My breath caught in my throat and my heart raced. I felt outside of myself, unable to focus. My face and hands began to tingle and a knot was starting to form in the pit of my stomach. Fear and panic swept over me as my hands seized up with vicious tension until I was unable to move them. What is happening to me?! I thought. Hysterically I whimpered for my husband to call 911, then sat down, arms and hands rigid against my chest, waiting...
In my heart I grasped wildly for Jesus' presence; in my mind I prayed desperately for His peace and comfort. It had been nearly ten years since I'd had a panic attack, and I never remember having one so severe. After the paramedics gently explained that muscle spasms were a result of hyperventilating, my breathing began to slow. The tingling and the out-of-body sensations passed, and my muscles gradually relaxed. In the moments that followed I was thankful for my husband's strength, prayers, and calm demeanor; I was thankful for the paramedics' knowledge and promptness; but most of all I was thankful for the way God had spoken to me repeatedly and clearly about His omniscience, omnipotence and omnipresence just that day.
The Bible tells us that the breath of all mankind is in God's vey hands (Job 10:12). Just like your heartbeat, breathing is one of your body's autonomic systems—you don't have to think about doing it! But just because breathing is involuntary doesn't mean it just happens; God gives you each breath. Like the one you're taking right now. And the next one. And the one after that. He is in control of it all! Moreover, He is always with us. He always sees us. And He knows everything we do, say, and think every moment of every day. This is the very truth God was revealing to me both through His word and in my anxiety.
Listen to David's words in Psalm 139: "You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast" (Ps. 139:1–10).
Why did David write these words? What prompted him to meditate on the all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful aspects of the Creator? Perhaps it was for comfort in the face of his own limitations. Maybe he penned this psalm for assurance in the wake of the world's evils. Or maybe he simply found himself overawed at the Divine Nature and could not stop short of expressing wonder and adoration for his most holy God. Whatever the reason, David's words have outlasted the centuries—not because of his own greatness, but because they are a divinely-inspired, truthful revelation of God about Himself, given to those who will listen for their help, comfort, and encouragement (2 Tim. 3:16).
In the grip of panic, this psalm reminded me of the truth I so often forget: He knows. He knows what I'm going through; He knows what's going to happen. He knows me better than I know myself and, most important of all, He knows what is best for me. I believe with all my heart this renewed struggle with anxiety is an answer to prayer. As I reread my journal that evening, body weak and breath shaky, I saw myself asking the Lord for a more acute awareness of His constant care and presence. I read appeals to keep my pride in check by whatever means necessary. Requests to recall the sufficiency of His grace. And I saw my desire for greater reliance and dependence on God in all things, that His strength alone would sustain me and my weaknesses would be to His glory.
Anxiety has become a gift—God’s means of deterring me from practical atheism, or the daily ignoring of His presence that is so apt to make a shipwreck of my soul. So rather than asking, Why, God? from a heart of resentment, I find myself drawing closer to Jesus in the midst of it. I find myself praying and seeking His face more often and more earnestly. And I find myself giving Him every breath while remembering the truth about Him: He knows. He knows it all and He is with me through it all and He is always in control.
Maybe you battle with anxiety too. Or maybe your struggles are different than mine. Regardless of the specifics, our difficulties and weaknesses in this life can serve some of the most precious purposes: They can teach us daily dependence on and trust in God. They can remind us of His all-sufficient grace. They can keep us humble before Him. They can awaken our souls to a deeper awareness of His care and presence. And they can, if we allow them, declare the glory of the one true God—the God who is with us, the God who knows us completely, and the God who holds our very breath in His hands.