I used to feel worse after praying—until I learned this

I thought I was taking my fears to God, but something was missing—because I often felt more anxious after praying. Several years ago, I learned how to change that frustrating pattern.

Gethsemane by Jorge Cocco

It sounds terrible to say, "I feel worse after praying." Especially considering this:

God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

- 2 Timothy 1:7

If that’s true, then how could anyone feel worse after praying?! For a long time,

I had to find other ways to feel close to God and receive answers. I even stopped praying (sometimes), which also made me feel bad. How could God answer a child who didn’t speak to Him?

The short answer is: He understands us perfectly. He is merciful and patient.

For me, understanding came a few months into EMDR therapy, when I had the following realization:

It’s okay to acknowledge our pain in the midst of our difficulties. But if we don’t, at the same time, acknowledge something greater, the weight of that pain might swallow us up!

Let me explain that—and how EMDR changed my prayers.

In my EMDR experience, a trained therapist had me “go back” to events that had never been fully dealt with. Each time, I was given an assignment. Sometimes, it was to picture someone I saw as a protector coming with me. Other times, it was a nurturer or someone I associated with unconditional love. I know that sounds a little coo-coo, but it worked.

“Going back” to certain situations allowed me to face things that had been pushed aside because they were too overwhelming for a young teen.

Having one of those “pretend” people at my side while doing so taught me something important—certain things can't be faced alone. You see, all those pretend people all had one thing in common: capacity greater than my own.

As healing thoughts came in bits and pieces, so did tiny floods of understanding.

I felt forgiveness—for those who perpetrated abuse, for those who failed to prevent it, and even for myself for “allowing” it to happen.

The miracle that came with that? The unwanted feelings I had experienced for so long stopped popping up like whack-a-mole. Everyday situations that bore slight resemblance to the past no longer uncovered old wounds—or sparked out-of-control reactions.

So what does any of this have to do with anxiety while praying?

SO MUCH.

How I used to pray: I’d rattle off a list of things I feared most, then anxiously plead for God to prevent those things from happening. If they did happen, I’d fall to my knees in the same fearful pattern, pleading for Him to “fix” it. In hindsight, my prayers were more like fear mantras than actual prayers. I thought I was turning my fear over to God, but in reality, all that anxious praying was cementing the fear even more deeply.

So how did I get out of that trap?

I started doing what we did in EMDR therapy while facing scary things. I began picturing someone with greater capacity beside me. Except this time, it wasn’t a protector or a nurturer. It was my Savior, Jesus Christ—who has overcome all things.

How I pray now, in the rare event that a fear or worry gets me spinning:

I still pour out my heart to God about the challenges I face—but then I turn my thoughts to Jesus Christ in every thought thereafter. I reflect on His attributes, what He did for others in scripture, and the reasons why He has the capacity I lack.

When I do that, I can’t help but tell my Father in Heaven what I know to be true of His Son. Of course, God already knows these things. But bearing testimony of what I know about Jesus brings down walls.

Anxiety loses its power as my thoughts shift to Him.

Then specific answers come (sometimes)—but mostly, what comes is peace.

Giving Jesus’ capacity more weight than my fears prevents me from getting stuck in them. Secure in the knowledge that He has overcome all things, I fear fewer things.

Can you imagine someday being with Him—and fearing nothing?