“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” — Mark 9:24 (NIV)
Sometimes my mind outruns my faith. A little turbulence in the air—literal or emotional—and suddenly I’m spiraling, questioning everything. I know I believe. Deep down, in my heart of hearts, I trust God. But when the wings wobble, why does my peace unravel so quickly?
I catch myself in fight-or-flight mode over small things. And worse yet, I question whether these anxious reactions are proof that my faith is shallow. If I trust God, why am I afraid? If I believe He’s in control, why do I still try to hold the wheel?
It feels like an indictment. Like maybe I’m a fraud in my faith. A fair-weather believer.
But then, grace speaks.
God already knows my wiring. He knows how hard it is for me to let go. He sees the mental loops I get stuck in, the false alarms my body still responds to. And yet—He doesn’t turn away. In fact, He draws nearer.
Worry may be exhausting, but it’s also a spiritual opportunity. It’s a reminder that I cannot do life on my own. And perhaps this tension between fear and faith isn’t a failure—it’s a frontier. A sacred stretch of soul where I can step further into trust, deeper into surrender, closer into God.
The real fraud isn’t the one who feels fear—it’s the one who pretends they never do. Faith is not the absence of fear. It’s the courage to reach for God in the middle of it.
And maybe what matters most isn’t how calm I am when things go wrong—but how quickly I turn to Him when they do.
Prayer:
Lord, You know how tightly I try to hold the things I can’t control. You know how quickly fear can flood my heart, even when I know better. Thank You for being patient with me—for understanding my human frailty and loving me through it. Help me lean into You when worry hits. Remind me that faith is a practice, not a performance. Grow it in me, even when I feel like I’m failing. Amen.
