Help Me, I'm Drowning

Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.

— Psalm 42:7

The clock digits rolled to 2:00 a.m., and I groaned, scolding myself as I tossed and turned in bed for the hundredth time.

You have nothing to worry about, and you're being ridiculous. Just calm down and go to sleep, I whispered to myself as I felt the waves of another anxiety attack creep up inside me. Sleep is a luxury for college students, and at this point I'd be lucky to have a few hours of rest. Every minute counted too, because I had a psychology exam at 8:00 a.m. But knowing this didn't stop my mind from racing, my throat from closing, my heart from palpitating, and my stomach from churning.

I clutched my comforter tightly and prayed for deliverance, but nothing changed. Instead I sank deeper into anxiety with each word I prayed. I wanted to jump out of my dorm room window and run until my lungs gave out. I wanted to scream until the anxiety drained out of my veins. I wanted to feel anything other than the sheer panic and helplessness overtaking my mind.

Minute after minute rolled by, and with no relief in sight I desperately reached for my phone and texted a friend from my Bible study group.

"Help! Please pray for me," I typed. "Feeling lost, alone, and overwhelmed amid another anxiety attack. I don't know what to do. I'm so afraid."

A few minutes later my phone lit up with a reply.

"My dearest Lauren, trust me when I say everything is going to be OK! God is with you, and He wants to use this for your good. Have faith! Trust Him and hold on to hope! He will see you through, and with His help you will overcome the waves. Always remember you are a daughter of the Most High King. You are priceless and beautiful in His eyes, and in Him you have nothing to fear."

As true as her text may have been, it didn't make me feel any better about myself or my situation. At this point in my life, I'd been struggling with anxiety attacks on and off for two years since my junior year of high school when I began having some health issues. To the outside world, I was an accomplished student and swimmer who had it all together, but on the inside I felt like I was drowning — lost in a sea of anxiety, depression, and unexplained chronic pain that was tearing my faith to shreds.

Week after week, I listened to pastors talk about a God who delivers us from our problems, but hearing their words only made me more frustrated and confused. I wondered: If God loves me, then why isn't He rescuing me? If God is good, then why do I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of despair?

Somehow I had missed the explanation of how a life with Christ doesn't always mean crystal clear waters or sunny blue skies; how God is not distant but swims with us through the deep waters of life; how God not only sends help in these situations — He is our help, despite what we might feel or think.

When my life didn't turn around and my health worsened, I began to doubt God's goodness. But worse than that, I lost faith in God's ability to save me. I tried to soothe the ache growing inside me by reading and studying the Bible, but none of it felt real. The stories seemed like a distant fairy tale — something only for people who had it all together and not for someone as messed up as me.

It was a slow process, but somewhere along the way anxiety and depression greatly diminished my faith. I stopped believing things would get better. I stopped believing God had a plan or cared about my future. I watched the world change and move on without me, and with each passing month the "water" in my lungs rose a little higher.

I was drowning.

By God's grace, after graduating from college I finally started looking for a Christian counselor. At the time, the cause of all my physical symptoms was still unknown. I didn't know that I had an overarching condition that caused chronic pain and put me at a predisposed risk to anxiety and depression. I didn't know that there were medications and natural remedies that could help me manage my health and start to heal spiritually. The only thing I knew was that I couldn't keep living the way I was living.

Within a few days of my counselor search, I found myself sitting in one of those infamous leather chairs. You know, the chairs all therapists have in the movies and on TV. The ones that make you feel comfortable and uncomfortable all at the same time. You're comfortable because the leather is super plush and buttery, but you're also uncomfortable because you realize you're about to pour your heart out to a complete stranger.

I grabbed a mint from the bowl on the table and took a long, deep breath as the counselor and I discussed how anxiety and depression were negatively impacting me. Our conversation felt like the very unraveling of me, but the outcome of it was a turning point in my life that helped me begin to understand how I might learn to overcome the waves pulling me under, threatening to take me out.

"Tell me, Lauren. What do you know about God?" the counselor asked as he sat back in his chair and clasped his hands, waiting for my reply.

Silence washed over the room, and I sat speechless, frozen in place. As I contemplated my answer, I hugged my knees into my chest and curled even further into the brown leather chair, trying to find the words to describe what I knew about God.

"I know He loves me," I began. "And He sent his Son to die for me."

"That's right ...," he replied. "Anything else? Or, how about this question: What do you believe about God? I know you know Jesus died for you, but do you believe what the Bible says — that He truly loves you and fights for you, that He will never leave you nor forsake you, that He can make you strong and courageous, that you are no longer dead to sin but alive in Christ, that the same power that raised Jesus from the grave lives in you? Because if you can find a way to truly believe that ... that kind of faith changes everything."

"Honestly? I don't know what to believe anymore. If God is good and worthy of my trust, why hasn't He saved me already?" I said finally, breaking into tears as the words left my lips. "All I know is that I feel like I am drowning, and most days I want to give up the fight. I'm scared, and I don't know what to do."

The counselor brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he glanced at the floor, contemplating the right words to say. And just when I felt like all hope was lost, he looked up and said, "Take courage, Lauren. God isn't causing the problems you are experiencing, but I believe that in His grace, He is...