Category Archives: Anxiety

September 9, 2025 · 9:26 pm

Zero Tolerance

When Dear Leader bemoaned domestic assault as a little fight that is bringing down his crime statistics, most of the world was appalled.

But I’ve been hearing that for decades in the church. I’ve heard the same sentiment from so many pastors and elders I’ve lost track. Here are just a few:

“He just knocked her around a little. It wasn’t real abuse.”

“He just gets frustrated sometimes and mouths off. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Sometimes she just pushes his buttons and he loses control.”

Most of you have heard all of this before.

My view hasn’t changed. I’ve been speaking against the epidemic of abuse in the church since 2012. I’ve heard so many pastors and elders tell me that they hate abuse, they are against abuse, they appreciate abuse – they’ve just never seen abuse.

One man (an elder) told me that “everyone knew that she would wear long sleeves to cover the bruises, and sometimes her eyes would be black. But what can you do? We spoke to him and he apologized. Eventually we had to excommunicate her because she wouldn’t forgive.”

So in the Reformed and Evangelical churches it isn’t that they don’t believe the women. They just don’t care.

When Donald Tr#mp won the primary in 2016, I changed my political party. It was a very difficult thing to get used to. Up until then, I thought abuse, degradation, racism, misogyny and rape were fringe and we stood a chance fighting against it.

When he won, my heart sank and all the spirit went out of me. The spirit of abuse and assault that I had been speaking out against for years became incarnate in an ugly, despicable orange ball of sleaze and won the votes of millions. Even those who had been allies and friends in standing against abuse – they turned their backs on everything they stood for, knowing full well what a troll they were putting in office.

It was as if every child rapist, and every abusive husband, and every covenant-breaking cheat, and every thief and con man became one man – and he painted himself orange and hated everyone.

And all of my friends ate it up. I’ve spent more nights awake than I care to remember.

And it didn’t stop. He stopped even pretending to be anything remotely moral in 2024 and ran on a platform of revenge and spite – and everyone still voted for him.

And now, even if he dies tomorrow, we have a far larger problem in America. The millions that knowingly drank the orange Kool-Aid are still there.

But I think that even worse than Donald being Donald is the spirit that just refuses to see it, refuses to stand up, refuses to say enough.

I don’t want war. I don’t want tanks in the cities. I don’t want violence. Becoming like the Religious Right isn’t the solution.

So how can we, who are disgusted by the whole thing, fight back in a way that is honoring to God?

And I think it is here: Zero tolerance.

We have sat too long in sermons where teenage girls are portrayed as sex object, and didn’t object. Where women are objectified. Where foreigners are mocked.

We have spent too much money on the big evangelical machine that put that same money into electing an evil, twisted human.

We have put too much money in the pockets of James Dobson and followers of Wilson. We have tolerated racial slurs, degradation of humans. We have sat quietly while members of our church talk loudly about F*gg*ts, libtards, feminazis.

We have tolerated Doug Wilson’s books in our book tables. We have filled conferences with the worst sort of people.

We allowed MacArthur and Piper to thrive while our wives and daughters shriveled and died. We gave our money to the worst sorts of humans because they pretended to have a holy calling. We were duped. No more.

We listened to our friends tell us how George Floyd and Emmitt Till should have listened to their betters. We have forgotten about Central Park, Oscarville, Tulsa, Clearlake, Trail of Tears, so many others.

We quit talking about justice for black and brown neighbors. We listen to our friends do their locker talk and pretend it is normal.

We listen quietly disapproving while our colleagues mock the disabled, mock the weak, mock the poor. We listen to the blowhard gripe about the women using SNAP to buy a birthday cake while pouring the concrete for his new summer patio.

I think enough is enough, don’t you?

Zero tolerance. Write your checks to women’s shelters instead of big ticket conference tickets. Let’s put an end to the big evangelical machine. Enough is enough and it isn’t even Christian anyway. Give your money to food banks, sexual assault advocates, domestic violence advocates – but not if they have a fish on their advertisements. Only give if they serve all humans as humans.

When your pastor objectifies his wife, or speaks of teenage girls showing shoulders, walk out. Any mention of hemlines, or clavicles, or purity rings, or tempting men…walk out. We know where it leads now. A little leaven leavens the whole lump. Purge it out.

When he talks about “leadership roles for men” get up and leave. We know where it leads now.

When he values women only because of their ability to make babies, walk out.

If you are able, bring a charge. It won’t go anywhere. Patriarchy is too enmeshed. But don’t tolerate that leaven for another second. It leavens everything.

Remember Phillies Karen? I wish we had the same energy when it came to alienating and exposing the worst men among us. The CEO at the Coldplay concert? That’s what I’m talking about. Zero tolerance.

Expose the darkness. The crude, racist jokes; the sexual innuendo; the misogynistic banter; the “boys will be boys” talk. The ridicule of the poor; the rounding up of the foreigner, the chaining of the Asians – if you are going to support that, I’m going to call you on it. I’m done.

Say out loud – Enough. You won’t talk like that around me. You won’t call your wife that around me. You won’t joke about how that black man deserved what he got around me. You won’t degrade or contemn someone’s humanity around me. You won’t involve yourself in their sexual or gender choices. You won’t use slurs in the line and the grocery store. I’m done. If you want to act like a horrible person, I’m going to call you on it. You can call me woke, SJW, or whatever you want. I’ve been called worse.

But it ends here. No more.

If you want to fight back with whatever power you have, join me. Make it really uncomfortable for people

to be horrible around you.

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June 17, 2024 · 5:11 pm

Engaging a Muscovite

My goal is to bring peace to the soul. So I offer this suggestion for the furtherance of a quiet and peaceful spirit.

If you try to reason with a Doug Wilson supporter, it is not possible for you to succeed. The evidence of his wickedness in thought, word and deed is so ponderous at this point that the only way someone would continue to support him is if there is something drastically wrong with his (or her) soul.

If you quote something horrendous that Wilson has said, they will tell you that you are quoting it out of context.

If you accuse him of racism, bigotry, supporting white supremacists and child molesters, they will demand proof.

If you supply proof in the form of 100 quotes, publications, videos and blogs, they will accuse you of being on a witch hunt.

If you point out the volumes of proof on his plagiarism, they will throw someone else under the bus and defend their pope at all cost, even though Pope Wilson’s name is on the books. It will always be “someone else’s fault”.

If you accuse his fanboys of adultery, child rape, domestic abuse, or any other horrendous crimes, no matter what proof you have, it will always be the fault of the woman, the child or the wife.

They seduced him, they flaunted themselves at him, they wouldn’t obey him quick enough…

If you state his positions in his own words, and then quote the hundreds of churches and centuries of church history that have declared him wrong, you will get demands to provide your prooftexts.

If you disengage at this point, you will be accused of cowardice and false witness, as if you are throwing out accusations without evidence.

If you decide to engage, it will not matter how many passages you cite, they will change the definitions of words, twist your words, invent new doctrines out of cloth, misdirect and finally accuse you of hating the bible and being a liberal and “what is wrong with America”. They will take “Gaslighting” to staggering new levels.

If you say that he publicly called two women “c***s” they will accuse you of slander.

If you provide the evidence where in his own words on his own blog he called two women a couple of “c***s” they will accuse you of taking it out of context, justifying the language because of “culture wars” and say that he is a little “salty” at times but that doesn’t take away all the good that he is doing…

You will also be accused of being effeminate, against the gospel, a feminist, a communist, a troublemaker, a sower of strife. If you are a woman, you will be called a Jezebel with a Jezebel spirit.

When you have members of your congregation who support Wilson, or refuse to acknowledge his wickedness, they will eventually destroy your congregation. They always do.

I am close to sixty years old now. 30 years ago, I decided foolishly to engage a Wilson supporter. I will never do so again.

Sometimes, they trick you into thinking that you are engaging with them in an honest discussion in a Christlike way. But the point is not truth or love. The point is to suck you in and destroy your peace. They are not interested in discovering the truth. They only want to destroy you.

They speak of warfare, and they mean every word.

There is only one way to engage a Wilsonite. Click on their profile. Go to where it says, “Friends”, and select “Block.”

This will need to be repeated on all of your social media channels.

Be careful on Messenger, because they often use their wife’s profile to suck you back in.

It is always a trap.

It is for this reason that I will never, under any circumstances, join any sort of discussion group with the word “Reformed” or “Presbyterian” or “Calvinist” or “pub” in the title. Those places are their hives. It’s where the hornets live. They will sniff you out in minutes and go after you, your family, your kids, your friends.

It’s a shame, really, because there is much in Reformed theology that I still find quite edifying. But now Reformed and Presbyterian churches have a fatal flaw.

They have never used hornet spray. Yes, they have said, “Now, don’t be nasty, hornets. Now stop being that way, hornets. But they have never gotten out the spray and run them out. They have sacrificed the people of God in order to provide a hive for the hornets. And now the nests have taken over and will destroy everything they touch.

And I know that now the hornets will come out demanding proof and scripture and writings, and hours and hours of work from me, which I will decline. It has been documented far, far more than anything Dahmer did, anything Bundy did, or anything that any criminal has done. The amount of documentation is staggering. The only way to pretend to not know it is to be purposefully closing your eyes. So excuse me if I don’t engage.

Again, only one way to further peace. “Block.” “Delete”; “repeat.”

I always imagined that the False Prophet would be way cooler and far more seductive than that guy.

 

If you have been stung one too many times by the hornets and don’t think you will ever find peace, book some time with me at www.sampowellministries.com

 

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February 22, 2023 · 2:23 pm

So much to do….

So much to do….

The legacy of Charles Finney – who taught salvation by moral fortitude, the unofficial religion of America. It is the religion of Ben Franklin and Ralph Waldo Emerson and the McGuffey readers, and it is deadly.

So now when we think of Christianity, we sigh and say, So much to do, so much to keep track of, so much, so much…

Do I shop there, or not. If I shop there I might be accidentally putting money in the wrong pocket.

Is it OK to watch this show? Is it OK to listen to this kind of music? Is there a list somewhere of what music is OK and what music might lead me astray?

If I am a woman, is it OK for me to get a job? Can I speak to a man and keep myself pure? Is it OK to go to dinner with friends?

If I am a man, is it OK to take a woman to the hospital? Is it OK to speak to her? Can I have a conversation with her and still be pure?

How should we raise our kids? Should we home-school? Private School? Charter?

Who should I ask? Should I read this blog or that blog? Can I ask a celebrity preacher to tell me what to wear, where to shop, what to read, what to listen to?

How much am I supposed to desire God? Do I desire him enough? What if I die and miss the mark? What if I am caught in an R rated movie when Jesus comes again.

I’m depressed trying to figure it all out. Should I see a therapist? Should I take a pill? Should I just talk to my pastor and have him pray for me? What if I do it wrong?

What if I make the wrong choices and am not masculine enough? What if I am not feminine enough? What if I die wearing the wrong color shirt or writing a poem?

I read the other day that worry was a sin. I wondered if I worried too much. Then I worried about it. That made me worry about worry, which made me anxious. And then a preacher shouted that anxiety was a sin. So I worried about that.

Worry, anxiety, depression, sin, trouble…

So many shouty people. So many ready to pounce and condemn. So much contempt for the outsiders.

What if they find out what I’m really like and throw me out? What if they already did, I just don’t know about it?

Stop. Rest.

This is why God gave us a Sabbath. That we might rest in him and know that he is the LORD God, and he alone sanctifies his people.

Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved.

And rest.

The Jewish sabbath gives way to the everlasting Sabbath, where we learn to rest at the foot of the cross, and meet him outside the city, with the other outcasts. It is a good company. It is the company of those who learned to grieve this dying world and its lusts. So that we might gain Christ, and attain the resurrection of the dead.

Sing praises to our Redeemer and leave Finney’s legacy in the grave where it belongs. it is the old man. Crucify it with Christ and live.

Learn to walk in newness of life, and live!

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January 19, 2022 · 5:20 pm

Dark Places

The problem with dark places is that you can’t see.

You don’t know what is happening, you don’t know where it will end.

You don’t know if it will end. You don’t know what is on the other side.

Dark places are terrifying because monsters are real and monsters are terrifying.

Dark places strip us of our confidence. Dark places expose us as blind and weak. We are afraid to step forward. We can’t go back. We can’t bear the moment.

The pain is too much and we are tired. So, so tired.

The dark places creep into your soul and leave you wounded and limping.

So, so much loss. So, so much pain. So, so much.

There was a time when you had your best friend and you had a drink with him and didn’t know it was the last time.

There was a time when you told a joke and your child laughed and rolled her eyes and you didn’t know it would be the last time.

There was a time when you walked through a store without pain and didn’t know that would be the last time.

Your joints hurt; your bones hurt. You heart hurts. And you are so, so tired.

We learned in church that dark places don’t happen if you do everything right. But they were wrong.

We learned in church that if you loved God enough and raised your kids right and followed the marriage rules and had enough sex with your spouse, everything would be “happy, happy, happy all the day.”

But then kids run. Health collapses. Friends hate you. and you find yourself in yet again another dark place.

And you are so, so tired. You don’t know if she’ll call again.

You don’t know if you will hear back from the doctor or if they can even do anything.

You can’t go back; and you can’t go forward. All you can do is huddle in the dark and cry out, “Lord, how long!?”

Abba, Father.

But what if I told you that in that dark place is where you find your savior? What if I told you that God is the God of dark places. He knows what is there.

He also knows that it won’t ever take you from his love.

He also knows how long the dark will last.

And he knows what is on the other side.

It WILL eventually break forth, heaven will open, the light will shine down. The rainbow will glitter and the meadow will glisten and the lion will be there lying down with the lamb just waiting for you to run your fingers through its mane.

But you won’t do it, because you have another thing on your mind, in these green pastures.

The bridegroom is there. And the only way to see the bridegroom is through the dark places. He is also walking with you, even if you don’t see him or feel him.

Because he longs for you like you long for him.

I don’t know why the dark places are necessary. I don’t know where there are so many of them. I don’t know why the wicked seem to prosper and those who long for the revelation of the sons of God are so plagued with so much pain.

The answers about gold being refined and laundry being clean don’t really help much in a long night of fear and pain and weeping…but it is true anyway.

In your tears, God is there. He is keeping them.

In your blindness, he sees. He knows what is in the dark.

And he knows what is on the other side.

Patience, dear ones. Your Saviour is coming.

Please wait. Please rest.

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February 16, 2021 · 12:03 pm

Dealing with Anxiety

Yesterday, I acknowledged my anxiety disorder publicly. The response has been very kind and I truly appreciate it. I also have some very close friends locally who have been a tremendous help to me.

I thought I would do a quick follow-up. I am not an expert, just someone who is taking one step at a time, but here are some things that help me.

First, when anyone would like to talk, I do much, much better with specific times. “Can we talk at 3:00 PM on Thursday?” I put it in my calendar. That is a huge help to me.

Second, I have found that self-care is extremely important. I have started walking with Susan every morning. I turn the phone off when I need to. I spend time in prayer and simply meditating on God’s promises or nature or some theological point that I am mulling over.

I try to take a break when I need one.

I remember God’s people and pray for them, going down the list in my mind.

On truly bad days, I run through the fingering of Bach’s French Suites in my mind. If I have time, I do it physically on the piano. The act of running your fingers through patterns is strangely calming.

I don’t know if this is good or bad, but I avoid toxic people as much as I can. I know that there are certain people that will cause me a sleepless night, so if I do have to meet with them, I will plan on not sleeping that night. I will get my headphones ready, and my kindle, and prepare some calming exercises. Strangely, this seems to help. I guess it gives the illusion of control.

Medications help. They are not a cure, but they calm the mind so it can start to work properly.

Someone wrote that anxiety is dwelling either in the past or the future. We fret over things in the past that we can’t change. Or we fret over the future over which we have no control. To calm myself, I remember Jesus’ words, grounding me in the present. Take no thought for tomorrow. Which of you by worrying can add a moment to your lifespan?

Breathing deeply, counting the breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Five things that I can see. Five things that I can touch. Five things that I can hear. Breathe. In. Out.

God remembers that we are dust. He remembers our frailty. He doesn’t put near as many burdens on us as we heap on ourselves. “Come to me”, Jesus said, “And I will give you rest.”

I have a coloring app on my phone. It is surprising how much it helps me.

I take comfort in the encouragements of scripture – take no thought for tomorrow. Be anxious for nothing. In everything give thanks.

And I thank God that these are not commands barked at me by a sergeant-at-arms, but the lullabies of a merciful heavenly father soothing a troubled heart.

And above all, get help. Talk to people. Use words. Call things by their names.

Help is there. But you have to admit that you need it.

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February 15, 2021 · 7:07 pm

coming out

When Paul was in chains in Rome, he rejoiced that the power of the gospel was seen in his weakness.

One thing that I have read continually from those who heard Ravi Zacharias speak is this: when he spoke, you knew you were in the presence of a great man. he was so articulate, so wise, so charismatic. He could work a crowd. He could answer any objection.

Paul was just the opposite. In fact, Paul said that he preached in weakness and trembling. He was ridiculed frequently for NOT being a great public speaker, or a skilled rhetorician.

As I was thinking these things, I decided to come out. I have hidden something about myself for many years. I’ve hidden it even from myself, preferring to beat myself up for not being quite right than acknowledging that I have a weakness that I can do very little about.

I have anxiety disorder. Whether it was inherited or whether it was learned through much experience, or perhaps a little of both, it is a chain around me that I cannot rid myself of.

My brain warns me that I am in danger and tells me to flee, usually at the most inopportune time.

My heart races. My face flushes. I break out in a sweat. I start to shake. My words start to stammer.

If it is bad, I won’t eat.

I wake up frequently in the middle of the night having conversations in my head, running events through my head over and over again – until I break out into a sweat and my body temperature goes up.

I read recently that Herman Bavinck, arguably the greatest theologian of the 20th century, vomited before every sermon.

I don’t vomit. But I completely identify with the sentiment.

I manuscript sermons because I don’t know when my mind will go blank. I rehearse conversations because I have no idea what to do in them.

Social events are exhausting. I tend to flee somewhere just to regroup. Weddings are torture.

My mind tells me that everything is OK. God is on the throne. I am just human. My conversation is fine.

But there is a part of my brain that attacks me during every single conversation:

“You are such an idiot. I can’t believe you said that. They are going to hate you now. You will be left alone. Don’t you know how to people?”

“You are doing this wrong. You are going to fail. You’ll never make this. They will think you are stupid.

I won’t try out a new restaurant if the ordering procedure is too different. I have never tried sushi. I have never attempted to do something new for fear of failing.

When I am in a new place, or trying something new that I am required to do, my heart races and I go into panic mode. “Failure deserves to be beaten, outcast, isolated, and alone.”

I would far, far rather serve the table than sit down at it and be served. When I am clearing dishes I know what is expected, and when I know what is expected, I don’t break out in a cold sweat and listen to my heart pound in my ears.

I have been like this as long as I could remember. When I was younger, I would pinpoint a person that I figured was an acceptable person and try to imitate them. Maybe I wouldn’t be rejected if I could be someone else.

But that is a hard way to live.

One of my earliest memories was being terrified of trying out the slide. My parents, not knowing what to do, spanked me until I went down.

I remember the absolute terror of my first fire drill when I was about 5. They should not allow children to be tortured like that.

I self-medicated with nicotene for years. It gave me a good excuse to leave any social situation and it would calm my panicked nerves. But when I quit several years ago, my panic attacks and anxiety would attack from out of nowhere.

Today I know that it has a name and there are things to do about it. I have anxiety disorder.

I have anxiety disorder.

My dad used to say that worrying about stuff never helped. He was fond of saying that the things he worried the most about never happened. I’m very glad for him.

For me, everything that I ever worried about actually did happen, but those are stories for another time.

The curse on this world is very real. People do things that are even worse than you can imagine. The hate that the world can throw at you is unfathomable.

Illness is real. Cancer is real. Brain damage is real. Suffering is real.

The cross is real, and if we are Jesus’ we will pick it up with him and follow him.

And like Paul, when those chains tie us down, paralyze us and keep us from doing what we want to do – God will show himself strong.

“How can you be a minister” – my anxiety tells me repeatedly.

And then I remember Paul’s words:

(1Corinthians:2:1-5)  And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God. For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling.
And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power:  That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.

And so I’ve decided to quit pretending that I’m something I am not. I will speak the truth. I will teach from house to house. I will visit. I will call. I will do what I can to show the power of God in the cross of Christ.

But then I might have to sit down. I might have to go outside and regroup. I might need to do something to calm my pounding heart and my rapid breathing.

I’m not the kind of preacher that has everything together. When people see me, they don’t say, “I’m in the presence of a great man” and that’s OK.

Because if I can lead someone to the living water, if I can exalt the power of God, if I can tell you about the beauty of Jesus who sweat great drops of blood, who fell down terrified at Gethsemane in order to bring me to God – then it is all worth it. Because I also know that when I am at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb, I will sit in his presence and rejoice and no longer panic. I will no longer feel like an outcast. I will no longer be an outsider looking in on the normals.

And that is what I long for. But more than that, I long to be free from sin and misery.

In the meantime, don’t look for me to exalt human strength. I don’t have any. When I am in God’s presence, it won’t do me any good anyway.

Instead, I have an anxiety disorder. And so I look to Jesus.

Jesus didn’t come for the well. He came for the sick. He didn’t come for the strong, he came for the weak and foolish – and that is me.

If you are like me, and struggle with these things, don’t be ashamed. Walk right into it, for Jesus is with you through the valley of the shadow of death.

I wrote these words so that you might not feel so alone. There are a lot of us out here. I just thought that you might want to meet one.

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