My experience as psychologist: How to navigate anxiety and hope

Telling someone to “take a day at a time” is common in my work as a psychologist. The trials of the day and worries of tomorrow can be overwhelming. Looking too far into the future creates anxiety and erodes a sense of hope. While it is impossible to avoid the uncertainties of the future, we have been gifted with resources — not only biological or neurological but also spiritual — to help us navigate anxieties and maintain hope amidst adversity and the uncertainties of the future.

Neurologically, the brain is wired to cope with the future. Our prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for planning, decision-making, and goal-setting, plays a central role in future orientation. This ability to anticipate and plan creates a platform for hope, allowing us to imagine outcomes that are not immediately present. The brain's incredible capacity to simulate future scenarios will enable us to feel hope, manage anxiety, and even formulate plans that bring peace of mind in uncertain times.

But hope is more than just a brain function. You might be an intellectual genius, and your frontal lobe hums like a Ferrari, but how would you cope with tomorrow if your regular annual physical revealed pancreatic cancer? Is the brain’s frontal lobe enough to navigate hope in that scenario? It can help you understand your prognosis and clarify how you wish to live during your remaining year or two. But it will provide little comfort for that existential hope that runs through our veins.

Consider a child anticipating Christmas morning, eager for the gifts awaiting her. This hope isn’t just wishful thinking — it’s deeply rooted in reason and emotion. First, the rational: She trusts her parents, knowing from experience that they’ll keep their promises. Her certainty is built on the foundation of their love and provision. But hope goes beyond reason; it also stirs something profound inside her. It’s the emotional experience — the thrill, the assurance, the joyful expectation that transcends mere logic — a hope beyond childhood.

Hope is a beautiful part of being human, like laughter, beauty, or falling in love. It breathes meaning into today and stirs the desire for endless tomorrows, free from death’s shadow. It reflects the eternal truth written on our hearts, as Ecclesiastes says: “God has set eternity in the human heart” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). We want the eternal tomorrow’s God wove into our soul.    

Hope is a balance of both reasoning and spiritual experience. Scripture encourages believers to “study to show yourself approved” (2 Timothy 2:15), to provide a reasoned defense for our faith (1 Peter 3:15), and to transform our minds to align with God’s will (Romans 12:2). Our cognitive abilities are part of how we engage with God’s Word, cultivate wisdom, and navigate life’s complexities. It is the reasonable substance of our hope. Yet even the sharpest intellect cannot fully grasp or generate the hope that sustains us in life’s darkest moments.

Job is a powerful example of this truth. Before his world unraveled, God described him as “the greatest man among all the people of the East” (Job 1:3). But when suffering struck, even Job’s strength faltered. He cried out, “What strength do I have, that I should still hope?” (Job 6:11). Here, Job’s knowledge and wisdom are reminiscent of Paul’s words: “If I have all knowledge and a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:2). Though Job possessed faith and wisdom beyond anyone in the East, only God’s love and provision could restore hope.

When God appears to Job, He draws attention to his personal touch and poetry in everything. Stars sing. The sea is birthed and wrapped in tender swaddling clothes. Bolts and doors hold the clouds. The ends of the earth are held in his hands like a garment. Light and darkness have a home. The rain has a father. The ice gives birth. The stars form Orion, the hunter holding a club and a shield. He gives his animals a home and makes an ostrich laugh at a horse and rider. God spoke to Job as a loving Father. God’s intimate touch manifests his presence in every design, action, and expression — from the complexities of the constellations to ostrich feathers — all held and cared for by a loving Father.

Job responded, “My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you” (Job 42:5). It is one thing to know God, but when suffering robs you of everything you hold dear, only God’s love and power can instill hope. God reminded Job that though his wisdom might fail, lose all his possessions, and look at the face of death, God’s creative hand will instill hope. If God can spin and care for the lilies of the field, He can take care of you (Matthew 6:28-30).

There is an even greater hope. When the apostle Paul visited Asia, he wrote, “We were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves, but on God who raises the dead” (2 Corinthians 1:8,9). If God could raise Jesus from the dead, he can raise you. Even in death, there is hope. 

Hope is not merely a function of the brain or the mind’s ability to plan for the future. Hope is God’s profound gift that touches both reason and spirit, allowing us to rise above the anxieties of today and the uncertainties of tomorrow. So, take heart. Hope is not a fleeting feeling or a mere mental exercise; it is the sure and steady anchor for your soul, secured by the love of God, firm and eternal​​.