The devil is a roaring lion. He roars constantly. He roars during our persecutions. Asking why God would do what He’s doing? Why would He let us suffer in this way? Where is He? Has He forgotten you? He roars during times of uncertainty. How can God possibly work through this? Didn’t He say He loved you? Didn’t He claim nothing was impossible? Maybe that promise was for someone else. Not for you.

Reverence. It’s a big word, and one not to be used lightly. It is a deep respect and awe for something or someone. Lately, I’ve been asking myself: do I have reverence for the Lord in my every day life? I think between social media blurbs, quick and snappy sermon titles, and TikTok devotions, the American church has lost what was once its highest priority: to revere and regard the Lord with deep love and trembling.

I wrote those words in the middle of winter, while sitting at my desk in small-town Potsdam, New York. Three months later, as I re-read my old, unedited words, I sat back and thought about how much my life had been flipped upside down. Later that night, I had received an email, saying that I would have three days to get rid of all of my belongings, and move out of my college dorm to live with my parents on Long Island again. I was crushed, especially after writing such strong, comforting words earlier that morning.

There is no fear in love. All of God’s promises to us are awesome, but there is something about this one that catches my heart. Anyone who knows me, knows that this is one of the verses I try to live by, and model my heart after. It’s a verse that has been a banner over my relationship and a mantra through some really hard decisions. There is no fear in love.

Have you ever received a word you knew was straight from God? And I’m not talking about kinda, sorta, maybe. I’m talking about a promise so without a doubt that it had to have come straight from the mouth of Jesus. I received a word like that earlier this year. I came from a very close friend who was praying over me during a worship night. As she prayed, she became thoughtfully silent, and then looked at me and said, “I don’t know why Jesus wants me to say this. I don’t really know where it’s coming from either, but He wants you to know that your heart will never be broken again.”

Growing up, I had very few worries. I was always that happy, go-lucky kid who just wanted to have fun and enjoy life with friends and family. My mom even told me of a time in a store parking lot, where I was walking and flailing my arms around without a care in the world. Before she could stop me, I went up to a random man and wished him a happy birthday. I had no idea if it was the man’s birthday, but that didn’t stop me. That was who I was.

Over the past week, I’ve been following a devotion through Isaiah 43, asking questions that both cause me to read between the lines and give me pause to listen to what God has to say about this beautiful love letter in scripture. And in this passage, God addresses one of the most common yet subjective, sneaky yet guttural emotions in the human experience: Fear.

My eighth grade experience was easily the worst year of my life, from beginning to end. I found myself isolated when I was the only one from my friend group that transitioned to advanced placement classes. I found myself further isolated when all of my friends ended up having the same lunch hour and free periods since they were all in the same classes. Every single day, I dreaded going to the cafeteria, because that meant I had to solve the awful dilemma of where to sit daily.

We all wonder about the future. Whether that be what you’re going to eat in thirty minutes, the extensive amount of things you have to do tomorrow, or where your life will be in ten years. There are numerous questions that linger in our heads left unanswered, and sometimes it feels as if we have to actively do something to get these answers. It can so easily feel like we are doing something wrong.

I was on my way to the pharmacy when the walls started to close in. At first, I ignored it. I live about three minutes away from my destination. I thought I could hold the line against the hurricane that was beginning to spin inside my mind. But that’s the thing: anxiety waits for no one. I was a newly-minted college grad, stuck in a career that brought me no joy, and I had no idea how to tell anyone that I felt lost. I didn’t want to be the floundering girl that couldn’t adjust to adult life. I didn’t want people to see that I was miserable most of the time.