I Thought I Was in Danger

but this diagnosis changes everything

Anxiety has been the bane of my existence for a very long time.

If I were never anxious again, I cannot imagine how much time, health, and joy I would have.

But anxiety has been a lifelong companion—one I’ve spent years neurotically speed-walking away from, like it’s a man in a ski mask following me on a dark street.

Then Tim Keller came out of his house and turned on the porch light, giving me the ability to see that maybe anxiety isn’t something I should be running from, but looking at.

In the light he shed, I realized something startling:

Anxiety wasn’t the threat I thought it was.

It wasn’t a stalker.

It was a messenger—holding up the truth against a shadow I’d mistaken for reality.

The message?

Something you’ve built your peace on is starting to give way. What you’ve trusted most—control, comfort, health, affirmation—is crumbling under the pressure of your deep need for it.

Your fear is the smoke. Your idol is the fire.

This is what Keller called a collapsing god: something never meant to carry the weight of our identity or hope. For me, the Keller ‘porch light moment’ was this: “Worry is always the result of a collapsing god.”

That insight changed me.

Instead of treating anxiety like an enemy, I started treating it like a guide—an internal alarm that something in my heart was off-center.

And here’s how it works:

1. The first Ask: What am I afraid to lose?

This is the emotional diagnosis.

You're naming the felt fear—what’s triggering the anxiety?

What’s the thing that, if taken away, would make you feel like you can’t breathe?

That’s where anxiety often starts. It’s not random—it’s protective. It flares up when something you’re leaning on starts to wobble.

“I’m terrified my kid will get hurt.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to do something hard, uncomfortable, or painful.”

“I’m scared people will think I’m incompetent.”

What are you afraid of losing? This is your surface-level fear, which is usually immediate and situational. It’s about what is making your chest tighten.

2. The next task: Identify the false center.

This is the theological and existential step that helps you find the source of the fear.

You take that fear and ask, Why is this particular thing shaking me up so much?

What have I attached my identity, security, or worth to?

“I’ve made my child’s safety the ultimate source of my peace.”

“I’ve built my life around staying comfortable—and called it peace.”

“I’ve centered my sense of worth around being admired.”

This is the root, not just the symptom. It's where you uncover the idol—that ‘collapsing god’ Keller talks about in his book Counterfeit Gods: The Empty Promises of Money, Sex, and Power, and the Only Hope That Matters (2009).

Maybe it’s approval. Maybe it’s control. Maybe it’s being seen a certain way. When a good thing becomes the ultimate thing, it turns into an idol—and it can’t hold the weight of your soul. That’s when anxiety becomes heavy.

3. Relocate your trust.

This is the redemptive response.

Once you've named the fear (#1) and uncovered the idol or false center (#2), you're not left in shame—you’re invited into a shift. This is where transformation starts—In the act of saying:

“What does it look like to trust God when my fear feels louder than His promises?”

This isn’t about suppressing anxiety or controlling your emotions—it’s about redirecting the weight of your soul onto something that won’t collapse under it.

So. . .

1. When you feel responsible for your child’s safety, remember—

Your love is beautiful. But it’s exhausting you because you weren’t built to be their shield, their Savior, or their future.

You were built to point them to the One who is.
God sees every moment, every risk, every what-if you lie awake imagining.

And He’s already there.

2. When you are afraid of being uncomfortable, remember—

Comfort was never meant to be your god.

And ease was never meant to be your goal.

Following Jesus will stretch you, challenge you, and often undo you. But He will meet you in every hard place. Not to remove the discomfort, but to walk through it with you.

The peace you crave isn’t found in escaping hard things—it’s found in knowing you’re not alone in them.

3. When you’re crushed by the need to be admired, remember—

You weren’t saved by your performance.

You were saved by Him.

You don’t have to earn your worth with likes, compliments, or constant proof that you’re enough.

That was settled at the cross.

Let their opinions rise and fall.

Let the spotlight move on.

Let the silence settle.

Anxiety loses its power when you stop treating it like a curse and start using it like a compass.

It doesn’t have to control you. It doesn’t have to define you. When you let it point you to the places where your hope has quietly shifted away from God, it becomes a tool, not a tormentor.

People will disappoint. Success will fade. Control will slip through your fingers.

But Jesus? He never fails.

And when your trust is in Him, even your fear can lead you closer to freedom.

Thoughts?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this revolutionary way of seeing anxiety, not as a big dog out to kill you, but as a dog tugging at your pant leg, trying to get you to see the fire that could kill you. Let me know what you think.