If anxiety is an unwelcome guest, should we seek only to expel it, or is there something to be learned even in its presence? The gospel speaks to our fears and our sorrows, not by offering a quick fix or a mere change of perspective, but by grounding us in the eternal realities of God’s unshakable love, His providential care, His sovereign power, and His glorious promises. The God who calls us to “[cast] all [our] anxieties on him” (1 Peter 5:7) does not do so as a distant deity unconcerned with the details of our distress. 

Anxiety and depression mean different things to different people. Some people have experienced debilitating anxiety and despair that has found them in the back of an ambulance, in a psychiatric ward, or in a counseling center, while others have the occasional anxious or despairing thought that passes briefly through their minds before they fall into a peaceful sleep. For some, anxiety and depression can make it difficult to perform daily basic tasks. For others, they might come around only a few times every year and not significantly disrupt everyday life. This experiential range is demonstrated in the various ways in which people use the words. “I’m anxious” could mean no more than mild eagerness (e.g., “I’m anxious for the outcome of this basketball game”), or it could mean an unbearable distress. “That’s depressing” could be a reaction to an inconsequential alert (e.g., “It’s depressing that the Chicago Bulls lost”), or it could mean indescribable darkness.

Yet no matter where one finds himself or herself on the spectrum of this affliction, the reality remains: Anxiety and depression are not merely modern phenomena, nor are they outside the scope of God’s providential care. The Puritans spoke of the “dark night of the soul,” that period of despair when the assurance of God’s love feels as distant as the stars on a cloudy night. Nothing is more painful. Even the psalmist cries, “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?” (Ps. 42:5). The experience of anxiety and sorrow is not foreign to the people of God, and yet Scripture does not leave us without comfort. Nor does it leave us without resources to press on in faithfulness.

For many Christians, the question of suffering—particularly suffering that arises from within—is among the most perplexing of theological challenges. Why, if I belong to Christ, does my soul still tremble? Why does peace, which He promised to leave with His people, seem so elusive?

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