But somewhere along the way, anxiety crept in. Not the kind that goes away after a good night's sleep, but the persistent kind that wakes you at 3 AM wondering if you're doing enough, if you can keep going, if something's fundamentally wrong with you. And here's what makes it worse: you thought this level of sacrifice would earn you peace. Instead, you lie awake worrying about the very children you're serving.

That gap between what you expected and what you're experiencing-it's not just disappointing. It's destabilizing.

THE STANDARD APPROACH

When faithful people experience persistent anxiety, the conventional wisdom follows a clear equation: more faith + more obedience + more service = freedom from anxiety.

This framework shows up everywhere in Christian communities. Pray more consistently. Examine yourself for hidden sin. Increase your Bible reading. Serve with greater sacrifice. The underlying assumption is straightforward: if you're doing everything right spiritually, God will bless you with emotional peace. Anxiety, in this framework, becomes diagnostic-evidence that something's off in your relationship with God.

For someone pouring themselves into foster care, this approach seems to make sense initially. You're doing kingdom work. You're sacrificing for vulnerable children. Surely this level of obedience should result in the peace that "passes understanding." When it doesn't, the natural conclusion is either that God isn't holding up His end, or that you're failing spiritually in some way you can't identify.

So you try harder. More prayer. More service. More examination of your heart. And the anxiety persists.

WHERE IT BREAKS DOWN

Here's where this framework creates a devastating double bind: it gives faithful sufferers no psychological space to exist.

If blessings are rewards for good behavior, then suffering has no explanation apart from one that blames the person who suffers. A woman who's sacrificing her comfort for traumatized children while experiencing anxiety doesn't fit the equation. So the framework forces an interpretation: either the anxiety proves she's not faithful enough, or it proves God isn't faithful to His promises.

Neither interpretation is bearable. The first creates shame spirals-"I'm failing spiritually and my anxiety is the evidence." The second creates theological crisis-"I've given everything and God hasn't shown up." Both interpretations make the anxiety worse.

Research published in peer-reviewed psychology journals identifies this pattern as negative religious coping-interpreting suffering as divine punishment, abandonment, or evidence of inadequate faith. Studies show this coping style is a stronger predictor of worsening anxiety and depression than almost any other factor. In other words, the story you tell yourself about why you're anxious can be more damaging than the anxiety itself.

The transactional framework doesn't just fail to help. It actively harms.

THE COUNTERINTUITIVE FLIP

What if the entire equation is backwards? What if anxiety isn't a report card on your spiritual life at all?

Consider the Book of Job-not as a distant theological concept, but as a direct challenge to the framework you've been using. Job was righteous. Blameless, even. And he lost everything. His friends insisted his suffering must indicate hidden sin-they clung to the transactional framework because giving it up felt like chaos. But at the end of the book, God rebukes them. Their interpretation of suffering as punishment was the lie, not the truth.

Now apply that lens to your anxiety. When you interpret it as evidence that God is displeased with you or that your service isn't good enough, you're using the same framework God explicitly condemned in Job's story.

What if your anxiety is simply your nervous system responding to legitimate, overwhelming stress-and has nothing to do with God's assessment of your faithfulness?

Traumatized children carry enormous needs. Secondary trauma affects caregivers-this is documented in every training on trauma-informed care. The weight of responsibility for vulnerable lives is physiologically activating. Your anxiety might not be a spiritual problem at all. It might be your body doing exactly what bodies do under sustained stress, while your faith remains genuine and your service remains valuable.

This flip changes everything: serving God and experiencing anxiety are not mutually exclusive. They're just... separate categories.

THE HIDDEN REASON IT WORKS

Here's what research on religious coping reveals: the critical variable isn't whether you have anxiety. It's whether you interpret that anxiety as evidence of divine displeasure.

Studies distinguish between two types of religious orientation. Intrinsic religiosity-where faith is valued as transcendent and relationship with God is inherently meaningful-correlates with reduced anxiety and depression. Extrinsic religiosity-where religion functions as a tool to get desired outcomes-increases anxiety levels.

Read that again. When you approach faith transactionally ("I serve God to get peace"), your anxiety gets worse. When you approach faith intrinsically ("I serve God because relationship with Him and reflecting His heart matter, regardless of outcomes"), your wellbeing improves.

The mechanism is profound: transactional faith creates constant evaluation. Every emotional state becomes evidence for or against God's approval. Anxiety triggers a cascade-"I'm anxious, therefore God is displeased, therefore I must be failing, therefore I'm more anxious." You're stuck in recursive self-assessment that compounds distress.

Intrinsic faith breaks that cycle. Your relationship with God isn't contingent on your emotional state. Your service to foster children isn't a down payment on peace-it's participation in something God values, full stop. And your anxiety is something to address with the same practical wisdom you'd apply to any other physiological response to stress: therapy, medication if needed, community support, coping strategies.

What makes this work isn't positive thinking. It's theological accuracy about what faith actually is. Faith isn't a anxiety-elimination program. It's a relationship that holds steady regardless of your nervous system's state.

WHAT THIS MEANS ABOUT EVERYTHING

This reframe doesn't just change how you think about anxiety. It changes how you understand what God actually promises.

God never promised that faithful service would result in a stress-free nervous system. He promised His presence, His love, His purposes being worked out even in suffering. Those are different categories entirely from "you won't feel anxious."

Consider what this means for theodicy-the question of why God allows suffering. The transactional framework makes theodicy impossible to resolve. If God is supposed to prevent suffering for the faithful, then persistent suffering becomes evidence against either God's goodness or your faithfulness. It's an unsolvable equation that creates theological crisis.

But if suffering and faithfulness can coexist-if Job can be righteous and still suffer, if Paul can have a "thorn in the flesh" that God doesn't remove, if your anxiety can be real while God's love remains constant-then theodicy stops being a crisis and becomes a mystery you can live within.

This changes your relationship to your own experience. You're no longer interpreting every anxious moment as a referendum on your standing with God. You can be anxious and faithful simultaneously. You can serve these children with everything you have while also acknowledging, "This work is hard on my nervous system and I need support."

Research on meaning-making shows this is the critical pivot: the goal isn't to eliminate suffering but to find sustainable meaning within it. When you stop trying to make anxiety go away as proof of God's approval, you create space to address it practically while maintaining your sense of calling.

Your advocacy for foster care reform, your creation of life books for children, your trauma-informed parenting training-all of it remains meaningful regardless of your anxiety levels. The work matters because the children matter, not because the work earns you emotional outcomes.

THE SHIFT IN YOU

Something has changed in how you see yourself. You're no longer a failure whose anxiety exposes spiritual inadequacy. You're a caregiver under enormous legitimate stress, doing work that reflects God's heart for vulnerable children, while also being a human with a nervous system that responds to that stress.

You now understand the difference between these two statements:

"My anxiety means God is punishing me for something I can't identify" (negative religious coping that worsens mental health)

vs.

"My anxiety is my body's response to genuinely difficult circumstances, and God remains present with me in both the service and the struggle" (positive religious coping that improves wellbeing)

That distinction isn't semantic. It's the difference between spiraling shame and sustainable service. You can now pursue therapy for anxiety without interpreting that as evidence God isn't enough. You can acknowledge the toll of secondary trauma without seeing it as spiritual failure. You can connect with other foster families about the real challenges without hiding behind a facade of "faith means no anxiety."

The shift is from transactional faith (serving to earn outcomes) to intrinsic faith (serving because love matters, while also caring for yourself as someone doing genuinely hard work).

YOUR 60-SECOND EXPERIMENT

The next time anxiety hits-tonight, tomorrow, whenever-notice your first interpretation of what it means.

Does your mind immediately jump to "This means I'm failing" or "This means God is displeased"? That's negative religious coping kicking in.

Then say this out loud: "My anxiety is real and God's love for me is real. These are both true at the same time."

You're not trying to make the anxiety go away in 60 seconds. You're interrupting the interpretive framework that makes anxiety into a spiritual crisis. You're practicing holding both truths simultaneously: you feel anxious, and you remain loved and faithful.

That's it. One sentence, spoken aloud, to begin rewiring the story you tell about what your anxiety means.

WHAT YOU'LL NOTICE

Pay attention to how much mental energy you've been spending on evaluating your spiritual state based on your emotional state. When you stop doing that-when anxiety is just anxiety rather than a report card on your faith-notice the space that opens up.

You might find yourself able to name the real sources of stress without shame: "This placement is overwhelming" instead of "I'm failing spiritually." You might find yourself reaching out for support without interpreting that as weakness: "I need to talk about secondary trauma" instead of "I need to hide that I'm struggling."

Watch for moments when you're serving these children simply because they need care, not because you're trying to earn freedom from anxiety. That shift-from transactional service to intrinsic service-feels different in your body. Lighter. More sustainable.

And notice this: your anxiety might not disappear. But the shame about the anxiety, the theological crisis about the anxiety, the self-blame about the anxiety-those can dissolve. What remains is someone doing genuinely hard work that matters deeply, while also being human enough to need support.

That's not spiritual failure. That's wisdom.

What's Next

In our next piece, we'll explore how to apply these insights to your specific situation.