Six years ago, during COVID, fear seemed to grip the entire world. It just showed up in different forms depending on where you stood. Some were convinced the virus itself would devastate humanity, collapsing healthcare systems and wiping out lives at an unimaginable scale. Others were just as certain that the response to the virus, the shutdowns, the isolation, the economic disruption, would lead to financial ruin, societal breakdown, and long-term damage we might never recover from. Either way, doom and gloom felt constant, loud, and inescapable.
Looking back now, what stands out is not the fear itself, but how easy it was for everyone, including me, to get pulled into it. The uncertainty made everything feel fragile. Every headline, every statistic, every opinion seemed to point toward worst-case scenarios. It did not matter which side someone leaned toward. Underneath it all was the same root, fear of what might happen.
And yet, in the middle of that, there was something else available. When I look back through what I wrote and what I leaned on during that time, I see how often God was reminding me of truth. Not in some abstract way, but through Scripture and through the steady reminder of history, both personal and human.
Because when fear takes over, it narrows your vision. It makes you forget everything that has already been carried, sustained, and redeemed. It is exactly what we see with Joshua and the Israelites. One setback and suddenly everything feels lost. They forget the Red Sea, the provision in the wilderness, the victories that came before. Fear rewrites the story in real time.
And that same tendency was alive in me during COVID. It was easy to project outcomes that felt certain in the moment but were ultimately rooted in assumption, not truth. But Scripture kept pulling me back. It reminded me that this was not new. Humanity has faced collapse, pandemics, wars, and uncertainty over and over again. And every time, God has remained steady.
What is humbling is that when I look back now, I do not primarily remember the fear. I remember the time together, the slowing down, the unexpected moments of connection and even joy. The very season that felt like it might unravel everything did not define us the way it once seemed like it would.
That is the lesson that sticks. Fear feels powerful in the moment, but it is often built on projections that never fully materialize. Truth, on the other hand, is grounded. It reminds us not just of what could happen, but of what has already happened, and how God has been present through all of it.
He was faithful then. He had been faithful long before that. And He will be faithful again.