faith Archives - Christy Miller Bell

Is Your Fear Bigger Than Your Faith Right Now?

Jul 8, 2026

Some nights the silence in the room roars louder than any noise. This post is for anyone who has found themselves awake at 2 AM, running the numbers, replaying conversations, and wondering if God is paying attention. It is an honest look at what happens when fear outpaces faith and what Scripture says about the storms that refuse to stop on our timeline.

A Brewing Storm

I’m up again at 2 AM. My mind swirling with a to-do list miles long and all the questions of how I’ll be able to make it all work. The lyrics to a song play on repeat in my head. Words spoken in anger filter through the rubble of my thoughts. People I need to call. Plans to make. Details to figure out. The silence of my room roars in my ears. Lightning flashes in the sky. There’s a storm coming.

Finally, I get out of bed and walk around hoping that will help me relax and let go of the anxious thoughts. But still they follow me. How will I get the money I need? When will I see a return on my investment? Maybe I need to work harder, do more, give more? And I grow more anxious and more awake and more aware of my inability to solve these problems.

Chaos in the Night

Then I remember the words I read just this morning — or by now it was yesterday morning. The disciples were in a boat crossing the sea when a sudden storm takes them by surprise. Angry waves beat against the boat and shove it up and down and sideways. Sheeting rain makes it hard to see and the salt spray from the sea stings their eyes. They’ve been in storms before, but this one is raging. Mark 4:37 describes it this way, “And there arose a fierce gale of wind, and the waves were breaking over the boat so much that the boat was already filling up.” The blasting wind threatens to break the mast like a toothpick while the frantic men expel the water. But it’s no use. All their effort isn’t changing anything. I know what this kind of panic feels like.

During the chaos, Jesus is sound asleep in the cargo hold. His peaceful presence a sharp contrast to the violent uproar of the creation around him. The disciples question to him is my own question so many days — Jesus, can’t you see what’s happening? Don’t you care?

Jesus doesn’t respond to their doubts. He shows them who is in charge.

As I write early this morning before the sun comes up, my thoughts are a violent swarm of chaos. And in this motionless room I hear Jesus saying, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

When the Waves Keep Coming

And my answer is: It’s complicated. Some days faith is easy. When I see the sun rise each day and sing songs of praise on a Sunday morning. But when problems come in wave upon wave and I see no way out and I feel like I’m drowning, faith is hard to grasp. I try so hard to work out the problems on my own and fail. Why is Jesus my last resort?

Do I believe Jesus is still Lord over all creation? Does he care?

The answer is yes. I know it in the way he reminds me of his words in the night. I see it in the sky lit up with lightning. I hear it in the calm brush of the trees.

So I’ll go back to bed now and remember that Jesus still holds power over all the earth. The rain begins to fall on the roof and I can relax. He is strong enough to handle my worries and fears. There’s no problem he can’t solve or situation that is too overwhelming. He cares so much he was willing to die so that I might live. If Jesus can calm the wind and waves, he can calm the storm in my heart.

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I'm In

When Your Faith Keeps Falling Apart

May 27, 2026

Some days my faith feels rock solid. Other days it feels like it's falling apart at the seams. If you've ever felt that way — like you keep failing when you need faith the most — you're in better company than you think. Peter knew exactly what that felt like. And what Jesus did with his roller coaster faith might surprise you.

Rollercoasters. I used to love the thrill of the click of the tracks. The ascent sent my heart racing. Then, the sudden plunge. My body felt weightless as the force of gravity took over and adrenaline rushed through my veins. Up, down, looping around. In seconds, it was over and I ran to get in line to do it again.

I’m not sure if it’s age or some other reason, but no amount of convincing (or money) will ever get me to board another roller coaster. I like the steady security of life on the ground — where my stomach doesn’t plummet and my pulse doesn’t race. Give me a road trip across country any day.

Often, however, my spiritual life has seemed more like a roller coaster than a long, straight road. One day I’m joyful and excited to be a part of God’s work, writing and studying with abandon, the next, I’m in the lowest valley. Scared to move. Doubting my call. Questioning God’s direction. Anyone else?

It turns out I’m not alone in the up’s and down’s of faith.

I’ve always loved Peter, mainly because I think we’re so much alike. He was passionate in his zeal to obey and serve. Firm in his commitment. But I think fear plagued him in the early days of discipleship. One moment he seems ready to make the climb to amazing heights of faith. Then, in the next moment, Peter’s faith seems almost non-existent.

Take the experience described in Matthew 14:22-32. Jesus walked out to the disciple’s boat in the middle of a fierce storm. And Peter, bless his heart, wanted to get out of the boat and walk to Jesus on the water. But, reality settled quick. What was he doing? Fear seized Peter, and he began to sink.

Just a few chapters later, Peter hits another high when he confesses Jesus is the Messiah. I can feel the adrenaline rush he must have experienced when he realized that the Rabbi he had given up his life to follow was indeed the Savior they had been seeking for centuries. Then, the nose-dive of fear as he heard Jesus explain what would happen in the coming days (see Matthew 16:21). After a strong rebuke from Jesus, he is one of the privileged three to be allowed to witness the transfiguration. Talk about a mountaintop experience.

Peter’s life was full of rollercoaster moments. His faith wasn’t stationary. Trust mingled with fear more times than we probably realize. But Peter didn’t slink away and hide when Jesus reprimanded him. He didn’t stop following Jesus because he lost sight of the prize. The concrete reality is that Jesus used him anyway. And Peter was bold enough to keep following relentlessly, no matter how many times he failed.

So often, I allow the click, click, click of fear to drive me to immobility. When I allow fear to rule, I begin sinking into the swirl of my own thoughts and lose sight of all that God has done. That’s the moment I stop. When I can’t see the way ahead, instead of asking God to show me, I freeze. Forward momentum is out of the question. Then, I begin to see only the problems, the lack, the pain around me. My mind stops thinking about the blessings of God and starts questioning God instead.

But, like Peter, no matter how many times I fall, no matter how scared I am, Jesus is always there to take me by the hand and lift me up. He pulls me forward to moments of startling clarity and allows me to experience the reality of my own faithlessness. But with each twist and turn, I can see growth.

Maybe that’s what true faith looks like. Not a motionless point of arrival or a straight road, but a journey of loops and drops. These days, when I feel the panic of the familiar weightlessness begin, I stop and breathe. And remember who holds me in his hands.

Why God Sometimes Speaks Loudest in the Dark

Apr 8, 2026

When anxiety keeps you awake at 2 AM and dark thoughts swarm your mind, it can feel like God is absent. But this post explores a profound biblical truth: the darkest moments of our lives are often when God speaks most clearly and offers his greatest promises. From Abram counting stars to Paul singing in prison, Scripture reveals that nighttime suffering is not abandonment but invitation.

You will have songs as in the night when you keep the festival, and gladness of heart as when one marches to the sound of the flute, to go to the mountain of the Lord, to the Rock of Israel.

— Isaiah 30:29

The moon is bright, but shrouded behind the floating clouds. In the darkness the world lies still. Suspended. Quiet. But my mind is a torrent of memories. Some terrifying. The night amplifies my fear. Worry pushes sleep away and, like Job, I complain that “the night is long, and I toss and turn till the dawn” (7:4).

When I lay my head on my pillow and try to rest, the negative thoughts swarm. Why does the night conjure up my anxiety? Why does dread swell in my chest when I think about the future?

Or my stomach churn over the life choices of my children? Why do I mourn because life hasn’t turned out the way I thought it should?

Sometimes I wonder if my expectations are too high. As a believer, I want to live in the light, to experience good all the time. I don’t want to wrestle with the darkness — to cry when I get off the phone with my kids who are struggling. I don’t want to experience pain or heartbreak or worry. It hurts.

Sadly, God doesn’t promise I will never experience dark times. Just because I put my faith in him doesn’t automatically exempt me from trials. But he does promise that he is always with me. He will never leave me or forsake me (Joshua 1:9). He also promises that, even in the middle of my darkest moments, I will have a song in the night.

Isaiah spoke these words to a people who were devastated by loss. A foreign nation was invading. Their homes destroyed and their lives upended. Nothing would ever be the same again. Yet, God’s promise gives them hope that one day they would sing again. They would celebrate and rejoice once more.

God still speaks in my dark moments, and he will put a song in my heart once more. It’s a promise that was fulfilled in Jesus and made real in my own life. And when my own hope seems far away, I remember that the night won’t last forever. What God spoke into their devastation, he speaks into mine. On the nights when I need to hear it most, I go back to what he’s already said.

The Night Is Temporary

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning. -- Psalm 30:5

God is the creator of both the darkness and the light. He orchestrates the timing of each in my life for his glory. Just like the night leads to day, so I can trust that the God who brought the night will also cause the sun to rise in its perfect time. There will be an end to the night and the darkness that creeps in threatening to derail my faith. The pain of loss gives way to joy eventually. Suffering doesn’t last forever for those who belong to Christ. The empty cross and the vacant tomb testify to this truth.

God Speaks in the Night

Look toward heaven, and number the stars… — Genesis 15:5

Most of the time, stars are not visible to the human eye during the day. But, in the country, on a clear night, you can see stars for miles. It takes darkness to make the stars shine the brightest.

It was a clear night like this when God told Abram to walk outside and count the stars. God gave him the promise of a bright future full of hope. That same night a deep sleep fell on Abram. In the middle of his immense and terrifying darkness, God spoke and a covenant was forged.

But this wasn’t the only time God spoke in the dark. Jacob wrestled with God in the night. And, even though he woke with a limp as evidence of his struggle, he also walked away a new man who’d been touched by God. It’s a reminder that we may bear the scars of our struggle, but the darkest moments bring the greatest blessing.

A Song is a Prayer

By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. —Psalm 42:8

I grew up in an old, creaky house. The wind whistled through the cracks in the single pane windows. At night, my dad assured me the groans I heard were only the house settling after a long day in the sun, but I wasn’t convinced. In my room with darkness surrounding me, I could imagine all manner of evil coming after me. So I decided to play music. I put on headphones and closed my eyes tight. Eventually, the morning came and I survived. Years later, when my children wrestled with their own imaginations, we would rock and sing hymns until they fell asleep.

At midnight, Paul and Silas prayed and sang hymns to God. They were having church in the middle of a prison in the middle of the night. How? They didn’t know how this story would end, but they trusted the God who wrote their story that he would be with them until the end. The songs didn’t change the circumstances. It changed their perspective.

These songs in the quiet of the night are a desperate prayer. A plea for comfort. A cry for help. I still pray at 2 AM, when the night is overwhelming and all traces of light are hidden for the moment. I still sing a song to remind myself of God’s promises when the darkness is heavy. One by one I lay my worries at his feet. And when the clouds of pain threaten to obscure the light of God’s goodness, I remember that God is with me. The moon may still be shrouded. The house still quiet. But if you listen, you can hear it. A song begins.

When anxiety strikes at 2 AM, you need more than platitudes—you need biblical truth that speaks to your pain. Subscribe to receive weekly devotionals that offer real hope for real struggles. Plus, get my free printable: "10 Verses for Sleepless Nights."

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Listen and Lean: Planning for Success in 2026

Jan 5, 2026

The Lord says, “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you.” -- Psalm 32:8

I’ve been contemplating a question over the past few days. As the cool weather pulls in the New Year, how can I plan for success in 2026? What dictates the direction of my plans in this new year?

When I look back on 2025, there are some things I knew would happen. My youngest graduating, her last recital and starting college. My oldest getting married. My middle getting engaged. These are things I could plan for…events that guided my plans.

This year, however, I don’t want the big events to be the map of my life. Instead, I want to make the most of every opportunity. To see each day as a canvas waiting to be painted in the bright colors of joy, peace, and freedom that come as I choose to follow God’s path.

But, how can I know the right path?

The answer, I’m learning, has two movements: listening and leaning.

Listen…

“And after the fire came a still, small voice…” — 1 Kings 19:12

I’m a planner. I even plan to plan. Many times, planning for big life events, like graduation, weddings, or vacations, can crowd out the slow, daily stillness of hearing from God. Instead of trusting God with a future I can’t see, I find myself scheduling every moment in an effort to fill the silence.

God brought the fire, the earthquake, and the mighty wind to grab Elijah’s attention, but He spoke through a quiet whisper straight to Elijah’s heart. It was in the delicate silence after the chaos that Elijah felt the tangible presence of the Lord. The holy hush of the Heavenly Father who waited in anticipation for Elijah to listen for His Voice.

And Elijah was listening. Patient to wait until God was ready to reveal Himself. When he heard the voice of God, he prepared himself for action.

But, as Elijah’s story teaches us, God speaks most clearly in the silence. In gentle and subtle ways of everyday life, can I see the hand of God?

Can I hear His whisper in the commotion of my own plans? Am I listening?

Lean…

“Help us, O LORD our God, for we trust in you alone.” — 2 Chronicles 14:11

Facing an army twice the size of his own, King Asa was terrified. One million men against 500,000. Chariots against men on foot. The odds were impossible. They would surely be slaughtered. So Asa did the only thing he could do — Asa cried out to God. “O Lord, no one but you can help the powerless against the mighty! Help us, O Lord our God, for we trust in you alone.”

The word Asa used is translated as “trust,” but the original language paints a picture of complete reliance. Think of someone who is weak and at the point of death from exposure to the elements. They have no way of saving themselves. They cannot find the strength to get the help they need. In a thin, weak voice, they cry out for someone to rescue them. Then, out of nowhere, salvation. A man lifts the almost lifeless body and carries him to safety. The weaker person relies on the strength of the other man completely.

Just like Asa, I am surrounded by impossible odds everyday. I face enormous challenges and difficult circumstances that threaten to destroy my faith. Yet, in the middle of the valley, when all seems lost, I put my full weight on God. I cry out, like Asa, “There is no one but You who can help the powerless!”

But, how often do I lean on other things instead of God? How many times have I calculated plans or created scenarios in order to save myself instead of relying fully on God to provide?

I want this year to be different.

In 2026, I want to be patient and wait for God’s word. To move only when He gives instruction. I want to listen for His gentle leading as He speaks in the quiet moments of each day. I want to lean on God and rest in His provision.

This means intentionally seeking Him more and purposely trusting Him for everything. It means listening to His voice and leaning on His strength daily.

Will you join me?

“My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever.” — Psalm 73:26

“God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble.” —Psalm 46:1

Find hope in the journey with me