Many Christians love Philippians 4:6-7.
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
It is one of my favorite passages as well. If you are anxious, just pray and give thanks to God and you will be flooded with incomprehensible peace.
It's a great, wonderful promise but, I have to confess, it doesn't work.
Let me explain…
In 2006, the "perfect storm" converged in my life. Stresses, pressures, responsibilities, deadlines, interpersonal conflicts, feelings of inadequacy all piled up in the midst of a unique set of life events and circumstances. I was still functioning in life but a war was being waged daily in my heart and in my mind. I felt like I was holding back a wave that was about to overtake me.
It finally hit while preaching a sermon in front of an audience of 400. I suddenly felt light-headed. My heart started racing. I couldn't catch my breath. I sensed that I was about to pass out.
But somehow I kept talking. My mouth kept moving while my mind was fighting against itself. After about thirty seconds of panic (which felt like a timeless eternity), a cold sweat broke out across my body. My breathing relaxed. My heart stopped racing. My mind got back under control. And I made it through the message.
Barely.
Surprisingly no one noticed anything different. I quizzed my wife and even she didn't notice any falter in my voice.
I escaped.
And that's exactly what it felt like…an escape.
But the seed had been planted. "What if I would have passed out? What if I had collapsed right there on the stage?" My imagination began to play out the scene with incredible imagery.
And the thoughts began to snowball.
From then on, every subsequent sermon became a battle. I was fighting my own thoughts and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get the upper hand.
I read Scripture. I prayed. I memorized verses. I sought the promised peace of Philippians 4:6-7. But it wasn't working. Instead of peace, my anxiety was gaining ground and getting stronger. The waves were coming more frequently and I was struggling to keep my head above the waters.
Several months later, the waves overtook me.
It was a Sunday morning. I was scheduled to preach. I fought anxiety all week. I barely slept. My heart wouldn't stop racing. My mind was out of control. My body exhausted.
I gave up.
I called a friend of mine and told him that I couldn't make it and that he would have to take my place. I told my wife to take the kids and go to church without me.
The battle was over and I accepted defeat. I wrote in my journal…"I think my days of preaching God's Word are done."
I was broken.
I didn't know what was next…for me, for my wife, for my family.
I thought my ministry days could be over.
But in my brokenness, I finally faced my weakness and opened my mouth.
I shared my struggle with the elders at our church for the first time. Thankfully they were not only understanding but supportive. They embraced me. Prayed for me.
Next I talked with a counselor. Nothing "revolutionary" came out. But as I processed my thoughts I realized how much of my identity that I had placed in my speaking ability. The intensity of the anxiety reflected the depth of my fear…the fear of losing my ability, losing my ministry, losing my livelihood, losing what had become an "idol" to me.
The biggest step came when I finally shared my struggle verbally with the congregation during a sermon. I didn't intend to but the words started coming out and the tears started flowing. I was admitting my fears and my inadequacy. Becoming vulnerable. Learning what it means to boast in my weakness so that the power of Christ might rest on me (2 Cor. 12:9).
It was then that I began to understand Philippians 4:6-7.
It was not a "magic formula." It was not a "silver bullet." And it was not a promise intended for me individually…privately.
Philippians 4:6-7 is a plural command. It is not written to the Philippian but to the Philippians, to the church at Philippi. In fact, all of the commands in Philippians 4:4-9 are plural commands, intended to be lived out in the context of a corporate body of believers.
In other words, Philippians 4:6-7 doesn't work the way that we typically think it does.
It is not an individual promise to be applied in the privacy of my own private Christian life. It is not "me and Jesus" fighting my anxiety. It is a promise given to me in the fellowship of believers, in the fellowship of a local church committed to the gospel of Jesus Christ, to the Word of God, and to one another.
The power of anxiety was broken when I was broken.
The peace came when I became vulnerable, admitted my weakness to my brothers and sisters in Christ, and prayed in fellowship with them…together…with thanksgiving for God's sustaining grace.
Do I still fight anxiety today? Yes. My thoughts and my imagination can still get the best of me. But in the struggle I am learning what it means to rest in the security of grace and to be honest not only with God but with others.
I am also learning what it means to preach God's Word in dependence on His Spirit. I don't take any sermon for granted. I know for certain that God can humble me in a second. He can knock the slats under me and drop me to my knees in a heartbeat.
That's a scary place to be at times…but a freeing place as well.
The world tells me to boast in my strength. The gospel calls me to boast in my weakness. That doesn't mean giving in to sin or wallowing in self-pity or self-defeat. It means being humble enough to cry out for true strength, to rest in true grace, and to be filled with true peace in the context of a true fellowship of not-perfect-but-growing believers.
That's the true promise of Philippians 4:6-7.
It isn't designed to "work" for me like some kind of miracle pill.
It is designed to transform me, in connection with other believers, from glory to glory, into the image of the Crucified One.
