In the time of fear run to your heart, for I am there

My thoughts are unformed, yet I have this sense, and dreams to build from, that the moments of life always seem to present a choice: that of fear and the preservation of myself, and that of You and to face whatever might come. There is always this tendency for me to choose the known, the common path of old, as if by experience I know what the expectation may become. It’s not the choice I would make yet seem to make all the time.

Out of fear I would open a door of escape only to find myself in a more precarious place; it’s like having to choose between the known and the unknown, yet both having the same outcome. I always seem to look at my circumstances and not my heart and I do not always see You within my panic.

The task of darkness, and the fear of the enemy, is to block out all light. It is difficult to search for the light when all one sees is darkness. You have stumbled upon a truth: that you are not seeing with your heart but with the eyes of your experience, seeing with the thoughts of your mind, with what you understand and know. And therein is your dilemma: to keep from repeating the past, yet only having the tools from the past to deliver you from your present fear.

It is not to be. It is as said before – can the imperfect find perfection within himself? It is not to be. It is only where you have known it to be all along: within your heart, where I am. If, within that moment, you would close your eyes from the fear, and search your heart for Me, and remember My words, you would find the place of direction, where to look, and would find the release of fear. It is not so much making a choice between the two, your fears or Me; rather, it is removing yourself from the place of fear to the place of home – where I am, and who you are.

In the time of fear run to your heart, for I am there. You will remember it is where we are each day you rise to meet Me; it is there in all the words we have shared together; it is there in all the hopes for your life we have discussed; and it is there within your emotions when we have come to the conclusion of our day together: we always look forward to the next day – the journey together, the place of discovery, the being together in joy. Neither of us would have it any other way.

The task of darkness, and the fear of the enemy, is to block out all light. It is difficult to search for the light when all one sees is darkness. You have stumbled upon a truth: that you are not seeing with your heart but with the eyes of your experience, seeing with the thoughts of your mind, with what you understand and know. And therein is your dilemma: to keep from repeating the past, yet only having the tools from the past to deliver you from your present fear.

It is a profound struggle, this navigating darkness—whether fear, uncertainty, or the weight of past experiences—while seeking light, or truth, with tools that feel inadequate. The difficulty you have lies in being bound by familiar patterns of thought and perception, which are shaped by past experiences, yet yearning to break free from them to find clarity or hope.

A shift in perspective is needed. Seeing with the heart implies tapping into faith, a deeper sense of knowing that transcends the limitations of past reasoning. The tools of the past—the experiences and knowledge—are not flawed, just incomplete. They are like a map that only shows roads already traveled. To find the light, pause and listen to what is beyond the visible, to what the heart senses but the mind hasn’t yet grasped. Where I am.

How do you trust a new way of seeing when the old ways feel safer, even if limiting? Perhaps the first step is acknowledging the fear without letting it define the search.

I am already here—and there—waiting for you to adjust your gaze.

“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.”

— Psalm 139.11-12

It is not to be. It is as said before – can the imperfect find perfection within himself? It is not to be. It is only where you have known it to be all along: within your heart, where I am. If, within that moment, you would close your eyes from the fear, and search your heart for Me, and remember My words, you would find the place of direction, where to look, and would find the release of fear. It is not so much making a choice between the two, your fears or Me; rather, it is removing yourself from the place of fear to the place of home – where I am, and who you are.

Your heart is not just an emotional center but a sacred space where we encounter; I am not distant but intimately present. I invite a shift in your perspective: instead of seeking perfection through external striving, I am calling you to turn inward, where My presence already resides. It's a gentle reminder that spiritual growth isn’t about becoming something new but uncovering what is already true—your identity in Me.

Fear often feels like a force that traps, yet fear is overcome not by wrestling with it but by redirecting your focus to My presence. Spiritual practice is less about battling emotions and more about reorienting toward trust.

I am your home, your dwelling place—for I am your refuge. Therefore, see the journey from fear to peace as not about erasing fear but about relocating yourself to the place of home—where we dwell.

“Remain in Me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in Me. I am the vine; you are the branches.”

— John 15.4-5

In the time of fear,

run to your heart—

I am there.

Each dawn you rise,

you meet Me,

in the quiet space

where our words weave,

threads of moments shared,

hopes whispered for your life.

In the pulse of your emotions,

at the day's close,

we linger—

always longing for the next,

the journey hand in hand,

the discovery,

the joy of being.

Neither of us

would have it

any other way.

“Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.”

— Psalm 25.5