Tag: trusting God

Posted in Moments and Musings

Waiting on God: Stuck but Still Believing

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Life is good. Seriously, really good. My home is warm and cozy. The people I love are healthy, happy, and thriving. I’ve got a lot to be grateful for. But… there’s this one little thing. Okay, maybe it’s big. I’m waiting.

Not the casual, “Oh, whenever” kind of waiting. I’m talking about the kind where you’re staring at a closed door, wondering if you should knock, push, or just stand there awkwardly humming a tune. That’s where I am.

Feeling Young, Wise, and Confused All at Once

I’m 57 and a half (yes, I count the halves—it makes me feel younger and more precise). I still feel like my life is full of possibilities and adventure. At the same time, I wish I could hit the pause button and just sip a latte, watch the world go by, and breathe.

I know I’m supposed to take a big step, try something different, maybe even completely out of my comfort zone. But here’s the kicker: I have no clue what that “something different” is. I’m staring at a blank page and wondering if I’m supposed to write, doodle, or just wait for divine inspiration.

Prayer: Sometimes Consistent, Sometimes “Oops, Later”

I’ve been praying about this—well, most days, anyway. Full disclosure: if you asked me whether I prayed every single day, I’d have to be honest and say… nope. But even with my inconsistent prayer schedule, I’m believing. I am trusting God for something big because this next step is going to require a miracle-sized dose of courage.

I’m not scared, but I am anxious. I want clarity. I want action. I want doors to fling open like in the movies. And yet, I know God is moving behind the scenes. Sometimes I just wish He’d hurry up and make it obvious already!

Moses Had to Step… and So Do I

I see all these quotes everywhere: “God moves when you move.” “Moses had to take that first step into the sea, and THEN God parted the waters.” I love those reminders. But can we talk about how scary it is to step into churning waters when you don’t even know if there’s a sandbar or a shark underneath?

My pastor recently said something that felt like it landed right in my living room: “I know you feel like the bottom is going to fall out from beneath you, but it’s not. Keep trusting. Keep believing.” Those words are like a warm blanket on a chilly day. I’m holding on. I’m believing. Even when I feel stuck. Even when my coffee gets cold because I’m overthinking.

Waiting Isn’t Fun, But It’s Preparing Me

Let’s be honest: waiting is hard. I’m the kind of person who wants patience and speed at the same time. I want God to show me the path… yesterday. But here’s the beautiful irony: this waiting is the preparation. God’s setting the table, sharpening my vision, and aligning circumstances I can’t see yet.

Even in my restlessness, I can remind myself of what Scripture says:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” — Proverbs 3:5-6

So I sip my coffee, breathe, and trust. God’s got this. Even if it feels slow. Even if I feel stuck. Even if I have no clue what I’m supposed to do next.

Keeping It Lighthearted

Sometimes I imagine God as a patient coach, waving from the sidelines like, “Victoria, take it easy. I’ve got this. You don’t need to panic.” And maybe that’s the lesson: I don’t have to control everything. I can be ready, I can be faithful, and I can even laugh at myself when I feel stuck or anxious.

After all, life is too short to not enjoy the little things—the coffee, the sunshine, the cozy home, the people we love. Waiting can coexist with gratitude, laughter, and hope.

A Prayer for Those of Us in Waiting

Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the blessings in my life, for my home, my health, and the people I love. Thank You for being with me even when I feel stuck or unsure. Lord, I lift up this season of waiting to You. Give me patience, clarity, and courage to take the steps You are calling me to, even when they seem scary or uncertain. Help me trust Your timing and rest in Your plan. Prepare my heart, open doors, and when the time is right, make the path before me clear and joyful. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Final Thoughts

So here I am, stuck but believing, anxious but hopeful, sipping my coffee and waiting on God. And maybe that’s where the magic happens—between the longing and the faith, the questions and the trust. If you’re in a season of waiting too, know this: you’re not alone, and God is still moving, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Sometimes, the most powerful step is simply staying faithful in the waiting. And maybe, just maybe, enjoying the coffee along the way.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
Posted in Moments and Musings

Moving Forward When Self-Doubt Holds You Back

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

There are moments when I realize the greatest resistance to the life God is inviting me into isn’t the enemy, my circumstances, or a lack of opportunity—it’s me.

More specifically, it’s my self-doubt, my habit of comparison, and my tendency to procrastinate when obedience feels unclear or uncomfortable.

I second-guess everything.

Even when God opens a door, I pause at the threshold, questioning whether I heard Him correctly, whether I’m qualified, or whether someone else could do it better. Instead of moving forward, I linger in uncertainty, convincing myself I just need a little more confirmation, a little more clarity, or—if I’m honest—a safer plan.

Self-Doubt: When I Question What God Has Already Confirmed

Self-doubt has a quiet way of disguising itself as humility or wisdom. But often, it’s simply unbelief dressed up as caution.

God speaks, and I immediately respond with questions:

  • What if I’m wrong?
  • What if I fail?
  • What if I misunderstood Him?

Yet Scripture reminds me that God is not vague or confusing with His children.

“For God is not a God of confusion but of peace.” (1 Corinthians 14:33)

When I constantly second-guess what God has already made clear, I end up trusting my insecurity more than His voice. I forget that He knows my limitations—and still chooses me.

“Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.” (Philippians 1:6)

Comparison: Looking Sideways Instead of Forward

Comparison is another trap that pulls me out of alignment with God’s will. When I focus on what others are doing, how fast they’re moving, or how successful they appear, I lose sight of my own assignment.

Comparison distorts my perspective. It makes me feel behind when God never asked me to run someone else’s race.

“Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.” (Galatians 5:26)

God’s plan for my life is personal and intentional. When I measure myself against others, I unintentionally declare that His design wasn’t enough—or that His timing needs improvement.

Procrastination: Delayed Obedience in Disguise

Procrastination often shows up when faith is required.

When God asks me to step out before I feel ready, I default to waiting. Waiting to feel more confident. Waiting to feel more prepared. Waiting until I have a clear, step-by-step plan.

But delayed obedience is still disobedience.

“If you know the good you ought to do and don’t do it, you sin.” (James 4:17)

Faith was never meant to be comfortable. It was meant to be trusting.

My Obsession with Process vs. God’s Invitation to Faith

I love a process. A formula. A clear roadmap.

But God keeps reminding me that while processes have their place, they are not meant to replace faith. He doesn’t always give me the full plan—He gives me Himself.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5–6)

I want God to hand me a detailed outline, but He asks me to walk with Him instead. His Word is my guidebook. His presence is my assurance. His promises are my process.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119:105)

A lamp doesn’t illuminate miles ahead—it shows just enough for the next step. And that’s where faith lives.

Choosing Faith Over Fear

Walking in the fullness of all God has for me requires surrendering my need to control outcomes, timelines, and certainty. It means believing that obedience matters more than perfection, and movement matters more than mastery.

“For we live by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7)

God isn’t waiting for me to feel fearless. He’s waiting for me to trust Him enough to move forward anyway.

When I stop second-guessing, stop comparing, and stop postponing obedience, I make room for God to do what only He can do.

And maybe the fullness I’m longing for isn’t found in having everything figured out—but in finally saying, “Yes, Lord,” and taking the next step.

Closing Prayer

Father God,
Thank You for Your patience with me—for never giving up on me even when I hesitate, second-guess, or delay obedience. You see the places where self-doubt has silenced my confidence, where comparison has distracted my focus, and where procrastination has kept me from stepping fully into what You’ve already prepared for me.

Lord, forgive me for the times I’ve trusted my fear more than Your voice, my need for control more than Your promises, and my own understanding more than Your Word. Teach me to walk by faith and not by sight. Help me release my obsession with having every step mapped out and instead anchor my life in You.

Your Word says You have plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future. I choose to believe that today. I ask for courage to take the next step—even when it feels uncomfortable—and humility to follow You even when the path is unclear.

Let Your Word be my guidebook, Your Spirit be my counselor, and Your presence be my confidence. I surrender comparison, fear, and delay, and I choose obedience, trust, and faith.

Have Your way in me, Lord. I want all that You have for me.In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Photo by Jonathan J. Castellon on Unsplash
Posted in Moments and Musings

Faith Over Fear: Keeping Mentally Healthy in Today’s World

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

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.

Photo by Katie Moum on Unsplash
Posted in Moments and Musings

Blessed To Be A Blessing

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

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.

Photo by micheile henderson on Unsplash
Posted in Moments and Musings

From Goal-Getter to Grace-Seeker

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I need to be honest here. Like pull-up-a-chair-and-confess honest.

I made goals. Big ones. Intentional ones. Prayerfully-written, color-coded-in-my-mind goals. If you’ve been with me at all this year, you already know this. If you haven’t, don’t worry—you can read all about them right here.

All five of them.

Yes. Five. With sub-goals accompanying each one. Because apparently I believe I am part human, part productivity app.

When I wrote these goals, I felt incredible. Inspired. Motivated. Practically unstoppable. I was that girl—the one who drinks her coffee while staring thoughtfully out the window, convinced she is about to become her “best self” by next Tuesday.

Fast forward one month.

Friends, I am unwell.

Instead of feeling accomplished, I feel anxious. Like someone blew a whistle and yelled, “GO!” and I didn’t realize I had signed up for a marathon—barefoot—while carrying a planner, a Bible, and unrealistic expectations. Suddenly it feels like time is running out and I’m already behind… even though no one set a deadline. Except me. I set the deadline. And then I forgot to give myself grace.

I keep reminding myself that new habits take time. Growth takes time. Change takes time. But apparently my patience has a very short shelf life. I want instant results. I want progress I can measure. I want gold stars. And when I don’t get them? I spiral.

To make matters worse, I lost an entire week to the flu. A whole week accomplishing absolutely nothing except surviving on crackers and cough drops. How dare my immune system interrupt my grand plans?!

So there I was, walking Percy, my emotional support dog who listens to my internal monologues whether he wants to or not. All of this was swirling in my head—the goals, the pressure, the frustration, the feeling that I was failing something I had just started.

And then the loudest thought rose to the surface, cutting through the chaos:

Keep God at the center of all this.

Because here’s the truth I know deep down: I can’t do anything without Him. Not one thing. Not one goal. Not one habit. Not one tiny step forward.

And that’s when the Lord gently—but very clearly—spoke to my heart:

“Then why are you trying so hard?”

Oof.
Here we go.
Another loving, well-timed, Holy-Spirit mic drop.

“Be a Mary, not a Martha.”

If you know, you know.

Martha—busy, frazzled, doing all the things, exhausted, resentful, stressed out, wondering why no one appreciates her hustle.
Mary—sitting at the feet of Jesus, fully present, fully at peace, choosing the one thing that actually matters.

And suddenly it hit me.

When I wrote my goals, I did do it prayerfully. I really did. But if I’m being honest? I haven’t prayed much about them since. I’ve been too busy chasing them. Too busy managing them. Too busy trying to force progress instead of trusting the process.

Somewhere along the way, my goals quietly took the place of my stillness.

Goals are not bad. Not at all. They can be good, healthy, and God-honoring. But they were never meant to outrank obedience. They were never meant to compete with communion. They were never meant to pull me away from sitting at the feet of Jesus.

And here’s the big realization:
The best goal I could ever have—the only one that truly matters—is to be with Him.

To sit.
To listen.
To rest.
To trust.

So I’m choosing this: my goals will no longer be more important than what God wants me to do. If He asks me to slow down, I slow down. If He rearranges my plans, I’ll let Him. If He says, “Come sit with Me,” then that’s the win for the day.

Because I have this quiet, holy feeling that if I place my goals back into His hands, He’ll arrange them in a way that actually makes sense. In a way that brings peace instead of pressure. Purpose instead of panic.

And maybe—just maybe—I can finally stop running around like a chicken with its head cut off… and start walking at the pace of grace.

Mary chose the better portion.And honestly?
I want that goal more than all of mine combined.

Photo by Randy Tarampi on Unsplash