And just like that, we’re halfway through 2025.

I remember the anxiety that weighed on me at the start of the year. There were so many burdens—real, pressing concerns—that I clung to instead of laying them down at Jesus’ feet.

These weren’t shallow worries. They were practical. Tangible. Heavy.

I think about my parents often. I ache at the thought of one day not having them around. Even now, I see signs of age setting in, and I’m reminded that time doesn’t wait for anyone.

I think about the future.

What if I’m still in the same place six months from now? A year from now?

What if things don’t move the way I hoped they would?

I worry about work.

Will I be able to handle what’s expected of me as I step into a new role?

I think about the people I love.

Will I still get to laugh with them? Walk with them? Sit quietly beside them next year?

I look at the world around me. Rising costs, constant instability, uncertainty everywhere.

Will I still be able to afford the basics tomorrow?

I held onto these questions as though they could carry me through the year.

But they couldn’t.

And they didn’t.

Six months in, I broke down. In the middle of a busy day, I just… burst.

The tension I’d been carrying for months built up, and I couldn’t hold it anymore.

I cried, not just from pressure, but because I know these earthly concerns are small compared to the future God has prepared for me. I cried because I wished I had just a little more faith… enough to not end up at a breaking point.

I asked for forgiveness, for trying to carry everything alone. And I asked Him to be my strength, even just for the rest of the day.

And then I remembered Jesus.

I see Him asleep on a boat in the middle of a raging storm, unshaken and at peace.

I hear Him remind us that not even a sparrow falls without the Father knowing. That the birds neither sow nor reap, yet they’re fed.

I picture Mary at His feet—choosing the better part—while Martha, anxious and busy, is gently corrected.

And I see Him in Gethsemane, overwhelmed with sorrow, asking for the cup to pass, yet still surrendering: “Not My will, but Thine be done.”

And when I look again at the chaos, it’s still there.

But so is He.

The Bible never promised ease—only assurance.

God is not surprised by anything that’s happening. Prophecies are being fulfilled. History is moving toward His appointed end. He is not absent; He is orchestrating.

Even when death comes.

Even when finances fail.

Even when things don’t go the way I planned, He remains sovereign.

So here we are, halfway through the year.

And while nothing is perfect, I’ve seen enough of Jesus to know: I don’t have to carry these burdens alone.

I was never meant to.

Little by little, I’m learning to lay them down at His feet.

How about you? How have the first six months of 2025 been for you?

“Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved.”

Psalm 55:22