Anxiety and Peace

“These things have I spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Here at one and the same time Christ our God promises us two seemingly opposite experiences. Can peace and tribulation be compatible?

Today’s world is so desperate for peace it will even wage war if necessary to preserve what it considers peace. The West seeks a personal peace, especially a peace of mind for which it is felt the various freedoms of democracy are required—freedom of worship, freedom of press, and so on. As Christians we, too, are caught up in this kind of thinking, so that it permeates our desires. Another, far more subtle influence on us is psychiatric philosophy which stresses peace of mind through freedom from anxiety. According to the popular concept, things are bad not because of their essential nature, but rather if and to the degree that they create anxiety-producing conflicts. Adultery as such is not evil according to this belief, but the conflicts in the wish-defense system resulting from a puritanical upbringing are. We can avoid such tension, we are told, by adjusting to the realities of society, an adjustment that often involves relinquishing what is termed our “unrealistic morals.” Obviously Christians often find themselves in the dilemma, then, of not wanting anxiety but of not wanting to adjust to a sick society either.

Why do people so dislike anxiety? (Often the term mental anxiety is used in the same sense as physical pain.) Basically fear of the unknown, and conditions of uncertainty upset us. The great American psychoanalyst, Harry S. Sullivan, has said that any remembered or anticipated event that tends to lower one’s self-esteem among others brings about anxiety. He claims that while we spend many waking hours simply avoiding anxiety, no adequate behavior pattern exists for relieving anxiety. Besides the pain of anxiety people fear what anxiety and its causes will do to their personalities and to their chances of success. Mankind dislikes anxiety because it reveals the presence of some unmet “need.” It represents the tension of some unsatisfied “drive.” We might very well ask, however, does pain have any value? Is it harmful not to know for sure? Are the needs we experience real, are these drives innate and therefore necessary?

1. Christians pay a high price to avoid anxiety. The high price to be paid to avoid this anxiety is having to adjust to the norm of an essentially sick society. If we wish to avoid the embarrassment of being called a “square” we must conform to the standard behavior of our immediate society whether this be the apparent righteousness of the good middle class or the apparent nonconforming of the beatniks. In our society, to be unpopular shows something is wrong with a person. It is very difficult to resist the unstated but very real and strong pressures of close-living society and of mass media. Let’s face it—to be popular you must be similar to those of that group. To a great extent, our feeling of worth comes from how much others praise us. We hate to lose face, and our feeling of importance; we don’t want our ego punctured, we don’t want to be corrected. We would rather be dishonest than considered a “sucker” for returning incorrect change. Even on Sunday we rush around like the rest of the world to allay our anxiety with recreation.

2. To avoid anxiety Christians often push aside the responsibility of making decisions. Or we hurry them through without proper thought, simply to get them out of the way. Just look at the stupendous sale of how-to books of advice—how to bring up children, how to make friends and influence people, how to eat to be healthy, how and what to read, how to live comfortably on only $50,000 a year! Such books are more numerous and popular than any other kind. Men want some “father image” to guide them in what to think or do, be it Kennedy or Khrushchev, and usually conform unless some uncomfortable situation will result. This tendency to shirk decision-making is seen among Christians who claim, and appear to be, seeking God’s guidance but who act primarily on the basis of circumstances. By the easier course of following the dictates of closing and opening doors, they become the victims of circumstance rather than responsible determiners of policy and practice.

3. To avoid anxiety and mental anguish, men seek comfort in a variety of escapes. They travel to get away from their troubles, sleep to forget their labors, entertain to erase their sorrows and drink to banish their fears. They try desperately hard to be happy. This mood even touches churches where jokes and happy, snappy songs enliven the congregation. Such procedure often avoids the pain of God’s probing light of truth. On the other hand, those are no better who, afflicting themselves through neurotic introspection, evade the anxieties of real problems by seeing only the evil they wish to see.

From the time we begin earning money we save for a radio, some gadget or a trip and offer many reasons for our action. Basically, however, these things are supposedly the answer to whatever troubles us. And all of us seem to be troubled. Why do we need a big, roomy house and car, why do we need a hobby, why do we need recreation and travel? Why? So we won’t become overworked, overanxious and sick! This is the modern, popular American philosophy of life. Reared in this atmosphere we Christians tend to accept this pattern, too. But, you say, this is natural, this is to be expected. Unfortunately, humanly speaking, I am inclined to agree with you. But just how much of this is really natural? Just how far can the Christian go in his natural pursuit of natural things to allay anxiety? Is there possibly some other way? For someone who wants to avoid anxiety the logical conclusion is simply to do nothing. But is this natural? Or is it another of desperate humanity’s vain attempts to be happy, when physical and mental pain are ubiquitous and inevitable, and when the fear of possibly soon, sudden death is being continually forced into awareness?

We have peace! “… my peace I give unto you!” said Christ, “not as the world giveth, give I unto you” (John 14:27). This peace is distinctly different. It is not freedom from anxiety, nor the peace of comfort, nor the peace of peace treaties. Rather, in the peace of Jesus Christ: (1) We have freedom from enslaving sin and from oppressing guilt. We can rest fully in Christ’s finished work for us. (2) We have a fully satisfying purpose for living, namely, God’s glory. We have love as the all-encompassing motivation. We have Christ in us as the strength to live this life. (3) We have the promise of personal safety and knowledge of our future, gifts that no human system can provide. “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep! for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety” (Ps. 4:8). We have no fear of uselessness and of eventual oblivion. The Christian knows that so long as God can use him here, he will be kept for service and in the state that God thinks best. These and other assurances support the believer. Why then should we be anxious?

Anxiety—that fearful anticipation of some future unpleasantness—is inevitable. Anyone who attempts to make the right decision, anyone who wants to do what is right, experiences anxiety. Because he has a special desire to live righteously, the Christian, therefore, in many respects has greater than usual anxiety. What are some of the uniquely Christian anxieties?

1. A Christian is commanded to love his neighbor as himself. Whenever he makes a personal decision, therefore, he must consider his neighbor’s welfare as well. Shall I buy a new car or should I use the money to help an alcoholic’s needy wife and family? Even in the use of our time we must choose perhaps between spending it for our own spiritual refreshing, listening to a fine preacher or serving an embryo church. Bearing one another’s burdens involves concern. For such things the world shows no real concern; the Christian must.

2. A Christian has been converted: he is a born-again, new creation and thus basically different from others. While his physical form has not changed, his manner of life shows changes because he no longer seeks his own, but God’s glory. Such God-ward living involves a suffering which the world does not know. Christ, however, has given us the reason and the pattern for this experience: “For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps” (1 Pet. 2:21). This was more than just physical suffering. As he prayed and anticipated the awfulness of the world’s sin to be borne by his holy person, Christ sweated “as it were great drops of blood.” As Christians we are essentially different and tend to live differently; therefore we are basically not popular. If we are living as Christians and people elect us to public office, they do so because of our ability and integrity rather than for our affability. Should we first of all seek to be well liked, it would mean hiding or demeaning our basic differentness. No worldly person likes to have his essentially selfish nature revealed by contrast. In any group, different people disturb the desired complacent uniformity of that group and therefore tend to be extruded and made to be scapegoats. While the world fears loneliness, Christians should not be disturbed at being without friends in the popular sense. In their seeming aloneness they have opportunity to experience more fully the fellowship of Christ.

Because he seeks God’s glory the Christian must discipline his body and mind. The earthly nature rebels against attempts to check its “needs,” and the Christian, like others, recognizes the presence of desires, for example, to enjoy free expression of libidinal drives. Christians also experience anxiety about witnessing because this activity really marks us as being different. Yet we must remember that when we withhold the message of salvation from someone in order to avoid personal embarrassment, we may be denying a sincere seeker his only route to true peace.

3. When he seeks fellowship with God, a Christian often experiences the opposition of Satanic forces. He encounters interference with his determination to study the Bible and pray for growth and strength. To face these difficulties honestly, however, is far better than to yield to proffered short cuts. There are no Ten Easy Steps to Study the Gospels, or to spiritual maturity, for that matter. There is at times the anxiety of doubt, especially during intensive learning. “How do we know, can we prove there is a God? Am I really a depraved creature or suffering from some kind of a complex? Why should God allow suffering and tragedy?” If we honestly commit our entire beings to God we are bound to experience some apprehension. “Will his way be hard, will it be one of suffering?” we ask. Even the strong in faith may have qualms over some new missionary venture.

4. Despite the fact that we are admonished to confess our faults one to another, a Christian still tends to fear being seen as he really is. Thus the Christian must face the anxieties of making right decisions, being different in the world’s groups, committing himself to God who is sometimes not easily seen, and exposing himself to God’s searching truth.

These are some of the most common anxieties and anxiety-producing situations that confront every courageous Christian. Actually the absence of anxiety may often be the happy delusion of Satan!

Anxiety has genuine value. Like pain in the body it warns of further discomfort or trouble. Anxiety may occur when conflict arises between the new spiritually oriented and the old physically oriented natures about satisfying some innate drive. Or it may occur when some directive of God disturbs our present comfortable state. In any case we should face and examine the anxiety to determine its cause and implications. When a conflict involves us we usually discover it develops from our dislike of accepting or deciding on something that will make us uncomfortable.

We usually interpret affliction in the Bible as meaning physical suffering. Actually, however, the word also involves the concept of fear. In fact, Job and David more often mention suffering in terms of mental anguish than of actual physical hurt. Often God uses affliction to remind us of our inadequacies and failures, of our need for his forgiveness and enabling. Anxiety often stimulates as well as reveals spiritual growth. It helps us dissociate ourselves from the physical mind and body and to live “in the Spirit.”

But there is also a type of chronic or neurotic anxiety that is not only useless but unchristian as well. It is neurotic when it is absurd in terms of reality when it is based on unreal fears or fantasy. Instead of being an aid to learning and growth it becomes instead a destructive and vicious enemy. It is true that many anxiety-producing conflicts are repressed, that is, unconsciously pushed out of awareness. For many Christians, however, the causes of conflict are quite apparent, especially when examined in the light of God’s Word. Yet they prefer to dabble in the usual anxieties of society instead of dealing with their problems realistically because to do so might impinge on the amount of comfort they have allowed themselves. This kind of conflict explains how in our country a big car is considered a necessity while in many cold places of the world shoes are a luxury. Yet we are aware of Christ’s command to love our neighbor, the man whose need we see and know, as ourselves. Are spiritual values real? If so, we ought to discard the confining neurotic fear of what people think or will think and do our duty in the firm assurance that it is God who “fighteth our battles.” Let us not hide under the neurotic comfort of society’s conformity but openly face the real conflicts of spiritual warfare.

The man who excels physically is the man who can hear the discomforts of rigorous training. Anxiety tolerance is a similar discipline. I have often seen the young, apparently healthy, male college student work far into the night to pack shining new gear and necessities against hunger and cold for his first mountain climbing expedition. In the early morning his companion waits impatiently while our hero fortifies himself with a hearty breakfast. The friend’s worn boots, frayed jacket, battered ice axe and other equipment are evidence of perhaps extensive experience in this rugged sport. At the base of the mountain our hero enthusiastically strides ahead. In less than 500 feet he must rest his aching feet, ease the unnecessarily heavy load from his aching back and quench his terrible thirst at a nearby stream. He grumbles about the heat, the mosquitoes and the underbrush. He never notices his companion’s preoccupation with a delicately fashioned wildflower. When they finally reach the alpine lake where they will camp, our hero collapses onto the damp grass, shuts his eyes and groans, stirring only to swat at the insects. His friend meanwhile, having spread his sleeping bag in the shadow of a rock, wanders across the flowered meadow, marvels at the grandeur of the encircling peaks and mentally picks tomorrow’s route. During the night our hero jumps in fear at every crack of a twig; his friend, after gazing into the depths of a star-strewn eternity, commits himself to the safe keeping of his Creator-God and falls asleep.

Toiling on the rocks and ice the next day our hero in the same puffs loudly bemoans his full stomach and questions the charting of the route. He sees another gully that is far less steep. What he doesn’t see are the falling rocks that periodically funnel into it. As the ridge narrows he becomes frightened; he shuts his eyes, thereby hindering his sense of balance. Taking his leader’s proffered hand, he is nevertheless afraid to rest his weight on it, trusting rather the crumbling rock under his own hand. He wants to untie the rope and quit the climb but the leader restrains him from this dangerous folly. Oh, if only he had never left the comforts of home! At the summit his agony is so acute he can think of nothing but the pain and danger of the descent and completely misses the panorama of glaciers and mountains.

You may say the men differed in physical stamina and in courage. Yes, they probably did. At the same time the leader of the party also experienced the discomfort of sore feet, and so on, and fear of the steep ridge. In fact, he saw far more of the real dangers and had the worry of his friend’s safety besides. The real difference between the men is that the leader, engrossed in the far greater significance of the surrounding beauty and of sharing the climb with his friend, overlooked his discomforts. Furthermore, each successive encounter with the rigors of mountain climbing developed greater confidence in the God who enabled him to overcome his anxieties.

I do not consider peace and anxiety incompatible. Personal peace of course will be perfect and complete only when at last we reach the Land that is fairer than day. Meantime, however, while still subject to temptations and infirmities, we jeopardize our power and peace by trying to avoid anxiety. God knows our limitations. Why not let him undertake for us instead of trying to protect our comfort. “Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you” (1 Pet. 5:7). Despite our desire to do so we fail to accept his invitation. We fear greater anxieties await us, if we fully yield ourselves to His care and leading.

Perhaps we’re cowards. Although we’re in a hot war we want to play ostrich like everyone else and pretend all is well. To avoid conflict spells defeat. On the other hand, victory may be ours from the very outset of our conflict through Christ. He promises us victory because he has already conquered and is still conquering in our behalf. We ought to seek peace but not the spiritually corrupting coexistence the Israelites tolerated in their promised land. While it may seem paradoxical, to cast off society’s enslaving worries about physical and mental ease and to accept instead the rigorous anxieties of spiritual warfare will bring true peace of which Christ is the Prince. “Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls” (Matt. 11:29).

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