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.
This morning, I went to the doctor for a routine yearly physical. Nothing dramatic. No flashing red warning lights about my health. Just the usual annual check-in that responsible adults schedule so we can pretend we have our lives together.
I arrived on time.
Actually, I arrived early—because that’s what responsible adults do. We show up ten minutes early, clutch our insurance card, scroll our phones, and mentally rehearse how to explain that weird pain in our shoulder that only shows up when we sneeze while holding a coffee mug.
And then we wait.
Thirty minutes, to be exact.
Now, let me be clear: thirty minutes is not the end of the world. I realize doctors run behind. Emergencies happen. Appointments take longer than expected. I understand the logistics.
But while I sat there, staring at the same outdated magazine about Mediterranean diets and “10 Ways to Tone Your Core,” my brain started doing what brains do best.
It started thinking.
And what I kept coming back to was this: how are we still this far behind when it comes to women’s health in 2026?
Because once I finally got called back and the appointment actually began, the conversation went exactly where it always goes.
My weight.
When Every Conversation Comes Back to the Scale
Let me start by saying something obvious.
I’m overweight.
I know it. My scale knows it. My doctor knows it. The jeans in the back of my closet that I keep hoping will magically fit again definitely know it.
I could probably stand to lose fifty pounds. Maybe more.
But here’s the part that frustrates me: I have never had a medical conversation that didn’t eventually circle back to my weight.
Not once.
When I’m sick, we talk about my weight.
When I’m healthy, we talk about my weight.
When I ask a question about something unrelated—my joints, my sleep, my headaches, menopause symptoms—the conversation eventually loops right back around.
Weight.
It’s like every road in women’s healthcare leads to the same destination.
And this morning was no exception.
Good Numbers, Same Conclusion
Here’s the ironic part.
My numbers are good.
My blood pressure is good. My labs come back normal. My cholesterol behaves itself. Nothing in my chart screams emergency.
Yet despite all that, the recommendation remains the same.
Weight loss medication.
Diabetes medication “as prevention.”
Weight loss surgery.
Those suggestions come up again and again, even when the tests don’t actually point in that direction.
Now, let me clarify something important: there is nothing wrong with those treatments. For many people, they are life-changing and necessary.
But when they become the only conversation?
That’s when the problem begins.
Because eventually you start wondering whether anyone is listening to anything else you’re saying.
Are Women’s Bodies Still a Medical Mystery?
Maybe I’m wrong about this. Maybe it’s unfair to say it.
But sometimes it feels like men’s healthcare has progressed further than women’s.
Maybe that’s not because men’s bodies are simpler.
Maybe it’s because for decades medical research focused more heavily on men.
Historically, clinical trials often excluded women because researchers believed hormones would “complicate the data.” As a result, huge portions of modern medicine developed using male bodies as the default template.
Even today, many conditions affect women differently. Symptoms present differently. Pain gets interpreted differently.
And yet we still find ourselves in exam rooms explaining the same things over and over.
Or worse, being told the same solution regardless of the question.
The Family Tree of “Short and Fluffy”
Another thing doctors don’t always account for is genetics.
There’s not really a thin woman in my family.
We weren’t built that way.
My family tree is full of women who are strong, short, and—let’s call it what it is—fluffy.
We’re sturdy. Solid. Built like we could carry groceries, grandkids, and emotional baggage all at the same time.
Could we all benefit from healthier habits? Sure. Who couldn’t?
But there’s a difference between encouraging healthy lifestyle changes and reducing someone’s entire medical experience to a number on a scale.
Because weight alone doesn’t tell the full story of a human body.
And yet far too often, it becomes the only story doctors read.
The Anxiety Nobody Talks About
Here’s something I realized this morning while getting ready for my appointment.
I have developed anxiety about going to the doctor.
Not panic attacks. Not anything debilitating.
Just that quiet, persistent dread.
The kind where you already know how the conversation will go before you even walk through the door.
I know the moment I step on the scale.
I know the look.
I know the notes that will get typed into the computer.
And I know the conclusion waiting at the end of the appointment.
“Lose weight and come back in six months.”
That’s it.
Conversation over.
When the Investigation Ends Too Soon
Here’s the real problem with that approach.
It stops the investigation.
Sometimes I have aches and pains. Nothing severe. Just the random annoyances that come with getting older and possibly entering the rollercoaster known as menopause.
But when I bring them up, the conversation often stops before it really begins.
“You probably wouldn’t have that pain if you lost some weight.”
Yet the moment the weight explanation appears, the curiosity disappears.
And curiosity is supposed to be the heart of good medicine.
The Shame Cycle That Helps No One
Ironically, the constant focus on weight doesn’t always motivate change.
Sometimes it does the exact opposite.
The guilt creeps in.
The shame follows right behind it.
You leave the appointment feeling like you failed a test you didn’t even know you were taking.
Then six months pass.
You didn’t lose the weight.
The pain still exists.
And now your mental health feels worse than it did before the appointment.
So you go back, bracing yourself for the same conversation again.
Round and round it goes.
The Myth That Fat People Caused Healthcare Costs
At some point in my life, someone actually said this to my face:
“You know, people being overweight are the main reason healthcare is so expensive.”
Apparently, I personally destroyed the American healthcare system by enjoying bread.
The wild part is that statement usually comes from people who know nothing about my health history.
They don’t know my labs.
They don’t know my lifestyle.
They don’t know my genetics.
They just see a body and make a judgment.
And unfortunately, sometimes that same judgment slips into medical spaces too.
A Simple Request: Listen
Let me be clear about something.
I am not asking doctors to ignore weight.
Weight absolutely can affect health. It would be ridiculous to pretend otherwise.
But it should not be the only lens through which my health gets evaluated.
Because bodies are complex.
Pain has causes.
Hormones fluctuate.
Joints wear down.
And sometimes symptoms deserve investigation even if the patient happens to be overweight.
The Truth That Needs to Be Said
So let me say this clearly enough for the people in the back.
Fat women deserve proper healthcare.
We deserve to be heard.
We deserve real conversations, not automatic conclusions.
We deserve tests that search for root causes instead of assumptions that stop the investigation.
We deserve doctors who see a whole human being, not just a number blinking on a scale.
A Better Future for Women’s Healthcare
Women’s health has come a long way, but clearly we still have work to do.
We need more research that includes women of every body type.
We need medical training that addresses bias—both conscious and unconscious.
And we need healthcare environments where patients feel safe asking questions without fear of being dismissed.
Because when patients feel heard, they engage more in their care.
When they feel respected, they trust the system.
And when they trust the system, everyone benefits.
The Ending We All Deserve
I walked out of my appointment today thinking about something simple.
Healthcare should not make people feel small.
It should not make people feel ashamed.
And it certainly should not make people feel invisible.
Instead, healthcare should start with listening.
It should continue with curiosity.
And it should end with partnership—two people working together to figure out what a body needs in order to thrive.
So here’s my closing thought.
If you work in medicine, please hear this:
The number on the scale is not the whole story.
Behind that number sits a woman with a history, a family, a body, a mind, and a voice that deserves to be taken seriously.
And until every woman—no matter her size—can walk into a doctor’s office without fear of being dismissed, the conversation about women’s health is far from finished.
Photo by me. @vikkilynnsorensen All rights reserved.
Proverbs 16:3 “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.”
There are two powerful words in this verse: commit and establish. To commit means “to carry into action deliberately.” To establish means “to institute permanently by enactment or agreement.”
In other words, commit is an action word. It requires intention. God isn’t asking us to drift through life hoping things fall into place—He’s asking us to deliberately include Him in what we do. When our plans align with His Word, He honors that alignment by establishing them—making them steady, secure, and lasting.
Several years ago, I was in a relationship with a man who openly admitted he had a difficult relationship with God. He had walked through deep pain, and that pain had shaken his belief in God’s love. On the surface, everything looked solid. We planned to get married. He loved my kids, I loved his, and he was even willing to have my mom live with us after the wedding.
But one day, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, “Are you ever going to include Me in this?”
And I knew exactly why I hadn’t. My honest answer to God was, “No… because I already know what You’re going to say.” I knew I was unequally matched. I knew the compromises I had made in my heart. I knew this relationship wasn’t built on the foundation God desired for me.
God didn’t argue. He didn’t force. He simply waited—like the gentleman He is.
While He waited, He gently reminded me again and again: “My plans are higher. My ways are better.”
And as time went on, the relationship started to fray. Things that once felt certain began to unravel. Eventually, I went to God and said, “I yield, Father. I commit this relationship to You. Direct me. I want to please You more than I want to please myself.”
I prayed for myself, for him, for our children, and for healing where it was needed. And then I ended the relationship.
The moment I did, I felt shackles fall. The enemy lost. God spared me from what would have surely become another heartbreak—and possibly another divorce.
Friends, when we align our lives and our plans with the Word of God, the hardest part is already done. God honors His Word. When we commit our plans to Him, He begins to shape, strengthen, and establish them. He opens paths where there were none. He gives wisdom and ideas. He provides for what He Himself has approved—because ultimately, they become His plans too.
If you want to know God’s plans for your life, look to His Word. The Bible isn’t just a love story—it’s a blueprint. A guide. A light that never fails.
So let me ask you: What plans are you making for your life right now? Have you included God in those plans? And can I pray with you today?
Prayer: “Heavenly Father, thank You for the good, hopeful plans You have made for me. Jeremiah 29:11 reminds me that Your plans are not for my harm but for my future and my hope. As I align my steps with Your Word, I thank You that You are establishing my plans and causing them to succeed. Give me continued wisdom, clarity, and a heart that stays sensitive to Your guidance. Let Your Word remain a constant light to my path. I thank You for all of this, in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
I’ve heard the phrase “blessed to be a blessing” my whole life, but it’s only in recent years that I’ve really begun to understand what it means. Not just as a cute saying or a line we nod along to in church—but as a way of living, trusting, and letting go.
If I’m honest, one of the clearest examples of this has always been my sweet sister. By default, she has been a blessing—to my mom and to me—over and over again. She didn’t have to be asked. She didn’t keep score. She just showed up. In big ways and small ones. In quiet sacrifices and loud love. When Mom needed help, my sister was there. When I needed encouragement, she was there. It flowed out of her naturally, like breathing. Watching her love has always reminded me that blessing others isn’t about excess—it’s about obedience and a willing heart.
The world tells us money is power. That it’s security. That it’s something to chase, hoard, fear, or worship. But I’ve never been able to see it that way. To me, money is a tool. Useful, yes—but not powerful. Not ultimate. Not worthy of fear. God alone holds that place.
And God has met my needs my entire life. Not always the way I expected. Not always early. But always faithfully.
A year ago, I was in a car accident, and something surprising happened. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid. No spiraling thoughts. No panic. Just peace. I relied fully on God—and He did wonders. In that moment, I realized how far He had brought me, and how much trust He had already built in me without me even noticing.
Recently, I got to witness my sister being a blessing in someone else’s life, and it was beautiful. Truly beautiful. It reminded me again that blessing isn’t about having “extra.” It’s about being willing. God flows through people who keep their hands open.
Money, though? That’s been harder for me.
I’ve always been afraid of it. We didn’t have much growing up, and while Mom did her very best—and taught me a lot about survival—I also learned about the “magic” of credit cards. (Spoiler alert: not magic at all, and they always send a bill later.) Then I married someone who taught me another lesson: how selfishness can creep in, how wants can come before family needs, and how tithing becomes optional when trust in God is optional.
When my mom died, something shifted in me. The very first thing I did was increase my tithe to what it should have been all along. And I haven’t stopped since. Not because I suddenly had more money—but because I finally had more trust.
God has never, ever stopped being faithful to me. Even in seasons when I wasn’t faithful to Him. Even when fear was louder than faith. Imagine that kind of love.
I still struggle sometimes. Fear of money is a hard habit to break. Old mindsets don’t disappear overnight. But I’m getting better. Stronger. Freer. Every time I see God provide again, every time I get to bless someone else, every time I watch generosity multiply instead of deplete—I’m reminded why this matters.
God’s economy doesn’t look anything like the world’s. It’s not supposed to. If it did, we wouldn’t need Him nearly as much as we do—and let’s be honest, this world needs way more of Jesus. In God’s economy, giving doesn’t make you poorer. Trust doesn’t make you reckless. And blessing others doesn’t rob you—it aligns you.
And it’s important to remember that God’s provision isn’t just about money. Not when He gave Jesus. Not when Jesus poured out His blood. That was the ultimate payment. The debt we could never repay—paid in full. “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9).
So why do I bother being afraid of something as fleeting as money?
I shouldn’t be.
Instead, I want to live open-handed. Grateful. Trusting. Willing to be a blessing the way my sister so naturally is. Because I don’t put my hope in numbers on a screen. I put my hope in the Lord—“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1).
So here I am—still learning. Still occasionally side-eyeing my bank account like it might jump out and scare me. Still reminding myself that money is a tool, not a tyrant, and definitely not my source. God is. Always has been. Always will be.
When I really stop and think about it, it’s almost laughable that I’m afraid of money. I serve the God who split seas, fed thousands with a kid’s lunch, and paid the greatest debt ever owed with His own Son. Compared to that, money is basically Monopoly cash. Useful? Sure. Powerful? Only if I let it be. Eternal? Not even close.
God’s economy is upside down by the world’s standards—and thank goodness for that. In His economy, generosity multiplies, faith beats fear, and blessing others somehow never leaves us lacking. “Give, and it will be given to you,” Jesus said—not as a threat, not as a transaction, but as a promise (Luke 6:38).
I don’t want to be ruled by fear over something so temporary. I want to be ruled by love—love for God, love for people, and the joy of getting to be a blessing.
Money comes and goes. God doesn’t. And when I remember that—really remember that—it becomes a whole lot easier to loosen my grip, open my hands, and smile… even while checking my bank account.
This is not a suggestion. This is a rebuke given in love.
We must confront a pattern that has quietly taken root in our congregations: a casual, irreverent, and dismissive attitude toward the time of worship that precedes the preaching of the Word. What we have normalized, Scripture calls disorder. What we excuse as habit, heaven sees as dishonor.
Week after week, worship begins—and many of God’s people are not present. The call to stand is given, yet conversations continue. Laughter carries on in the aisles and lobby. Coffee is poured. Greetings linger. People drift into the sanctuary as though the presence of God has not already been invited to fill the room. The first song ends, the second is halfway through, and only then do some finally decide it is time to participate.
Let us be clear: this is not a minor issue of preference or personality. It is a matter of reverence.
“Guard your steps when you go to the house of God.” —Ecclesiastes 5:1
Worship is not the prelude. It is not the warm-up. It is not background noise while we finish our conversations. The worship team is not a band filling time until the “real” part of the service begins.
Worship is the people of God responding to the holiness of God.
“God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth.” —John 4:24
When we habitually arrive late, disengaged, distracted, or indifferent, we are not merely disrespecting a team—we are demonstrating what we truly believe about God’s worth.
Arriving late to worship affects more than just you. When you slip in after worship has begun, you disrupt those who honored the call to be on time, pulling their focus from God to accommodate your seat. Coffee, conversation, and convenience should never take priority over inviting His presence. This is not neutral—it is disruptive and dishonors the sacredness of the moment.
The worship team does not stand on that platform for applause or performance. They carry a spiritual burden. They labor for hours in rehearsal and in prayer, often unseen and uncompensated, so that the body of Christ may be led into the presence of the Lord. They come prepared to serve, yet many in the congregation come prepared only for convenience.
This should grieve us.
Worship is not passive. It is participation. It is submission. It is sacrifice. It is an offering of ourselves before the Word is ever preached.
“I appeal to you… to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” —Romans 12:1
Ask yourself honestly: if your employer required you to be ready at a certain hour, would you make a habit of strolling in late and always expect grace? If a judge summoned you to court, would you stop for coffee first? If a wedding ceremony began, would you walk in halfway through the vows and see nothing wrong with it?
Yet we do this before the King of Kings.
We understand punctuality when it affects our income, our reputation, or our relationships. But when it comes to the Lord, we often offer Him what is left over—our leftover time, our divided attention, our delayed obedience. And delayed obedience is still disobedience at some point.
Church, this should not be so.
We were created to worship. We were formed to bow. We were designed to lift our voices in reverence and awe.
“Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.” —Psalm 95:6
Worship prepares the soil of the heart. It softens us. It humbles us. It aligns us with the holiness of God so that when His Word is preached, it does not fall on hardened ground. To neglect worship is to come unprepared to hear Him speak.
If we have treated worship casually, we must repent. If we have prioritized comfort and coffee over reverence, we must repent. If we have shown up late without conviction, disengaged without remorse, distracted without shame—we must repent.
“If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven.” —2 Chronicles 7:14
Repentance is not regret. It is change.
It means planning to arrive early. It means entering the sanctuary with intention. It means silencing distractions, ending conversations, and standing ready to worship when the first note is played.
“Let all things be done decently and in order.” —1 Corinthians 14:40
Let us once again treat worship as sacred. Let us honor those who lead us. Let us revere the God we claim to serve.
The Lord is worthy—not of our leftovers, but of our first and our best.
“Ascribe to the Lord the glory due His name; worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness.” —Psalm 29:2
Church, it is time to act like we believe that is true.
