I was pondering what to write about this week. I find the process of writing therapeutic; it helps me to process my thoughts and untangle the knots in my mind. Let’s face it, without the writing, this blog would be a rather sparse and uninteresting corner of the internet. So, I found myself in that familiar state of gentle searching, turning over ideas, waiting for a spark.
As is so often the case, the moment of clarity didn’t arrive while I was staring at a blank screen. It came when I was out on the morning walk with my cockapoo, Buckley. God, as He so often does when I’m pondering, chose to speak not in a grand pronouncement, but through the quiet, everyday actions of my four-legged companion.
You see, Buckley has recently developed a rather pronounced anxiety towards cars. What might have started as a mild curiosity has morphed into a full-blown reactivity. The moment he sees one of these metal menaces approaching, his entire demeanour changes. He’ll lunge, bark, and strain against his lead with a ferocity that belies his cuddly appearance. On our walks, especially along roads, I have to ensure I keep a tight rein on him, a constant, firm presence to prevent him from getting into harm’s way. I am his anchor in a world he suddenly finds threatening.
The Moment on the Narrow Path
On this particular morning, we reached a narrow part of the path that runs alongside a busy road. The proximity of the traffic, combined with the lack of space to retreat, sent his anxiety into overdrive. He began to get more agitated, his barks becoming sharper, more frantic. I stopped and looked down at him, and what I saw truly broke my heart. I could see the raw fear in his eyes. His body was trembling, not from cold, but from an overwhelming sense of dread. The world had become too much for him.
In that moment, my agenda for the walk—the distance I wanted to cover, the time I wanted to be back—evaporated. My only priority was him. I found a small patch of grass, and I simply sat down with him. I didn’t pull or drag him. I just sat. I stroked his back, speaking to him in a low, reassuring voice. I praised him whenever he took a breath and glanced at me, rewarding his trust. I comforted him, letting him know I was there and that I was in control of the situation. I was his safe space.
We didn’t move for quite some time. Then, when I saw his shaking subside just a little, we took a few small steps towards home. We repeated this process over and over. A few steps, a stop for reassurance, a moment of calm, and then a few more steps. Slowly, painstakingly, we made our way. And then, a small miracle happened. As we turned onto our quiet home street, away from the roaring traffic, his tail, which had been clamped firmly between his legs, gave a tentative wag. Then another. Before long, it was up in the air, wagging with his usual confident rhythm. He was back to his happy-go-lucky self.
And that’s when the lesson, intended for me all along, hit me with the force of a tidal wave.
God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble.
Psalm 46:1 (NLT)
An Honest Confession
To fully explain why this simple interaction with my dog resonated so deeply, I need to be open and honest with you. At the moment, our family is navigating some difficult times. Life is throwing challenges at us that feel relentless, and the strain from that is inevitably leaking out and causing friction in my relationship with my partner. That friction, in turn, is causing me a tremendous amount of personal anxiety.
My anxiety creates a vicious cycle. The more anxious I become, the more I perpetuate the very friction I’m desperate to resolve. My specific issues stem from a place of deep love and an equally deep fear. I love this woman more than words can say, and I cannot imagine a life without her. But my anxious mind relentlessly bombards me with questions. Am I doing enough to help her? Is my support enough for her? And the darkest fear of all, whispered from the shadows of past hurts: Is she going to leave me?
Logically, I know our relationship is not anywhere near that breaking point. But you try telling that to a brain caught in the grip of anxiety and a deep-seated fear of abandonment. Logic often doesn’t stand a chance against such a powerful emotional onslaught. I feel like I’m on a narrow path with traffic roaring past, trembling and seeing threats everywhere.
The Divine Parallel
As I watched Buckley’s tail start to wag again, I saw my own spiritual life laid bare. Buckley, in his fear, looked to me—his master, his protector—to calm him and “walk” him through the terrifying situation. He didn’t know how to get home safely on his own. He needed my guidance, my patience, and my reassuring presence to navigate the path.
This is exactly how God wants to care for us.
When we are overwhelmed by anxiety, our instinct is often to lunge and bark at the problems—the financial worries, the relationship strains, the health scares. We try to fight them head-on with our own strength, or we try to run from them, only to find ourselves more entangled and afraid. God is inviting us to do something different. He is inviting us to stop, to look to Him, and to let Him sit with us in the middle of our fear.
He knows the path home. He knows the way through the trouble. But He rarely just magically teleports us to the destination. Instead, He offers to walk with us, step by patient step. He keeps a tight, loving rein on us, not to restrict us, but to protect us from the real dangers we cannot see. He sits with us, comforts us, and praises our every small step of faith. The process of letting God calm your anxiety is an active one, requiring us to continually turn our gaze from the roaring traffic of our fears and fix it on Him.
Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6-7 (NLT)
Progress, Not Perfection
Over the last couple of days, I’ve noticed a change in Buckley. He’s been a lot calmer when we’ve passed cars. The deep-seated anxiety isn’t totally gone, but he is certainly better. He recovers more quickly. He looks to me for reassurance sooner. It’s a work in progress, and I know I just need to keep patiently working with him, reassuring and comforting him, reinforcing his trust in me.
This, I realise, is the final piece of the lesson. My spiritual journey is also a work in progress. God isn’t disappointed that I’m not “cured” of anxiety overnight. He simply asks that I keep turning to Him, that I keep trusting His lead. My job is to let Him do for me what I am doing for Buckley.
When the fear of abandonment whispers in my ear, I need to let God reassure me of His eternal love. When I feel the friction in my relationship, I need to let God comfort me with His peace that surpasses all understanding. It is a continuous act of surrender, of placing my trembling self into the hands of a Master I can trust completely. I need to keep letting God calm my anxiety, not just once, but daily, and sometimes moment by moment.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take.
Proverbs 3:5-6 (NLT)
A Reflection for You
As you read this, perhaps you see a bit of yourself in my story, or even in Buckley’s. We all have things in our lives that feel like roaring traffic on a narrow path. We all have anxieties that cause us to tremble and lunge at perceived threats, real or imagined.
So, I invite you to pause for a moment and reflect on these questions:
- Where in your life are you like Buckley, reacting in fear to the world around you?
- Are you trying to navigate that narrow, frightening path on your own, straining against the lead?
- What would it look like for you to stop, even for a moment, and simply look up at your Master?
Letting God calm your anxiety doesn’t mean the scary things will instantly disappear. But it does mean you have a calm, strong, and loving guide to sit with you, to reassure you, and to walk you through it, step by patient step, until your tail is wagging once more. He is always ready to help. All we have to do is look to Him.