I’m sinking.
Lord, I'm sinking.
That’s the only way to describe it. These waves are too high, the wind too loud, and the weight of it all is dragging me under. I thought I could walk, thought I could keep my eyes steady on faith, but doubt crept in like a storm on a quiet sea. These winds of doubt howl louder than my trust.
Earth has no sorrow heaven can’t heal, the prophet Zeph said—but why has my heart refused to heal? Why does this anchor of grief keep dragging me deeper? Heaven feels like a lighthouse flickering on a distant shore, out of reach no matter how hard I swim.
I’m reaching, pulling, gasping for air, but the tide is too strong, and I am too weak.
The noise is deafening. The demands, the doubts, the weight—it all presses in, until I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just in my head. Oh lord, I want to trust. I really want to believe. But the questions are louder than my faith.
What if I fall? What if I fail? What if I’m not enough?
And then, in the chaos, there’s a voice. It’s not shouting over the storm but speaking through it, steady and sure. “Fix your eyes on Me,” it says.
I pause. I can feel the water rising, cold against my skin, but that voice—it feels like warmth, like light.
“I’m here,” it says. “The waves don’t scare Me. The wind doesn’t move Me. Lay down the anchor you’re carrying; you were never meant to hold it alone. Let Me carry you. I am the hand that reaches for you even when you’re too tired to reach back, the harbor where your soul finds rest.
You don’t have to hold on—I am holding you. Even if you fall, I’ll catch you. Even if you fail, I’ll lift you. You see the chaos, but I see the calm I’ve already spoken into existence. You see the waves, but I walk upon them. The lighthouse you think is far is My constant presence—it has never moved, and neither have I."
“Take one step. Then another. The waters may rise, but I will not let you go. I’ve written your name on My palm, and I carry you even when you can’t carry yourself.”
For a moment, I stop struggling. The storm is still there, the waves still crashing, but there’s a stillness rising within me. The lighthouse isn’t distant anymore—it’s here, right in front of me. It’s always been here.
And, so I breathe. I take one step.
Then another.
And another.
Hi my love, how are you doing?
How was this week for you?
For me, this week has been a struggle.
You know, I’ve been thinking about how I’m starting to turn my Substack into my journal, where I come, be vulnerable and "trauma-dump" on you guys. I’m not even trauma-dumping, but you get what I mean. Earlier this week, I thought about what I was going to write to you. And I really wanted to write something happy, or motivating, or just talk about God. You know, something uplifting.
But I could not think of anything like that. I did not get motivated or inspired to write anything like that. My week has been me, panicking, worrying, crying, amongst all other things. Nothing has really gone the way I wanted. I even had a funny and scary experience... (I’ll talk about that sooner or later.😂😂😂)
Three days ago, I wanted to finish the series I was watching—The Chosen. And the last scene in the season that stuck with me, that made me feel something deeply, was the scene where Peter walked on water with Jesus. At that point, Peter was so vulnerable, going through so much. His faith in God, in Jesus, was shaking. And when Jesus asked him to walk on water, it felt so powerful.
Jesus told him in the movie, “Keep your eyes on Me.” At that moment, it just felt like He was talking directly to me. I couldn’t help but shed some tears watching that scene. And it led me to write this piece I’ve written. I don’t know... I just feel like it would slap so hard as a spoken word piece. I don’t know if that will ever happen.
Sometimes, I don’t know... like, days ago I was talking to myself and I thought, "Am I really scared or I just like thinking I'm scared?" I don't know why. Sometimes I wonder,"is it human nature to just get unnecessarily scared?" Then I think of the children of Israel, and I realize something. We like to shake our heads at them sometimes, don't we? We think, "Oh, they used to doubt God, they used to take God's love and presence for granted." But then I think, wait—I might not actually like them, but I do the same thing over and over again, don’t I? God reassures us every time, yet we still doubt, still question.
I really can't say how grateful I am for the people I have around me. This week, I’ve received reassurance in the form of words from the people. My friend told me, “Your name is Faith, you should not doubt God.” And honestly, those words hit me in a way I needed. They reminded me that faith is and should be my identity. It’s not really about having all the answers, but knowing that God is bigger than my fears, bigger than any doubts I carry.
So, I’m writing this at this moment when fear is consuming me. When I’m standing in the middle of it, frozen by the weight of it all. I want you to know, though, that God is always here. I need you to look back. Look back at the past and see what God has done for you. Look at His wonders, the miracles from days gone by. Even the ones that didn’t happen to you directly—those that happened to people around you, to the people of old in the Bible, the ones you read about in testimonies. Those testimonies? They’re a reflection of God’s never-changing power. And I want you to understand this: the God who did all of those things is right here, right now. He is more than capable of handling whatever it is that is scaring you.
That fear? That’s all there is to it. The fear is loud, but it’s not the truth. It’s not the reality. It’s just noise.
At this very moment, as I write this, it’s not that I’m free from fear. In fact, right now, it feels like I’m crippled by it. It’s holding me back, keeping me from doing what I need to do. It’s like there’s an alarm ringing in my head that won’t stop. But that’s not what matters right now.
What matters is that I want you to know this: God is here. He is right here, even if you can’t feel it. Even if you feel like He’s far off, like His presence is distant. I know it’s hard when everything around you feels so overwhelming—the noise, the distractions, the chaos—and you can’t hear Him, can’t feel Him. But please, know this: God is here. Even in the silence, He is here. Even when you don’t feel His touch, He’s still working, still present, still holding you.
You are not alone. We are never alone.
And all you need to do, all you need to take, is one step of faith. Just one. That’s enough. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it doesn’t have to be big. Just take that step, knowing that with each step, God is with you. That’s all you need.
Listen to this whenever fear wants to hold you back.❤️
I discovered a new latin phrase that's going to be my mantra through the rest of this year.
Per aspera ad astra!
It means “through the thorns, to the stars.”
Isn't it beautiful?
Yes it is and so is your piece
Thank you so much Chloe and I pray you see the face of God in everything you do and feel peace. Amen❤️
This was what i actually needed to hear