Whether it is midlife, or raising teens, or simply part of my nature, but it seems I’m in an anxious phase of life. What I want to remember about this later, when this season passes, is that in my anxiety I often turned to God and found Him a great comfort.
It is hard to explain what the process is, or where the comfort is, because I’m fairly well incapable of taking up the biblical invitation to “cast all your cares upon him” or to “take your burden to the Lord and leave it there” as the song says–much as I’d like to. My worries and frettings are not so easily cast off. They come straight back, and follow me from pillar to post, it seems.
Nevertheless, I find great comfort when I turn to God. Though I said I can’t explain it, what I think it is, is that in so doing, I find my thoughts occupied by something much more beautiful than the ugliness, something utterly whole and whole-some, not broken or pale, something that loves selflessly and completely, something that holds out a promise of righting every wrong in the end, drying every tear in the end, something by the light of which we will someday say, “now I understand.”