Staying Connected: Lindsey Stack
I’ve been walking around with a tightness in my chest that ebbs and flows. It’s a familiar tightness, one I am well-acquainted with as someone who has lived a majority of her life medicated for anxiety.
I find myself falling into pits that last an hour or a day where I imagine all the terrible scenarios, each “How bad could this get?” of our current circumstances. My chest tightens more. I close the bathroom door to hide a few tears from my kids and, on a good day, tell the kids I need to listen to a song that reminds me that Jesus loves me. In the midst of feeling consumed by my anxiety, I sometimes gaze down on myself as a judgmental onlooker and think, “So many other people have more valid, more current, more dire challenges than you. Snap out of it!”
I was thinking last night about fear, wondering if God is looking at my anxious, pit-dwelling self and telling me to “Snap out of it!” I got to thinking about my own kids who regularly come out of their rooms after bedtime with various irritating anecdotes and needs they should’ve addressed 30 minutes ago. My typical response to them is annoyance and anger that they are encroaching on my sacred time but when my kids come to my room because they are frightened, it is different. I melt for them. I walk with them to their room. I sit with them and talk with them until they feel safe. Sometimes they are too scared to walk the dark space between their bedroom and mine so they call out. In these moments, I know what their fear sounds like and I run to them.
Could it be that this is how God cares for me?
The reality is, like a small child, I am still really, REALLY afraid of the dark. I am afraid of the shadowy corners of life that contain imagined and unknown dangers. I craft narratives of what lurks nearby until I’m too scared to do anything but call out to a loving parent. My loving Father doesn’t turn me away. He does want me to gaze upon others in need, but He also deeply cares about my need, my frightened need for His presence, reassurance and gentle care.
I am asking that God would help me believe this. That I might find rest in Him rather than in some external assurance that things will be better soon. Things might still feel dark and the dark might still feel scary but He sees me, He knows what my fear sounds like, and with compassion He comforts me.
During this time when we can't be in the same physical space, it's important that we make an intentional effort to stay connected in other ways. We would love for you to write a blog post or record a brief video or audio update sharing what this strange time is like for you and how you are seeking (and seeing!) Jesus in the midst of it. We hope to share these posts via this email newsletter, our website, and our social media channels.
If you have something you'd like to share, email it to Val (val@citychurchrva.com) or contact her with ideas, suggestions, or questions.