The sun shines like a disco ball through California palm fronds, light catching at different angles as I walk my familiar route. I love the light.

I never love getting out of bed. But once I force my feet to the cold floor and pull a sweatshirt over my disheveled head and lace up my shoes and trudge through the side yard and wrestle the rusty gate and step onto the street — I’m always glad I did.

I walk because fresh air is soul medicine. I walk because paying attention to liquid amber leaves changing from green to autumn gold and fiery red hushes the craziness of the world — at least for a few minutes. When I walk, I feel the truth of God’s remarkable handiwork: endorphins releasing, dopamine increasing, serotonin soaring — a body-to-brain boost of stress reduction, clarity, energy, and grounded calm.

I turn north toward the foothills and feel my legs strain a bit with the slight incline. Gorgeous yellow roses pop glory over the cinderblock wall. I wonder how long the blooms will last.

Every day is a good day to take a walk. It’s one of my favorite times to talk to God. And on this particular morning, I’m desperate to hear His voice.

The situations for which I need His wisdom are many. I’ve known God long enough to know that His promises are truly true — He always comes through. So I quote James 1:5 to my Heavenly Father, knowing He’ll make good on His Word: “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking.” (NLT)

God, I need your wisdom, and I’m asking for it.

I pour out my heart, like David taught, telling God all my troubles and proclaiming my full trust. I ask Him my two favorite questions: Lord, what do You want me to know? God, what do You want me to do?

Wisdom often comes through revelation and action. I’m ready for both.

I expect a clear thought to drop in my mind or an instant peace to settle in my soul. Instead, all I hear is noise. All I feel is the unsettling pulse of anxiety — like I’ve had too many cups of coffee, yet I haven’t consumed a single drop.

Jesus, please help me focus. Help me hear Your voice.

But clarity doesn’t come. It feels like someone has the remote control to my brain and is incessantly flipping channels. The flashing pictures and sounds give me glimpses, but nothing pauses long enough to really take in. I’m straining to hear, straining to see, but the chaos between my two ears makes me wish I was back in bed — asleep.

Discouragement tugs at the edges of my soul.

I don’t have time to stay stuck in this looping, foggy, tangled, aching-for-answers place. People are counting on me. Stuff’s gotta get done. I don’t want to lean on my own understanding. I don’t want to strive for my own peace.

Jesus, I’m showing up, Jesus. I’m trying to listen. I’m doing all the right things. But I’m not getting the outcomes I need.

Friend, what do we do when healthy rhythms seem to stop working? What do we do when God seems silent? When our brains or bodies or spirits don’t cooperate with our good intentions and best efforts?

We keep walking.
We keep praying.
We keep being faithful.

We keep trusting that God is God and we are not. We keep surrendering our timelines for His truth. We keep releasing our expectations and choosing expectancy. We keep rehearsing and repeating the goodness of the Lord, rooting ourselves in His presence — even when we don’t feel it.

I learned this from David and his honest cries to God in his most desperate times. In Psalm 143 (NLT), David models a way forward when our thoughts tangle and our hearts feel heavy.

1. Be honest with God.
David doesn’t pretend everything’s fine.
“Hear my prayer, O Lord… I am losing all hope; I am paralyzed with fear.” (vv. 1, 4)
He asks God to listen because of who God is, not because David has it all together.

2. Remember God’s faithfulness.
David shifts his gaze from fear to remembrance:
“I remember the days of old… I think about what You have done.” (v. 5)
When anxiety screams, remembering quiets the noise and brings God’s goodness into focus.

3. Return to relationship.
“I lift my hands to you… I thirst for you.” (v. 6)
David doesn’t just want an answer. He wants God.

4. Keep asking for help.
He’s honest again:
“Lord, come quickly… my depression deepens.” (v. 7)
Our need isn’t a flaw. It’s an invitation.

5. Surrender and trust.
“Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you…
Show me where to walk… Teach me to do your will… May your gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing.” (vv. 8, 10)
David asks God for daily love, clear direction, and steady footing — not the whole map, just the next step.

As I finish my walk, a cat stretches in the sun. A baby cries through an open window. Warm light kisses my cheeks. I breathe in the ordinary grace of this moment. Relationship with God doesn’t guarantee instant clarity. It offers something better: His steady presence.

My anxiety hasn’t vanished, and the remote in my brain still feels glitchy. But my body feels more grounded. My soul feels held.

God is leading me.

And He will lead you too — one honest prayer, one remembered mercy, one trusting step at a time.

Feeling anxious, tired, or tangled? Find more support in Becky’s new book, A Verse a Day for the Anxious Soul: 100 Days of Peace for the Calm You Crave.

 

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