I don’t remember being particularly afraid of the dark as a child. It’s more of an adult-onset condition. And, of course, it’s not the dark itself that’s scary. I tend to have many anxious thoughts around bedtime–the time of day when everything finally settles down and I’m supposed to be able to rest. Only I’ve found that as my body begins to relax, my mind picks up the pace. So long as there are other things I need to focus on, I don’t have the time or energy to devote to my worries. But at the end of the day, when nothing else is happening, all the anxious thoughts I’ve kept at bay come rushing out to attack.
Last night was rough. I was panicky and shaking as I tried to relax in bed. DH asked me what I was worried about. I started going through my laundry list of failures and the fears that I must be reaching the outer limits of God’s grace and my body’s ability to withstand the stress I can’t seem to diffuse and the charity of society as a whole. He chuckled. I recognized how ridiculous my thoughts must appear from the outside of my head.
DH reminded me that the concerns I found most troubling were rooted in lies–the lie that tells me I’m not worth the effort it takes to love me and the lie that says I’m not doing a good enough job fulfilling my responsibilities. I know I’m not supposed to worry about anything. But how do I do that? How can I let go of these things that cause me anxiety?
This is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence: If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. (I John 3:19-20, NIV)
You speak truth over my life. Help me to listen to Your truth about who I am, and remember that I belong to You. Help me to know that You are greater than any of my fears, any of my sins, any of my insecurities. Thank You for loving me and taking care of me and even listening to me cry out because I’ve chosen to believe that the me You made isn’t very valuable. Let me rest in You, always.