Learning to Trust God in the Midst of Fear

Feeling the Weight of Spiritual and Emotional Burdens

Crossing into African airspace stirred something in me—something I hadn’t fully recognized before. There’s a certain weight I felt over the continent, particularly as a woman.
I’ve long known the pain many women carry due to experiences of sexual violence. It’s not unique to one region—it’s a global issue. But based on my personal background and stories I've heard, the trauma faced by women in some African communities felt especially heavy. Stories of family members harming those closest to them—daughters, sisters, cousins—can leave a lasting impact. The sense of vulnerability can feel overwhelming.

Carrying Others’ Pain and Finding My Own

In the U.S., God has allowed me to walk with many women through their healing journeys. I’ve sat with their stories, prayed through their pain, and witnessed restoration. I expected something similar during my time in Africa—but what I encountered was different. More complex. More confronting.
One night, in a struggle for sleep, I felt a spiritual heaviness that deeply unsettled me. It was intimidating, even frightening. But God intervened. Still, the experience lingered in my mind and heart. It left a mark.

Facing Fear and Naming What Lies Beneath

There’s a fear that comes not only from what’s around us but also from within—the stories we’ve heard, the things we imagine, the possibilities we dread. I came face to face with mine during a prayer session.
When asked, “What is your greatest fear?” I wasn’t sure how to respond at first. Not because I was unwilling, but because I didn’t fully know. I took it to prayer.
What rose to the surface surprised me: the fear of being violated.
This was a real fear although I didn’t realize it. I had heard too many real stories from women—those who had been trafficked, exploited, or harmed. My heart grieved with them. But this time, I was being asked to surrender even that fear to God.
Not because I was inviting harm, but because I was learning to trust Him with every part of my story—even the parts I deeply hoped would never happen.

Surrendering Control and Learning to Trust

This wasn't the first time God had asked me to surrender something deeply personal. Years ago, I wrestled with a similar moment of surrender, one that changed the course of my life. I had to learn that if God was asking something of me, it was ultimately for good—even if it didn’t feel like it at the time. That yes was one of the hardest, but it shaped everything.
Over time, those moments of surrender have built a foundation of trust. Still, this particular fear felt bigger. More personal. And I had to ask myself: What if God’s plan includes things I would never choose for myself? Could I still say yes? Could I trust Him, even there?

Releasing Fear and Choosing Faith

I realized I had been holding tightly to the outcome. I needed to let go and allow God’s peace to replace fear. Not out of resignation, but out of trust. A trust rooted in His character, not in the guarantees of what might or might not happen.
This was not about expecting pain. It was about releasing fear’s grip and choosing faith over anxiety. I was choosing to believe that no matter what happened, God would be with me. That He would redeem every chapter for His purposes.
Fear distorts our view of success and failure. But God sees the full picture. He is not only the Chess Master—He designed the board, the players, and the moves. I don’t see everything clearly, but I know the One who does.

The Power of Surrender and the Light of Trust

Jesus Himself wrestled with surrender. In Mark 14:36, He prayed: “Abba, Father… everything is possible for you. Please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”
Paul faced similar moments. Despite warnings from his friends, he moved forward in obedience to God’s plan. And I’m learning to do the same.
True surrender means releasing my plans, my outcomes, my control. It means trusting that even what I cannot understand can be held safely in His hands. Even what I fear most is not beyond His redemptive reach.
John 12:46 reminds us: “I have come as a light to shine in this dark world, so that all who put their trust in me will no longer remain in the dark.”
The fear that once gripped me is losing its power. Not because circumstances have changed, but because trust is growing. Like those who have gone before me, I can now say: “Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”