peace in an anxious world

Let’s be honest—most of us are carrying something heavy right now.

We worry about our kids, our finances, our health, the future, the state of the world… and sometimes even a quick Google search can send us spiraling. (“Mild headache” suddenly becomes “prepare your will.”) The world gives us plenty of reasons to feel anxious.

But Jesus offers us something different.

In Matthew 6, five different times, Jesus says: “Do not worry.” Not because life is easy, but because God is faithful.

I love that Jesus points to the birds. He says they don’t worry about tomorrow, yet their Heavenly Father feeds them. Birds don’t panic—and they don’t sit around doing nothing either. They simply do what they were created to do and trust God with the rest.

There’s wisdom in that for us.

Worry has never healed a relationship, paid a bill, or added peace to anyone’s life. What it does do is rob us—of sleep, joy, energy, and trust in God.

So what do we do when anxiety starts closing in?

We look to our Father because He is faithful.
We look to our faith because faith conquers fear.
And we look to our future knowing God is still in control.

One of the simplest but most powerful reminders is this:

Do what you can do, and surrender to God what only He can do.

Pray. Take the next faithful step. Love well. Get help when needed. Open God’s Word before you open the panic spiral in your mind.

And then trust that the God who holds the universe also holds you.

Scripture reminds us: “The Lord is close to all who call on Him.” (Psalm 145:18)

So if you’re feeling anxious today, don’t let worry drive you away from God. Let it draw you closer to Him.

He is with you.
He is for you.
And He wil

What the storm forgot

There’s a moment in the middle of every storm where fear gets loud.

The disciples knew that feeling well. One minute they were following Jesus across the Sea of Galilee, and the next they were fighting waves, wind, and panic. Meanwhile, Jesus was asleep in the boat.

Honestly, that part always gets me.

Because if we’re honest, many of us have asked the same question the disciples asked:
“Jesus, don’t you care?”

Don’t you care about my family?
My future?
My health?
My heartbreak?
My uncertainty?

And yet, the story reminds us of something deeply comforting: the presence of a storm is not the absence of God.

In fact, sometimes the very places that feel the most chaotic are the places where God is shaping us most deeply.

This week, while sitting at my pottery wheel, I was reminded of that truth again. Clay has to be centered before it can be formed. And centering involves pressure. Steady hands. Resistance. Spinning. If the clay could talk, it would probably cry out, “This feels like chaos!”

But the potter sees what the clay cannot yet see.

Maybe that’s true for us too.

Maybe what feels like disorder is actually God carefully forming something beautiful in us.

When Jesus stood and spoke, “Quiet. Be still,” the storm obeyed. Not because the waves were small, but because the One in the boat held all authority.

That same Jesus still speaks peace over fearful hearts today.

The storm may still rage around you, but you are not abandoned in it. Jesus never promised a storm-free life. He promised His presence.

And sometimes peace doesn’t come because the storm instantly stops.
Sometimes peace comes because you finally remember who is in the boat with you.

You can know his voice

Do you ever wish God came with a GPS?
“Turn left.”
“Recalculating…”
“Make a U-turn when possible.”

Clear. Direct. No second-guessing.

Instead, if you’re anything like me, you pray and then wonder:
Was that God or just me? Was that wisdom, emotion… or (let’s be honest) something I ate?

And yet, here’s the promise Jesus makes that changes everything:
You can know His voice.
Not guess. Not hope. Not wonder. Know.

Jesus says,
“My sheep listen to my voice… I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10)
That’s not poetic fluff. That’s a promise.

When Jesus called Himself the Good Shepherd, people understood what that meant. Shepherds didn’t push sheep from behind, they led from the front. And the sheep followed because they recognized his voice.

Imagine it: one crowded pen, multiple flocks. In the morning, each shepherd calls—and his sheep lift their heads and follow. No confusion. Just recognition.
Why?
Because they’ve spent time with him.

That’s the invitation.
Jesus is saying: That’s what it can be like with you and me.

I remember when I was wrestling with whether to go back to school to become an ordained minister. It didn’t make sense. I didn’t fit the mold, and honestly, I didn’t see how it could work.

Brian and I were at a worship conference, and one night during a concert, I quietly prayed, “Lord, what am I supposed to do?”

And in the stillness, I sensed a simple word: “Go.”
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a quiet, steady nudge: Be obedient, and I’ll take care of the rest.

Later, I told Brian—half expecting skepticism. Instead, he simply said, “Well… it sounds like the decision is clear.”

And it was.

So how do we hear Him?

Keep it simple.

Ask.
“Speak, Lord. Your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3)

Listen.
God is always speaking. Through Scripture, wise voices, a sermon, a nudge in your spirit. He will never contradict His Word.

Obey.
This is where it becomes real. Sometimes we’re waiting for a new word while ignoring the last one. But every step of obedience helps us hear Him more clearly.

This week, let’s be people who ask, listen, and obey—one step at a time.

Because Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
And you are His sheep.

And He promises that you will know His voice.

So when He calls your name this week, in a quiet moment, through His Word, or in a gentle nudge —may you recognize it, trust it, and follow.