The Heart of Christ for Anxious Mamas
Editor’s Note: The following article details one author’s experience with anxiety in motherhood. While we believe the gospel provides hope to women suffering from anxiety (and other mental health issues), we recognize the sensitivity and nuance required in discussing these topics. This article is not meant to replace professional medical help. We encourage anyone who is experiencing symptoms of anxiety to seek help from a counselor, medical doctor, or other skilled professionals in your local community.
My first diaper change was, frankly, a train wreck. Something that should be so simple, so basic, became complicated among the multiple wires, tubes, and monitors of the NICU. I stumbled and tried to laugh off the awkwardness of my clear ineptitude with the nurse watching on, coaching me kindly—“It’s ok. You are doing great.”
The idea here is to involve parents in the daily care of their child. But measured against the capable health care professionals who juggled three infants at a time, I had never felt so out of my league.
This was not the introduction to motherhood I wanted—but it was the one I got. Pregnant during a pandemic, with a surprise pre-term delivery and extended NICU stay, nothing went according to plan.
When Fear Takes Hold
I wish I could say I rose to the occasion, that my mother’s intuition kicked in and I just knew what to do. I wish that I had stayed calm and carried on and cherished each little moment of progress.
Instead, my heart was overrun with fear. Danger loomed around every corner, and I felt powerless to prevent it. The world was a scary place, but the problem wasn’t just the danger outside. It was in my own head and heart. I suddenly couldn’t trust my own decision-making—what was a real danger, and what was my imagination? Small, daily tasks like feedings and baths left me paralyzed or Googling for hours. I lived in a constant loop of anxiety and defeat.
The struggle continued on, long past the postpartum time frame, and I began to wonder if there was something fundamentally wrong with me. With each new phase and stage, I knew anxiety was robbing me of so much. I prayed—I prayed so many times—that God might take this away, that he would heal my mind and my body. I didn’t want to be like this.
I had a nagging sense that the disappointment I felt in myself, and my inability to overcome my debilitating thoughts of anxiety, paled in comparison to the disappointment God had in me.
A Surprising Invitation
Over time, as I brought my weak, anxious, utterly broken self to God, I was surprised by what I found. He met me, not with judgment or rejection—not even with a to-do list of self-improvement—but with an invitation—an invitation to care for me.
In becoming so very helpless, I encountered the heart of Jesus. He was not looking down on me, but he was there with me and caring for me in my need.
In Isaiah 57:15, God speaks about where he dwells, and it is astonishing:
I dwell in the high and holy place,
and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit,
to revive the spirit of the lowly,
and to revive the heart of the contrite.
Lowly, contrite—yes, these words described my condition. How many times are we told not to fear in the Bible? So, did my struggles with anxiety disqualify me from the Christian life? No—because God is not disgusted by need. Rather, we see here that the glorious, high, and magnificent God we serve also dwells with the lowly, and not only that—he revives them.
This is good news of the gospel. We are not given a manual on health and strength with instructions to go fix ourselves. Instead, Jesus invites us, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
Our Good Shepherd
Early in our NICU stay, I read something utterly surprising—that made me believe this grace was even for anxious moms like me. Isaiah 40:11 says, “He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.”
I picture a flock of sheep—with a momma ewe nervously urging her babies to keep up with the group and away from threats and predators. They are slower and weaker than the rest. What if they get left behind? How could she possibly keep them all safe? But here is the Shepherd, tenderly gathering and leading the weakest of his flock. This was not the disappointed and distant God I had pictured.
To be a mother is to be vulnerable to the world, as we seek to protect, nurture, and love our young ones. How amazing to consider our Shepherd knows our need and cares for us and our children—not with frustration or impatience but with gentleness.
The ultimate proof is made clear in Christ, who calls himself the Good Shepherd.[1] He is not a hired hand, who will easily desert his flock upon first danger, but a Shepherd so committed to his sheep that he will lay down his life, willingly, to protect us! This is the One to which we can look and find rest.
To anxious hearts, then, Jesus offers nothing less than himself. 1 Peter 5:7 makes the auspicious claim that we can cast all our anxieties on him, because he cares for us. All our anxieties. I have wondered if there might come a day when I’ve tread too far upon the gracious invitation of Jesus. But all means there is no worry too great, too ridiculous, or too dark that would ever make Jesus throw up his hands and walk away from his children.
A Sure Hope
Anxiety has been a dark pit, threatening to snuff out any hope or light. It has been a liar and thief of joy. It has kept me awake at night and exhausted during the day. But this brokenness has also led me to Jesus—the real, tender, caring Savior who dwells with and revives the lowly in spirit. I may have known these things about him intellectually before, but in coming to the end of myself in the struggle with anxiety, I experienced his tangible presence and grace, more deeply applied than I had ever thought possible.
Believing the truth about Jesus at a heart level is a journey. Anxiety is mental, physical, and spiritual. As Christ re-oriented my heart toward his, I learned to accept help from others, too. He has graciously provided ways to retrain my brain with assistance from doctor’s appointments, tests, therapy, and medication.
My story is not over, and anxiety will not get the final word. I fight the daily battle against believing the lies of fear and worry, but now I do not fight alone and I do not fight without hope. My Shepherd gently leads me. He cares for me and fights for me, even laying down his very life so that I might know his presence in my darkest hour.
Ultimately, my hope rests on knowing the fight is not forever. Heaven is near—and a day is coming soon when my mind will be whole and I will see my Savior face to face. Until then, I can trust the heart of Christ to see me through.
[1] John 10:11
