Everywhere I look—online, in comment sections, in “art,” in think pieces, in endless rants—I see fear dressing itself up as righteousness and anger masquerading as concern for the world.
People claim they’re terrified about the state of things. They say their mental health suffers. They say they feel overwhelmed, exhausted, and anxious.
And then they point fingers. They blame this political party. Or that one. Conservatives. Liberals. “The other side.” Labels fly around like paper at a ticket tape parade.
Outrage as Performance
They post nonstop. They wield their talents not to clarify, calm, or illuminate—but to shout, insult, mock, and divide. They call it “speaking out,” but it functions as little more than venting rage. They share half-stories without context, half-truths without accountability, opinions soaked in fear and contempt.
And then they say, “let’s just be kind.”
If you agree with them, you join the misery club. If you don’t, they shame you, attack you, and label you.
Let’s be honest: this isn’t about justice. It’s about outrage addiction. And it’s exhausting.
Politics as a False Foundation
Here’s the hard truth people resist: they feel miserable, angry, and fearful because they put their hope in politics—and politics will always fail them.
I want to be very clear: I haven’t celebrated every election outcome. I haven’t always liked who got elected. I’ve worried about policies, priorities, and leadership.
But here’s what I did differently:
- I didn’t let fear control my life.
- I didn’t let anger consume my witness.
- I didn’t weaponize my art, my voice, or my platform.
Why? Because of Jesus.
Taking My Anxiety to God
When President Biden took office, he wasn’t my choice. I admit I spiraled—I read article after article, obsessed over policies I disagreed with, feared where our country was headed.
I felt anxious. Frustrated. Afraid.
Then one day, while walking, I brought it all to God—not to social media, not to comment sections, not to people who might validate my emotions. I went straight to God.
And in that quiet moment, God spoke clearly:
“Vikki, why are you fearful? I am still God. I am still on the throne. You have two jobs: put ALL your faith in Me, and pray for those in power.”
It wasn’t gentle. It was corrective. And it hit hard.
Trusting God, Not Politics
God didn’t ask who I voted for. He didn’t ask if I agreed with every policy. He didn’t ask me to fret over the future. He reminded me who He is.
So I obeyed. I prayed for my president—whether I liked him or not, whether I agreed with him or not, whether I trusted his decisions or not.
Because my trust never belonged in a person or party. My trust always belongs in God.
Once I embraced that truth, fear lost its grip. I knew God had me if taxes rose, if policies passed against my values, if the cost of living increased, if the world felt unstable. God had me then. God has me now. God will always have me.
Life Without Jesus Leaves Fear in Charge
That is not denial. That is faith.
Here’s a truth many resist: the problem isn’t who sits in the Oval Office. The problem is trying to navigate a broken world without Jesus. Life without Him will always feel overwhelming, unstable, and produce fear, anger, and despair—no matter which party holds power.
If your peace rises and falls with election results, your foundation is wrong.
If your joy disappears every four years, your hope is misplaced.
If your mental health collapses whenever a politician speaks, politics has become your god.
Presidents will fail you. Governments will disappoint you. Policies will change. Leaders will lie. Power will shift.
But Jesus Christ remains on the throne.
True Peace Comes from Jesus
He ruled before any president. He rules before any political party. He will rule long after every name we argue over fades into history.
True peace does not depend on the right candidate winning. True security does not depend on the right laws being passed. True fulfillment does not depend on shouting louder than the other side.
It comes from knowing Jesus. Everything else will eventually let you down.
And that’s not political commentary—that’s eternal truth.
