Get Out of Your Head: Stopping the Spiral of Toxic Thoughts

by Jennie Allen

The irony here is that many of the people you think don’t care about you are feeling the very same way. They are worried that if they put themselves out there, they will be rejected. They are frustrated that nobody seems to be reciprocating the care they extend. They are wondering if anyone wants to be friends with them. Which is why I’m begging you: Go be the botherer first. Reach out. Take the risk. Say what you’re feeling. Listen well. Be the friend you wish others would be for you.17

“Say the last 2 percent.” Maybe you think you have learned the secret of mastering authenticity. You’ll mention your struggle with a sin or a fear or an insecurity, but even those of us who value authenticity often have one card that we don’t put down. It’s the little secret we won’t show our families.

“but I found myself attracted to him.” She began lingering after meetings. Then she said, “I know this is crazy, and I hope you won’t think less of me, but I started texting with him.” Then she told me, “At IF:Gathering I pulled our mutual friend aside and said, ‘I need to lay down the last 2 percent I am not sharing with anyone. I need to say it.’ ” Then she said it out loud. And here’s where it gets crazy. She said, “Jennie, the moment I said it out loud, I have never been attracted to him since.”18

The spiral I had entered into was this: What if I fail? What if I am not enough for this work? Adding weight to all that was the familiar whisper from the dark: I am worthless. I’d been walking around with this vague, undefined heaviness. If it had been a conscious thought, I would have immediately fought it and chosen the truth: God is enough for me. God chooses the least qualified so He gets the glory. I don’t have to measure up.

The enemy has ensnared us with two little words: “What if?” With those two little words, he sets our imaginations whirling, spinning tales of the doom that lurks ahead. But our tool for defeating “what if” is, not surprisingly, found in two words: “Because God.”

God’s promises give us ultimate hope in absolutely every circumstance. He meets every need. He will resolve (in the end) every problem we may face here on earth. Paul wrote confidently of this truth, and then he gave us clear guidance for ridding ourselves of anxious thoughts: Choose to be grateful. Choose to think about what is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy.

What fear-filled thought is Satan using to suffocate your faith? Name it. Say its name. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to withstand whatever the future might hold. I choose to believe God will not allow me to be tempted beyond what I can endure and will always give me the strength to overcome temptation.11 I’m afraid that everyone will abandon me. I choose to believe God has promised not to leave me, and He always keeps His promises.12 I’m afraid of losing everything and everyone I love. I choose to believe God will sustain me in my brightest moments of victory and my darkest moments of suffering.13 I’m afraid of being found out. I choose to believe God knows every thought before I think it and loves me.14 I’m afraid that I’m really not capable of doing this job. I choose to believe God has given me everything I need to live a godly life.15 I’m afraid of being rejected. I choose to believe God has accepted me as His child and will never leave me.16 I’m afraid of not living up to their expectations. I choose to believe God wants me to seek His approval only and release the pressure to please people.17 I’m afraid of failing miserably for everyone to see. I choose to believe God specializes in taking weakness and using it for His glory.18 This is how we fight the spiral. We pull the thoughts out of our heads, and we steal all their power and then replace them with what is true!

One of my colleagues commented, “Jennie, I hear you. But if I choose to see the best in life, I am going to get taken advantage of.” Others affirmed her perspective. They were a little worried that if they didn’t keep their guard up, people would see their naivete and they would be targeted. That’s fair, I thought. I’ll never forget what Elizabeth, another of our team, then said, “So what? Wouldn’t you be happier?”

We’re afraid that the feeling of joy won’t last, or that there won’t be enough, or that the transition to disappointment (or whatever is in store for us next) will be too difficult.

When we are overcome by the grandeur of a snowy mountain peak or delighted by a beautiful song, when we sit silently in an old church and marvel at the way the sunlight seeps through the stained-glass windows, or when we’re delighted by our children’s squeals as they run through the sprinkler in the backyard, we let go of our “it’s all about me” fixation. We are freed from being the center of our own worlds for just a moment, and in doing so, we become more invested in the well-being of others, more generous, less entitled.2 Have you experienced this? It’s the moment when your heart swells and feels as if it might explode trying to take in how beautiful something is.

LIE: People are not trustworthy, and life will not work out. TRUTH: God is trustworthy and will, in the end, work all things together for good.

I CHOOSE TO DELIGHT IN GOD AND SIGNS OF HIS WORK IN THE WORLD AROUND ME.

Cynicism erodes our ability to see God rightly. Cynicism at its root is a refusal to believe that God is in control and God is good. Cynicism is interpreting the world and God based on hurt you’ve experienced and the wounds that still lie gaping open. It forces you to look horizontally at people rather than vertically to God.

Partway through the first day, Curt dared to poke the bear. It was near the end of a group chat, and after allowing for a few moments of silence, Curt looked at me and asked, “How are you feeling right now?” I stared at him for a second and then with a grin and a shrug said, “Good.” Who was I? This was a brilliant man whose work I esteem. We were lucky to have him there. And I was giving him the “Good” treatment? (I know it’s grammatically correct to say, “Fine.” But I say, “Good.” It’s going to be okay.) Throughout the weekend my strategy worked pretty well, as the less I proved a willing participant, the less Curt seemed to call on me. But just when I thought I could escape our time together without divulging a stinking thing, something I never expected busted through my cynical guard. Before I tell you what happened, I should mention that cynicism usually grows because we think we deserve better than we are getting. At the root of cynicism is crippling hurt. Cynicism says that nobody can be trusted, that we’re never, ever safe. My cynicism on our small retreat was prompted by an embarrassing thought. (Seriously, I can’t believe I am about to tell you this.) On the other side of my deep, dark spiritual spiral, I wasn’t waking up at 3 a.m. anymore, but I was still a little bitter toward God. Here is why: I never would have said it out loud, but I had always lived with a delightful confidence that God liked me. That I was one of His favorites. I don’t know whether God play...

“Look. Either you can try to guard your heart and mind on your own, or you can surrender that guardianship to God.” My way of guarding my heart evidently involved sky-high walls and a fondness for “Good” to mask my hurt and growing anger toward God and others. “How are you, Jennie?” “Good! Doing great!” “And now? Still good?” “Better than good…really! You talk! Let’s talk about you.” God’s way was better. His way would lead me to peace. Or that’s how I read what Paul was saying, anyway. If I would practice thinking what was honorable, what was just, what was lovely and excellent and all the rest, I would experience the peace of God in my heart. I really, really wanted that peace. Then why was I still so cynical?

Beauty interrupts us, it awakens us, it undoes us, it cuts us open, and restarts our hearts. Beauty is God’s evidence of something far more wonderful coming, a world beyond the one we can imagine, even in the most spectacular moments here. A God better than what we hope for.

Cynicism crumbles in the presence of beauty. Pastor John Piper has told of his former professor Clyde Kilby’s ten resolutions for mental health. Resolution six is this: “I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are.”7

But once we all had settled in, I could tell that I was going to have to change tack. The girls sitting in the circle around me were in no shape to receive the message I’d prepared. They looked deflated and defeated, exasperated and exhausted and confused. Without saying a word, I ran outside the sorority house, pulled a leaf from a nearby tree, ran back inside, and sat down. “Girls,” I said, “I want you to pass this leaf around the circle and really look at it. Look at the ridges, the lines, the veins. Look at the color. Look at the detail. Look at the shape, the contours, the stem.” It was a super cheesy object lesson, I’ll admit, but you know what? That lesson stuck. God had gone to great lengths to craft this individual leaf; hadn’t He applied even greater intention and care to our lives? We weren’t alone. We weren’t accidents. Our situations weren’t hidden from God. Whatever it was that was weighing us down, God would gladly lift from our backs. Think of peacocks, for crying out loud. The colors and detail, so unnecessarily delightful. Who but God would do that? Or the way a symphony swells to something we can barely take in. My countenance and posture lift when I hear it. Or the video of the man playing his upright piano in his living room while surrounded by two feet of standing water left in Hurricane Harvey’s wake.8 Or the patterns of a flower’s petals—three for lilies, five for buttercups, twenty-one for chicory, thirty-four for daisies. That doesn’t just happen,...

The story10 tells of planning a wonderful trip to Italy, buying the travel books and making the itinerary. But then you get off the plane and realize you’ve landed in Holland. Holland isn’t bad, but your friends are all having the Italian vacation you dreamed of, and you are here in Holland with no one and no plan. And I wept because I had been in Holland alone and wanted to know why God seemed okay with it. Why would He abandon me to plans I didn’t create and didn’t want without consulting me? Why had He let me slip into the dark crack beside the desk and left me there? Saying it out loud showed me the hurt I didn’t even know I was feeling—and eased my pain.

Michiel van Elk, a researcher at the University of Amsterdam, recently explained how he is using MRIs of the brain to show that feelings of awe shut down selfishness. When we are in awe of something, we become less self-centered, more others-centered, and more connected to others around us.

I know I said the interrupting thought that shifts all the others is I have a choice. And there is one reason that is true. It’s because Jesus first chose us. It’s because He busted down the door and rescued us in His beauty and kindness. He suited up and came for us. And that is why we aren’t cynical, expecting the worst.

We compare and contrast, justify and judge, and spend a ridiculous amount of time contemplating our identity and place in this world. Maybe this is why the apostle Paul cautioned us not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought. Instead, we’re to “honor one another above [ourselves].”1

Humility is impossibly opposite of the ways of this world. Our spinning thoughts can hardly comprehend being at rest instead of jockeying for approval.

If I had to name the most destructive line of thinking in our twenty-first-century culture, it’s our incessant quest to be great. We spend a lot of effort trying to become distinct, successful, smarter, stronger, thinner…great. We love being great. It’s so great to be so great. We want to be great—as in, accomplished and successful. Sure, we may couch it in acceptable terms, like “doing great things for the kingdom” or “making God’s name famous.” But somehow our thoughts subtly become centered not on Him but on ourselves—how we can achieve our goals, realize our dreams, enlarge our influence, position ourselves for success.

We spend a lot of time looking around at others—not so we can encourage them in their growth but so we can figure out how we measure up. We convince ourselves that God wants us to be amazing. We are all about empowerment. But lasting joy will come only when God is in the center; not when I am empowered but when I rest in His power.

Now, I am not justifying my behavior, but the truth is, I’m going to make mistakes. I’m going to be selfish and sometimes unthoughtful and short. I’m going to let her down. I’m not going to want to do these things, but now and again they will happen. I’m absolutely going to screw up. How

Caring little about what you think about me. Caring little about what even I think about me. Do you know how much freedom we could experience, if we prized these two simple truths?

Self-importance always self-implodes. Because we weren’t built to live like gods. Yet with all the evidence against it, achievement is still the most popular drug of our generation.

I believe the Bible. I want to live what it says. I want to be more like Jesus each day. And despite these noble intentions, the fact is, I can’t conjure humility myself. There is a reason our first choice in this part of the book involved being still and seeking God. We can’t become more like Him apart from Him imparting Himself to us. Humility comes only when I choose to be with Him and depend on Him instead of buying the lie that I am enough.

The truth is, our hearts aren’t really after power; they’re after joy. And the deception we buy into is that somehow joy will come when we have power. Joy comes when we lay aside our power and rest in God’s.

we can observe our suffering without being overtaken by our suffering. We can see it without becoming its slave.

Some of this inexcusable behavior occurred at a previous house of worship, which made Tara leery of reengaging in a local church. “But I decided to make a choice,” she said with bravery. “I am choosing to trust again.” She went on to tell the story of joining our church and launching a series of racial reconciliation conversations that are bringing together women of various ethnicities to discuss how we truly come together and do better. I look at Tara’s impact on our congregation, and I think, How could someone so wronged turn back to people who hurt her and say, “I want to build a bridge to get back to you. I want to try again”? Tara would answer my question with a single word: Jesus. The way of Jesus shifts everything. In Jesus, we can acknowledge our frustration, pain, and suffering without abdicating our peace and joy. In Jesus, we can change where we fight from without changing what we fight for. By the power of Jesus, we can demonstrate to ourselves and others that, regardless of how grim the situation seems, God is in the business of redeeming all things.

“I still don’t fully accept that Dee is gone, never to come back,” she said. “But this much I do know: his death was not an ending but an extension. And I’m determined to stick around to find out what that extension involves.”

C. S. Lewis wrote, “My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?”13

He went on—and here’s my actual point: “Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes. Truly, I say to you, he [the master] will dress himself for service and have them [the servants] recline at table, and he will come and serve them.”5 See, this is why that axiom of Jesus is true, that “it is more blessed to give than to receive.”6 When we are faithful to watch for opportunities to serve, when we live our lives at the ready for the Master’s call, we’re the ones who get served in the end. Our Master will actually tend to our every need.

But sometimes, service goes unseen. It’s found in a charitable conversation, or in a shared meal. Much of Jesus’s life here was spent sitting with a small group in a small room over a simple meal, talking about forgiveness and about grace, and spent noticing the hurting and serving the poor.

Hebrews says, “Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”12 I used to think that the three key elements in this passage were a linear progression: you do one, then the next, then the next. I thought I needed (first) to get rid of my sin streaks—my negative thinking patterns, my hurtful attitudes, my terribly selfish ways—so that I could (second) run my race, and then I would (third) finally see Jesus, who was probably so pleased I’d done the first two things. But that’s not at all how Jesus works, which is what told me I’d interpreted the verses wrong. You may recall that it was when we were “still sinners,” according to Romans 5:8, that “Christ died for us.” We all know that if we wait until every sin that entangles us is put off, then we will never start the race! We are “being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another,”13 not all at once. So, that means we can’t even get rid of our sin before we run our races. What if all this actually happens simultaneously? That would shift the importance of mission in our lives. What if we were built to run and, as we run, we fix our eyes on Jesus because we have to—we need Him!—and our sin and distraction fall away. Sin avoidance is not what Jesus died for. If we are moving, failing, finding forgiveness, and moving again, all with eyes fixed on Chris...

don’t even like cheeseburgers all that much. I mean, they’re fine, but it’s not as if I think about them all day long. But deprive me of a cheeseburger, and I’m going to want a cheeseburger. Welcome to the human mind. If we try to avoid sin by reminding ourselves day by day not to lie or not to cheat or not to steal or not to pour that third glass of wine or not to hide that shopping bag from our spouse or not to fudge that expense report at work or not to sneak a second serving of cheesecake after everyone else has gone to bed, then guess what we’re going to focus on? Far better to focus on what will pull us forward than try to focus on what won’t push us back. That singular thought—I choose to serve—leads to our taking risks on Jesus’s behalf, which leads to our taking our eyes off ourselves and to seeing the needs of others for a change, which leads to our taking action to the glory of God, which leads to our depending more and more on divine strength from our Father, which leads to a deeper longing to worship Him. Those moments of unbounded worship then prompt us to long for even greater spiritual adventures, which makes us willing to take yet another risk. That risk would lead to more service, dependency, and so on.

My husband’s college football coaches used to say, “You can make mistakes. Mistakes we can fix. But you’d better go at this with 110 percent. There is nothing that can happen without effort.” Friend, you and I need to be people who single-mindedly reject complacency and want God more than anything else on earth. Such surrender frees us from any worry about making mistakes or failing to look like those around us. First Corinthians is so clear about this. If you’re an elbow and you’re not being an elbow in the church, the body is not well. That should bug you! In some way that should make you crazy, because you should wonder whether you’re making the whole body of Christ sick. That’s what I had to come to whenever doubts crept in and suggested that maybe I was wasting my energy in ministry. This wasn’t about me. My job was to obey God, and His job was to change lives.

But more likely you’ve been holding back. We think we are inadequate, so we just give up and live complacent lives. No one gave us permission, so we don’t do the things God called us to do. We miss getting to be part of this greater story. Can you imagine how ineffective Jesus’s ministry appeared to be, except when He did miracles? Most days He was just eating meals with sinners, telling people stories that didn’t totally make sense, and ticking off the influential religious people. Then He got killed, which really looks like a ministry fail! Yet God was up to something, and Jesus knew His ultimate purpose. So He didn’t care what His ministry looked like to the people around Him, and neither should we. Who are we to judge what God is up to? Who are we to judge whether it’s effective for the kingdom of God?

Scripture is clear that Jesus “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

You remember what Hebrews 12 makes clear: He did all these things, never once losing touch with joy. “For the joy set before him,” says verse 2, “he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (NIV).

“For the joy set before him.” That joy is real, and it is coming for us too. We have a future and a hope in Christ. We are set free to serve so our lives will point all people to the joy we have now and the joy that is to come.

we have the mind of Christ, Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 2:16; the issue is whether we’re using it to think the thoughts that Jesus might think. Are we taking every thought captive and training our minds daily to think like Christ?

Despite my good grades in my high school science classes, I never loved the subject. Still, something tells me that if I went back to those biology, chemistry, and earth-science classes today, I’d love them. The more life I live, the more I crave knowing how it all works. The closer I get to God, the more fascinated I become by the intricate design of our bodies and minds. Geek out with me for a minute over this: each thought matters. Each thought you think matters a lot. I’m not speaking arbitrarily here. I’m speaking scientifically.

Inside your neurons, those microtubules are constantly building and deconstructing and reforming and coming apart and adjusting and shifting and stopping and starting again, in accordance with—wait for it!—your every thought.5 With each thought you think, those microtubules work hard to provide mental scaffolding to support that thought. That scaffolding gives structure to the entire nerve cell and in the truest sense alters your brain. Mind blown yet? Wait. It gets better. Guess how long it takes a microtubule to finish the scaffolding that gives structure to the cell? From creation to completion, what is your guess? Ten. Minutes. I’m not making this up. From the time you think a thought to that thought having physiologically, scientifically, indisputably changed your brain, ten minutes have elapsed.6 Your singular thought has enhanced some neural circuits and caused others to die off. It has awakened some neurons and allowed others to drift to sleep. It has built an entire microtubular city in some parts of your mind and left others a total ghost town. All from one simple thought. Now, there are two ways to look at this information I’ve just given you. One way leaves us terrified and distressed: If I think even one negative thought, I could wreck my whole brain in ten minutes flat? I guess that is technically true. But before you spiral into despair, let’s consider the other way. If you have made a habit of thinking negative thoughts, you’re only ten minutes away from a ...

The more we make these positive choices, the more reflexive that approach becomes. We said that at first such a shift is possible through consciously, deliberately interrupting our spirals. But as we practice more, that shift becomes probable and then predictable and then utterly instinctive to us. Eventually we get to the place where we don’t even realize we’re interrupting our negative thinking in order to choose mind-of-Christ thinking, because the impulse has become so ingrained.

I recently spoke to a field full of girls at Baylor University. I still am awestruck at what went down. I preached about Paul’s declaration in Romans 8:1: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Why are we living tied down and defined by our sin when the Bible tells us we are free and there is no condemnation in Jesus? Why don’t we live as if we’re free? I challenged the girls to just shout out what they were struggling with and bring into light the dark hell they had been dealing with. To my surprise, one by one they started standing up. In the middle of their campus, they stood and shouted out one struggle after another. This went on until everyone was standing. It was beautiful. I had them get in groups and pray over each thing that had kept them from being free while I asked God what He wanted to tell them next. This is when a student came up to me and said, “I think you should tell them this no longer has power over them.”

I handed her the mic and said, “You tell them.” Her voice reached across the field and beyond as she shouted, “Dishonesty no longer has power over me! Dishonesty no longer has power over Baylor’s campus!” Impromptu lines began to form on each side of the stage, and students took turns shouting in the mic that their sin and their wounds no longer had power over them. “Suicide no longer has power over me! Suicide no longer has power over Baylor’s campus!” “Pornography no longer has power over me! Pornography no longer has power over Baylor’s campus!” I have never seen anything like it! Not only were they throwing down their last 2 percent publicly; they were also denying the enemy’s power over them.

It’s not easy to stop believing lies. We can’t simply sit back and wait for our minds to heal, for our thoughts to change. We train. That’s how truth gains the victory in the battle for our minds. We stick our heads in our Bibles day in and day out. You might not be able to fully grab hold of truth on day 2, but on day 102, it will be taking hold in your heart and mind. We wake up in the morning, and rather than get on our phones, we get on our knees and we submit our thoughts to Jesus. We invest in healthy relationships and intentionally go to them when we start to spiral. We choose well. Daily. Moment by moment. We train our minds. And when a new temptation to spiral presents itself, we trust our training.