“We were never meant to handle all the information we receive everyday. It just gets so emotionally overwhelming to bear that weight.”
The barista at Starbucks the other day said this to me in a conversation one morning last week and it echoes what I have heard and said myself many times. All day long we are barraged with so much information — tragedies striking areas of the world (that we have to Google to see they are), to things happening right down the street. We see live videos of a shooter getting tackled at the Kansas City Super Bowl parade and Palestinian fathers digging through rubble crying for their lost children buried beneath. In our country, we hear daily political diatribes and talks of civil war, read of sex scandals and abuses in churches, mass shootings happen literally every single day, the threat of economic collapse looming, and the list goes on and on. To try and sort that out all day every day puts enormous pressure on us mentally and emotionally.
Since 2000, suicide has increased by 30%. In teens, drug overdoses have doubled.* As far as dealing with mental health issues, “Adults ages 35-44 —58% in 2023, up from 48% in 2019. They also experienced the highest increase in mental health diagnoses — 45% reported a mental illness in 2023 compared with 31% in 2019. Adults aged 18-34 report the highest rate of mental illnesses at 50% in 2023. Nearly a quarter of adults (24%) said their average stress level is between an 8 and 10, (10 being very stressed). In 2023 vs 2019, parents with children under 18 years reported that most days their stress is completely overwhelming (48% vs. 26%), they are so stressed they feel numb (42% vs. 22%) or on most days they are so stressed they can’t function (41% vs. 20%).**
There are so many statistics and studies that show this trend is increasing, especially following three years of a global pandemic.
The Psalmist David wrote these words in Psalm 91 as he expressed a poem that signified the journey of those who trust in the Divine.
“You who sit down in the High God’s presence, spend the night in Shaddai’s shadow, say this: “God, you’re my refuge. I trust in you and I’m safe!” That’s right — he rescues you from hidden traps, shields you from deadly hazards. His huge outstretched arms protect you — under them you’re perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm. Fear nothing—not wild wolves in the night, not flying arrows in the day, not disease that prowls through the darkness, not disaster that erupts at high noon. Even though others succumb all around, drop like flies right and left, no harm will even graze you. You’ll stand untouched, watch it all from a distance, watch the wicked turn into corpses. Yes, because God’s your refuge, the High God your very own home, Evil can’t get close to you, harm can’t get through the door. He ordered his angels to guard you wherever you go. If you stumble, they’ll catch you; their job is to keep you from falling. You’ll walk unharmed among lions and snakes, and kick young lions and serpents from the path. “If you’ll hold on to me for dear life,” says God, “I’ll get you out of any trouble. I’ll give you the best of care if you’ll only get to know and trust me. Call me and I’ll answer, be at your side in bad times; I’ll rescue you, then throw you a party. I’ll give you a long life, give you a long drink of salvation!”
When you read those words, there is a part of you that has a great hope. Yet another part of you sees what is happening around you — and what is happening to people who believe and have deep faith in the Divine. And evil is harming them. And God doesn’t seem to be near. So what do you do with that? It’s a struggle to take your faith and hope in the Divine and place it alongside the ongoing reality of a world in chaos. Death is all around us. Some fear it more than others. Sometimes these words in the scriptures bring peace to the anxiety, calm to the swirl of emotional chaos, and other times people see them as empty because of their pain, their loss, and the horror of what is happening across the world moment by moment. It is hard to make sense of it, let alone stay steady in the midst of the fray.
Jesus gives a famous sermon on the side of a mountain and he encourages us to not be worried about all the stuff of life that we so often worry about — food, clothing, where we will sleep. “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” he says, “instead, keep your eyes fixed on God and live righteously and your needs will be met” (Matthew 6:25-34).
“Today, about 28% of U.S. adults are religiously unaffiliated, describing themselves as atheists, agnostics or “nothing in particular” when asked about their religion. Of those people, 30% say that bad experiences they’ve had with religious people or organizations has influenced their decision.” ***
People are leaving the church because they see behavior that is counter to what they see in the scriptures. They observe people (specifically pastors/leaders) who claim to follow Christ being abusive, misogynist, racist, bigoted, living lavish lives, rejecting the poor and destitute, embracing christian nationalism, perpetuating violence, and perpetuating a culture of us versus them.
None of that is Jesus. In fact, in that famous sermon, he taught the opposite of that. Jesus came to bring us good news… that death was defeated, salvation and freedom are real and available, and restoration is possible … and that love wins. And love winning is going to look different than anything you have ever imagined.
Anxiety is real. It’s crushing. I talk to people almost daily who deal with it to varying degrees. It’s hard to go on every day and not get overwhelmed by all the stuff going on. Some days it is hard to center yourself, breathe every morning, and grab on to your faith. Some days you just have to simply believe that there is a Divine plan and a someone bigger than you who says, “I got this, just trust me.”
As I began the season of Lent on Ash Wednesday (which fell on Valentines Day 2024), I read a beautiful and encouraging reminder and invitation from my friend Matt.
“Ash Wednesday is a sobering reminder that we’re all going to die. Every last one of us. There’s no escaping. And the truth is we don’t know what the future holds. There are no guarantees in this life. I don’t know if I’ll live into my 90s or whether I’ll live into next week.
And so the Spirit’s loving invitation is to live well. Live in reconciled relationships. Live in love. Live in truth and beauty. Live in freedom. Live in healing.
Because what we DO have is this moment. And this one. And this one. And this moment is always where God is.
So as we begin this walk toward the cross, friends, remember that we’re all going to die. Yes, you too. And we don’t know when.
But this isn’t intended to cause fear. It’s nothing you don’t already know, if you’re honest with yourself and stop running from it. Instead, it’s a loving invitation to slow down, to breathe deep, to consider HOW you’re living this “one wild and precious life.”
Jesus himself said that he came to bring us abundant life (John 10:10). As someone wise once said, “We have two lives; the second begins when we realize we only have one.”
— Matt Nightingale
**https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2023/11/psychological-impacts-collective-trauma