The Human Problem: Anxiety & Control

With a tension.
That’s how we live.

We live in an age of technocratic obsession.
We count our steps.
Track our sleep.
Set five-year plans.
Google every symptom.
Plan, optimize, improve.

And yet… most of us walk around with this low-grade—sometimes not-so-low-grade—anxiety.
We’re restless.
Spiritually unsettled.

Why?

Because we’re trying to manage a future we don’t actually own.
We’ve renamed our gods: Efficiency. Productivity. Self-Actualization.
They have apps now.

The culture keeps giving us tools to grip tighter—
Productivity hacks,
Wellness plans,
Retirement calculators.

But maybe the better question isn’t how to hold on more effectively,
but how to let go differently. More faithfully.

Not just letting go of, but placing into.
Surrendering to.

Pause. Pay attention.
What you’ll notice?
We’re trying to control a future we fear.

And control?
It’s an illusion.
And illusions don’t hold under pressure.
They crack.

It’s the serpent’s first lie all over again: “You will be like God.”

But we’re not.
That’s the real issue.
That’s our hidden heresy.
We’ve forgotten we’re dust.
Dearly loved, yes.
But still—dust.

Trying to sit on His throne is exhausting. We don’t belong there.

Anxiety isn’t just an emotion. It’s a signal.
A response to a perceived threat—deeply tied to our need for control.

We build our lives around what ifs:
  • What if I lose this job?
  • What if the diagnosis comes back positive?
  • What if I’m alone forever?
And somewhere in the background is this deeply modern myth—
the metaphysical obscenity at the heart of our time:

That we are the authors of our own being.
That peace comes through mastery.
That salvation is really just a successful self-improvement project.

But the truth?
Peace isn’t the fruit of control.
It’s the fragrance of surrender.

And surrender isn’t just an emotional release or a psychological strategy.
It’s deeper.
It’s a metaphysical act—
a laying down of our illusion of autonomy,
in the presence of the One who holds all things together by His love.

Our culture is anxious.
Exhausted.
Numb.
We scroll instead of pray.
We spin instead of sleep.
# # #
Let’s rewind for a second—
back to the moment grace re-entered the story in a unique way:
Nazareth.

The Church Fathers knew what we have forgotten.
They said sin isn’t just moral failure—it’s metaphysical dislocation.
A refusal to live in alignment with reality.

And the reality is: we are creatures.
The original temptation wasn’t lust or greed.
It was ontological rebellion.

“You shall be as gods.”

Which is why anxiety isn’t just stress.
It’s something deeper.
It’s the soul protesting the unbearable burden of divinity.
It’s what happens when dust tries to become the ground of its own being.

As my priest has said:
“Anxiety is imagining the future without Jesus.”
Let’s be even more blunt:
Anxiety is the psychic residue of idolatry.

Remember Inside Out? The Pixar movie?
Anxiety hijacks the control panel.
Because when we forget Jesus is in the room, fear takes the wheel.

And here’s the thing—
Our response to anxiety is rarely spiritual reformation.
It’s usually just… calendar rearrangement.
More margin.
Less caffeine.
Better boundaries.

Now, none of those are bad.
But Jesus doesn’t offer coping mechanisms.
He offers Himself.

And the practices of His way—silence, solitude, Scripture, surrender—
they’re not optional add-ons.
They’re the very tools that form a whole, grounded soul.

We’ve got to train our whole selves—body, mind, and spirit—
to live as Jesus would live if He were us.

Because entrustment isn’t weakness.
It’s the mature fruit of someone who’s come to believe—really believe—that God is reliable.

Anxiety is imagination without grace.
It’s rehearsing every way the story could fall apart…
without the Author of Life in the scene.

The reason we have no peace is because we’ve forgotten who God is… and who we are not.

And so we fall into spiritual idolatry dressed in very respectable clothes:
  • Scenario-planning disguised as prayer
  • Information-hoarding dressed up as discernment
  • Control masquerading as faith
We believe lies like:
  • “If I don’t hold it all together, everything will fall apart.”
  • “If I let go, God might not catch it—or care.
# # #
I remember once obsessing for weeks over a big life decision.
I told myself I was praying.
But really? I was spreadsheet-praying.
Running scenarios. Trying to predict and plan every outcome.

Then one day in silence, the Spirit whispered,
“You’re not asking Me. You’re auditioning Me.”

Oof.

That moment was a turning point.

It revealed the real issue—one I think we all share.
Our struggle to trust God isn’t just about fear.
It’s about forgetfulness.

We’ve forgotten who we are.
And Who we belong to.

To entrust is to act in truth:
to recognize that we are creatures, not creators;
beloved children, not cosmic orphans.

You’re not a “what.”
You’re a “who.” A who who was Authored.
A being whose freedom is found—not in domination—but in relationship.
In surrender.

The fundamental lesson is this: you were made by God and for God — and until you understand that — life will never make sense.

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