It’s in times like this that I wonder: How do people that don’t know who Jesus is get through this life? How do those who don’t know His love face the uncertainty of the day? How do those who don’t stand in His promises cope with their fear and deep sadness that is an inevitability to this life? Because I don’t think that I’d be able to function in this year alone if I didn’t have the steadfast faithfulness of God to lean into in days like these.

I struggled over whether or not I would speak on this. Between the memes, the news, the hysteria, and the somehow innate feeling that all people have to comment on current events– as if it changes much of anything– I feel that what I have to say is of little to no consequence compared to the ocean of content concerning COVID-19. Nevertheless, I am hearing some things from my fellow Christians that just don’t sit right with me, and although I know my thoughts are just a drop in the bucket, I do have to stand against the strange and unbiblical ideas that I see with a simple scroll through any of my social media outlets.

How often do we limit our capacity to worship Jesus? Let me be more specific: how often do we categorize worship neatly into a box for Sunday morning church service or a special playlist on our phones? In all reality, worship goes much farther than ambient music or beautiful lyrics. Worship is a lifestyle. It is something that should be fully integrated into Christian life.

“I just don’t know what to do,” a close family friend said over coffee one night. “My daughter is afraid to go to the mall, the movies, school. She’s afraid to live her life.” I remember those words being spoken years ago, after the school shooting at Sandy Hook. That was nearly six years ago, and in the time that’s passed, I can’t say with any kind of confidence that this world has gotten any better. Media tries to top itself with more outrageous headlines and sin-sick people try to outdo the last. It would take too long to list the heartbreak and the anguish. And because of that, lots of people– Christians included– walk in fear of what tomorrow night bring or whether they’ll become another statistic, another name on a list.

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.

This past week, God has been revealing two things to me, and those are #1: Everything happens for a reason, and #2: NOTHING surprises God. If I am being honest, last week was the worst handful of days I’ve had in a long time. I faced a couple of really big trials and just like anyone else, I was experiencing a lot of confusion and anger. When things aren’t going our way or things happen in our lives we don’t understand, we tend to let that situation take hold of our joy. I will admit I did that for a while. I almost let the situations in my life win by letting myself become discouraged and wallowing in it, but then I realized something.