Skip to main content

Faith or Fear

On last night, my sleep was not restful. I tossed and turned for many hours. My mind housed a reservoir of "what-if" scenarios and overshadowed my ability to relax and be still. Wow! Was the residue of yesterday's lesson still lingering underneath my sweaty armpits? Was there a foul offense that I committed against someone that needed addressing before I closed my eyes? Was my actions in alignment with his word? Was his hands of forgiveness absent from my repentant heart?

As I gasped for air, I woke up in a panic! The temporary "brain fog" impaired my ability to discern whether this was a bad dream. I escaped the confines of my familiar dwelling searching for peace in the ocean view, but I continued to drown in doubt. However, this lack of refreshing sleep sent me probing underneath the covers desperate for answers. What was I missing? 

I grew insanely frustrated!

The "thorn in my flesh" was uncomfortable. It kept me sleep deprived. It kept me from reaching my full potential. It kept me buried underneath the sand in scorching heat. 

However, the more I wrestled with those covers, the more I began to realize the err of my ways. I was tired of sinking my own ship, but I was determined to be the captain! I insisted on sailing at my own speed, but God knew best. I could continue to navigate through the swamp of fear or I could fully surrender to him and sail peacefully to the promise land. 

Faith covers.
Faith protects.
Faith leads.

"You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you."-Isaiah 26:3

Is "faith or fear" on display in your life: in your words, your actions, and your deeds?
Are you trying to control the "script" or have you given him full access to write the story?
Does your peace abide in his truth?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Broken Covenant

Once upon a time— I wanted to believe something was real so desperately that I silenced the Spirit within me just to keep the illusion alive. I saw every red flag— not as warnings, but as tests of how much  I was willing to endure to feel chosen. I asked no questions because truth was already whispering, and I feared what obedience would cost me. So I made a covenant with denial— calling lies “grace,” and confusion “patience,” because the truth felt too vast, too holy, too disruptive to the future I had built in my mind. I clung to potential like it was promise, and mistook absence for peace. Yet the weight of it— this thing I called love— crushed my spirit daily. Still, desperation dressed itself as loyalty and convinced me to stay. And it didn’t get better. It decayed. Quietly at first… then unmistakably. Each time God unveiled truth, I chose the comfort of shadows over the calling of light. I pleaded. I prayed. I begged— not for revelation, but for permission to remain where I w...

From Chaos to Calm

After a while… the need to be heard at full volume begins to dissolve. The rooftops grow silent. The flames you once fed with trembling hands no longer feel like power— only exhaustion. What you burned never built a home. And somewhere along the way, you realize— not every echo returns, not every seed takes root, not every mountain was yours to climb. The grace you poured out like water in a desert, the love you offered with open, unguarded hands— it did not come back the way you imagined. And still… you are here. So instead of fighting what refuses to bend, you loosen your grip. Not in defeat— but in awakening. You release the need to be answered, to be chosen, to be understood by those who never learned your language. Your hands, once reaching outward, begin to rise— not in desperation, but in devotion. Upward. Open. Steady. God… I see You now in the quiet I once avoided. I hear You not in the thunder— but in the space where my striving used to live. And I am ready. Something within ...

Do Not Resuscitate (DNR)

What unsettles me most about some people is not the harm they cause— but the silence that follows it. No conviction. No trembling. No evidence that a soul was ever stirred. As if something sacred once lived there… and quietly left. What remains is form without fire. A body that breathes, but does not  feel . A Walking corpse. Spiritually vacant,  yet socially skilled— fluent in imitation, but foreign to truth. They move through people like weather— touching everything, anchoring nowhere. I once mistook that emptiness for mystery. Confused detachment with depth. Thought restraint was discipline, when it was really disconnection. But there was  no rootedness in him— only appetite. An endless hunger dressed as desire. A man grazing on bodies, scrolling through souls like they were disposable moments. Not searching. Not building. Just consuming— to quiet something unnamed within him. Unhealed wounds don’t stay still. They wander. From bed to bed, from face to face, from high ...