I’m sitting at the airport writing this article, Terminal 46B, completely by myself with my suitcase and my carry-on. Inside my carry-on is my water bottle, way too many snacks my dad packed for me, my crochet supplies, and my Bible (of course).
Recently, I realized I’m a lot more afraid of flying than I thought.
I’ve always been afraid of flying. I remember when I was 12, going on a family trip to Hawaii, and my 8-year-old cousin had to calm me down as I cried during takeoff (yes, I know, it’s usually the other way around). Now, I’m flying to Texas to see that same cousin, except this time, I’m doing it all by myself.
I’ll be honest, I’m afraid.
I tried to do what my psychology class taught me my senior year of high school: identify the fear. I started asking myself questions. Am I afraid of dying? Or where I’ll go when I die? No, not really. Am I afraid of flying alone? That’s part of it, but not all of it. So I kept digging.
What I realized is that, deep down, my fear comes from being out of control.
Why would I fear being out of control when I believe in a God who is sovereign and good? Here’s the uncomfortable truth: I don’t always trust God to protect me and take care of me. The “fix-it” mentality I have, and the part of me that loves control, hates the idea of being helpless. I hate uncertainty.
It sounds crazy, but I know you’ve felt this too. We’re human. We hate giving up control. We like things to go our way. We like certainty.
And here’s what God has been teaching me: I need to stop focusing on certainty and start fixing my eyes on what is certainly true.
I have a hard time resting in the truth that God is in control. I struggle to trust Him when I don’t know if He’ll come through the way I hope He will. I fall into a mindset I’m sure you recognize:
“But what if He doesn’t?”
God could protect me on this flight, but what if He doesn’t?
God could provide a good job, but what if He doesn’t?
God could heal them, but what if He doesn’t?
This mentality is the foundation of unbelief. We know God can, but because we don’t know if God will, we begin to doubt, fear, and stress. We start to wonder if the never-changing character of God will somehow fail us this time.
Fear has a funny way of making us question both what God has said and who He is. My fear of what could happen made me believe that God wasn’t with me, that He wasn’t for me in action, but against me. And that simply isn’t true.
So, as a certified worrier, I’m learning to take intentional steps to combat anxiety. Here’s what I’ve learned so far.
1. The Word is living and active, use it.
I was sitting on the plane as it prepared for takeoff. My chest felt heavy, my breathing was shallow, and my mind was spiraling with worst-case scenarios. In that moment, “taking every thought captive” meant literally replacing my anxious thoughts with truth.
I opened my Bible app and pressed play. No specific book, any Scripture would do. There is something powerful about listening to the Word of God. It reminds me of the bigger picture and brings rest not just to my mind, but to my soul.
When I remember that the goal is Christ’s glory and heaven is the end, everything shifts. This life is God’s, not mine. I don’t have to control it. As Scripture played, my breathing slowed. I was reminded that Jesus is with me, just as He was with Moses, Noah, Abraham, Paul… and just as He is with me now.
2. Stop chasing certainty, cling to what is certainly true.
Certainty is knowing exactly what will happen.
Certainly means something is true without a doubt.
I may not have certainty about how things will turn out, but I can rest knowing that certainly God’s character never changes. He is still good. He is still faithful. He is still sovereign.
When I don’t have certainty, I can anchor myself in what is certain. I can turn my lack of certainty into confidence in who God is. Practically, I remind myself of who God is and who He has always been. My God is strong, all-powerful, loving, present with me, and actively working all things together for my good. When I fix my eyes on who my God is, my fears begin to shrink. I become less dependent on needing certainty about what God will do, because I can rest in what is certainly true, His character will always remain consistent.
The Apostle Paul didn’t know what would happen next, but he was sure of this: certainly his God was faithful.
And so is mine.
So here I am, afraid, yes, but learning. Learning to loosen my grip on control. Learning to trust God with my life, even when I don’t know what’s next. Learning that peace doesn’t come from certainty, but from trusting the One who is certainly good.
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