Many of us whisper a prayer in the morning.
Many of us bow our heads again before bed.
But what about the hours in between?
The in-between is where life presses hardest. The notifications. The headlines. The arguments. The rising costs. The health scares. The rumors. The endless stream of voices demanding attention.
Virus on one side. Violence, on the other hand. Anxiety in the middle.
What will I eat?
What will I wear?
Should I stock up?
Should I prepare for collapse?
Should I panic quietly?
In the noise, we forget the simplest prayer:
Father, I’m here.
Not rushing. Not rehearsing fear. Just present.
Jesus anticipated our distracted hearts. In Matthew 6:33–34 He says:
“But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow… Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”
There will be evil in each day. He did not deny that.
But he refused to let it rule us.
Colossians 3:2 echoes the same command:
“Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.”
The problem is not that earthly events exist. The problem is when they consume us. When headlines shape our mood. When social debates divide our homes. When fear becomes our daily companion.
The enemy’s agenda has never changed: to kill, steal, and destroy. If he cannot take your life, he will attempt to take your peace. If he cannot destroy your body, he will try to divide your family.
Think about the conversations you’ve had recently. How quickly did tension rise? How quickly did opinions become accusations? How many relationships have been strained over medical choices, politics, or public policy?
Division is loud right now.
Houses divided.
Friends unfriended.
Family members are silent.
Church members are suspicious of one another.
Yet Scripture says plainly:
“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” — 2 Timothy 1:7
Fear is not our inheritance.
Does that mean we abandon wisdom? Of course not. We make decisions prayerfully. We exercise discernment. We take precautions according to our conscience and understanding.
But we do not surrender to hysteria.
Romans 12 reminds us that each of us has been given “the measure of faith.” Not identical faith. Not uniform conviction. Measure.
Some trust boldly.
Some move cautiously.
Some need time.
Some need reassurance.
Mocking another person’s faith—or lack of it—reveals pride, not righteousness. It is dangerous to ridicule what God may be cultivating in someone else.
Jesus warned in Luke 12 that belief in Him would divide households. Father against son. Mother against daughter. We are seeing the reality of that warning unfold.
But division does not have to own your heart.
The reason Scripture urges us to set our minds on things above is simple: where the mind rests, the heart follows.
If your mind dwells constantly on catastrophe, your heart will absorb anxiety.
If your mind feeds on outrage, your heart will produce anger.
If your mind is anchored in Christ, your heart will produce peace.
Ask yourself honestly:
How much of my day belongs to the news cycle?
How much of my conversation centers on destruction?
Have I become a carrier of bad news rather than good news?
Years ago, I heard a pastor say she stopped watching the news entirely because it only reported tragedy. She chose instead to report the Good News—Christ crucified and risen. Not denial of reality. Redirection of focus.
That is wisdom.
James 3:16–17 tells us:
“For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and every evil work. But the wisdom that is above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle… full of mercy and good fruits…”
Confusion is not from above.
Peace is.
Gentleness is.
Mercy is.
If your spirit is constantly agitated, check your intake. What are you feeding your mind? Who are you allowing to shape your thinking?
When you lie down at night, if anxiety greets you before sleep does, shift your focus. Open the Word. Speak His promises aloud. Fill the in-between hours with something eternal.
The world will continue to tremble. Scripture never promised it would not.
But you do not have to tremble with it.
You can wake and say, “Father, I’m here.”
You can walk through the day anchored.
You can disagree without hatred.
You can prepare without panic.
You can live wisely without living fearfully.
Set your mind above.
Let your heart follow.
And when the noise grows loud, remember:
Grace and peace are still available.
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