Recently I accidentally locked myself in a tiny bathroom in a 100-year-old house on the cliffs of northern California. The house was empty, my phone had just died, and no one in our group would return for a couple hours. It’s amazing how quickly one’s brain and body can process this sort of information. Within five seconds, I panicked.
I looked up, and noticed a small window. If I hoisted myself up on the toilet just right, I could barely squeeze through, so I did. Once out, I forced back tears, up high on the ledge, before scaling to the ground as I trembled with adrenaline.
After such an experience, I could focus on how frail I still am, five years after a season of struggling with panic disorder. But instead, I chose to focus on the fact that Jesus made a way out. Through the past few years, when faced with anxiety, the words of David became my cry: “In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears . . . He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters . . . He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me” (Ps. 18:6, 16, 19, NIV). And in some special and rare moments, I would feel “perfect peace” (Isa. 26:3)—when all was still and Jesus was close. Where the weight of the responsibility faded to black and the still waters and green pastures of Psalm 23 became front and center.
Today I’m reminded that we can never know peace without the Prince of Peace because Jesus is our peace. His very presence, alone, calms the raging storm, as we fix our eyes and step out of the boat. So if you feel like you’re carrying weight that’s sucking the air from your lungs, Jesus simply says, “Release.” It may not feel easy, but it will open wide the gates for his presence to fill.
Rebekah Lyons is the author of You Are Free: Be Who You Already Are (Zondervan) and cofounder of Q Ideas. Learn more at RebekahLyons.com.
