Day 7 — Walk Through the Woods
Read
Matthew 6:34 "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
Think
Fear doesn't ask permission to show up. But you get to decide who you walk with when it does.
I want to go back to where we started — to that little boy standing at the edge of the woods. EJ's buddy. Six years old. Absolutely certain he was not going through that dark patch of trees to get to the field. Not with coyotes. Not with snakes. Not with the sun going down.
When he said to me, "I'm not the bravest guy around," I didn't argue with him. I didn't tell him the fear was irrational. I didn't say, "You'll be fine, toughen up."
I said, "I'll walk with you through the woods to the field."
And this little boy — who had clearly decided he was staying put forever — looked up and said: "You will?"
And we went. EJ on one side of him, me on the other. Through the coyotes-and-snakes patch of woods, out to the field on the other side. And they had a great time.
That's the picture of what God is offering you at the end of this week.
Not the removal of the woods. Not a detour around the dark patch. Not a guarantee that there are no coyotes. He's offering to walk through it with you. And He is a far better companion than a dad with a flashlight.
Over the past six days, I've asked you to name your fear, to stop deifying it, to go historical instead of hysterical, to stand firm at your dead end, to be still, and to stop running scenarios. Those aren't just strategies. They're all different ways of doing the same thing: choosing to walk with God through the thing you're afraid of instead of standing frozen at the edge.
John 16:33 is Jesus being completely direct. He doesn't say trouble might come. He says in this world you will have trouble. The woods are real. The coyotes are real. You are not imagining the hard things in your life. And then — same sentence — He says: take heart. I have overcome the world.
Not I will overcome. Overcome. Done. Settled. The thing you're facing does not get the final word. Jesus does.
Isaiah 41 says God will uphold you with His righteous right hand. Not from a distance. Not theoretically. Uphold — to take hold of, to grip. Like a father walking a scared little boy through the dark, side by side, all the way through.
This is the invitation fear doesn't want you to take. Because fear wants to be your travel companion. It wants to be the thing you consult before every decision, the thing that keeps you safe by keeping you small. And for a while, it works. You don't take the risk, you don't have the conversation, you don't walk through the woods — and nothing bad happens. But nothing good happens either. You never get to the field.
You don't need to be brave. You just need to be willing. Willing to admit the fear. Willing to stop building it into something bigger than it is. Willing to let the history of what God has done speak louder than the anxiety of what might happen. Willing to say, "I'm not going alone" — and then step into the woods with the One who has already overcome everything waiting on the other side.
He'll walk with you. He already said so. The only question left is: will you go?
Apply
Look back at Day 1 — the fear you named at the beginning of this week. Write down one concrete step you're going to take toward it, not around it. Then take that step today with someone walking beside you: God in prayer, and ideally a person you trust who knows what you're carrying.
Pray
God, I started this week carrying something I didn't want to name. You've been faithful through all of it — through every dead end, every moment I went hysterical, every scenario I ran. I'm not braver than I was seven days ago. But I know You better. Walk with me through this. I'm not going alone anymore. Lead the way. Amen.