
Tonight, Friday, I had one of those conversations that lingers long after the words have left the air. You know the kind — where someone says something so casually, but it hits a deep nerve because you know there’s truth behind it, even if it’s not the truth that should lead.
My friend looked at me and said, “Sometimes you just can’t help it. Worry is just… part of life.”

And I get it. I do. I’ve been there. I am there.
Bills. Future. Relationships. Health. The “what ifs” that creep in when you’re brushing your teeth or folding laundry. It feels almost irresponsible not to worry sometimes, doesn’t it? Like worry is our way of preparing or protecting ourselves. Like if we don’t think through every possible bad scenario, we’re being naive.
But here’s the problem. That mindset doesn’t align with what God says. At all.
“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything: tell God your needs and don’t forget to thank Him for His answers.” — Philippians 4:6 (TLB)
That’s literally a command. Don’t worry. Not about some things. Not about most things. About anything.
I wanted to tell my friend right then and there — with love but also firmness — “Sis, that’s a lie straight from the pit. Worry might feel natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s right. And it sure doesn’t mean it’s godly.”
Because here’s the thing: God doesn’t give us a standard without a solution. He’s not cold or distant. He doesn’t just throw “Don’t worry” at us and leave us alone with our anxious minds. He gives us a whole formula.

Let me break it down again for myself — because girl, I need this tattooed on my heart:
Step 1: Pray about everything.
If it matters to me, it matters to Him. Whether it’s the results of a biopsy or just the fact that I’m scared I’ll be single forever… He cares. So I have to open my mouth and speak. Not stress in silence. PRAY.
Step 2: Tell God your needs.
Don’t just beg. Be honest. Be specific. It’s okay to say, “Lord, I need clarity. I need strength. I need provision. I need peace.” This is not a burden to Him. This is relationship.
Step 3: Thank Him for His answers.
This one is the hardest when anxiety clouds my view. But God calls me to thank Him before I see the result. To say “Thank You” while the bank account is still low, while the test results are still pending, while the future is still blurry. That’s faith. That’s surrender.
And THEN… comes the promise. And this part blows my mind every time I read it.
“If you do this you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will keep your thoughts and your hearts quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:7 (TLB)
God’s peace isn’t logical. It’s not based on the situation improving. It’s based on HIM.
I’ve tasted that peace before — in moments when everything around me screamed panic, and yet inside, I was still. Not because I had it all figured out, but because I knew He did.
Tonight, I’m choosing that peace again.
I’m laying my anxious thoughts before God. The ones about where I’ll be next year. The ones about whether my life is measuring up to some invisible Christian-woman standard. The ones about how people perceive me — if they think I’m “too much,” too serious, too spiritual, too opinionated. I give it all to the One who made me and already knows how my story ends.

Father God,
You said not to worry. And I confess that I do. I’ve let anxiety become my default setting, and I’ve excused it as just being “realistic.” But You’ve called me to something higher — to trust, to pray, to thank You even when the answer hasn’t arrived yet.
So I bring it all to You. Every fear. Every need. Every unknown. You are my anchor, and You are steady. I believe that as I trust You, You are already working behind the scenes.
Teach me to trust more and fear less. Let Your peace, the peace that confuses the world, flood my mind and heart tonight. Quiet every racing thought. Speak louder than my fears.
In Jesus’ Name,
Amen.

It still amazes me,how countercultural this gospel is. The world says, “Worry is normal. Anxiety is part of life.” But God says, “Not for My child.”
And while I still feel things deeply — I’m a feeler through and through — I no longer let my emotions rule me. I choose faith. I choose obedience. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
I’m not passive about this anymore. I’m not soft about worry. I fight it. I confront it. Not just for me, but for every sister watching me walk this journey.
Because if God says peace is possible, I’m going to live like it’s true.

















