Thirty years of teaching taught me that shame doesn’t fade easily. Hardworking kids absorbed correction like wounds, while others brushed it off without a thought. Years later, I realized I was living out that same pattern myself, carrying old mistakes long after everyone else had forgotten them.
Anxiety whispers today’s headlines louder than peace. Every new statistic makes your heart race—but what if those fears are fuel for the wrong wolf inside you? God tells us to choose differently: to feed truth, not worry. But that’s easier said than done. Watching the news, scrolling your phone, reading headlines—it’s like running your heart on a dying battery. This piece isn’t about denying fear—it’s about noticing when you’re feeding the wrong side, then plugging into the words that promise peace even when everything around you screams the opposite.
School’s starting soon, and our “detailed” return plans are held together by Jell‑O. Anxiety among teachers is high, even more so with the virus still looming. Some say faith means no fear—others say wisdom may ask for caution. Is fleeing fear or failure of faith? Scripture doesn’t say faith always looks brave. Sometimes it looks smart, humble, or even quiet. And maybe that’s okay. This piece isn’t telling believers how to act. It’s offering a thought: faith doesn’t have one face—and maybe that’s a relief.
These words have always been a source of comfort, a reassurance in life’s uncertainties. But that Wednesday afternoon, I would discover just how deeply I needed them.