Where Is Jesus?

Making Prayer a Reality

I was in the therapist’s office, tears welling as my chest tightened and heat rushed through my body. Someone in my life had made a passing comment that they had no idea would put me into a fight-flight-freeze response. I logically knew that I wasn’t in danger, but my body was ready to protect me, and even in the recounting of the event, anxiety coursed through my chest and torso.

“I want you to close your eyes,” said my therapist.

Tears leaked out as my eyelids shuttered.

“Picture the room where you were. Picture the people there.”

My heart continued to beat an insistent thump, heat prickling my face and hands. The air felt thin, as a panic attack crept closer. The tears came faster.

“Now, picture Jesus. Where would Jesus be right now?”