It's all the choices--stupid things like cereal and choosing words to write on a page.
And the not-stupid things like jobs and moving and friendships and dating.
It's the articles and books and music and media screaming at me.
It's the should-ing on myself.
It's the brokenness of the entire world that gives me anxiety.
It's all the suffering, like homelessness and trafficking and the Church's condemnation.
Like corruption and injustice and lack of grace.
It's the tweets and emails and videos, begging for action, donation, compassion.
It's glimpsing the need and feeling overwhelmed and unsure of where to devote my energy, gifts, presence.
I can be anywhere. Anxiety. I cannot be everywhere. Anxiety.
I can do anything. Anxiety. I cannot do everything. Anxiety.
When anxiety plagues me, freedom becomes daunting--it is terrifying to have so many choices--or freedom becomes unbelievable--I am insignificant and cannot possibly help eradicate poverty or change education policy or speak out on controversial topics.
Thankfully, God is alive and speaking.
For the past few weeks the word freedom keeps echoing in my mind, like He's wanting to remind me it's a good word, it's a saving word, it's a truthful word. It's not a daunting or unbelievable word, but a word that has the power to transform my anxiety into excitement, joy, peace, vision, action. Last year, I heard the word empower, over and over. The year before, grace.
I haven't chosen these words to meditate on; they come seemingly out of nowhere and the only explanation I have is that God is speaking them because He knows I need them.
Oh God, allow me to experience true freedom. Let me see it as a glorious gift rather than a curse.
Amen.
