An Unlikely Friendship

Let me tell you about a friend of mine. She’s been around for as long as I can remember, a companion through every life stage. Like me, she hasn’t always looked the same..we’ve aged together. I don’t particularly enjoy her, to be honest, and have wished her to disappear. She’s so intense—has had a way of overshadowing the joys of life, and has made me forget that we are separate, but interconnected beings. I am not her, but when she decides to settle in, she brings out a primal level of reactivity in my bones.

She’s back, this friend—decided to join me on a long, solo trek back home, trapped in the car, sun beating down, cars jockeying all around me at high speed. There we were with no choice but to be together for a few hours. To put it bluntly, she was ruthless. She wouldn’t even stay in the passenger seat—and decided to inhabit my being with a ferocity I hadn’t remembered. Dizzying, disorienting, heart racing, breath-stealing, paralyzing fear. Yep, whatever nickname you want to call her: panic, terror, anxiety—that ol’ girl hopped into my car last week and has been lingering around ever since.

More often, she opts for a subtler, insidious arrival: Inhabiting my thoughts— ticking off all the things in this life that can go awry, delving me into all sorts of planning and plotting for how I can outsmart doom at every turn. This is how I generally experience her, and what has followed me around since she stormed in on that car ride last week.

But like all things, I’ve changed since our last conversation… and I’m boldly choosing to welcome her this time around. Honestly, she has earned that respect—because she’s never come empty handed. She’s taught me the meaning of humility and authenticity— and a very real sense that something greater than me is carrying me through. She’s been able to destroy every myth I’ve carried around about needing to be perfect and strong—and has sent me running into the arms of One who is all the perfection and strength I’ll ever need. She’s taught me how to have compassion for myself and others who know what it's like to wrestle with fear.

And as I settle in with her, watching and listening with more attention than ever—this is what she had to say:

I’ve come to remind you that you are loved in your weakest moment, more than you know or will ever understand. To tell you that it is okay to slow down, to be still, and breathe. To point your attention to the parts of you that are too afraid to trust the unfolding of your life, and have only known the intense pressure to hold it all together. I’m here to invite you to dig deep for the compassion and love that is waiting to free you not from fear—but to release the shackles that come from trying to outrun fear. I’m guiding you back to your unshakable spirit, to show you how capable you are to walk through this fire, and the next. I’ve come to tell you that I am only staying for a short while, and to accept the gifts I’ve carried over your threshold.

Not sure how long this visit will last (which is one of fear’s most annoying traits, LOL), but I’m here for the duration.. knowing she’ll depart on her own terms and when the necessary seeds have been planted and watered.

I’ve been listening to a song on repeat during my fearful episodes, called No Longer Slaves, by Bethel Music. It is a Christian song, so it might not be for everyone, but I’m playing it in the background right now, and sharing a few lyrics for anyone who might feel the hope in them. Side note, there’s a live version of this song performed by Zack Williams for the inmates in Harding Prison (on YouTube) which always brings me to tears:

You unravel me, with a melody,

You surround me with a song,

Of deliverance, from my enemies,

Til all my fears are gone.

I’m no longer a slave to fear. I am a child of God

I’m no longer a slave to fear. I am a child of God.