When Worry Won’t Let Go
Worry rarely announces itself. It slips in while you’re doing the dishes, or lying awake at 3 a.m. running tomorrow through your mind for the hundredth time. By the time you notice it, you’re already carrying it — shoulders tight, jaw set, bracing for something that hasn’t even happened.
Peter doesn’t tell you to pretend you’re fine. He uses a stronger word: cast. Throw it. Hand it over the way you’d hand someone a weight too heavy to hold alone. Anxiety wants to convince you that if you just think about it enough, you can control the outcome. Faith says otherwise.
And the reason is tucked into four small words at the end of the verse: because he cares for you. Not the situation in the abstract — you. The God who holds the galaxies also holds the thing keeping you up tonight. You were never meant to carry it by yourself.
Close to the Brokenhearted
Strength for the In-Between