Faith Over Fear

It’s amazing how one emotion can dictate our actions in every aspect of life.

When a little kid falls off the ladder to a slide, the trauma of that experience creates fear in their mind about ever feeling that pain again.

When a young professional gets criticized at work, their mind creates fear of failure.
When a young girl gathers the courage to ask out a boy she likes but is rejected, her mind creates fear of embarrassment.

But my question is—why do we let fear tell us not to try again?

I’ve had my own journey with fear throughout this storm I’ve been weathering over the past year, and I’m proud of how I’ve learned to trust God’s plan and not let fear drive my decisions.

One Sunday, I heard a message that felt like it was spoken directly to me—like God was giving me the exact sign I needed in that moment.

I had been asking, “God, why is he changing his mind?”

I was healing, growing, and praying that my person would see the changes I’d made—the love I had—and believe that what we could rebuild together would be stronger than anything we’d ever known.

My person was “all in” this time—“no talk of endings.”

And yet, once again, I was blindsided. It felt like déjà vu—like a groom suddenly getting cold feet, with no real explanation.

But this time, I felt the shock differently. I was mentally stronger. And I also saw something clearly: I had broken a promise to God.

I had prayed and vowed that if He brought my person back, I would make sure he was healed—to help him become the best version of the man I needed. But swept up in pure joy and excitement, I lost sight of that vow. When everything shifted again, I knew this was God showing me:
“I gave him back to you, but he’s not ready yet.”

Now, I’m being tested—not in healing myself this time, but in waiting with heartache again. Waiting in faith that evil won’t win, that fear won’t take over, and that his healing will begin without distraction.

At first, I panicked. I tried to figure out why.
And then I realized—it was fear.

I knew because even when we both were high on hope, choosing love and not divorce, we admitted we were scared. Scared of the hard times. Scared of what we might discover. Scared of the people who might get hurt because of our choice to fight for each other.

I was ready. I had been mentally preparing through my healing journey to be comfortable with the uncomfortable. I knew this time would require work and patience. But I was willing to face it, because I believed in his actions, in his promises, in his heart.

The difference was—our fears weren’t the same.

Then came Authentic Church’s Sunday message about fear.
The pastor talked about three types of fear:

Fear of embarrassment

Fear of pain

Fear of failure

And suddenly, it all clicked.

All three applied to my person.

They were afraid of embarrassment—of telling friends and family we were trying again, only to change their mind.

They were afraid of pain—of losing the comfort of our little family, of missing bedtime stories and weekend mornings, of seeing us only through schedules and drop-offs.

And they were afraid of failure—afraid of trying again and not being able to do it.

The message said that when fear controls your mouth, it becomes contagious—it spreads.

I believe that’s what happened. The shock, the noise, the opinions—it all planted seeds of fear. And when those fears were spoken aloud, they grew roots in the heart. God doesn’t give us fear—the enemy does. But we let it spread when we speak it.

Through my healing and choosing to do the next right thing, God has shown me His protection and faithfulness. He’s taught me to stay strong in hard times, to love deeply, to forgive freely, and to stand firm in truth—because spreading falsehoods is not of God.

It isn’t easy to always do the next right thing. I struggled at the beginning of this storm because I was hurt and afraid. When we lose control of our circumstances, we often use anger as a defense mechanism. I remember what that anger was like.

Upon my reflection of my own anger back then, it made perfect sense. Why was I suddenly being treated like the enemy—when just five days earlier, my person was lighthearted and happy, excited about having a key, saying they’d meet us at home in bed?

Because fear had taken hold.

He was full of fear—and using anger as a defense against it.

In anger or denial, fear rejects truth and chases myths—seeking lies that soothe the ego instead of heal the heart. My person’s anger was born from fear, and rather than facing it, they let it spread.

But recognizing that gave me new purpose. This was my next assignment from God:
To love someone through their fear.
To be strong enough to be pushed away again and again, without losing faith.
To trust that love and forgiveness will still win—even when evil tries to invade the good that’s being built.

To outsiders, this situation may have seemed sudden or confusing. But they weren’t inside the circle—the quiet space of rebuilding behind closed doors. They didn’t see the daily conversations, the consistent time spent together, the subtle healing that was taking place. And that’s okay.

They spoke fear into his ear because they hadn’t yet done the work I’ve done. They haven’t felt the transformation that comes from sitting in pain and still choosing love.

Now, my faith is being tested in a new way—not just in how I carry it for myself and my little person, but in how I live it out loud for those who don’t fully walk in faith yet.

Faith isn’t meant to be convenient.

It’s meant to be constant.

I’ll admit—I let fear slip in this time too. Because this time felt different.

God has a plan. God knew this divorce wasn’t meant to be final. I felt in my spirit that there was still work to be done—not for me, but for him.

His past year showed growth, yes—but also avoidance, distractions, unprocessed pain. And I believe God brought him back, even for a short time, to give me hope again. To show me that he’s still in there—and that evil will still try to pull him away.

But as long as I hold onto faith, evil will not win.

My person once said he was angry with God for allowing things to separate so smoothly—for making it too easy to walk away. He said he wished there had been obstacles to stop it, to protect us.

Well, God did protect us.

He protected me and my little person because my person was lost in fear, unable to see the truth.
I hope one day he recognizes that this isn’t God abandoning him—this is God guiding him, giving him another chance to face his fear and find his faith again.

So I’m letting fear go.
I’m letting God take over.
And I’ll keep walking in faith—quietly, steadily, and without fear—until the plan He’s writing is fully revealed.

Each day, I remind myself that faith isn’t about knowing the outcome—it’s about trusting the process.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds for me or my person, but I know that God is using this season to refine me—to make me softer where I once hardened, stronger where I once broke, and faithful where I once feared.
I’ve learned that even in heartbreak, peace can live.
And that peace comes from knowing I’m walking exactly where God needs me to be—even if it’s through the storm.