When the Body Keeps Watch: Trauma, the Brain, and the Goodness of a God Who Heals

Trauma is a word we hear often today, but for many it is not just a word—it is a daily reality. Trauma touches our children, our families, our communities, and even generations. To understand how trauma works, it helps to look at how God designed our bodies and minds to respond to danger.

Deep in our brain lies a small almond-shaped structure called the amygdala. Its role is to act like an alarm system—scanning for danger and warning us when something feels unsafe. When the amygdala senses a threat, it alerts another part of the brain called the hypothalamus, which then sends signals to release chemicals like adrenaline and cortisol. These chemicals prepare our bodies for the “fight, flight, or freeze” response.

This is a gift from God. Without it, we would walk into dangerous situations unaware. But under normal circumstances, once the danger passes, the brain is designed to calm itself down. The body lowers stress hormones, our heart slows, and peace returns.

For those who have lived through acute trauma—such as a car accident, natural disaster, or violent event—this system can sometimes misfire. Long after the event is over, a sound, smell, or situation can trigger the brain to act as though the danger is happening all over again. This is often what doctors describe as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).There is also a newer term being used called complex trauma, which refers to repeated exposure to traumatic experiences over time. This could be children growing up in abusive homes, women experiencing ongoing domestic violence, or professionals like police officers, firefighters, military personnel, or dispatchers who constantly face high-stress, life-threatening situations. Instead of the body returning to peace, the brain lives in a constant state of heightened awareness. The amygdala stays “on,” and the person feels as though danger could strike at any moment. While this hypervigilance can be useful in certain jobs, it is not a healthy way to live. It keeps a person in survival mode, manipulating their environment—not to harm people, but to avoid confrontation, control surroundings, and always have an escape plan.

Modern psychology offers many therapies for trauma—things like EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing), CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy), and somatic therapies (body-focused practices). While some report relief, these methods are largely subjective, difficult to replicate in scientific tests, and often focus on shifting attention rather than addressing truth. The Bible gives us a firmer foundation. God’s Word tells us that lasting change comes not by focusing inward or rehearsing our pain, but by renewing our minds with His truth and by making conscious, Spirit-led choices in how we respond. Romans 12:2 says, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. 2 Timothy 1:7 reminds us, “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. "Trauma wants to lock us in fear. God gives us power. Trauma drives us into self-protection. God fills us with love. Trauma makes us feel out of control. God, through His Spirit, gives us self-control.

I know what it feels like to live in a heightened state of awareness. For years, I walked into every room scanning for exits, preparing for conflict, and anticipating danger. It became second nature to manipulate my surroundings—not to deceive others, but to survive. I learned to manage conversations to avoid confrontation, to anticipate people’s reactions before they spoke, and to always have a backup plan. This way of living might have made me seem capable and strong on the outside, but inside it was exhausting. God did not design us to live as though the next disaster is always seconds away. He designed us for rest, peace, and trust in Him.

The amazing truth is that God has designed our brains with the ability to heal and rewire. Scientists call this neuroplasticity. As we create new habits, meditate on Scripture, pray, worship, and walk in fellowship with others, our brain literally makes new connections. In Christ, we are not stuck in an endless loop of fear.

Psalm 34:4 gives us a promise: “I sought the LORD, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. "Healing comes as we: Recognize the trigger but choose not to let it define us. Turn to God’s Word to remind us of truth. Build habits of trust—through prayer, journaling, and surrounding ourselves with godly support. Lean into community—God often places others in our lives to walk with us in our healing.

If you or your family have walked through trauma, know this: trauma does not have the final word. The brain may send alarms, memories may resurface, and fears may rise—but in Christ we are not slaves to fear.

Romans 8:15 assures us, “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!' "Our Heavenly Father does not leave us to live in a perpetual state of fear. Through His Spirit, His Word, His people, and His healing design, we can live in peace, hope, and confidence that He is our protector and redeemer.

Trauma may have shaped my story, but it does not define my ending.

The cross does!

When Someone We Love Refuses to Change

They lied again. They said they were going to change. They promised this time would be different. They told you one thing but did another. The dreams you thought you both shared turned out to be nothing more than a smoke screen. And once again, trust has been destroyed.

If you’ve been there, you know the ache in the pit of your stomach. You know the weight of disappointment pressing against your chest. You know the deep sadness of realizing that someone you love is choosing a path that damages not only themselves but everyone who loves them.

There are few things more heartbreaking than watching someone we love make choices that lead to pain. We see the danger. We know the cost. We pray, plead, and hope—but still, they refuse to change. It feels like standing on the shoreline, watching them drift into stormy waters, and no matter how loudly we call, they won’t turn back.

And while their choices hurt themselves, they also affect us. Sometimes they break our trust, leaving us wounded and resentful. We start to wonder: How many more times can I forgive? How long do I keep putting my heart out there only for it to be trampled again?

God created us with free will, and that gift means our loved ones have the power to say “no” to wisdom. That’s one of the hardest truths to accept: no matter how much we want them to do right, we cannot force it.

Israel proved this over and over. God delivered them, loved them, and cared for them, yet they turned away again and again. Jeremiah put it bluntly:

 “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9, ESV)

We can’t control another person’s heart. Each of us is responsible before God for our own life:

 “So then each of us will give an account of himself to God.” (Romans 14:12, ESV)

That reality is painful, but it also lifts a weight. Their choices are not ours to carry.

Resentment grows in the cracks of broken trust. Trust is the glue of every relationship, and when it shatters, so does our sense of safety.

Proverbs describes it this way:

“Trusting in a treacherous man in time of trouble is like a bad tooth or a foot that slips.” (Proverbs 25:19, ESV)

That’s exactly what it feels like—unstable, painful, and impossible to lean on. You thought you had a solid foundation, but it crumbled beneath you.

What makes this even harder is when the one we love knows just enough about God to quote Him, but not enough to obey Him. They pick up bits and pieces of His Word, then twist it to fit their desires.

The serpent did this with Eve in the garden: “Did God actually say…?” (Genesis 3:1). Satan did it again when tempting Jesus in the wilderness, quoting Scripture but leaving out the truth (Matthew 4:6).

Paul warned Timothy that many would live this way:

“For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths.” (2 Timothy 4:3–4, ESV)

It’s devastating to watch someone we love bend God’s Word to excuse their sin, rather than letting it transform their life.

There’s a world of difference between knowing about God and truly knowing Him. Anyone can memorize verses or recite facts about the Bible, but that doesn’t mean their heart is surrendered. True knowledge of God changes us—it humbles us, softens us, and calls us to obedience.

Jesus said it plainly:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 7:21, ESV)

To know God is not to twist His Word but to let His Word reshape us, even when it hurts. Anything less is self-deception.

When trust is broken and resentment rises, it’s easy to let bitterness harden our hearts. But bitterness is a thief. It steals peace and joy until we don’t even recognize ourselves anymore.

God calls us to guard our hearts:

“Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” (Proverbs 4:23, ESV)

Guarding our hearts doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened. It means setting healthy boundaries so we don’t enable destruction. It means dragging our pain before God, asking Him to help us forgive—not because they deserve it, but because Christ forgave us.

Paul reminded the church:

“Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:31–32, ESV)

The father in the parable of the prodigal son didn’t chase his boy into the far country. He didn’t clean up his mess. But he never stopped watching the horizon, waiting in hope (Luke 15:20).

We can’t force someone to turn around, but we can stand ready if they do. Sometimes they never will. But even then, God uses these painful seasons to grow something in us—endurance, compassion, deeper faith.

Paul wrote:

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame…” (Romans 5:3–5, ESV)

If someone you love has lied, broken trust, twisted truth, and refused to change—God sees your heartbreak. He knows the tears you cry in the quiet hours. He knows the ache of betrayal and disappointment. He will not waste your pain.

Release resentment into His hands. Set boundaries that protect your heart. Keep praying. Keep hoping. And keep trusting that God is writing a story bigger than the one you see today.

 “Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7, ESV)

Finding Joy and Stability: Discipline, Delayed Gratification, and Breaking From Old Habits

 

Life’s storms and seasons of change—whether entering a new year of school, an adult transitioning from work, or anyone facing uncertainty—often bring a strong desire for immediate pleasure. We crave relief from discomfort, whether through entertainment, social media, gambling, substances, pornography, or sexual indulgence. Yet true joy, freedom, and stability come not from avoiding discomfort, but from embracing discipline, delayed gratification, and godly habits.

God created a world in which pleasure and pain exist in balance. Both are necessary for growth, wisdom, and the appreciation of life. When we seek constant pleasure without endurance, we disrupt this balance and invite negative consequences—addiction, shame, and cycles of secrecy.

Science confirms this through understanding our brain’s dopamine systems. Anna Lembke, in Dopamine Nation, explains how overindulgence in pleasurable activities—substances, gambling, pornography—creates tolerance. The brain requires ever-increasing stimulation for the same reward, making temporary pleasure dangerous when pursued without self-control.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot… a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1–8, ESV)

Even joy is most meaningful when experienced in balance with challenges.

False solutions may feel like relief, but they ultimately undermine long-term stability and joy. Examples include:

• Gambling – the lure of instant reward can become addictive.
• Substance use – seeking chemical escape from reality.
• Pornography and sexual indulgence – temporary pleasure that harms relationships, emotional stability, and spiritual health.
• Screen addiction or endless entertainment – numbing discomfort without addressing underlying challenges.

“Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions. Do not present your members to sin as instruments for unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life.” (Romans 6:12–13, ESV)

Discipline is not punishment—it is a pathway to freedom. By practicing self-control, delayed gratification, and obedience to God, we train our hearts and minds to find deep, lasting joy that cannot be disrupted by storms or fleeting temptations.

“For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” (Hebrews 12:11, ESV)

Life’s storms—whether a teen navigating senior year or an adult facing a major life transition—can easily encourage a victim mentality. Thoughts like these may creep in:

• “This is too hard; I can’t handle it.”
• “It’s not my fault; life just happened to me.”
• “I’ll never be able to change; I’m stuck this way.”
• “I’ve done it this way for the past thirty years; it will take the next thirty years to change.”

While circumstances may be challenging, Scripture calls us to take responsibility for our choices and the focus of our hearts, even in difficult seasons. Adopting a victim mentality can feel comforting in the short term, but it often justifies avoidance or indulgence in instant pleasure—gaming, gambling, substances, or social distractions.

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5, ESV)

Our choices begin in the heart.

“Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” (Proverbs 4:23, ESV)

When our hearts focus on self-pity, comparison, or instant gratification, our actions follow—often leading to shame, secrecy, and cycles of addiction. But when our hearts focus on God, gratitude, and responsibility, we align with His design for self-control, wisdom, and stability.

Teens and adults alike must learn to distinguish legitimate struggles from excuses that empower false solutions:

• For teens: Peer pressure, school challenges, and uncertainty about the future can feel overwhelming. Choosing responsibility means facing challenges, seeking godly guidance, and avoiding instant gratification.
• For adults: Retirement, career changes, or family transitions may evoke anxiety or a sense of loss. Choosing responsibility means seeking purpose, remaining disciplined, and trusting God through the unknown.

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13, ESV)

Breaking the victim narrative involves:

1. Acknowledging reality – name the challenge without assigning sole blame to circumstances or others.
2. Taking ownership of choices – recognize that your responses are within your control.
3. Shifting heart focus to God – cultivate gratitude, prayer, and reliance on Scripture.
4. Engaging in Godly habits – routines, accountability, and service strengthen the heart.
5. Accepting growth as a process – setbacks may happen, but freedom comes from persistence, not perfection.

David Powlison reminds us that change rarely happens in isolation. Addiction grows in secrecy and shame, but healing grows in the light of community.

We need people who will speak truth when we want to believe lies. We need friends who will pray when we feel too weak to lift our heads. We need the church to be a place where struggles are carried together.

“God sets the lonely in families.” (Psalm 68:6, ESV)

Sometimes this is messy. Loving someone struggling with addiction means bearing burdens, facing disappointments, and setting wise boundaries. But it is worth it, because every time we come alongside someone, we act as the hands and feet of Christ.

One of the most hopeful truths comes from Jay Adams: God never commands what He does not empower us to do. Addiction whispers, “You can never change,” but the gospel says the opposite: in Christ, change is possible.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, ESV)

Change is rarely instant. Just as a coffee bean must be ground and pressed to release its aroma, sanctification can feel like grinding pressure. But God is at work, shaping us into something beautiful. Real change begins with repentance and faith and continues through obedience, one step at a time.

Key elements to find joy and break old habits include:

1. Daily spiritual habits – prayer, Scripture, worship anchor the heart in God.
2. Healthy routines – exercise, nutrition, rest strengthen body and mind.
3. Purposeful work and service – investing in others redirects the brain from dopamine-driven distractions.
4. Accountability and community – mentors, trusted friends, or small groups reinforce godly choices.
5. Identifying triggers and replacing false solutions – recognize situations or emotions that lead to temptation and practice godly alternatives.
6. Patience and perseverance – joy grows as we learn to wait and trust God’s timing.

Psalm 16:11 (ESV) promises:

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

True joy is found in God’s presence, not in shortcuts or instant gratification.

Addiction is real. The pain is real. The damage is real. But so is the hope of the gospel.

• Addiction is ultimately a worship issue 
• The body and brain matter, and medical wisdom is part of faithful care 
• Change is possible through Christ 
• We cannot walk alone; God calls us into community 

If you or someone you love is struggling, don’t lose hope. Get medical help if needed. Seek wise biblical counsel. Surround yourself with community. Most of all, turn your eyes to Jesus, who is mighty to save. He alone can take an addicted heart and make it new.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38–39, ESV)

“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.” (Hebrews 6:19–20a, ESV)

Life’s storms, transitions, and temptations are real. But false anchors—quick fixes, indulgences, or excuses—will never hold. Only Christ is the true foundation, the anchor that steadies us, strengthens us, and transforms us from the inside out.

Nobel Lie? Sin, Choice, and Responsibility in a Broken World

 

From the Garden of Eden to the complexities of modern society, humanity has wrestled with deception dressed as virtue. In Genesis, Satan approached Eve with a noble-sounding promise: freedom, wisdom, and the chance to be like God. Yet behind the alluring words lay destruction (Genesis 3:5). This “nobel lie” doesn’t shout or coerce—it whispers, appealing to our desire to be independent, to act as our own gods. Eve acted, and Adam failed to speak truth, allowing deception to take root. The lesson is clear: deception thrives not only on individual weakness but also on the avoidance of personal responsibility.

As I prepare for the upcoming year working with children who have experienced extraordinary circumstances, these truths take on urgent meaning. These children naturally ask questions we sometimes struggle to answer ourselves: Why is there sin in the world? Why does a good and loving God allow this? How can God create all things and yet allow such suffering? The reality of sin touches every life—young and old, famous and unseen (Romans 3:20)—and confronting these questions honestly is essential.

Here, honesty matters. Sin is universal. Original sin may be uncomfortable to accept, but it levels us all before God. None of us can escape the reality of moral failure through achievement, wealth, or cleverness. Yet human nature continually seeks to justify itself—blaming circumstances, systems, or other people for choices we make. This avoidance of personal responsibility is exactly what the nobel lie exploits.

Paradoxically, the presence of sin allows moral choice to exist. Without the possibility of wrong, we could not truly choose right. Sin presents the contrast between obedience and rebellion, action aligned with God’s truth or turning away. But the nobel lie tempts us to escape responsibility entirely: to blame society, culture, or ideology for moral failures. We may even sink into despair, overwhelmed by the weight of our weakness, or rationalize our behavior with clever self-justifications. Scripture, however, calls us neither to despair nor to excuse ourselves; it calls us to see sin honestly, to confront our failures, and to take responsibility.

In modern society, this dynamic often manifests in narratives of victimization. Calls for justice and equality are real and necessary, but the nobel lie can distort them. When attention focuses on one group’s grievances, the scales may tip, leaving other perspectives unseen or dismissed. In attempting to correct injustices, society sometimes risks replacing accountability with selective outrage or moral favoritism. The danger is subtle: virtue can appear to be achieved while pride, envy, or self-interest quietly manipulate the process.

The first human story illustrates this pattern. Eve, tempted by the nobel lie, acted independently, believing the promise of wisdom and autonomy. Adam stood silently, failing to uphold God’s command. Deception flourished through both individual weakness and mutual failure. Today, moral truth is similarly compromised when individuals or societies fail to acknowledge responsibility, while elevating partial narratives over universal accountability.

• C.S. Lewis recognized the dangers of freedom without accountability. In his reflections on democracy, he wrote that unchecked power must be balanced to prevent corruption. Similarly, sin and personal irresponsibility left unchecked can distort justice and destroy community.

• Throughout my education, I studied thinkers like Freud, Nietzsche, and Maslow, each of whom wrestled with human behavior and morality. Freud emphasized unconscious drives; Nietzsche critiqued morality and the illusions of human ideals; Maslow explored human motivation and self-actualization. Each provides insight into the human struggle, but none account for the Creator or the ultimate source of truth. Their frameworks often mirror the nobel lie: suggesting that humans can define good and evil apart from God, or escape the consequences of sin through intellect or philosophy.

These truths are more than abstract ideas—they guide how we equip children to navigate life:

• Helping them recognize that wrong actions are part of life, not a personal failing.

• Providing tools to make wise choices despite difficult circumstances.

• Teaching accountability, empathy, and resilience as antidotes to the effects of sin.

• Showing that while sin exists, God’s love, guidance, and justice are constant.

The nobel lie exposes the human tendency to avoid responsibility, pursue self-interest, and embrace deceptive appearances of virtue. Scripture, by contrast, offers clarity: God never deceives, and His commands guide us toward life and justice. Recognizing sin equips us to embrace moral responsibility, navigate societal tensions wisely, and act with integrity. Choice is real, consequences are real, and accountability—both to God and to one another—is essential for true justice.

Modern society struggles to balance justice, responsibility, and equality. Calls to elevate one group may unintentionally tip the scales, while the nobel lie encourages self-justification or despair. For children who have experienced trauma, understanding these truths can be transformative: they learn to confront sin honestly, take responsibility, and navigate life with courage, discernment, and resilience. By acknowledging our shared condition, facing our personal failures, and grounding our choices in God’s truth, we gain humility, freedom, and the ability to pursue justice that is both fair and enduring.

What Makes This Day Different?

There are moments in history that pierce the soul of a nation. September 11, 2001, was one of those moments. We watched towers crumble, lives vanish, and an illusion of safety shatter in an instant. Yet, in those dark hours, something remarkable happened. We turned back to each other, and we turned back to God. The language of prayer filled the airwaves. Churches overflowed. Strangers became neighbors. We knew instinctively that relativism could not carry us. Feelings could not anchor us. There was only one foundation solid enough to stand on: the Word of God.

For a brief time, we remembered what mattered. Life was sacred, not because we said so, but because God said so. Good and evil were real, not cultural constructs but eternal truths. We stood united, not because our politics agreed, but because our souls recognized a higher authority. America’s heartbeat was steady because it beat in rhythm with something greater than itself.

But two decades have passed, and the drift has been unmistakable. We have turned from the Rock that held us together and wandered into the wilderness of self-worship. The authority of Scripture has been exchanged for the authority of feelings. The voice of God has been drowned out by the chorus of “what works for me.” We see people burning herbs and crystals, reaching for psychedelic experiences, and bowing to the supposed spiritual power of nature. It looks like peace, but it is hollow. It looks like freedom, but it binds the soul in chains.

The tragedy of yesterday—the violent murder of Charlie Kirk—shakes us again. It is a reminder that when a nation casts aside the moral anchors of God’s Word, chaos does not wait at the door; it floods in. Life loses its sacredness. Truth becomes negotiable. Violence becomes a language. We can mourn the loss, and we must. But we must also see the warning. This is what happens when a people forget the foundations that once steadied them.

The Psalmist asked, “If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?” (Psalm 11:3). That question is no less piercing today. We have a choice before us. We can continue chasing a spirituality of feelings, crystals, and fleeting comforts. We can keep worshiping at the altar of self. Or we can return. We can turn our eyes back to the God who does not change, to the Word that cannot be broken, to the cross where every false authority is silenced by the authority of Christ.

This is not a time for casual faith. This is not a time for sentimental spirituality. This is a time to stand on truth that will not move, even when towers fall and voices are silenced by violence. The remembrance of 9/11 calls us back to unity, but not just any unity—it calls us back to unity under God’s authority. The remembrance of Charlie Kirk’s death calls us to see the cost of abandoning that authority.

We are living in days where light and darkness are being exposed more clearly than ever. We are watching a nation choose between the Rock and the sand, between the eternal Word and the shifting winds of emotion. And the Spirit is still calling: Return. Repent. Remember.

The hope is not gone. The foundations may be shaken, but they are not destroyed. Christ is still the cornerstone. His Word is still living and active. His Spirit is still moving. But the call is urgent. Do not wait for another tragedy to awaken what you already know. Anchor yourself now. Stand firm now. Lift your eyes now.

September 11 reminds us of how fragile life is. Yesterday reminds us of how violent a world without God can become. But the cross of Jesus Christ reminds us of something greater—that death does not have the final word, that truth cannot be silenced, and that the kingdom of God is unshakable.

The time to choose is now. Will we be a people of feelings, or will we be a people of truth? Will we worship ourselves, or will we worship the living God? History will not forget our answer. Neither will heaven.

Breaking the Victim Narrative: Choosing Freedom in Life’s Storms

 

Life’s storms—whether a teen navigating senior year or an adult facing a major life transition—can easily encourage a victim mentality. We may find ourselves saying:

• “This is too hard; I can’t handle it.”
• “It’s not my fault; life just happened to me.”
• “I’ll never be able to change; I’m stuck this way.”
• “I’ve done it this way for the past thirty years; it will take the next thirty years to change.”

While circumstances may be challenging, Scripture calls us to take responsibility for our choices and the focus of our hearts, even in difficult seasons.

Adopting a victim mentality can feel comforting in the short term. It can justify avoidance, indulgence, or retreat into instant pleasure—gaming, gambling, substances, or social distractions. These thoughts, especially the belief that “I’ve always done it this way,” can prevent us from taking small, daily steps toward lasting change.

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5, ESV)

The first step to freedom is recognizing that our thoughts, reactions, and heart focus matter, and that God has equipped us with the Spirit and gifts to act differently than our impulses or circumstances might suggest.

Our choices begin in the heart.

“Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” (Proverbs 4:23, ESV)

When our heart focuses on self-pity, comparison, or instant gratification, our actions follow—often leading to shame, secrecy, and cycles of addiction. But when our hearts focus on God, gratitude, and responsibility, we align with His design for self-control, wisdom, and stability.

Teens and adults alike must learn to distinguish legitimate struggles from excuses that empower false solutions:

• For teens: Peer pressure, school challenges, and uncertainty about the future can feel overwhelming. Choosing responsibility means facing challenges, seeking godly guidance, and avoiding instant gratification.
• For adults: Retirement, career changes, or family transitions may evoke anxiety or a sense of loss. Choosing responsibility means seeking purpose, remaining disciplined, and trusting God through the unknown.

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13, ESV)

Even when circumstances feel impossible, God equips us to respond with wisdom and self-control.

 

Breaking Free from Excuses

1. Acknowledge reality – name the challenge without assigning sole blame to circumstances or others.
2. Take ownership of choices – recognize that your responses, even to difficult situations, are within your control.
3. Shift heart focus to God – cultivate gratitude, prayer, and reliance on Scripture to redirect impulses.
4. Engage in godly habits – routines, accountability, and service strengthen the heart against temptation.
5. Accept growth as a process – setbacks may happen, but freedom comes from persistence, not perfection.

Breaking the victim narrative is not about denying challenges or pretending life is easy. It’s about choosing freedom in Christ, taking responsibility for our thoughts and actions, and refusing to let circumstances dictate our destiny.

David Powlison, in many of his writings, helped me see that change rarely happens in isolation. Addiction grows in secrecy and shame, but healing grows in the light of community.

We need people who will speak truth when we want to believe lies. We need friends who will pray when we feel too weak to lift our heads. We need the church to be the kind of place where struggles are not hidden but carried together.

Powlison reminded me that the gospel is not only about me and Jesus—it’s about us and Jesus.

“God sets the lonely in families.” (Psalm 68:6, ESV)

He gives us brothers and sisters so we never walk alone.

Sometimes this is messy. Loving an addict means bearing burdens, facing disappointments, and setting wise boundaries. But it is worth it. Every time we come alongside someone, we act as the hands and feet of Christ.

Life’s storms will come. For teens, the pressures of school, peers, and an uncertain future. For adults, transitions, career changes, and new seasons of life. The temptation to retreat into instant relief, indulgence, or avoidance is real.

But when we choose responsibility, take ownership of our thoughts and actions, and rely on God’s Spirit and the community He provides, we discover something beautiful: strength, resilience, and lasting stability.

Change is possible. Growth is real. Freedom is found in Christ.

When Our Expectations Collide With God’s Way

 

This season of life—stepping away from the workforce and navigating the uncertainties of long-term disability—has reminded me of how difficult it is to trust God when my expectations don’t match what is happening. I want things resolved quickly. I want clear answers. I want to fix what feels broken. Yet, the more I wrestle with it, the more I see that God is not asking me to scheme my way into security. He is asking me to trust Him.

From the very beginning, people have tried to find their own solutions apart from God. In Genesis 3, Adam and Eve reached for knowledge outside of God’s design. In Genesis 6, the people of Noah’s time lived only for themselves, ignoring God’s holiness. In Genesis 11, humanity tried to build a tower to reach heaven on their own terms. Every attempt failed—not because the desire for wisdom, safety, or unity was wrong—but because they were trying to get it without God.

We often fall into the same trap.

We work longer hours thinking if we just push a little harder, we can control the outcome. But Christ calls us to rest, not in idleness, but in His finished work. He reminds us that “apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5).

We devise alternatives and back-up plans, convinced that God might forget us or fail us. Yet Colossians 1:16–17 reminds us that in Him all things hold together. He doesn’t need a back-up plan—He already is the plan.

Some even turn to chance, like the lottery, hoping a windfall will solve financial struggles. But God doesn’t work by luck or randomness. Romans 5:6–11 tells us His love is certain, demonstrated in Christ dying for us while we were still weak. Nothing is more sure than that.


Isaiah 40:21–26 declares that the same God who calls every star by name is the God who holds our lives. Psalm 90 reminds us that before the mountains were formed, from everlasting to everlasting, He is God. Christ Himself is the eternal anchor when our expectations fall apart.

And here is the wonder: God doesn’t just hold the universe together in raw power—He holds us in perfect love. “God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him” (1 John 4:16). His answer to our need was not a temporary fix, but His own Son.

Our schemes are exhausting. God’s way is life-giving. Our plans are temporary. God’s way is eternal.

Galatians 3:7–9 reminds us that true blessing comes by faith, just as Abraham believed God and it was counted to him as righteousness. In the same way, our hope today is not in the systems of this world, but in Christ who has already secured our future.

So when I feel tempted to overwork, to scramble for my own solutions, or to trust in chance, I remember: God has already provided the ultimate solution in Christ. If He has solved my greatest need—my salvation—I can trust Him to meet every other need in His way and in His time.

God does not want my frantic schemes. He wants my trust. And in the end, that trust is never misplaced, because He alone is faithful.

Navigating Life’s Storms: Seasons of Change

 

One of the most hopeful truths I’ve found in this journey comes from Jay Adams’s book How to Help People Change. Adams was convinced that God never commands what He does not also empower us to do.

Addiction often whispers the lie: You can never change. You will always be this way. But the gospel says the opposite: in Christ, change is not only possible—it is promised.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, ESV)

This doesn’t mean change is instant or easy. Just as a coffee bean must be ground and pressed to release its aroma, we often feel the grinding pressure of sanctification (being set aside to be holy). But God is at work, shaping us into something beautiful.

Adams reminded me that real change begins with repentance and faith. It continues through obedience, one step at a time. God uses His Word, His Spirit, and His people to bring about lasting transformation.

As students step into senior year of high school—the final stretch before graduation—they face questions that can feel overwhelming: What do I do with my life after school? Similarly, adults moving from long-term work life into retirement, career changes, or unexpected seasons of disability wrestle with the same uncertainty: What now? Where do I belong? How do I move forward?

Though the circumstances differ, the emotions are strikingly similar. Anxiety, fear, excitement, and even frustration can make it tempting to retreat into mind-soothing habits or quick fixes—whether scrolling endlessly, seeking risky thrills, gambling, or turning to substances.

Like sand washing away around a pool during a storm, these seasons of change reveal weak spots in our foundations. They challenge us to ask: Are my habits, routines, and spiritual grounding strong enough to keep me steady?

Self-control, accountability, and godly habits become the anchors that hold us firm amid uncertainty.

Transitions bring storms, and storms heighten temptation. Teens face peer pressure, academics, and looming questions about the future. Adults often wrestle with identity, fear of irrelevance, or feelings of loss.

In both cases, the temptation is to seek instant relief. False solutions whisper: Escape here. This will make you feel better. But they rarely deliver. Instead, they create cycles of secrecy, shame, and dependency.

Some common false solutions include:

• Substance use – alcohol, drugs, or other chemical highs.
• Gambling or thrill-seeking – trying to feel alive or distracted.
• Screen addiction – endless scrolling, social media, or gaming.
• Avoiding responsibility – ignoring the natural consequences of choices.

Proverbs 13:20 warns us:

“Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.” (ESV)

We need guidance, community, and mentorship to resist these false anchors and pursue lasting stability.

Resilience doesn’t come from avoiding discomfort—it’s built through guidance, discipline, and practice. Both teens and adults benefit from:

1. Clear expectations – knowing right from wrong and the consequences of choices.
2. Opportunities for responsibility – tasks at home, volunteering, mentoring, or personal projects.
3. Self-regulation skills – learning to pause, reflect, and choose wisely instead of reacting impulsively.
4. Spiritual grounding – prayer, Scripture, and reliance on God’s wisdom.
5. Community and accountability – mentors, trusted friends, or small groups that encourage godly decision-making.

The Bible points us back to trust:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5–6, ESV)

Every time a teen or adult chooses God’s way instead of a quick fix, they are placing a stone in the foundation of their character.

James 1:2–4 gives us the bigger picture:

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (ESV)

Storms, struggles, and seasons of transition aren’t wasted—they produce steadfastness, shaping us into people who stand firm in faith.

Practical Steps for Navigating Change

• Engage openly – talk about fears, pressures, and temptations without judgment.
• Model self-control – demonstrate godly ways of handling stress and uncertainty.
• Encourage honest reflection – identify false solutions and pursue healthier alternatives.
• Provide safe challenges – let both teens and adults face risks and natural consequences.
• Celebrate growth – affirm wise choices and godly responses, reinforcing the value of patience and perseverance.

Life transitions are inevitable, whether it’s a teen facing graduation or an adult entering a new life season. The storms will come. But with godly habits, accountability, and reliance on Christ, both teens and adults can navigate uncertainty with wisdom, strength, and hope.

True stability and peace don’t come from quick fixes—they come from standing firm on the foundation of God’s t

When Time Slips Away: Redeeming the Hours God Gives

 

I love spontaneity. I love the thrill of gathering family, planning big events, and even enjoying a little “controlled chaos.” Summer is full of that—late nights, laughter, spur-of-the-moment plans, and sweet memories that I never want to let go of. I don’t desire to leave behind the fun of summer.

But life’s changing seasons remind me that there is also a time to return to rhythm. As fall arrives, I feel the need to get back to schedules and routines—spaces of order that give me balance, protect my marriage, and leave room for spiritual growth.

For me, that means sitting down with a calendar and honestly looking at how my time is being spent. I like to get things done. I hate making excuses and I resist procrastinating, because I know it wastes time and robs opportunities. So I write out the weekly commitments that truly matter, and I intentionally leave space for rest and family. I’ve learned to set limits:

• Only one ministry item per month beyond my regular service.

• No more than one big event a month.

• And never more than four days a week filled with scheduled activities.

Why? Because too much running leaves too little time for what matters most—marriage, family, self-care, and spiritual growth.

Working from home, I sometimes see my husband’s free hours and get frustrated. What looks like wasted time to me can actually be his needed rest and restoration. Health differences affect what each of us can do, and I have to remind myself that stewardship of time doesn’t look the same for everyone. Yet there is one area where rest cannot replace responsibility: our time with God.

Spending time in His Word is not optional. It is the very food of our souls. Jesus said, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). If we neglect the Scriptures, we cannot expect to grow in our relationship with Him. And if we only live off small bits and scattered verses, we risk creating a false view of who God is or twisting what He says.

Psalm 119:105 reminds us, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Without that lamp, we will stumble in confusion. Paul urged Timothy to “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15). That doesn’t mean we will ever know everything the Bible says, but it does mean we are responsible to keep learning.

Even ten or fifteen minutes a day of focused reading and prayer can re-center our hearts and guard our minds against false thinking. As Psalm 1:2–3 declares, “His delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in its season.”

So in our marriage, our family, and our personal lives, time management will look different—but our time with God should never be neglected. Every moment spent in His Word is an investment that bears eternal fruit.

This fall, I want to be intentional:

• To keep my marriage strong by protecting daily and weekly time together.

• To delight in my grandchildren without letting activities overwhelm me.

• To protect time for prayer, Scripture, and quiet reflection.

• To say “no” when too many good things begin to crowd out the best things.

• To avoid excuses and procrastination that rob joy and growth.

 Am I using my time to strengthen my relationships and deepen my walk with Christ—or am I letting excuses, distractions, or neglect of Scripture control me? What changes do I need to make in my calendar to honor God with my time?

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” This is my season to embrace both rhythm and joy, both structure and spontaneity. But above all, it is my season to keep God’s Word at the center—because without Him, time is only wasted.

Money: Wasted or Stewarded? God’s Wisdom for Money and Beyond

As we begin the move into unforeseen disability and then into retirement, I have been caused to think wider. What I am learning is not just for myself, but for anyone preparing for the future with wisdom. Seasons of transition often make us more aware of how fragile life can be and how quickly our circumstances can change. Money is one of the most visible areas where those shifts show up. Yet Scripture reminds us that money is never to be our master—it is a tool to serve us and, more importantly, to serve God’s purposes.

Jesus taught, “No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money” (Matthew 6:24, ESV). The goal is not simply to have money, nor to spend it freely, but to manage it faithfully in a way that honors the Lord.

For many, retirement is painted with dreams of traveling, eating out, or enjoying leisure after years of work. Yet alongside those dreams come realities—rising medical expenses, unexpected household needs, and the sobering truth that our income streams shift. This tension often tempts people into unhealthy financial choices: relying on credit cards and paying high interest, withdrawing from retirement accounts early and facing penalties and taxes, or turning to the lottery as a supposed “solution” to financial shortfalls.

The lottery in particular can be destructive. It sells the illusion of quick wealth, but more often it drains limited resources, leaving families with less for true needs. It appeals to the false dream of paying off debts or securing a lifestyle we long for, but it ultimately distracts us from God’s call to work, save, give, and steward wisely. Proverbs 13:11 warns, “Wealth gained hastily will dwindle, but whoever gathers little by little will increase it.”

The same is true of wasteful spending on interest payments. Every dollar lost to interest is money that could have been saved for unforeseen expenses, invested for future needs, or used for generosity toward others. 

Another dangerous mindset is believing that interest is simply “part of life.” But paying interest unnecessarily is throwing money away. The Bible cautions us: “The borrower is the slave of the lender” (Proverbs 22:7, ESV). Every dollar wasted on interest is money that could have gone toward needs, savings, or blessings for others. Interest is not harmless—it is a thief that quietly robs us of peace.

Equally damaging is the choice to pull from retirement funds too early, accepting heavy taxes and penalties as if they were a minor inconvenience. In reality, this is sacrificing tomorrow’s security for today’s impatience. God’s Word teaches, “The plans of the diligent lead surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty comes only to poverty” (Proverbs 21:5, ESV). Hastiness in money decisions—whether in borrowing, withdrawing, or spending—erodes the very stability we will need in later years.

Still others embrace the philosophy of “spending it all before I die.” While it may sound practical, it ignores the truth that only God holds our future. James writes, “You do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14, ESV). We do not control the day of our death, nor should we live as though our timeline is ours to set. Spending with the intent to exhaust everything before death is not wise stewardship—it is arrogance. Scripture offers a different vision: “A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children” (Proverbs 13:22, ESV). God’s call is to think generationally, not selfishly, and to use money in ways that bless beyond our own lifetimes.

So what does faithful stewardship look like in retirement? It means saving for unforeseen expenses rather than wasting resources on fleeting pleasures. It means preparing for medical needs, car repairs, or household costs with the understanding that wise planning honors God. It means saving not only for necessities but also for dreams—vacations, hobbies, and family experiences—when they are pursued responsibly and without debt. It means refusing to let money become our master. Jesus said, “You cannot serve God and money” (Matthew 6:24, ESV). If we live with money as our servant, directed toward God’s purposes, then it becomes a blessing rather than a burden.

Most importantly, faithful stewardship means keeping eternity in view. Travel, comfort, and leisure have their place, but they are temporary. Investments in people, generosity, the spread of the gospel, and acts of love carry eternal weight. Jesus said, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven” (Matthew 6:19–20, ESV).

The truth is simple: wasting money through gambling, unnecessary interest, penalties, or reckless spending destroys peace and undermines trust in God. But stewarding money His way brings freedom. It creates stability for today, hope for tomorrow, and a legacy that reaches into eternity. Retirement is not the end of stewardship—it is a new opportunity to walk in deeper trust, proving that God’s wisdom is always greater than the empty promises of wealth.