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.
Four years after the chaos of COVID-19, life is still shifting underneath us—economy, unrest, people at each other’s throats. Some say faith means no fear; I wonder if that’s reckless. Scripture doesn’t say faith equals bravado. It balances trust and wisdom—like avoiding the oncoming traffic even when you’re brave enough to cross the road. Sometimes faith is pausing, not running. It’s not a failure of belief. Maybe it’s a decision to walk wisely—and continue being a source of light anyway.
As kids, we thought a ham in a can looked glamorous—until we tried it and found it slimy and disappointing. That quick lesson stuck: packaging can lie. Casinos push the same fantasy—flashy lights promising big wins, but mostly draining pockets and hope. And real stories? Like the lottery winner who cursed his fortune instead of celebrating it, remind us that “more” doesn’t always mean better. Proverbs matters: wealth gained quickly seldom lasts. True gain grows slowly—and quietly holds meaning long after the shine has faded.