Rising Above

When Circumstances Threaten to Overwhelm Your Soul

Life has a way of wearing us down, doesn't it?

Between the rising cost of groceries, the uncertainties about health, the weight of watching loved ones age, and the constant drumbeat of troubling news from around the world, our souls can feel stretched thin. We look around and see suffering. We look ahead and see uncertainty. We look inward and find ourselves exhausted.

The question becomes urgent: How do we rise above circumstances that threaten to drown us in anxiety and fear?

The Weight We Carry

Jesus himself warned about this very thing. In Luke 21:34, he cautioned his followers to "watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the cares of this life." He understood that the circumstances of life—the relentless parade of worries, disappointments, and fears—have the power to crush us under their weight.

Our hearts can become so confused by what's happening around us that we try to escape. We distance ourselves. We numb ourselves with entertainment, food, or endless scrolling through social media. We become, in a sense, intoxicated by our own fear, losing our grip on reality just as surely as someone who has had too much to drink.

When fear takes over, we lose our perspective. We forget what we know to be true. We become bewildered, and our souls pay the price.

A Revolutionary Truth

But here's where the story takes a surprising turn: God has the authority to command our emotions.

This isn't some New Age self-help philosophy or the power of positive thinking dressed up in religious language. This is something far more profound. It's the recognition that our emotions—the very feelings that seem so uncontrollable—can be brought under the sovereign care of a loving God.

In Philippians 4:4-7, we find a remarkable passage that addresses this directly:

"Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand. 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."

Notice what's happening here. These aren't suggestions or helpful hints. They're commands. God commands our joys: "Rejoice in the Lord always." He commands our fears: "Do not be anxious about anything." He commands our gratitude: pray "with thanksgiving."

The Command to Rejoice

"Rejoice in the Lord always." The word "always" means exactly what you think it means—all the time, in every circumstance, even the ones that seem impossible to rise above.

This command is repeated for emphasis: "Again I will say, rejoice." The repetition tells us something important: this isn't easy. If it were natural, if it came without effort, we wouldn't need the command. God knows about your circumstances. He knows it's not easy. He's not asking you to pretend everything is fine.

But here's the key: we're commanded to rejoice in the Lord, not in our circumstances. Our joy isn't sourced in financial stability, physical health, or how we feel on any given day. Our joy is anchored to Jesus Christ, who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Tomorrow may bring dramatic changes to your world, but Jesus remains constant. When your joy is fixed on him, you can rejoice no matter what happens.

The Prohibition Against Anxiety

"Do not be anxious about anything." Not your finances. Not your health. Not your family. Not even the future of the things you care most deeply about.

This is a command to stop doing something we habitually do. We habitually worry. We habitually give in to fear. And the Scripture acknowledges our fears while telling us to stop surrendering to them.

There's a difference between concern and anxiety. God understands you have legitimate reasons to be concerned. He's not callously dismissing your struggles. But worry—that's something different. Worry is inherently a sign of unbelief.

When we give in to anxiety, we're making assumptions about God. We're assuming he's either forgotten about us, doesn't know about us, isn't able to help us, or won't help us. We're questioning his goodness, his power, or his concern for us.

Jesus addressed this directly in the Sermon on the Mount. He pointed to the birds of the air—God feeds them, and you're far more valuable than birds. He pointed to the lilies of the field—God clothes them in splendor, and you're far more valuable than flowers. "Do not be anxious," he said, "for the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all."

Your heavenly Father knows. He hasn't forgotten. He won't neglect you. He will never abandon or forsake you.

The Power of Gratitude

Woven through this passage is the thread of thanksgiving. We're to pray "with thanksgiving." This isn't just polite appreciation for blessings received. Gratitude is far more powerful than that.

When we give thanks to God, we're acknowledging his sovereignty over all things. We're recognizing his faithfulness, his provision, his control. We're declaring that our satisfaction is found in him, not in our circumstances.

This is worship. And it's the worship he deserves.

Even in the midst of sickness, even when we're doing without, even when the world seems to be falling apart—we can pause and say, "Thank you, God, because of who you are."

What This Actually Looks Like

So what does it mean practically to bring our emotions under God's sovereign care?

It doesn't mean denying how you feel. When you're grieving, Jesus knows you have reason to grieve. When you're worried about money, he doesn't expect you to pretend everything is fine. God isn't trying to fix the way you feel. Your emotions can't be fixed—you feel what you feel.

God fixes your response.

Under his care, you can be gentle in light of his presence. Instead of responding to turmoil with anger and insistence on your own rights, you can respond with kindness. You can put others first. This is made possible because "the Lord is at hand"—he is near, right now, not just someday in the future.

Under his care, you can pray in response to anxiety. Instead of wringing your hands with fear, you can bring your concerns to God with thanksgiving. This continuous focus on prayer and gratitude breaks the habit of worry.

Under his care, you have peace that guards your soul. This is divine peace—it doesn't come from your circumstances, and it doesn't make sense on paper. It surpasses human understanding. But it's real, and it protects your heart and mind like a military garrison protects a city.

A Picture of Victory

The book of Acts gives us a stunning picture of what this looks like in practice. Paul and Silas found themselves in prison in Philippi, their feet locked in stocks after being beaten. At midnight—in pain, in darkness, in chains—they prayed and sang hymns to God.

They rejoiced in the Lord. They prayed with thanksgiving. And when an earthquake shook the prison open, they responded with gentleness to the jailer who was about to take his own life. Their peace in impossible circumstances became the doorway for the gospel, and the jailer and his household came to faith.

This is what rising above your circumstances looks like.

The Invitation

You're invited today to bring your emotions under the sovereign care of Jesus. Stop trying to ignore how you feel. Stop trying to convince yourself to behave differently. Instead, invite Jesus to take control of the way you respond.

Take inventory of how you're feeling right now. Whatever it is—fear, anger, grief, confusion—bring it to him. Let him drive the bus. Let him have control of your responses instead of allowing your emotions to control you.

Your circumstances may not change. But you can rise above them by anchoring your soul to the One who never changes, who is always near, who is always good, and who commands even your emotions with the authority of perfect love.