been sure what to say or how to say it when it comes to talking about what this post is about. But, the prompting that I need to write this won't go away.

Until the last couple of years, I don't think I've ever talked about this about at all - except with a few people that were very carefully chosen. Up to that point, I'd mostly been able to hide what was going on from others, but at that point I couldn't hide it any longer. I had to let other people know, and in the process discovered how freeing it was to share and allow others into that part of my journey.

But, inviting others in didn't come without risks. It required being vulnerable. It required letting others know without knowing how to they would handle that information. It required removing a wall that I've always lived behind with people. It meant I was going to have to decide that the potential stigma of it wasn't going to stop me.

But, it also came with benefits. When it was no longer a secret, some of the power of it was lost. I discovered that being vulnerable about it with the right people actually led to deeper connections with people, and a willingness from them to share their own struggles. Sharing it with others brought a freedom I didn't know it was possible to have.

Sharing it here invites a whole new aspect of it. I don't necessarily get to pick the people who read this and who would now know. I think that's part of what has caused me to start and delete this post so many times. It's more risk to share, but I'm learning the importance of choosing to talk about these things.

I think so much of the stigma that exists around this - especially in the church - exists because we don't talk about it. We have to learn to talk about it. It affects so many more people than we realize. And, the only way we get to truly be able to find what healing looks like for us is to talk about it. We have to bring it out of the dark, so that the light can shine on it.

Mental illness and the conversations we need to have around it are happening more and more in our society, and they're beginning to happen in the church with greater frequency. That's a good thing. We need these conversations to happen, because we need to learn how to handle this better.

I've discovered that when we look around any given church gathering we find ourselves at there are more people around us struggling with it than we realize. Most of the time, we won't even realize they're struggling when we look at them or talk to them. They seem to live pretty normal lives and do all the things we would expect. But, what we don't know, unless they choose to share, is the struggles happening under the surface - the challenges they face to be in that place, to live what we would consider to be a normal life.

That's been me for most of my life. Living with an anxiety disorder. Most of the time I'm still able to manage reasonably well. I've been lucky in that regard - some people have a much more difficult time than me with the same thing. But, that doesn't mean it's always easy for me to be where I am or do what I'm doing. Often is a large group setting I'm hanging on, but not by much. This is one of those places where I've realized the importance of having people in my world who know my struggle. They may not always know exactly what my experience feels like, but I know they care about me and want to be there for me. Most of the time I manage fine and no one looking at me who doesn't know would even guess.

So, what do we do with the whole topic of mental illness and the church?

We need to talk about it.
We need to share.
We need to love.
We need to support.
We need to encourage.
And most of all, we need to be the family for each other that we're called to be in Scripture. That includes all of these things, and so much more.

Maybe Healing Looks Different Sometimes

I read an article recently that made me think. It related to a very personal experience for me. One I haven't spoken about directly in this format before . . . or really spoken about much to more than a small group of people in my life.

When you live with anxiety, it's not usually a topic of regular discussion. There really seems to be some deep misunderstandings about what it actually means for the person living with it. And, like the article I read says, some of the things that are said by others or suggestions of how to solve the problem are far from helpful. And they assume things that aren't true.

For a while, I've been thinking about what it might actually mean for God to heal someone, and I've been wondering if our definition of healing might be too narrow. We tend to see healing as only having happened if we're completely free of whatever it was we asked God to heal us or another person of. But, what if that's not all it is?

What if healing sometimes means being able to live what most would call a "normal life" while still living with something such as anxiety? What if healing means learning how to live the life God has for you while still having the struggle?

I think that sometimes, it's when we live with the ongoing struggle, but still live life to the full that we're actually living more of the life God created us to live. It makes us more dependent on God to get through each day.

And we need to learn to see this as God healing, as much as being permanently freed from something. Yes, that is what healing can be. But, what if healing also looks like learning to live a life where you're not held back by something like anxiety? It doesn't mean we never have moments of battling with it, but it means we learn to manage it and to deal with it properly in the moments when it begins to rise again.

This doesn't mean we don't pray for complete healing of something. It doesn't mean we don't desire to be completely freed from it. But, sometimes on this side of eternity, we're not going to see things completely made right because we live in a broken world.

Words we Use Talking about Mental Illness

I've been watching some discussions about mental illness take place on Facebook recently. I've been encouraged by the courage of many in talking about their own struggles with mental illness. And I've been shocked at some of the responses they've received - many of them the very reason why this isn't talked about in the church often enough.

As someone who has been there myself and has walked alongside others in their struggle, I know it's difficult to talk about openly. For all the ground we've gained, there is still a lot of stigma around mental illness. And, sadly, that stigma often seems greater in the church.

To some degree I understand. If you've never dealt with mental illness yourself, it can be hard to understand. I didn't really understand it until I faced it myself. Then I was able to more easily alongside others who were struggling, with the love and grace they needed.

I think the part of the online discussions I've been struggling with the most is the implication that a person with mental illness would be cured if they just had more faith and prayed more. Can those things help someone struggling with mental illness? Absolutely. But to imply (and sometimes, out-right state) that's all they need is destructive.

Some of the people I know who had the greatest faith and the most intimate prayer lives are also those who are in the midst of the some of the deepest battles with mental illness. Telling someone they need to have more faith and pray more to be cured does nothing more than make light of a legitimate struggle.

In the case of any other kind of illness we would definitely pray for God to heal the person, but we would also encourage the person to see appropriate medical help. Why do we treat mental illness any differently?

I guess the thing I'm looking for in all of these discussions I've seen, that often seems to be missing, is the love and care for one another that Scripture teaches. Yes, there are times when we need to speak some hard truth to each other, but that should never come at the expense of loving and caring for one another. It should be part of it.

I would say that even when we're participating in discussions on social media of any kind, maybe even especially there, we need to be careful not to use our words in the destructive way I've been seeing them used lately. When someone admits to a struggle with mental illness, we need to respond with care and love. Being supportive of their struggle and their journey back to health.

What if, instead of telling people what they should do when they admit a struggle with mental illness, we listened? And we cared? And we offered love and support?