Prayer

God, our Father, stands as a refuge for those who feel abandoned, offering comfort and guidance. His presence fills the spaces where fear once resided, replacing it with peace. The Holy Spirit whispers, leading us through the unknown, reminding us that we are never truly alone. In moments of doubt, we are called to trust in His love, knowing that His gospel overcomes all fear. This truth echoes in the song *Fear Is a Liar* by Williams (2018), reminding us that fear has no hold on those who walk in His light.

On December 30, 2025, I sat by the river and let the water name what my heart could not. The hush of dusk felt like a scripture read aloud: God as Father to the fatherless, not distant but near—an embrace that gathers the scattered and calls the lonely by name. In that quiet I felt less like a solitary voice and more like a child learning to trust a steady hand.

The Holy Spirit came as a gentle pointing, not a thunderclap—soft nudges that turned my attention from what I feared to what is true. Those nudges taught me how to pray with fewer words and more surrender, how to let the gospel reframe the stories I tell myself when fear begins to speak. The song that keeps returning to me names that lie and refuses them; its echo helped me practice saying the gospel back to my trembling thoughts.

So I write this as a small liturgy: a naming of fear, a declaration of gospel truth, and a vow to answer with presence. May these lines be a refuge—words that, when read again, remind me that I am held, guided, and sent into new life.