“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” (NIV)

This Old Testament verse has given comfort and encouragement to so many. To give a little context, these beautiful words were spoken in the middle of chaos and despair. The Israelites were being chased by Pharaoh’s army. They were convinced that Moses had led them out of Egypt only to have them killed. They were desperate, terrified, and angry. It was at that time, Moses says,

“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” Exodus 14: 13-14 (NIV)

I did a little research on the Hebrew word often translated as “be still,” and found something surprising. The word chadash can also mean “to bear silently.” That really resonated with me. When I am in the midst of my own chaos, I tend towards complaining, negativity, and critical self talk. What a beautiful, gentle reminder to bear these challenges silently, all the while listening for His direction and guidance. Maybe this is all about spiritual surrender. About choosing honesty and worship over worry and whining. Prayer over panic. Listening over lashing out.

I’m in a season of stillness right now, and it’s been such a gift. It’s brought renewal to my spirit, healing to my heart, and a sense of peace I didn’t even realize I needed. This time has also become a space for growth and gentle realignment with what truly matters.

Over the years, I bought into the idea that “living life to the fullest” meant staying busy. Traveling, going on adventures, chasing experiences, and filling my calendar with brunches, festivals, and baseball games. But the more I reflect, the more I realize that my most cherished memories aren’t from big events, they’re from the quiet, ordinary moments: slow weekends in the backyard, cooking dinner with the kids when they were young, or working on home projects side by side with Dave.

Lately, one part of Scripture has been stirring in me deeply: my part. I fully trust that God is fighting for me, but He’s also inviting me to participate. He’s asking me to be still. Not passive. There’s a difference. I don’t expect God to move in my life without drawing near to Him in return. Our relationship requires presence. He calls me to talk with Him in prayer, to follow the red-letter words of Jesus, to love the ones the world forgets, and to listen for His voice guiding me toward purpose.

These quiet moments, these soul-deep pauses in life, are where I’m being filled again. I’m reminded of the beauty in simplicity: time with my husband, the warmth of our home, the joy of our fur babies. I open my Bible. I pray. I worship. I write. And in these small but sacred things, I find my cup overflowing.

Stillness is counterintuitive, especially when we’re hurting, waiting, or unsure. We want to act, fix, fight, and figure things out. But God calls us to a different kind of strength, the kind that trusts Him enough to be still.

So here’s what I want to tell you if you’re in a season of waiting, or grieving, or just plain exhausted. You don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t have to fix it all. You just need to be still. Because your God, the same one who parted the sea, who silenced storms, who raised the dead, is fighting for you. Take a moment today. Breathe. Get honest with God. Pour out your heart. Then, listen. Not for the thunder, but for the whisper. For the quiet reminder that you’re not alone, that He’s working, and that none of the challenges set before you are wasted. You are not forgotten. You are not abandoned. You are being refined. You are being fought for.

Father, thank You for fighting battles I can’t even see. Teach me how to be still. Quiet my anxious thoughts, soften my heart, and help me trust that You’re working even in the silence. Remind me that You are for me, and that nothing I face is bigger than You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.