To flee, to fight, to trust

Tightness in my chest. Tension in my muscles.
Breathing? Short, sparse, increasingly forced.
Fight or flight? Fight or flight?
What is the danger? Where is the danger?
Fight it flight? Fight or flight?
My body is fighting what my brain knows isn't there.
Anxiety.
It plagues me. It haunts me. It is a series of lies that I allow to overpower me.
In these moments, there is no real danger, just mere thoughts of possibility. A perpetual and gnawing stream of what if...
In these moments, I choose to forsake all that I know to be true; to allow a lie to arrest me to my core.
In these moments, I exchange my belief in the all powerful, all knowing Creator for the maybes of His creation.
In these moments, I pray the song of my soul will sing:
"If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up."
In these moments, my God is able to deliver me from the worst that my mind has to offer, but even if he doesn't, he is good.
As I consider wayward and dying souls of the ones I love, the bondage of finance, the risk of loving another person, missing planes in Libya, Ebola breakouts, rebel abductions, and the thousands of other things that plague my mind, I pray that I will cling to the one thing I know to be true and unchanging.
He is good.