Faith and Anxiety: You Don't Have to Carry This Alone

Anxiety is one of the most common struggles I hear about quietly—in passing, sometimes with embarrassment, and almost always with a kind of exhaustion that goes deeper than tired. I see it in family members, in friends, in coworkers. Good people. Responsible people. Faithful people.

 And it's not just what I observe. The number of people in the United States struggling with anxiety has been rising steadily for years. Sometimes it grows from financial strain or broken relationships. Sometimes from work that demands too much, or from the slow accumulation of small pressures. Many times, it is due to a combination of factors and burdens. 

 One thing that has clearly made it worse is our constant exposure to social media. Without quite realizing it, we begin comparing ourselves to carefully curated images of other people's lives—and we start to feel behind. Inadequate. Not enough. Closely related is what I'd gently call our addiction to our phones. We fill every quiet moment with noise. At red lights. In line. While walking. But our souls need silence. Our minds need stillness. Without it, we lose touch with purpose. And when purpose fades, it becomes very hard to sustain anything that feels like peace and happiness. I’m writing this article during Lent, and I gave up social media as a sacrifice. I’m already so much happier and peaceful. 

 All of this led me to write these reflections. People of faith often wonder what to do with anxiety. If I trust God, why do I still feel this way? Should prayer make this go away? Am I doing something wrong?

 I pray that what follows feels less like an explanation and more like companionship.

Let me begin by saying this clearly, and with as much gentleness as I can: anxiety is not a sign of weak faith.

 Not All Anxiety Is the Same

Anxiety comes in many forms, and it matters to name that honestly.

 Sometimes it is the result of medical or psychological conditions—rooted in trauma, in brain chemistry, in things that go beyond what willpower or prayer alone can reach. In those cases, seeking therapy or medical care is not a failure of trust. Very often, it is the very way God chooses to bring healing. The Church has long affirmed the wisdom of medicine and psychology. God works through doctors and counselors just as surely as he works through prayer and the sacraments.

 But there is another kind of anxiety—the kind that rises when life feels uncertain or fragile, when the future feels too large to hold. The kind that whispers: What if something goes wrong? What if I fail? What if I lose what matters most? This anxiety often lives in good, responsible people. People who are doing their best and still feel unsettled. And it is here that faith can begin—gently, not forcefully—to loosen anxiety's grip. Not by denying it. But by slowly reframing how we carry it.

 Faith may not erase anxiety completely. But it can change how we experience it in our hearts.

 Anxiety Often Grows Where Control Is Tightest

Much of our anxiety comes from trying to manage what we were never meant to control.

We worry about outcomes beyond our reach. We replay conversations. We rehearse futures that may never arrive. We carry responsibilities as if everything depends entirely on us. And slowly, almost without noticing, our hearts tighten, and our breathing grows shallow.

 I've spoken with loved ones who can describe in vivid detail everything that could go wrong—a hurricane, a job loss, a health scare, a rent increase. Maybe some of it will happen. Maybe none of it will. But the body reacts as though those imagined futures are already real. Breathing shortens. Sleep suffers. Stress seeps in. And yet none of those things have happened. So far, all of that only lives in our imagination!

 Faith does not tell us to stop caring. It invites us to stop carrying everything alone.

Jesus does not say, “Nothing bad will happen.” He says, “Do not be afraid… your Father knows what you need”. (Matthew 6:8, 25–34) Over and over in Scripture, the same words return: Do not be afraid. This is not denial. It is trust. An invitation to open our hands and look up to God for his help. “Abba Father, I need you.”

 When we read the lives of the saints, a thread appears again and again. They did what they could, they aligned their lives with God's will—and then they surrendered the outcomes. They let God work. Padre Pio put it simply: Pray, hope, and don't worry.

 How Faith Gently Eases Anxiety

Faith helps not by force, but by quietly re-orienting the heart.

When anxiety narrows our vision, faith restores meaning. Anxiety shrinks the world to immediate threats and worst-case scenarios. It is, in many ways, an ancient fight-or-flight response that was never meant to run continuously. Faith widens the horizon again. It reminds us that our lives are held within a larger story—one shaped by love, not by chaos. Yes, that story may involve suffering. But even suffering can lead to the purification of the soul and a deeper union with God. That is not a pious platitude. That is the heart of the Cross.

 Research consistently shows that a strong sense of meaning reduces stress and anxiety, especially during difficult times. For believers, meaning is not something we have to invent or sustain by our own effort. It is received. Our purpose is to love God with all our mind, heart, soul, and strength—and to love others as ourselves. And here is something quietly remarkable: when we serve others, our own fears and anxieties often begin to loosen. We become channels of grace, almost without noticing. Our focus shifts from our own circling thoughts toward something larger and more alive.

 Learning to Let Go

Much anxiety is fueled by an unspoken belief: everything depends on me. Faith introduces another truth—God is faithful even when outcomes remain uncertain.

 I once volunteered alongside my wife with the Missionaries of Charity. They were under constant pressure—never enough resources, never guaranteed what the next day would bring. And yet there was a steady peace about them. They would tell stories of being short on money, only to have strangers arrive with donations. Of lacking food, only to have people show up with vegetables from their gardens. Small, quiet acts of providence.

 But their trust did not come from nowhere. It was built, day by day, through practice. Each morning began with Eucharistic adoration and Mass. They prayed for guidance and for strength. They walked humbly with God. Their peace flowed from a relationship—not from optimism or certainty about outcomes.

 Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:7)

 That is an invitation, not a command. An open hand.

Prayer Calms the Body as Well as the Soul

Slow, contemplative prayer—whether the Rosary, Eucharistic adoration, or simple silent presence before God—does something very human. It slows our breathing. It steadies the heart. It creates space to listen. If you want to go deeper into building that kind of prayer life, I wrote about this here, "Unlock the Secret to Inner Peace: How to Pray Without Ceasing in Today’s Busy World"

 Sometimes we are in a place in our lives where prayer feels dry. Empty. Unrewarding. The words fall flat, and God feels far away.

 Pray anyway.

 This is not performance. It is fidelity. And fidelity, over time, builds something in us that anxiety cannot easily undo. Prayer may not cure anxiety disorders, though God is not limited in what he can heal. But for the kind of anxiety that rises from stress, fear, or a fraying sense of control, it can gently lower the temperature. Faith does not bypass the body. It works through it.

 Brought Back to Today

Anxiety almost always lives in the future. Faith keeps gently calling us back to the present.

“Give us this day our daily bread.” Not tomorrow's bread. Not next year's certainty. Just enough for today. 

 When the Israelites wandered in the desert, God fed them with manna—on one condition. They could not store it. They had to trust that tomorrow would be taken care of when it arrived. That daily trust is not so different from what we are asked to practice now. We are not promised the whole road. We are promised presence on it. We need to be in the here, now. 

 We are not just present—we are accompanied. By Christ. By the angels. By the saints who pray for us. That changes things.

 We Are Not Meant to Carry This Alone

Anxiety thrives in isolation. Faith, when lived in community, quietly reminds us that suffering is shared.

 One of the most consistent findings in mental health research is that social connection reduces anxiety. Parish life, spiritual friendship, shared prayer—these matter more than we often realize. We may not feel like driving to church or sitting in a small group. But sometimes that small act of showing up makes a quiet and meaningful difference. Not just for us. For whoever is waiting on the other side of it. That’s why Alcoholics Anonymous meetings are so effective. 

 And we are invited, always, to accompany others. To listen. To be present. To love without needing to fix. That last part sometimes is challenging for me as I’m a fixer. Here is a related previous article, God Wired Us for Love: What Science and Faith Reveal About the Secret to a Happy Life.

 "I will not fear, because I know that You are with me." — St. Thérèse of Lisieux

 A Gentle Word About Professional Help

If anxiety is persistent, overwhelming, or interfering with your daily life, please seek professional help. Therapy and medication are not signs of spiritual failure. They are often acts of courage and humility—ways of caring for the life God has given you.

 Faith and mental health care are not competitors. They are collaborators. God's healing is not limited to one path.

 Faith May Not Remove Anxiety—But It Can Change How We Live with It

Faith does not promise a life without fear. It promises a presence within fear. Jesus himself experienced anguish in Gethsemane and on the Cross. He did not promise us exemption from suffering. He promised to walk us through it.

 Faith reminds us that anxiety does not define us. That our worth is not measured by our productivity or our outcomes. That we are held—even when we feel most unsteady.

Sometimes faith quiets anxiety. Sometimes it simply gives us the strength to live faithfully alongside it, one day at a time.

 Both are grace.

 If you are anxious today, you are not broken. You are human. You are not alone. And you are loved by God—more completely than you know. He loves you so much!

 A Prayer for Anxiety

Lord, you see my anxious heart. You know how easily my thoughts race ahead, how quickly fear settles in my body, how heavy the weight can feel.

 I bring you what I have— not calm, not certainty, just this moment, and this breath.

When my mind is crowded with what ifs, quiet me enough to remember that you are here. When I try to control what I cannot, teach me how to place it gently into your hands.

Help me trust you with what I cannot fix and give me wisdom for what I can. Slow my breathing. Steady my heart. Remind me that I am not alone.

 Jesus, you know what it is to feel anguish. Stay close to me now. Carry what feels too heavy for me to hold.

 I place this day in your care. Just this day.

Amen.