I have always wanted My Sobering Grace to be a place of honesty.

It would be easy to write only about the victories. It would be easy to share the moments when everything feels peaceful, my faith feels strong, and it seems as though every prayer has been answered exactly as I hoped. Those moments are gifts from God, and I am deeply thankful for them.

But they aren’t the whole story.

Following Jesus has transformed my life in ways I never could have imagined. He rescued me from my sin, led me into sobriety, gave me a new identity, and continues to shape me day by day into the person He created me to be. Yet becoming a Christian didn’t mean every struggle disappeared. Sobriety didn’t remove every battle overnight. Like every believer, I still walk through seasons where life feels heavy.

Recently, that battle has been anxiety.

Some mornings I wake up and, before I’ve even climbed out of bed, my mind is already racing. My thoughts run ahead to every possible problem, every uncertainty and every “what if” that could happen. It can feel exhausting before the day has even begun.

Anxiety has a way of making tomorrow’s worries seem bigger than today’s grace. It whispers lies that I need to have everything under control, even though only God knows what tomorrow holds. Instead of drawing my eyes to Christ, it tempts me to fix them on my fears.

Jesus speaks directly into that temptation:

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”
(Matthew 6:34)

I’m still learning what that looks like in practice. I still have days when anxiety feels louder than faith. But I’m discovering that the Christian life isn’t about pretending those struggles don’t exist. It’s about bringing them honestly before the One who already knows them.

That has become one of the greatest lessons of my journey with Christian anxiety. Faith isn’t measured by how peaceful I feel. Faith is revealed by where I take my fears.

Again and again, I choose to take them to Jesus.

Every single day, I pray about the things that make me anxious.

Sometimes those prayers are long as I pour my heart out before God. Other times they’re incredibly simple.

“Lord, I’m struggling today.”

“Please help me.”

“I don’t know what to do with these thoughts.”

“Help me trust You.”

There have been moments when those few words were all I could manage. Yet I’ve learned that God never asks His children for polished prayers or perfect words. He simply invites us to come to Him as we are.

One verse I return to time and time again is this:

“Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”
(1 Peter 5:7)

What amazes me isn’t only the command to cast my anxieties on Him – it’s the reason that follows.

Because He cares for you.

The Creator of the universe cares about the thoughts that keep me awake at night. He sees every racing thought, every hidden fear, every silent tear and every burden I struggle to put into words. Even when my anxiety doesn’t disappear immediately, I can rest in the assurance that I never carry it alone.

That truth naturally leads me to another passage that has become an anchor in this season.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
(Philippians 4:6-7)

For a long time, I misunderstood these verses.

I would read, “Do not be anxious,” and immediately feel guilty.

“I’m anxious all the time. Am I failing God?”

But as I’ve spent more time in God’s Word, I’ve realised that Paul isn’t writing to shame believers who struggle with anxiety. He’s writing to show us where anxious hearts should go.

He points us towards prayer.

Towards dependence.

Towards Jesus.

Rather than carrying every burden on my own, I’m invited to place it into the hands of the One who is sovereign over every circumstance. Every anxious thought becomes another opportunity to trust Christ instead of trusting my own understanding.

That doesn’t mean I get it right every time.

Some days I bring my worries to God once and experience a deep sense of peace. Other days I have to pray the same prayer again and again because my anxious thoughts keep returning. Yet every time I come back, I find the same gracious Saviour waiting for me. He never grows weary of His children. He never tells us we’ve come too many times. His invitation is always the same: come to Me.

As I’ve continued to walk through this season, I’ve realised that anxiety doesn’t only affect my thoughts – it also affects my motivation.

There are days when even simple tasks feel overwhelming. My mind feels exhausted before I’ve done anything, and I struggle to find the energy to do things I would normally enjoy. On those days, I don’t always feel like opening my Bible. I don’t always feel like praying. Sometimes I don’t even know what I would say if I did.

In the past, I probably would have allowed those feelings to pull me further away from God.

Now, by His grace, I’m learning to respond differently.

Even on my hardest days, I make sure I spend some time with the Lord.

Some mornings that looks like reading several chapters of Scripture, writing in my journal and spending unhurried time in prayer. Other mornings, if I’m being completely honest, it’s only a few verses and a simple prayer before I quietly close my Bible.

And do you know what I’ve discovered?

Jesus meets me there too.

I’ve realised that my relationship with God isn’t built on how much I read or how long I pray. It’s built entirely on what Jesus Christ has already accomplished through His death and resurrection. My quiet time isn’t about earning God’s love or proving my devotion – it’s about enjoying the relationship that Christ purchased for me at the cross.

That truth has brought tremendous freedom.

When my motivation is low, the enemy would love me to believe that there’s no point opening my Bible because I can’t give God my “best.”

But that’s a lie.

The gospel reminds me that I don’t approach God because I’ve had a perfect week or because I’ve prayed impressive prayers. I come confidently because Jesus has already made a way for me. His righteousness, not mine, is the reason I can draw near to the Father.

That changes everything.

Throughout the Gospels, we don’t see Jesus turning away people because they are weary, weak or overwhelmed. We see Him welcoming them.

That’s why His invitation has brought me so much comfort during this season:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
(Matthew 11:28)

Notice what Jesus doesn’t say.

He doesn’t say, “Come to me once you’ve sorted yourself out.”

He doesn’t say, “Come back when your mind is quiet.”

He doesn’t say, “Wait until your faith feels stronger.”

He simply says, come.

That invitation reminds me that my relationship with Christ isn’t based on how I feel on any given day. It is based on His finished work on the cross. Whether my mind feels calm or chaotic, Jesus remains the same yesterday, today and forever. His love for me doesn’t rise and fall with my emotions, and His grace isn’t dependent on my performance.

There have been mornings when I’ve sat quietly with my Bible, read only a handful of verses, whispered a short prayer and then carried on with my day.

It didn’t instantly remove my anxiety.

It didn’t answer every question.

It didn’t make every fear disappear.

But it did something far more important.

It lifted my eyes from my circumstances and fixed them back on Christ.

I was reminded that God is still sovereign.

Jesus is still reigning.

The Holy Spirit is still present.

And His promises remain true, regardless of how I feel.

One verse that has encouraged me greatly is:

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.”
(Isaiah 26:3)

That verse doesn’t promise a life without anxiety or hardship. Instead, it points us to the source of lasting peace. True peace isn’t found in having all the answers – it’s found in knowing the One who holds every answer in His hands.

I’ve also had to learn that while our feelings are real, they are not always reliable. Anxiety often tells me that I’m alone, that nothing will ever change or that I have to carry every burden by myself.

God’s Word tells a completely different story.

Scripture reminds me that He will never leave nor forsake His people (Hebrews 13:5).

It reminds me that He is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18).

It reminds me that His grace is sufficient and His power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).

When my emotions and God’s promises seem to be pulling in opposite directions, I have a choice to make. Will I believe my fears, or will I believe the God who cannot lie?

I’m learning – sometimes moment by moment – to trust His promises over my feelings.

Not because that’s always easy.

But because His Word is unchanging, even when my emotions are not.

This is why I continue to pray every day about the things that make me anxious. Prayer doesn’t always change my circumstances immediately, but it changes the direction of my heart. Instead of allowing anxiety to become the loudest voice in my life, I intentionally bring my attention back to Jesus.

Some days I have to do that many times.

And that’s okay.

Following Christ has never been about pretending we’re strong enough on our own. It’s about continually returning to the One whose strength is made perfect in our weakness. Every time I come back to Him, I’m reminded that He is faithful – even when I feel fragile.

Returning to Jesus again and again has also reminded me of another important truth.

One of the reasons I wanted to write this post is because I never want to give the impression that following Christ means life suddenly becomes easy.

It doesn’t.

Jesus never promised His followers a life free from suffering, fear or hardship. In fact, He lovingly prepared us for the reality that we would face difficult days. But He also gave us a promise that has sustained believers for centuries:

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”
(John 16:33)

Notice where Jesus says our peace is found.

Not in favourable circumstances.

Not in a mind that never struggles.

Not in a life without pain.

In Him.

That doesn’t minimise our struggles – it transforms how we walk through them. Because Jesus has overcome the world through His death and resurrection, our hope is anchored in Someone who cannot be shaken, even when we are.

As I write this today, I can’t honestly say my anxiety has disappeared.

There are still mornings when my thoughts race.

There are still moments when fear tries to take hold.

There are still days when I wish my mind felt quieter than it does.

But I can also say something with complete confidence:

God has been faithful through every single one of them.

Not once has He abandoned me.

Not once has He stopped listening to my prayers.

Not once has He grown tired of me bringing Him the same worries over and over again.

Instead, He has continued to remind me that His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22–23), and that His grace is sufficient for whatever today may bring.

When I look back over my life, I can see His fingerprints everywhere.

He carried me out of a life that revolved around alcohol and into the freedom of sobriety.

He has walked with me through seasons of depression.

He has remained faithful as I’ve wrestled with my same-sex attraction, my fears, my doubts and the questions I’ve carried to Him.

Time and time again, He has proved that He is exactly who He says He is.

So when anxiety tells me that God won’t be faithful tomorrow, I only have to look back to remember that He has never failed me before.

Why would He start now?

That doesn’t mean I understand everything He is doing.

It doesn’t mean I know how or when every prayer will be answered.

It doesn’t mean tomorrow will necessarily feel easier than today.

But it does mean I know who is walking with me.

As I’ve been studying John’s Gospel recently, I’ve found myself returning often to Jesus’ words about being the Good Shepherd. A shepherd doesn’t abandon his sheep when the path becomes difficult. He walks with them, protects them and leads them safely home.

That’s exactly what Jesus has done for me.

He has never left my side.

He has never stopped pursuing my heart.

He has never once loosened His grip on me.

And because my salvation rests in His hands rather than my own strength, I can face tomorrow knowing that He is already there.

If you’re reading this and you’re struggling with anxiety, I want you to know that you’re not alone.

More importantly, you don’t have to carry your burdens by yourself.

Bring your racing thoughts to Jesus.

Bring Him your sleepless nights.

Bring Him your unanswered questions.

Bring Him your deepest fears.

He already knows every one of them, and He still says, “Come to me.”

Maybe, like me, all you can manage today is a few verses of Scripture and a simple prayer.

If that’s all you have, don’t underestimate it.

The Lord isn’t impressed by long prayers or perfect quiet times. He delights in His children coming to Him because we belong to Him through Christ.

So keep opening your Bible.

Keep praying, even when the words feel few.

Keep trusting, even when your emotions haven’t caught up with the truth.

Most importantly, keep fixing your eyes on Jesus.

“Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith…”
(Hebrews 12:1-2)

He is the One who is holding onto you, even on the days when you feel like you’re barely holding onto Him.

Anxiety may be part of my story, but it will never define my identity.

Jesus does.

He is my hope when my mind feels overwhelmed.

He is my peace when my heart is restless.

He is my strength when I have none left.

He is my Saviour, my Shepherd and my King.

And because He lives, I know that no anxious thought, no difficult season and no struggle will ever have the final word.

Jesus will.