Amelia Kate Richardson I was standing in my kitchen last Tuesday morning, staring at my coffee maker like it had personally betrayed me. Not because it wasn’t working—it was doing its job just fine. I was upset because those three minutes felt like an eternity when I had seventeen things on my to-do list and a mind racing faster than the clock on my wall. That’s when it hit me: my anxiety wasn’t really about time running out. It was about me trying to control something that was never mine to control in the first place.
If you’ve ever felt your chest tighten when you look at your calendar, or if the phrase “there’s not enough time” plays on repeat in your mind, you’re not alone. The relationship between time and anxiety is one of the most complicated tangles we face in modern life. And here’s what I’ve come to understand after years of wrestling with this myself: our anxiety around time often reveals deeper questions about trust, control, and what we truly believe about God’s sovereignty over our days.
The Peculiar Way Time Feeds Our Anxiety
Time anxiety—that nagging feeling that we’re perpetually behind, running late, or running out—has become so common that we barely question it anymore. We just accept that feeling rushed is part of being a responsible adult. But I’ve learned something important: there’s a difference between being busy and being anxious about time.
When I was in the thick of my anxiety disorder, time became my enemy. Every clock was a reminder of what I hadn’t accomplished. Every deadline felt like a threat. I’d wake up at 3 AM calculating how many hours I had left to finish projects, as if doing the math would somehow create more time. My heart would race just thinking about tomorrow’s schedule.
Here’s what makes time anxiety so insidious: it’s future-focused but happening right now. We’re literally experiencing present-moment distress about things that haven’t happened yet. Jesus spoke directly to this tendency in Matthew 6:34 when He said, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” I used to think this was just nice spiritual advice. Now I realize it’s actually a profound psychological insight into how anxiety works.
Why We’re So Anxious About Time
I’ve spent years asking myself why time triggers such intense anxiety, both in my own life and in the lives of people I’ve counseled. What I’ve discovered is that time anxiety usually isn’t really about time at all.
It’s about control. When we’re anxious about time, we’re usually anxious about not being able to control outcomes. We want to guarantee certain results, and we believe that if we just manage time perfectly enough, we can make life turn out the way we need it to. But that’s an exhausting—and ultimately impossible—way to live.
I remember the morning I realized I was treating time like a resource I could hoard or optimize my way to peace. I had color-coded calendars, productivity apps, and a morning routine that would make a Navy SEAL nod with approval. And I was still anxious. Because no amount of time management can address a trust issue.
It’s also about worth. Somewhere along the way, many of us absorbed the lie that our value is tied to our productivity. If we’re not accomplishing enough in the time we have, we must not be enough. This is where the gospel offers such radical freedom. Our worth isn’t measured in tasks completed or hours optimized. We’re beloved children of God before we accomplish a single thing on our to-do list.
And it’s about mortality. Let’s be honest about the deeper current running beneath time anxiety. We’re finite beings with limited days, and that’s scary. The clock ticking isn’t just about missing a deadline—it’s a reminder that life itself is ticking by. Ecclesiastes 3 tells us there’s “a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” But accepting that our time has boundaries means accepting that we’re not God. That’s humbling. That’s also where real peace begins.
The Physical Reality of Time Anxiety
Before we dive deeper into the spiritual side, I need to acknowledge something: time anxiety isn’t just in your head. It’s in your body, too.
When I was struggling most, my body would respond to time pressure before my mind even consciously registered stress. My shoulders would tense when I looked at my calendar. My stomach would knot up when I calculated how long a project would take. I’d feel that distinctive tightness in my chest when someone asked me to add one more thing to my plate.
This is your nervous system doing exactly what it’s designed to do—preparing you to fight or flee from a threat. The problem is, your body can’t tell the difference between a actual lion chasing you and a metaphorical deadline bearing down. It responds the same way to both: heart rate increases, breathing gets shallow, muscles tense, and stress hormones flood your system.
Here’s what I wish someone had told me earlier: you can’t think your way out of a physiological response. When time anxiety triggers your body’s alarm system, you need physical interventions, not just mental ones. This is where breathwork, grounding techniques, and even simple movement become crucial tools. I’ll often stand up, place my feet firmly on the ground, and take five deep breaths while reminding myself: “I am here, now. This moment is the only one I actually have.”
Reframing Time Through a Faith Lens
The shift that changed everything for me came when I stopped seeing time as something I needed to conquer and started seeing it as something God had already ordained. Psalm 31:15 says, “My times are in your hands.” Not “might be” or “should be.” They are.
This doesn’t mean we become passive or irresponsible with our time. It means we release the illusion that our frantic worry somehow gives us more control over outcomes. It means we plan diligently but hold our plans loosely, recognizing that God’s sovereignty extends over our calendars just as much as it extends over everything else.
I started practicing what I call “present-moment trust.” When I’d feel that familiar time anxiety creeping in—that sense of not having enough time to do everything—I’d pause and ask myself: “What is the actual next right thing I need to do in this moment?” Not five things from now. Not tomorrow’s problem. Just the very next thing.
This simple question has become a prayer for me. Because here’s what I’ve found: God gives us enough time to do what He’s actually asking us to do. When I feel like there’s not enough time, it’s usually because I’m carrying things He never asked me to carry in the first place.
Practical Steps for Managing Time Anxiety
Let me share some specific practices that have helped me move from time-related panic to a more peaceful relationship with my schedule. These aren’t quick fixes—they’re ongoing practices that require consistency and grace with yourself.
Start your morning by surrendering your time. Before I look at my phone or my to-do list, I spend a few minutes with Proverbs 16:9: “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.” I literally pray through my day, surrendering each commitment and asking God to help me walk through my hours with His peace. Some mornings I’m better at this than others, but it consistently helps me remember that my day is ultimately in His hands, not mine.
Practice the “next right thing” principle. When overwhelm hits and time anxiety starts spiraling, I stop multi-tasking and focus on just one thing. Not the most urgent thing or the biggest thing—just the next right thing. This might sound too simple, but it’s actually profoundly grounding. It pulls you out of future-focused panic and into present-moment action.
Build in buffer time. This was hard for me because it felt inefficient. I wanted to pack my schedule tightly to maximize productivity. But I’ve learned that realistic time expectations actually reduce anxiety. Now I add 25% more time than I think I’ll need for most tasks. Am I sometimes “wasting” time? Maybe. But I’m not constantly anxious, and that’s worth more than an extra checked box.
Set a “time worry” boundary. I give myself permission to worry about time-related concerns for exactly ten minutes each evening during my planning time. I look at tomorrow’s schedule, identify potential challenges, and make adjustments. Outside of that window, when time anxiety pops up, I literally say out loud: “I’ve already addressed this. It’s not worry time.” This sounds strange, but it works. It trains your brain that not every anxious thought requires immediate attention.
Embrace Sabbath rest. Of all the spiritual practices that have helped my time anxiety, Sabbath has been the most revolutionary. Taking a full day where I intentionally don’t try to accomplish anything, don’t check email, and don’t worry about productivity has taught me something crucial: the world keeps turning even when I stop. God doesn’t need my frantic effort to accomplish His purposes.
When Time Anxiety Becomes Chronic
I need to be honest about something: if your time anxiety is severe or persistent, these spiritual practices might not be enough on their own. And that’s okay. That doesn’t mean your faith is weak or that God is disappointed in you.
During my worst seasons of anxiety, I needed both my faith and professional help. I worked with a Christian therapist who helped me identify thought patterns that were fueling my time anxiety. We discovered I had developed what’s called “catastrophic thinking” around time—I’d assume that being late or not finishing something would lead to worst-case scenarios that my brain treated as certainties.
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) techniques helped me challenge these automatic thoughts. When I’d think “I’ll never get everything done,” I learned to ask: “Is that actually true? What evidence do I have for this thought? What would I tell a friend who was thinking this way?”
Medication was part of my journey too, for a season. Some people need this support longer-term, and there’s no shame in that. Our brains are physical organs that sometimes need medical intervention, just like any other part of our body. God can work through therapy and medication just as powerfully as He works through prayer and scripture.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “These tips sound nice, but my time anxiety is interfering with my daily functioning,” please consider reaching out to a mental health professional. Anxiety disorders are real medical conditions, and getting help is an act of wisdom, not weakness.
The Gift Hidden in Time Anxiety
Here’s something that took me years to see: my time anxiety has actually taught me important things I might not have learned otherwise.
It’s taught me my limitations—and that limitations aren’t flaws. I’m a finite human being who can’t do everything, and accepting this has been oddly freeing. It’s taught me to rely on God more genuinely. When I’m not frantically trying to control every minute of my day, I’m more naturally dependent on His guidance and provision.
Most importantly, my struggle with time anxiety has made me profoundly aware of the present moment. When you’ve spent years living in constant fear about the future or regret about the past, learning to actually be here now feels like coming home. It’s taught me what Jesus meant when He talked about not worrying about tomorrow. He wasn’t being naive about the future—He was inviting us into the abundance of the present.
I think about the way Jesus lived. He was never rushed, even when He was incredibly busy. He took time to rest. He didn’t heal every sick person in Israel. He didn’t accept every invitation or address every need. He lived within the time God gave Him for each day, and somehow that was enough.
Moving Forward with Time
The truth I’m still learning is this: time is a gift, not a tyrant. Every moment is an opportunity to practice trust, to choose presence over panic, to remember that our lives are held by Someone bigger than our schedules.
My coffee maker still takes three minutes to brew. My to-do list is still longer than I’d like. But I’m learning to see those three minutes differently—not as time stolen from productivity, but as an invitation to breathe, to notice, to be still and know that He is God, even when there’s laundry to fold and emails to answer.
If you’re struggling with time anxiety today, I want you to know: you’re not broken. You’re not faithless. You’re a human being trying to navigate a fast-paced world with a nervous system that sometimes gets overwhelmed. That’s okay. God’s not surprised by your anxiety, and He’s not disappointed in you for feeling it.
Start small. Maybe just with the next three minutes. Can you be present for them? Can you breathe through them? Can you trust that God is in them, with you, holding your time in His capable hands?
Because here’s what I know to be true, both from Scripture and from my own hard-won experience: the God who numbered the hairs on your head also knows exactly how many moments you have. He’s not asking you to manage time perfectly. He’s inviting you to trust Him completely—one present moment at a time.
The clock is ticking. But grace is here, now, in this very moment. And that’s enough.
