The Lord Is My Rock: What Saved Tyler from the Edge

Tyler had always been steady. A good job, a faithful husband, the guy people called when they were falling apart. He was a natural problem-solver, calm, composed, and committed to keeping everything running smoothly. Until the day he couldn’t.

It started small. Sleepless nights. Tightness in his chest. Tears that came from nowhere. Then came the layoff, unexpected, humiliating. Two days later, his father had a stroke. Then his youngest started having anxiety attacks of her own. It was too much. But Tyler smiled through it. “I’m good,” he said. He wasn’t.

He thought he was holding it all together — until his body said otherwise.

One afternoon, in the middle of a grocery store, it happened. A wave of dizziness. Rapid breathing. He dropped to one knee near the freezer aisle. His heart felt like it was sprinting inside his ribs. Strangers stared. His vision blurred. And for the first time in his life, he was afraid he was about to die.

The ER said it was a panic attack. “Classic case,” the nurse said. But nothing felt classic about the shame that followed. He was the strong one. The stable one. And now, he couldn’t even trust his own mind.

That night, Tyler sat on the floor of his living room, lights off, hands shaking. He opened his Bible, not out of faith, but desperation. And his eyes landed on Psalm 18:2: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer...” The words didn’t hit like a sermon. They hit like a shelter.

The verse didn’t demand strength — it offered shelter.

He didn’t feel strong. He felt wrecked. But the verse didn’t tell him to be the rock, it reminded him that he already had one. Tyler leaned his back against the wall, closed his eyes, and whispered, “I don’t need to hold everything together. You’re the rock. You hold me.”

From that moment, Tyler stopped pretending. He opened up to his wife. Took time off to heal. Started counseling. He joined a men’s group, not as the leader, but as a man who needed support. And in that humility, he found something he never had before, peace.

His circumstances didn’t change overnight. But his heart did. Tyler began praying with honesty, not performance. He read Scripture not for answers, but for presence. And each time the fear tried to return, he reminded it: “You’re not my foundation anymore, the Lord is my rock.”

Now, when other men feel like they’re slipping, Tyler doesn’t offer quick advice. He offers presence. And he points them to the same shelter that held him when the floor gave out.

Where do you need God to be your rock most right now?

• In my mind — anxiety and thoughts
• In my marriage or family
• In my finances or future
• In my daily spiritual walk