Exchange.

Many days, I awake to feel my heart quickening like an engine by the turning of a key. Its gotten a lot better over the years, but it still happens. I can recall the dawn of my becoming years, walking through the days with crippling anxiety and being excused from school to visit a counselor. I remember when my mom, after a long time of not knowing what to do with me, decided to move me across state boundaries and immerse me in a healthier school and church culture. I remember when that decision led to my healing - when I laid on the floor weeping in youth group as precious leaders gathered around me, held me, fought for me, and spoke freedom over my life. I remember how sweet the peace felt resting upon my chest like a blanket - far different than the suffocating weight I had carried for so long. And I remember when it came back, a thief disguised as an old friend.The re-entrance was nauseating. I had anxiety about having anxiety. It was a domino-effect, a snowballing that led my heart far from the freedom that I had been given as a gift. There was never a time in my life that I struggled with sleep, not even during my panic-attack days; but I woke nightly to feel my heart racing like a life against the clock. When I finally got myself to calm down enough to fall back asleep, I would wake again in the morning to the same thing. It would hold onto me all day and night, gripping every part of my life, tearing into every facet of my being. I received prayer. I cried out to God. I tried to beat myself into submission to peace, but I have found that no amount of anxiety can manipulate itself into peace. It must be given. It must be taken. It must be exchanged.You see, I've always been a perfectionist. A go-getter. Ambitious and determined. I have a tendency to take on way too many projects, fill my days with work, and hustle until 12:30am. I really struggle with resting. If I'm not being productive, I feel useless and lazy. I wasn't always this way, though. When I was young, I was carefree. I was the kid who had an eclectic style that was all my own (and an eye-sore half the time), acted out dramatic skits for my family, tried everything, and spent a lot of time outside just being. I'm still not sure what happened, but somewhere along the way, society tamed my wild heart. As I write this, I shed tears because I see an entire world of wild hearts being tamed for the sake of "growing up." As a result, I see a plethora of coping mechanisms developing within us that are destructive. Cutting. Binge-eating. Starvation. Toxic romantic relationships. Hours in front of a tv screen. The list goes on and on. For me, it was constant busyness and involvement.When I was ten, my counselor told me that I had too many plates spinning. No ten year old should ever have that be their reality, but I did. She told me I was overwhelmed by trying to keep them all from falling and shattering. She also made it really simple and said that I had the choice to take a few plates down to make it more manageable. I don't remember if it helped me much then, but it stuck with me. Something my mentors told me when the anxiety came back was that I needed to draw away with God. That His nearness heals and would calm my heart if I found time for Him. I found every excuse for why I hadn't and why I didn't know if I could find more time than what I gave Him when my plans fell through. But they were right. I had a choice that I needed to make.I think it all comes down to decision, really. Freedom is ours, but we have to choose to walk in it and cultivate a lifestyle conducive to it. It wasn't enough for me to beg in prayer for healing if I wasn't willing to spend time with the Healer. God isn't a vending machine handing out whatever we ask for. He often requires something of us, and its usually an exchange. We give Him our burden, He gives us rest. We cast our anxieties upon Him, He gives us peace. We make time, He shows up. He is faithful to meet us where we are at, but we have to meet Him too.Truth be told, when I started making time for Jesus, peace shed a light within my heart and began to expel the darkness I was sitting in. He gave me strategy in the quiet place, a strategy for a lifestyle of peace. It was simple really - hold His hand. Do the things that bring me life. Clock out. Say no sometimes. All things I had to decide to do, but that He would empower me to do from a place of intimacy with Him.People aren't perfect, and I still struggle with anxiety. I still get busy. I still forget to draw away with God. I still say yes too much. But I've found that I have control over it, because He has given me the keys to freedom. It's a choice, and I'm still learning what it looks like to choose it. It's a journey, and He is so faithful to remind me to exchange my burden for His. My yoke for His. Beauty for ashes. Joy for mourning. Praise for heaviness. Isn't that just like Him? To carry the crosses of our lives and give us the cross of grace in exchange? He is faithful, friends, and we just have to be willing to meet Him. Whatever your burden, He can carry it if you just hand it over. Remember the words of Solomon in Psalm 127 - "It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for He gives His beloved sleep." May we live a life of exchange and find His sleep in the midst of the grown-up life.words by Olivia Douglas and photo by Sarah Beth Pritchard