“Our anxiety does not come from thinking about the future, but from wanting to control it.” ~Samantha Gluck
 
“Anxiety is suffering that is yet to find its meaning.” ~ Carl Jung
 
“I sought the Lord, and he heard me; he delivered me from all my fears.” ~ Psalm 34:4
 

In the early morning as the morning sun flickers through the trees I sit outside soaking in nature. Melodious birdsong fills the air. I smile as Barry battles with the cockatoos that attempt to demolish our mandarin tree. The cockatoos are currently winning! My heart is soothed and filled with praise, as I soak in God’s creation. It is a pleasant antidote to anxiety.

In the last blog we discovered that the causes of anxiety can be biological, psychological or spiritual. Mostly it is a combination, as significantly, counselling has been found to assist sufferers to deal with their anxiety. But how can we understand anxiety from a faith perspective? Matthew 8:23-27 (NIV) indicates how we naturally turn to worry rather than to God: 

And when [Jesus] got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even the winds and sea obey him?” 

Jesus’ question remains: “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith.” The Message version translates the question as: “Why are you such cowards, such faint-hearts?”
 
Maybe Janet’s* story can shed light on this question and how anxiety might be a flight from desire. Janet seeks counselling for severe, high-functioning anxiety. Frequently doubting her salvation, she wonders if she prayed the right prayer to God when she was saved or if she has, or will somehow commit the unpardonable sin. She fears the unexpected and uncontrollable.
 
Janet’s mother died when she was seven years old. While her mother was ill and dying, Janet was forbidden to enter her mother’s room. Returning from school one day she was told about her mother’s death and was prevented from attending the funeral. Her mother was never mentioned again – it was as if she never existed. Janet’s father shut down and essentially left her alone to do the best she could. Janet’s mother’s death was unexpected for two reasons. First, it happened early in Janet’s development and she could not see it coming. As a result, she has always felt intensely vulnerable. Second, the event was uncontrollable because Janet could do nothing to prevent the unexpected from happening. Her mother’s death caused a deep wound that symbolised profound abandonment. The enemy, who likes to kill, steal and destroy (John 10:10), used this deep wound by telling her that she now needed to be constantly fearful and alert because she was on her own – helpless, vulnerable, alone and ignored by her father.
 
As an adult, Janet flees from her deep desire to be seen and known. However, Janet believes that what she desires most will most likely never happen, therefore she has to be vigilant and in control. She constantly looks about to see the bad in life and expects the worst. Hyper-vigilance, pessimism, negativity, sadness, distrust and panic attacks pervade her life and damage her relationships. Watching the news on television reinforces her belief that the world is depraved, corrupt and cruel. Her image of herself is that of a homeless, broken woman, sleeping on the streets and foraging in the bins for the leftovers discarded from the abundant lives of others. As a spiritual leader, no one would ever guess her inner struggle, as the way she feels inside is very different to the way she presents on the outside. Janet compensates for her fear of loss by posing as a competent, aggressive, strong and in control woman.
 
Core Beliefs
 
Janet’s primary threat is to her sense of self. In essence, her core, primary belief planted and nurtured by the enemy is, “My survival depends on certain events not happening, so I must be vigilant to remain safe.” Her goal to be safe and in control contradicts her experience that life is uncontrollable. When her husband attempts to argue the probability of something bad happening or rationalises her fear, she reacts aggressively, because he challenges her primary belief that she must avoid the unexpected to remain safe and in control.
 
Janet’s secondary belief implanted and nurtured by the enemy is to resort to the only possible alternative, “If I can remove myself from any situation where the threat occurs, I will not have to face the threat.” Although not her primary fear, Janet is able to displace it by becoming preoccupied with a less serious threat that is controllable – anxiety that her marriage might fail or that one of her children will be taken from her. Her primary fear – that she will once again be left bereft, lonely and abandoned – is focused on the fear of marriage failure that effectively masks the primary threat to her survival.
 
What Core Beliefs and Agreements Fuel Anxiety?
 
 The enemy loves to implant lies that reinforce anxiety (Revelations 12:10 calls him the “accuser”). Some historians suggest that John Calvin experienced crushing fear and anxiety. His mother died when he was four. As an adult, he and his wife buried all three of their babies. Later, he suffered intense grief over the loss of his wife. No wonder distinguished historian, William Bouwsma (2020, p. 252) describes him as, “a singularly anxious man” and that his anxiety, “is a motif that beats through almost everything Calvin wrote…He knew the obscure terrors of the night and the dull fatigue of the anxious.”
 
Some speculate that Calvin was a hidden man not given to self-disclosure, but his writings tell us much about his struggle. He wrote of his inability to know or control the future and how not even a single moment in within our power, “We cannot be otherwise than continually anxious and disturbed” (Calvin, cited in Cole, 2008, p. 62). Calvin concluded that anxiety is universal and believed that, “every Christian – and he certainly included himself – suffers from terrible bouts of doubt. From this perspective the need for control both of oneself and the environment, often discerned in Calvinists, can be understood as a function of Calvin’s own anxiety” (Bouwsma, 2020, p. 252).
 
The dynamics of Calvin’s early life appear similar to those in Janet’s story. Both experienced unexpected and uncontrolled early loss with the resulting images and beliefs that were implanted and nurtured by the enemy setting them up for a lifetime of anxiety. Just as their core beliefs tended to dominate their lives, other core beliefs beneath anxiety can dominate ours:

• To be happy, I must be accepted by all people at all times.
• If somebody disagrees with me, it means that person doesn’t like me.
• I must hide my inner weaknesses from others in all circumstances.
• I must avoid embarrassment at all cost.
• If I make a mistake, it means I am inept.
• I can’t live without you.
• My value as a person is dependent on what others think of me.
• If I lose control of my emotions, I may go crazy.
• Certain acts are awful or wicked and people who perform such acts should be severely damned.
• I must have certainty and perfect control over things.
• I feel so ashamed.
• I am a bad son/daughter.
• I am weak.
• To lose control is bad.
• If I am good, bad things will not happen.
• I am a failure.
• God must not love me because bad things happen to me. 

Can you tick any of the above in your life?
 
Those prone to anxiety often have more rigid, demanding, or unrealistic beliefs and expectations than others. Barry, for example, developed perfectionist attitudes to compensate for deep-seated doubts about his worth, believing an early message that he was not good enough. This required his longing to be accepted for who he is to be suppressed for the sake of survival. As an adult, his seeking to appease and please, and his perfectionism created anxiety about possible failure. He feared and avoided exposure, so that the potential truth of that message might not surface. Perfectionism confiscated his joy of living and alienated the ones closest to him, as he demanded that they too, be perfect. He struggled with making a mistake. A similar scenario transpired in his workplace where he demanded perfection from his team. Some team members buckled under the pressure and became demoralised, because no one can be perfect – everyone has weaknesses and faults. However, he required more than is reasonable. His agreements with the enemy were, “If I am perfect, never making a mistake, I will be good enough and be accepted. If I can make you love me, you will not hurt me.” Beneath this agreement was a deep longing to be accepted and connected for who he is, not for what he could do.

This core belief energised his movement to becoming an approval addict. Even though he realised that it is impossible for everyone to like and approve of him, he could not stop rescuing people and removing the dignity of their responsibility. He tried hard to please everyone, but in doing so he lost his identity and had no idea what he legitimately needed. He was so dependent on the approval of others, he never felt secure in their responses. The agreement was, “If I can make you love me, you will not hurt me.” This self-protective strategy constituted a flight from desire – the deep longing to be accepted without the compulsion to earn it.
 
Rather than helping my husband with this, my rigid, demanding, unrealistic beliefs and expectations resulted in an addiction, not to a destructive substance, but to a destructive pattern of relating. I was hostage to his behaviour, moods and opinions, as my worth was based on his reactions to me. My expectations were self-focused with an underlying belief (out of awareness) that the relationship existed to satisfy my personal esteem, security, and closeness needs. I was controlled by, and sought to control the behaviour, attitudes and opinions of those closest to me. Rather than being life-affirming, it resulted in spiritual sterility, loss of authenticity and absence of intimacy, because I could never receive enough. The problem with relying on a source outside of ourselves to meet our needs is that it is highly unreliable. My unrealistic expectations could not be sustained no matter how much I loved Barry and my children, who felt responsible to give the impossible. Eventually the intense demands crushed life and spontaneity from my relationships, leaving only obligation and resentment.
 
To feel so desperately needy, is to invite disappointment after disappointment in every significant relationship. As Nancy Groom (2019) aptly comments, “If we free them to be themselves, they might let us down. If we love them for who they are, they might not change into who we need them to be for our benefit. Instead of loving others, we are committed to obligating them to love us. Our determination is not to give, but to get, and the bondage becomes more, not less, constrictive as the years pass.” Even though I felt I was acting in the best interest of those I loved, it was difficult for me to see the controlling nature of my behaviour. It took a long time to see that my thoughts, opinions, or preferences were sublimated for those of another. The belief beneath my anxiety was, “What I long for may never happen. Therefore, I must try to get what I need from others.” The reality is that I was deeply committed to living life on my own terms, not God’s.

Likewise, a friend Linda* has appalling ruminations about awful things that might happen if she allows herself to be vulnerable. Her troubling nightmares rob her of sleep and joy. To cope, she withdraws and is constantly dispirited. Many of Linda’s fears never come to fruition and although she realises that she has very little control over what matters most to her, she still ruminates, as it gives her a measure of control. Her inability to feel or express softer emotions is a serious incapacity, as her husband is aching for her vulnerability and her heart. She responds to him by withdrawing, hiding, silencing herself and hoarding secrets. Beneath her anxiety is the belief, “What I long for may never happen. Therefore, I must try to get what I need from myself.” Her agreements are, “If I withdraw, nothing and no one can hurt me. If I am vulnerable, I will be destroyed.” Underneath is a deep longing to be known and accepted.
 
Similarly, John*, another friend, responds aggressively towards the needs and opinions of others. He believes he must fight to be in control and win what he believes he deserves, using domination, blame and manipulation as his chosen strategies. Even though unacknowledged, his biggest fear is failure and powerlessness. His agreement is, “If I have power, no one can hurt me.” Underneath is a deep longing to be seen and understood.
 
Yet, “we cannot be healed of the wounds we won’t acknowledge” (Miller, 1990). The flight from desire – what we deeply long for – is often expressed in the need to control. Janet, Barry, myself, Linda and John are all Christians who, at some time in their lives, felt constant guilt and shame, expressed as anxiety and the attempt to control the uncontrollable. Shame is defined as “the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging” (Brown, 2012, p. 70). According to Townsend (1996, back cover): 

When we experience emotional injury, fear, shame, or pride, our first impulse is to hide the hurting parts of ourselves from God, others, and even ourselves. The problem is that when we hide our injuries and frailties, we run from the very things we need to heal and mature. What served as protection for a child becomes a prison to an adult.

Concisely put, Alice Walker (1990, p. 353) writes:

In blocking off what hurts us, we think we are walling ourselves off from pain. But in the long run, the wall, which prevents growth, hurts us more than the pain which, if we will only bear it, soon passes over us. Washes over us and is gone. Long will we remember pain, but the pain itself, as it was at the point of intensity that made us feel as if we must die of it, eventually vanishes. Our memory of it becomes only a trace. Walls remain. They grow moss. They are difficult barriers to cross, to get to others, to get to closed­ down parts of ourselves.

My heart began to change when I chose to shift my relationship with myself, facing the fact that I was powerlessness over people and situations. Asking God to forgive me for attempting to control life and letting go of the need to control was difficult, but ultimately it set me free from my self-defeating patterns of shame and anxiety. My investment in control absorbed a lot of energy. Letting it go freed that energy for more productive and Godly pursuits. Now, instead of depending on others to provide the life I need, I am moving towards dependence on God. I no longer need to live in a demanding posture to get from the world what it cannot give. I now have resources to take hold and sacrificially love others.

It appears that moving towards desire is a risk. Allowing our deep longings to surface requires relinquishing control and trusting in a good God, as opposed to trying to make life safe through our own efforts. As courageous souls, Janet, Barry, myself, Linda and John began by asking God to help us to identify our image of ourselves, as we knew this was a signpost to our deeper wounds, needs and longings. We each asked God to reveal our core beliefs about ourselves, others and life, bravely owning and verbalising them to safe, trusted friends. We risked facing the pain of our wounds and renouncing the beliefs, agreements, lies and strongholds the enemy had implanted and nurtured. Each of us now experience a new freedom to blossom, as we allow our anxiety to draw us into repentance, healing, and the awakening of desire.
 
* Janet, Linda and John’s names and story details are changed to protect those involved.

Declaration
 
I declare that anxiety is not of God. I declare release from the weight and stronghold of the thoughts and pictures (images) in my head that are not healthy or rational. I refuse to carry the weight of fear and anxiety, and agree with the lies of the enemy any longer. I declare that I will not be anxious for anything. I choose to stand on the Word of God and walk in supernatural faith. I declare that the peace of God stands guard over my mind and heart and He will keep me safe (Philippians 4:6-7, NIV).
 
Prayer
 
I come before You, Lord and cast all my cares, burdens, responsibilities, worries and anxiety on You, because I know You love and care for me. I trust You as my Good Shepherd, and I believe You will lead me well (1 Peter 5:7, NIV). Father God, You are the keeper of my mind and I ask You to keep my mind in supernatural, perfect peace. I choose this day to embrace Your truth and trust in You (Isaiah 26:3, NIV).

Reflect:

• What primary belief underlies your secondary belief (see list above)? For example, “If I can remove myself from any situation where……………………occurs (name the threat), I will not have to face the threat.”

 

• What secondary belief is your focus that keeps you anxious? For example, “My survival depends on………………………..not happening (name the situations/events). Therefore, in my close relationships I must remain safe and hidden.”

 

• What deep longing underlies these beliefs? For example, “I long to be loved and accepted for who I am and not what I do.”

 

• Below are ten universal needs grouped into three categories. Try to identify where you fit in order to determine your core beliefs and how they are essential to your survival.

 
KAREN HORNEY’S 10 NEEDS

Adapted from: Horney, K. (1991). Neurosis and Human Growth: The Struggle Towards 
Self-Realization (2nd. Ed.). New York: W. W. Norton & Company.

 Karen Horney defined “neurosis” based universal needs that become distorted in an attempt to make life bearable; a way of “interpersonal control and coping”.  The need of the “neurotic” is much more intense, unrealistic, and made central to existence. If it is not met it can result in significant anxiety. 

1. Need for affection and approval, to please others and be liked by them. 2. Need for a partner, someone to take over their life (“…love will solve all my problems”).  3. Need to restrict life to narrow borders, be undemanding, satisfied with little, and be inconspicuous.	COMPLIANCE
4. Desperate need for power and control over others, a façade of omnipotence (often contempt for the weak and a strong belief in one’s own rational powers). 5. Need to exploit others, get better of them, uses people. 6. Need for social recognition, prestige; overwhelmingly concerned with appearances and/or popularity (fear being ignored, be thought plain, “uncool”, or “out of it”). 7. Need for personal affirmation (fear of being nobody, unimportant, meaningless). 8. Need for personal achievement, being number one at everything, and devaluing anything they cannot achieve.	AGGRESSION
9. Need for self-sufficiency, independence, to never need anyone (tend to refuse help, often reluctant to commit). 10. Need for perfection and unassailability, cannot make a mistake, and need to be in control at all times.	WITHDRAWAL

 

Next: Awakening Desire: The Journey Out of Worry and Anxiety

About the author:
Dr. Paula Davis is a clinical counsellor, supervisor and educator specialising in psychological trauma. She has worked in higher education over many years as senior lecturer in counselling. Along with her husband she designs and delivers marriage enrichment/education programs in Australia, Africa, Sri Lanka, India and Europe.
 
References
Bouwsma, W, J. (2020). John Calvin. Encyclopædia Britannica. Retrieved from https://www.britannica.com/biography/John-Calvin
Cole, A. H. (2008). Be not anxious: Pastoral care of disquieted souls. USA: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.
Goodreads.com. (2016). Alice Miller quotes [online]. Retrieved from http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/future
Groom, N. (2019). From bondage to bonding. USA: Tyndale House Publishers.
Townsend, J. (1996). Hiding from love: How to change the withdrawal patterns that isolate and imprison you. USA: Zondervan.
Walker, A. (1990). The temple of my familiar. New York, Pocket.