Anxiety is difficult to live with. The worry, the uncertainty, the general nervousness about an outcome affect us in different ways, but the Latin root of anxiety (anxius from angere, to choke) suggests that tightening of the chest and stomach muscles with which all of us are familiar. Anxiety makes us clench. It is quite the opposite of trust, which opens us out. No wonder that anxiety is a great hindrance to prayer, keeping us centred on self, or if not self, then on the concerns that occupy our waking hours. It is so wearing!
There is only one remedy I know of: a deliberate, willed surrender to the Father of every hope and fear, a surrender we need to make again and again. Every night at Compline we sing, ‘Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.’ That echo of Jesus’ last words on the Cross is not accidental. The Benedictine motto, pax or ‘peace’, is always surrounded by a crown of thorns. Only through union with Christ can we attain a peace the world does not give. It doesn’t make our worries any less; it doesn’t produce magic solutions to our problems; but it does give us the strength to bear them — not our strength but his. The trouble is, most of us are not really convinced of that. We want to deal with things our way, so we go on worrying and fretting and digging deeper holes for ourselves, feeling more and more of a ‘failure’ as we go on. When that happens, there really is only one way out: to call God down to the depth of our need. ‘The Everlasting God is your dwelling-place and underneath are the everlasting arms.’ Trust him.