Be Still… Even If You’re Side-Eyeing the News (Faith, Fear, and the Headlines)

I remember as a child being so afraid of storms. I would almost become physically ill the moment I heard my parents announce that the weatherman said there was a storm on the horizon. I’ve always had an active imagination, so my mind would immediately race to the worst of what could happen.

But right in the middle of my thoughts going haywire, one of my parents would calmly say:

“Get somewhere and sit down. God is working.”

And somehow, that was enough.

So that’s what I say to anyone reading this today.
In the midst of all that we wake up to each morning—the headlines, the noise, the uncertainty—be still, and know… God is working.

Every day we wake up to news—and people—that somehow feel worse than the day before. We see elected leaders anxious to slap their names on buildings, plaques, and projects, desperate to preserve who they are in this life. As if concrete could remember them forever. As if brass plates could outlive eternity.

We see others bending to the basest of human desires and unchecked imaginations, after slowly dulling the voice of their own conscience. Compassion has quietly packed its bags. Love has slipped out the back door. And here we are—living in that sobering moment in history where Scripture no longer sounds symbolic, but painfully accurate:

“The love of many has grown cold.”

That verse doesn’t whisper—it chills you straight to the bone.

People seem far more concerned about whether their name is etched into stone than whether it’s written in the Lamb’s Book of Life. But mama has lived long enough to know better. Buildings crumble. Men fall. Reputations crack. And everything that can be shaken—eventually will be.

Everything.
And everyone.

Every day, I cling to the hope that my faith in Jesus will not fail me as I watch mankind say and do things I could never have imagined growing up. There are moments when it feels disorienting—like the world I knew quietly changed while no one rang the alarm.

But now I understand something I didn’t before.

The curtain wasn’t suddenly ripped open.
It was being raised.

Slowly. Deliberately. Each act in history revealed in its appointed time. Scene by scene. Truth by truth. What once hid in the shadows has stepped into the light—not because it suddenly appeared, but because the hour came for it to be seen.

And oddly enough, that realization steadies me.

Because this hasn’t caught God off guard.
History isn’t spiraling—it’s unfolding.

What feels like chaos to us is still moving on a divine timetable. Faith isn’t pretending we don’t see what’s happening; it’s trusting the One who already knows how the story ends.

This heaven and earth we see—touch—fight over—will pass away. The only thing that will remain untouched, unmoved, and undefeated is the Word of God.

What God said.
What God declared.
What God promised.

And one day, every single person will recognize that truth.

Why?

Because God placed eternity in the heart of every human being. Somewhere deep within us, beneath the noise and ambition and self-preservation, we know. We know there is a holy God who exists. A Creator who made us for Himself. A God who loved us enough to send His Son, Jesus, to rescue us—not just from sin, but from the lowest and most self-destructive versions of ourselves.

Heaven made it simple, even when religion tried to complicate it.

It only takes a sincere, heartfelt belief—that Jesus was sent, that He came to save, and that He came for you.

That’s why John the Baptist didn’t hesitate. He didn’t care whether they applauded or rolled their eyes. He had no problem being that voice—crying out truth in the wilderness, whether it was welcomed or ignored.

Truth has never needed a fan club.

And today, I join my voice with his.

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” — Psalm 91:1

Maybe your nerves are all over the place, like mine used to be, as you watch the turmoil of this world unfold. If so, let me gently recommend a healthy dose of Psalm 91. Read it slowly. Sit with it. Let it steady your breathing and quiet your thoughts.

Peace doesn’t come from pretending the storm isn’t real—
it comes from remembering Who is sovereign over it.

So get somewhere and sit down, baby.
Be still.
God is working.