Back to the Heart of It: Wrestling with Anxiety and Church Hurt

2024 was a challenging year. I was dealing with anxiety at levels I had never experienced before. I had just decided to leave a pastoral position, which also meant leaving the church community I had called home for the previous few years. The clarity of calling I’d had since I was 21 seemed to be shifting. I felt like I was treading water with no land in sight.

April 2024 was the height of it. It was the first time since stepping down as a youth pastor that Carissa and I decided to attend church. I was feeling anxious. We got a sitter for our kids so Carissa and I could attend this new church community alone to see if it was a safe place for them. Still feeling that anxiety, we walked in and sat toward the back of the room. The service began and my anxiety increased and never let up. However, because I was with Carissa, who is the person I feel safest with, I got through it, though the service was a blur.

Two weeks later I went back with the kids, but this time without Carissa. After checking them in, I went into the auditorium and sat alone. I was feeling uncomfortable and the moment the lights dimmed, discomfort gave way to panic.

My heart started to race. I felt nauseous (a common anxiety symptom for me). As the first song played, my chest grew tight and my hands began to shake. I was sweating and struggling to take a deep breath. I don’t know how long I sat there trying to work through it, but nothing was helping. I was having a full-blown anxiety attack. Eventually, I left the auditorium, sat on a bench outside, and tried to catch my breath. After sitting a while and doing a few breathing exercises, my symptoms started to fade.

I didn’t go back into the service that Sunday.

What triggered my anxiety? Church. It turned out that being back in a church—any church—had become deeply triggering for my anxiety. On the drive home, I remember thinking, “I guess I’m done with church for a while.”

Ten years earlier, that thought would’ve been unthinkable. I had been on fire for Jesus, confident in my calling, and convinced nothing could shake my faith. But there I was—unsure of my calling and even my relationship with Jesus. I felt like I had chased a calling that was slipping away. All the time, education, and dedication I had poured into what I believed God created me to do suddenly felt wasted.

I still loved Jesus, but I wasn’t sure I could ever be part of a church again.

The church had let me down and seemed not to care. The thoughtless words and careless actions of people I trusted left deep marks. I was told I wasn’t doing enough, even after I’d opened up about feeling burned out and weighed down by anxiety. I felt burned by the church, and my brain began to see it not as a safe space, but as a hostile one.

I told my therapist how frustrated I was that simply entering a church building—even one I had no history with—could send me into a spiral. She explained that my anxiety was attempting to protect me. My brain wasn’t being irrational; it was being cautious. Phil Lane describes in Psychology Today how anxiety often operates this way:

“This is the way that anxiety presents itself as being helpful and protective when, in actuality, it is serving to disrupt our peace of mind and ability to be mindful and present.”

That insight helped me understand the why, but it didn’t solve the problem. How could I go to church if doing so sent me into a panic? I wanted to return to a time when I felt excitement, not fear, about gathering with God’s people. I wanted to reconnect with that 21-year-old version of me. I wanted to get back to that season of faith.

But if I’m honest, after stepping away from ministry, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go back. I quietly considered walking away from my calling altogether. I felt mentally and spiritually broken—and I didn’t know if I’d ever recover.

Here’s what I did: I took time away.

I didn’t attend church consistently—maybe once a month for a while. I’m not prescribing that for anyone else, but it was what I needed. Slowly, I began to feel safer. I began to heal. Through time, prayer, healthy practices, and medication, I started to get a better grasp on my anxiety.

Recently, I came across a song by Benjamin William Hastings called At the Heart of It. Hastings, a former Hillsong United worship leader, captures what it feels like to wrestle with church hurt while still longing for God. The ending especially struck me:

Now I’m just tryna get back to the heart of it
I’m tryna get warmth back in my daily bread
and sing with the Infinity of stars inside of your arms
that know whose they are.
I’m just tryna get back to the start again
But since I can’t go back, I might as well advance.
I’ll run into those everlasting arms
You didn’t bring me this far
To leave me in the dark.
So I’ll find You on the other side of hard
Though life left its mark through wrinkles and scars.
I’m just tryna get back to Your heart.

This song became part of my healing. God has used it to start mending something in me.

Even though I had been hurt, and even though I had become cynical, I genuinely wanted to heal my relationship with Jesus. I knew He wasn’t done with me, even though I didn’t know how that was possible. And the turning point came when I simply admitted that.

As I handed over my confusion and hurt, He started putting me back together.

If you’re in a similar place, let me encourage you:

You are not alone. You are not broken.

If you’re wrestling with church hurt or anxiety around a spiritual community, your willingness to process it shows tremendous strength and faith, regardless of the decision you eventually make. Don’t give up. Some days you’ll feel defeated. Some days you’ll feel hopeful. Take the wins and talk through the hard stuff—preferably with someone you trust.

If you need someone to process with, I’d love to be that person.

**if you’ve been in a truly unsafe or abusive church situation, please hear this: God does not ask you to return to what harms you. There are times when staying away is the wisest and most faithful thing you can do.

I wish I could tell you I have it all figured out now, but I don’t. I still struggle with anxiety most Sundays. Just this past Sunday, I had to focus on taking deep breaths during the first worship song because my anxiety started to flare up. Thankfully, I was able to calm my anxiety and finish the service.

Though I still struggle regularly with anxiety, it hasn’t consumed me. While I wish I could snap my fingers and make the pain and anxiety go away, I realize that this is a process that will take time, maybe even the rest of my life, to fully heal from. However, I have come through this time incredibly thankful. I’m thankful for Carissa’s patience and understanding. I’m thankful for the friends I can count on to be who a safe, listening ear. I’m thankful for those who have shared their anxiety stories with me. I’m thankful for therapy and medication. Most of all, I’m thankful for a God who understands, who stays close, and who never gives up on us.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate you.

Philip