Steady In The Storm
- Martin Jarvis
- 15 minutes ago
- 2 min read
It’s easy to feel strong when life is smooth—when the bills are paid, the body feels good, the people we love are safe, and everything’s in order. But when adversity crashes in—when we get blindsided by fear, sickness, setbacks, or someone else's crisis—suddenly our strength wavers. That’s when we realize: strength isn't something you summon on the spot. It's something you train for.
The same goes for faith.
Faith isn’t just something we dust off when things go wrong. It’s something we build daily—quietly, intentionally—like eating right, taking your vitamins, or training your body in the gym. If you’ve ever exercised consistently, you know: skip a few days, and your body still carries the momentum. But if you’ve never trained, that hill will break you. Faith works the same way.
When you show up for your spirit—through daily prayer, meditation, or even moments of heartfelt gratitude—you’re not just checking a box. You’re conditioning your inner life. You’re preparing yourself for that moment when the news knocks the wind out of you. When your child stumbles. When someone you love falls into a pit of their own making. In those moments, your practiced faith becomes a reservoir you can draw from—even when your heart is shaking.
And let’s be honest. It’s not always our storms that test us. Sometimes it’s the storms happening in the lives of people we love. That kind of worry hits different. You can do everything “right,” live with integrity, treat people with love and decency—but the pain of watching someone else spiral can shake your soul. That’s why we don’t just build faith for ourselves. We build it so we can stand when someone else can’t.
Think of it like this: You don’t start learning self-defense the day you get attacked. You train ahead of time. You build your reflexes. You condition your body. So when the moment comes—even with fear in your chest—you move with purpose. That’s what faith is. A trained response. A spiritual muscle. A steady anchor.
Some days you might not feel like praying. That’s okay. Some days you might not have the words. That’s okay too. What matters is showing up. Saying thank you for what’s already in motion. Trusting that what you’ve already spoken is enough. Thanking God in advance, not because you’re begging—but because you believe.
You’re not trying to convince God. You’re convincing yourself.
You are reminding your own heart that healing is still possible. That protection still surrounds. That your children, your spouse, your friend going through it—are still being guided, even if the road looks rough right now.
This isn’t about pretending everything’s fine. It’s about knowing that even in the unknown, you’re not alone. That your steady walk, your quiet trust, your whispered prayers matter. That love doesn’t end where your control ends.
So train your spirit. Build your faith. Not just when the clouds roll in—but every day. Because when the storm hits, what you’ve planted in peace will hold you steady in chaos.
You won’t just survive. You’ll stand.
Comentarios