I Can’t Stand Still. I Have Anxiety.

I didn’t realize that something was wrong until I reached the third or fourth day with very minimal sleep. At best, I enjoyed a couple hours of rest each night. Maybe enjoyed isn’t the right word. Those hours were usually filled with nightmares, restless tossing and turning, and sleep paralysis, but I would take what I could get.

What was surprising to me is that I actually did okay during the daytime. I could go to work, school, and then to my second job with a smile on my face and a distinct note of happiness in my voice. Because I was happy. Life was good.

But then I’d come home, sit down at church, spend time with my friends and family, or try to sleep for the night. That’s when things would get out of hand. My heart pounded. My breathing became irregular. I tapped my foot incessantly. I couldn't focus on the conversations that I was having or shut off my brain to rest. I was losing the ability to hear the voice of the Spirit because I couldn't drown out the sound of my own thoughts.

And perhaps the most frustrating thing about this situation was that I couldn't figure out where the anxiety was coming from. Logically, I couldn’t think of any reason I had to feel anxious, but I did. The only time it wasn’t all-consuming was when I stayed really, really busy, so I scheduled out every minute of every day and tried to keep myself away from my own thoughts. And it worked, or at least it worked until I went to sleep.

Days without an adequate amount of rest turned into weeks, and then into months. As I tearfully studied the scriptures one day, I prayed for something to change, or to receive direction on how I could find peace. Shortly afterward, I came across a story in the New Testament that describes how Jesus “stood still.” I suddenly felt quite certain that this was what I had been praying for. Standing still was my answer.

But I can’t stand still, I argued in my head. That’s the problem. I stand still and within moments become consumed with anxiety.

Just stand still. The thought firmly resounded in my brain.

A few days later I was at the Salt Lake City temple with a couple of my friends, hoping to receive more clarity inside those holy walls. Because I was engaged in trying to learn while I was there, I didn’t feel anxious. After all, I was keeping my mind busy. But then we stood in the Celestial room talking softly or not at all, and for the first time in months, I didn’t find the quiet stillness around me stressful. In fact, I felt peace and rest as if for the first time.

This is how you stand still. The Spirit told me.

When I left the temple I decided to continue studying this concept of standing still, and I noticed something incredible. Most of the scriptural references to this phrase either talk about how Christ himself stood still, or how the Lord instructed someone else to stand still. It was a commandment that Christ both lived and taught. He stood still when the broken-hearted called out His name, and He responded by asking how He could help them. His disciples were commanded to stand still and wait for God to instruct or help them when they were facing trials or difficulties. I found that standing still was often an encouragement to gain greater access to heaven.

And I had been instructed to stand still too. But it was hard and confusing.

Why could I stand still in the temple, but struggle with feeling anxious while I was at church? Wasn’t church attendance also important? Isn't it also a commandment that helps us gain access to heaven? And why couldn’t I rest at night, but experience physical and spiritual rejuvenation as I quietly spent time in the Celestial room?

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that the temple gives us access to heaven in a way that no other place on earth can. It is quite literally the Lord’s house and He resides there. There is no other place that can compare to it. And as I attend the temple with a conscious resolve to stand still and listen, I find the peace, rest, and quiet that I’ve been unable to find elsewhere.

So if you’re like me, and visiting with loved ones or attending church is difficult for you because of anxiety, OCD, over-stimulation, or for some other reason, I invite you to increase your temple attendance. If you are unable to go inside, I invite you to visit temple grounds and to make temple admittance your goal. But if you are able to enter inside, I beg you to do just that. Go to His house, and remember that as joint-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:16-17), it’ll be your house one day too. He wants you to feel at home there and to visit often.

As I’ve made the effort to be inside the temple each week over the last month, I’ve been astounded at how much power it has given me to endure the rest of the anxiety-ridden moments in my life.

No, it doesn’t make the anxiety go away. It will probably never go away entirely. However, worshiping in the temple allows me to stand still for a little while and wait upon the Lord.

And you know what?

He comes. Every. Single. Time.