Is Anxiety a Sin?
I don’t think anyone chose the word anxiety as their Word of the Year for 2020 or 2021, but I know many of us felt like it was chosen for us. For some of us, anxiety is a feeling that comes and goes, and for others, it’s more like the backdrop of the rest of our lives. The National Alliance on Mental Illness estimates that in the US, over forty million adults live with an anxiety disorder. Even so, anxiety tends to be a sticky subject when it comes to religious spaces. I’m not a mental health expert, but I have had my own share of experiences with anxiety and with being an anxious person in church.
For me, anxiety is the lurking-in-the-background-at-all-times type, and it started when I was young. Sometimes when I think back on my childhood, I remember summer evenings with the neighbor kids, taking turns on a rope swing. I remember days of sidewalk chalk and bike rides and popsicles. I remember a lightness, an innocence.
Other times, I can piece together the early symptoms of anxiety I have experienced most of my life: my obsessive peeling of the paper off my crayons, the stomach sickness I felt when I was in restaurants and around crowds, my early fears of getting mouth cancer from biting my cheek too much. Later, when I started to understand death and was exposed to preaching that I can’t describe as anything but “fire-and-brimstone,” I began praying repetitively, reading my Bible all the time, constantly worried about the end of life, the end of the world.
Of course, I didn’t have the diagnosis of anxiety disorder or obsessive-compulsive disorder at that time. I didn’t have the language to explain how I felt. Psychology of any sort was disapproved of in my family, and symptoms of depression would be termed sinful because it looked like I wasn’t being joyful in the Lord. My symptoms of anxiety were interpreted as fear that should be channeled into trust in God.
This verse was taught to me from an early age:
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:6–7 NIV).
How I wanted that peace, that promised protection! I would have done anything to get it. But instead, I sank deeper into my anxiety, praying incessantly as the Scriptures said to do. I felt ashamed of my anxiety, thinking I was being sinful, that I just wasn’t trusting God enough.
These days, I don’t set foot in fire-and-brimstone churches anymore, but I have still found the concept that anxiety is sinful in other churches, in Bible study groups, and in conversations with other Christians. It has been disheartening to me, not only because I feel judged and shamed for experiencing an anxiety disorder, but also because I know others in these circles who suffer similarly and often silently.
Once I started to understand my own state of mental health and the brain science behind it, I realized that the verse in Philippians doesn’t really describe my situation; I don’t believe it is talking about an anxiety disorder or even the word anxiety as we understand it today in our own culture. In fact, the Greek word for anxious here has been translated to “concern” or “care” in other verses and translations and has also been used in positive contexts.
The way I used to hear Philippians 4:6 was as a strict command, as if the only way to the peace of God was to completely stop being anxious or having anxious thoughts. If that were the case, I would never come close to this kind of peace.
But now I read this verse from a perspective that it is not talking about my mental health per se, but about a more general approach to life. I see it as an encouragement to give our struggles to God, not a command to stop struggling. Rather than judgment, I see it as a comfort that there is no need to fear because God will take care of us. And when we do feel afraid, that’s OK too, because we’re human. This verse serves more as a hope in my life rather than a condemnation that I’ll never add up to enough. It leaves room for me to seek therapy and other mental health treatments without that added layer of shame from thinking that my anxiety is a sin.
I used to hide my anxiety in Christian spaces because I didn’t feel safe to share my experience—anxiety always had such a negative connotation. But my hope is that as we all become more educated about mental health, we can foster safe environments for people to be themselves, where they can free to share about their struggles if they wish to. I believe churches can become safe places for those with mental illness as we lean into empathy and judgment-free attitudes. It is key to understand that while our whole being is connected—mind, body, soul—we must not conflate our spiritual health with our mental health. Both are important, but they are not the same.
If you live with an anxiety disorder or another mental struggle, I hope you know you are loved by God just as you are and there is no shame in having a mental illness. There is room for you, too, at this table we share.
is a writer, reader, and publishing professional who lives with her husband in Grand Rapids, Michigan. After leaving the stay-at-home-daughter movement, she started over by studying creative writing at Michigan State University, working in education and literacy, and eventually finding her way to an editorial position in book publishing. Find her at caitwest.com and on Instagram and Twitter at @caitwestwrites.
Photograph © Joice Kelly, used with permission
