When Worry Met Conviction

Sometimes you have to step away to avoid damaging what you’ve been entrusted with. It’s been a minute.

In the midst of the holiday season, I found myself unnecessarily drained—partly from spiritual warfare, but mostly from fighting myself. As I tried to navigate the stress, frustration, and emotions bubbling beneath the surface, I lived in a constant state of longing, with a subtle but persistent depressive weight attached to it.

Naturally, the first thing you do—especially when you’ve walked the journey I have—is pray. But for the first time in a long time, my prayers felt wasted. I was sitting in the presence of the Lord, asking for things I had already received but failed to nurture.

In those moments, I felt like the biggest failure. I questioned everything I had worked to build, and even while rejoicing over the blessings I had received and the mountains He already moved, I couldn’t help but fixate on how far I still felt from where I wanted to be.

One day, while sitting with my husband, he gently pointed out that I’d been carrying a lot of worry lately. Then he asked a question that snapped me back to reality: “Aren’t you a believer?”

To some, that might not seem like a big deal. To me, it was the Lord’s conviction spoken through my husband—a quiet but piercing reminder. And that made two.

The first experience came when our dog got sick. He had a violent seizure that left him barely conscious and unable to stand. It didn’t look good. I dropped to my knees and prayed the strongest prayer of surrender I had ever prayed, giving it all to God. After hours at the vet, it looked like he might make it. But once we got home, he worsened. We had to make the decision to put him down.

When I tell you I broke into a million pieces, I mean it. I struggled deeply with that grief. What was meant to last only a moment, I held onto until it began to manifest into something darker. Eventually, through prayer and fasting, I found my way back into alignment.

And now—this season.

I wish I could say it was marked by tragedy or some big moment, but it wasn’t. The worry I carried was built from familiar things: frustrations at work, financial stress, poor time management, and a loneliness born from missing my family. So the question became—if I’ve been here before, why does it still hold power? Why does it still feel heavy enough to drag me down?

I had to come to terms with the fact that, despite my words, I often fall short in my actions. I fail—again and again—to fully trust God.

Yet I know He will work it all out. In fact, I know it’s already done.

The same God who ensured I had a roof over my head, a loving support system, and every bill paid is still right here with me.

He said, “I will keep you wherever you go.”

And I choose to believe Him.

This season has taught me that trust isn’t a feeling—it’s a decision. A daily one. I don’t need to carry tomorrow when God has already stepped into it.

So I’m laying the worry down again. Not because it hasn’t returned, but because He hasn’t left.

He said, “I will keep you wherever you go". And this time, I’m choosing to rest in that promise.