There is breath in my lungs,
yet death at my door.
My heart is strong, and beating,
yet it trembles, weak.
Today life, joy, happiness.
Tomorrow chaos, fear, worry.
The closer I get to the cross,
the more I find I need it, and
the further away
I sink in the horrors of this world,
a Hand grabs me.
The Hand of the One who has
felt what I feel,
beat what destroys me,
is strong, steady,
penned August 28th, 2018
I wrote this during a quiet time, in the middle of feeling a lot of weight on me.
The prayer that I wrote out immediately after writing this can be found here.
This describes more or less the dichotomous nature of my fight with anxiety. Or rather my dichotomous state while I try to fight it.
I have my faith in Jesus. At this point, all that I am and all that I have is in Him, kinda whether I like it or not (I do like it though). And there is so much hope in that. I can see beauty in this life that might’ve otherwise escaped me. I would find joy where others might only find frustration and anger. It is a truly life changing thing to experience the peace and hope of Christ.
Yet like a Yang to my Yin, Anxiety does a pretty good job countering it at every turn. I know that Jesus is better, greater, stronger, and ultimately has already beaten it, and so through Him, so have I, but if I’m being honest, it hardly ever feels like its been beaten. I’m the one often feeling like I’ve been beaten.
This poem is sort of a microcosm of my fight, and also a picture of a singular moment.
I will go back and forth, peace and chaos, joy and fear, and as I try to draw myself nearer to Jesus, I find how broken I am come even more to light. It will seem like all is lost, and that I will never live in any manner other than fear, to be controlled and held captive by it, until I am reminded of the one who is in control, REAL control. It is the hand of that person that pulls me from the dark.