“Be still, and know that I am God.”
—Psalm 46:10
For most of my life, I felt like I had to hold everything together on my own—my schoolwork, my future, my emotions, even the atmosphere at home when things got tense. I thought that if I tried hard enough, planned far enough, or worried early enough, I could protect myself from uncertainty. But the more I tried to control everything, the more overwhelmed I became.
When I came across this verse, it felt almost impossible. Be still? How could I be still when my mind was always running ahead, imagining everything that might go wrong? Stillness felt like giving up, like doing nothing. But slowly, I began to understand that “being still” wasn’t about shutting down—it was about letting go.
There was one evening after a long week when everything felt heavy. My thoughts kept circling, jumping from one worry to the next. Instead of trying to force clarity, I just sat quietly. I didn’t pray for anything specific. I didn’t ask for things to change. I simply sat, breathed, and let myself rest in the idea that I didn’t have to carry everything alone.
In that stillness, something shifted. My problems didn’t disappear. My responsibilities were still there. But the weight wasn’t crushing anymore. I realized that trusting God didn’t mean escaping difficulty. It meant not facing it alone. It meant letting myself be held when I was tired of holding everything up.
I used to think faith was about doing more—more effort, more perfection, more certainty. Now I’m learning that sometimes faith is simply being still, even when life isn’t. It’s stepping back and remembering that God is present in the places where I feel most lost.
And in those quiet moments, I find a peace I could never create by myself.