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I was a young pastor, probably 23 or 24 years old, when my pastor had back surgery and told me I had to preach Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and the following Sunday. I felt incredibly unprepared and insecure, and for the first time in my life I experienced a crushing, overwhelming sense of anxiety. I was terrified, convinced I wasn't good enough. I remember the shortness of breath, my heart racing.
I went to talk to an older, very wise spiritual leader—a man I trusted and admired. I told him, "I am overwhelmed with anxiety. I don't know what to do." He looked at me and said, "Christians shouldn't have anxiety, especially pastors. You should just give it to God." Then he quoted Philippians 4:4-6, almost condescendingly: "Rejoice in the Lord always. I say it again, rejoice. Let your gentleness be evident to all, the Lord is near. Don't be anxious about anything."
I felt deflated, hurt, and a little angry. I thought, "Really? Is that even possible?"
I don't know what's in your world, but I can only imagine the financial pressure today—bills to pay, kids heading back to school, relational issues, health challenges, job stress, inflation. Is it possible not to be anxious in this world? You open a news app and the whole world seems to be falling apart.
You're not alone if you feel like you're battling anxiety. According to a 2019 study, two out of three Americans said they were anxious or extremely anxious. That was before the pandemic. Since then, the numbers have only gotten worse, and the frequency and intensity of anxiety is hitting record levels, especially for younger generations.
One study shows that 91% of high school and college-age students report consistent and significant levels of anxiety associated with stress. This is one of the most common and prolific mental health issues of our day.
I want to acknowledge that anxiety is an incredibly complex subject. This is a spiritual discussion, but I recognize that many of us need expert help, and that's okay. We're all on different points of the anxiety spectrum.
For some, anxiety might be occasional—a minor sense of uneasiness around a test, a presentation, a social situation where you feel awkward. Or that one person—you know the one—when their name appears on your phone, you panic. What are they going to say? You finally text back, bubbles appear, then disappear, and you freak out.
For others, anxiety can be crushing and debilitating. There's a constant sense of dread, shortness of breath, your heart rate rising, walls closing in. You can't function in a normal capacity.
Wherever you are on the spectrum, I want you to know and feel that God cares about you. He wants to help. That's why today's message is "Heal My Anxious Mind."
First, I want to show you that anxiety isn't a sin. If you look at Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, before he gave his life on the cross, he knelt down and begged God, "Is there any other way?" He knew the suffering coming and said, "May this cup of suffering be removed from me." And he cried out, "I am in agony"—deep, anguishing agony. He sweat literal drops of blood as he submitted to God's will, saying, "Not my will, but may your will be done."
Anxiety isn't a sin. It's actually a symptom—or we might say it's a signal.
Think of a car's warning light. When a red light comes on, the car didn't do something wrong. The signal is indicating there's something about the car that needs to be discovered and fixed. You don't throw the car out; you take it to a mechanic. In the same way, if you find yourself battling anxiety, this isn't a sin—it's a signal alerting you to three things:
Anxiety is a signal telling you to turn to God and pray. This is exactly what King Jehoshaphat did in 2 Chronicles 20. The Moabites, Ammonites, and Meunites were attacking on three sides. He was terrified, alarmed, anxious by this news. But he took his burden to God, prayed, and begged the Lord for guidance: "Show me what to do."
His prayer was powerful:
"Lord, the God of our ancestors, are you not the God who is in heaven? You rule over all the kingdoms of the nations. Power and might are in your hand, no one can withstand you. If calamity comes upon us, whether the sword of judgment, or plague or famine, we will stand in your presence before this temple that bears your Name and we will cry out to you in distress, and you will hear us and save us."
You can pray like that. When you feel anxious, overwhelmed, not knowing what to do, you can cry out to God with faith and grandeur. Or you can do what I do: "Help! Help! I don't know what to do!" You can get brutally honest. Why is this happening, God? I don't understand. I feel alone. I feel desperate. I can't get out. And have faith that he'll hear the cries of your heart.
Dr. Caroline Leaf, a communication pathologist and cognitive neuroscientist, discovered something remarkable in her research: "In 12 minutes of daily focused prayer over an eight-week period, the brain can change to such an extent that it can be measured on a brain scan."
Here's the power: "Not only does prayer touch the heart of God, but prayer changes the chemistry of your brain."
This is incredibly exciting because our brain is not fixed. We live in an era where science has shown us that the brain can change. The technical term is neuroplasticity. The more you think a thought, the easier it becomes to think that thought, because you're creating neural pathways through your brain that God designed and can renew and change. Prayer can literally change the chemistry of your brain.
God designed the amygdala—that little almond-shaped thing—for our good. When something goes wrong, it says, "Alarm, alarm, alarm." If you're walking through the woods and hear rustling, you don't think it's a bunny rabbit. You think it's a tiger, a lion, a bear. That's the amygdala doing its job. But the problem is when we start to dwell on the alarm.
The word in scripture most often translated as anxiety is merimnao. It literally means dwelling or pondering on fearful or anxious thoughts. It's an image of meditating on the negative. In other words, some of us are training our brains to be anxious. We're ruminating, rehearsing. We think about what could go wrong, and we're training the neural pathways in our brain to focus on the negative.
It may be natural to think about what could go wrong, but prayer is not natural. Prayer is supernatural. While it may be natural to think about what could go wrong, supernatural prayer breaks the cycle. It takes our mind off what we're afraid of. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
Prayer breaks the cycle. It doesn't just touch the heart of God; it changes your brain.
Now watch how honest Jehoshaphat is. He says in verse 12:
"For we have no power to face this vast army that's attacking us. We don't know what to do. But my eyes are on you."
Do you ever feel like that? There's just too much for you. You can't handle it all. You don't have what it takes. You don't know if you can go on.
He's admitting the truth: "I don't have what it takes. I'm not strong enough. I don't know what to do. But my eyes are on you."
Think about what he's saying: "I'm always looking to you. I'm desperate for you. I need you. I'm training my mind to think about you. I'm not believing the lies of the enemy, but I'm renewing my mind with truth. I'm looking at your character, your nature, your goodness, your righteousness, your power. I'm choosing to believe you're with me. I believe by faith you're working in all things—even the very things I do not want—bringing about good, because I love you and I know I'm called according to your purpose."
You weren't designed to handle it on your own.
1 Peter 5:7 says this:
"Cast all of your anxiety on God because he cares for you."
The word cast is a fishing term—like casting a line. Here it is, God. I don't understand it, God. I'm hurting, God. I'm desperate. I feel alone. My heart rate is rising. I'm sweating. I'm freaking out about my kids, about money. I can't handle all the tension in the world. I don't know what I'm going to do with my future. Should I stay with this person? Should I stay in this job I hate? Here it is, God.
If it's on your mind, it's on his heart. If it's big enough for you to worry about, it's big enough to pray about.
You take it to him. You take it to him again. You take it to him. God cares. You cast your cares because he cares for you.
Anxiety is not a sin. It's a signal. It's alerting you that you're not designed to do it on your own. It's time to take it to God in prayer.
After Jehoshaphat prayed, something interesting happened. He didn't jump in and take control. He didn't use his "spiritual gift of manipulation" to manage things. (I do that all the time—I hand something to God, then I think, "You're taking too long," and I take it back.)
No. What happened next was this: "All the men of Judah, with their wives and children and little ones, stood there before the Lord."
I'm an activator. I want to say, "Don't just stand there, do something!" But sometimes God says, "Don't just do something—stand there." There are times when God tells you to be still. "I don't know what to do. I don't have the power. My eyes are on you. Be still and know that I care. I'm with you. I am God."
Now, sometimes God heals us of anxiety instantly. And sometimes it's more of a process. Sometimes he directs you to a Bible verse that renews your mind, or helps you change your diet so your body's chemistry works better, or helps you find a doctor who recognizes that a prescription can normalize the chemicals in your brain, or you do deep therapy with someone who helps you name, face, forgive, and heal from trauma. Sometimes you retrain your brain through cognitive behavior therapy. Sometimes it's instant, sometimes it's a process. But it always starts with God, is directed by God, and is a result of God.
While Jehoshaphat and Judah waited, the Spirit of the Lord came on Jahaziel and said:
"Don't be afraid or discouraged."
If you don't know what to do, don't know where to go, and feel like it's too much, maybe this is God's word for you.
Sometimes when we pray about our anxiety, God heals us instantly. But often it's more of a process. God may direct you to a Bible verse that renews your mind, guide you to change your diet so your body's chemistry works better, lead you to a doctor who recognizes that a prescription can normalize the chemicals in your brain, or connect you with a therapist who helps you name, face, forgive, and heal from trauma. Sometimes you retrain your brain through cognitive behavior therapy. Whatever the path, it always starts with God, is directed by God, and is a result of God.
While Jehoshaphat and Judah waited, the Spirit of the Lord came upon Jahaziel with this message:
"Don't be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God's. Go out and face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you."
If you don't know what to do, don't know where to go, and feel like it's too much, this is God's word for you: Don't be afraid. The battle is the Lord's. Face it. He's with you. He's for you. He loves you. He cares about you. His power is real. He will never leave you. He will never forsake you.
Anxiety is not a sin—it's a signal. It's alerting you that it's time to pray, time to pause, and time to praise. It's time to thank God for who he is.
Jehoshaphat did something very unusual in warfare. He sent the worship team out on the frontlines with instruments as their weapons. The worshipers began praising God before there was a victory. By God's miracle, the enemy forces that came to attack Judah turned on each other and destroyed themselves.
This is remarkable: they praised before the victory, not after. When all the anxiety is gone, it's easy to praise God. But it takes faith—real faith—to praise God in this moment when you're hurting, when you're feeling anxiety, when you don't know what to do and you don't see a way out.
After Jehoshaphat prayed, paused, and praised, Scripture says:
"The fear of God came on all the surrounding kingdoms when they heard how the Lord had fought against the enemies of Israel... And the fear of God came across the land and the kingdom of Jehoshaphat was at peace, for his God had given him rest on every side."
The Lord fought the battle. God had given them rest.
About three years ago, I experienced a massive breakdown. On the outside, I was able to function. On the inside, I was terrified. I felt a deep sense of inadequacy. I had pushed my body way too far, and my mind was breaking down.
I sought help from a counselor. We prayed together. Then he said, "We're gonna do some breathing." I thought, I don't have time to just sit around and breathe. I have other things to do. But we breathed and gave our burdens to God. We normalized my stress and began thanking him before seeing the victory. I started memorizing Scripture and let God renew my mind.
God fought with me and God fought for me. It didn't happen instantly. It took two years before I felt comfortable saying, "I'm doing better." But now I feel stronger with God than I have in my whole life in ministry. He's given me rest on every side.
This is how I fight my battles:
I pray. I take it to God. When I don't know what to do, I press into God and keep my eyes on him.
I pause. By nature, I'm tempted to act, but sometimes I wait. I pause and sit in his presence and let him do what only he can do.
I praise. I thank him, I worship him, I give him great praise.
I may look like I'm surrounded, but I'm surrounded by God. Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against rulers and powers and principalities and authorities of this dark world. We should never be afraid or discouraged because the battle is not ours—it's the Lord's.
Here's how Scripture puts it:
"Don't be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds."
This is how we fight our battles. We may look like we're surrounded, but God is all around us.
There is a battle going on for you—for your heart. It's a spiritual battle between the kingdom of God, the kingdom of light, and the forces of darkness. The forces of darkness hate what matters to God. And you know what matters to God? You matter to God.
God loved you so much that when you were broken and dead in your sins, God became one of us in the person of Jesus. Jesus, the Son of God, was perfect in every way. He shed innocent blood and surrendered to the will of God: "Not my will, but your will be done." He became the innocent sacrifice. He gave his life so our sins could be forgiven.
If you feel a weight, heaviness, guilt, or shame—if there's a battle being fought for you—that's the Holy Spirit drawing you to God. You're here because he loves you and because he wants you. You simply surrender and say, "I want your love. I want your grace."
We've all sinned. We've done wrong against our Holy God. But because of the grace of Jesus, our sins can be forgiven. It's not just a transaction—we experience God's presence, his goodness, his life, his healing. He becomes our God, and he fights for us.
Wherever you're watching from, if you say, "I recognize that I've sinned. I need a Savior. I want his forgiveness. I want his presence. I'm ready. I want his peace. I want his rest," then call on the name of Jesus. God hears your prayers. He forgives every sin—completely gone. You become new.
I was a young pastor, probably 23 or 24 years old, when my pastor had back surgery and told me I had to preach Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and the following Sunday. I felt incredibly unprepared and insecure, and for the first time in my life I experienced a crushing, overwhelming sense of anxiety. I was terrified, convinced I wasn't good enough. I remember the shortness of breath, my heart racing.
I went to talk to an older, very wise spiritual leader—a man I trusted and admired. I told him, "I am overwhelmed with anxiety. I don't know what to do." He looked at me and said, "Christians shouldn't have anxiety, especially pastors. You should just give it to God." Then he quoted Philippians 4:4-6, almost condescendingly: "Rejoice in the Lord always. I say it again, rejoice. Let your gentleness be evident to all, the Lord is near. Don't be anxious about anything."
I felt deflated, hurt, and a little angry. I thought, "Really? Is that even possible?"
I don't know what's in your world, but I can only imagine the financial pressure today—bills to pay, kids heading back to school, relational issues, health challenges, job stress, inflation. Is it possible not to be anxious in this world? You open a news app and the whole world seems to be falling apart.
You're not alone if you feel like you're battling anxiety. According to a 2019 study, two out of three Americans said they were anxious or extremely anxious. That was before the pandemic. Since then, the numbers have only gotten worse, and the frequency and intensity of anxiety is hitting record levels, especially for younger generations.
One study shows that 91% of high school and college-age students report consistent and significant levels of anxiety associated with stress. This is one of the most common and prolific mental health issues of our day.
I want to acknowledge that anxiety is an incredibly complex subject. This is a spiritual discussion, but I recognize that many of us need expert help, and that's okay. We're all on different points of the anxiety spectrum.
For some, anxiety might be occasional—a minor sense of uneasiness around a test, a presentation, a social situation where you feel awkward. Or that one person—you know the one—when their name appears on your phone, you panic. What are they going to say? You finally text back, bubbles appear, then disappear, and you freak out.
For others, anxiety can be crushing and debilitating. There's a constant sense of dread, shortness of breath, your heart rate rising, walls closing in. You can't function in a normal capacity.
Wherever you are on the spectrum, I want you to know and feel that God cares about you. He wants to help. That's why today's message is "Heal My Anxious Mind."
First, I want to show you that anxiety isn't a sin. If you look at Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, before he gave his life on the cross, he knelt down and begged God, "Is there any other way?" He knew the suffering coming and said, "May this cup of suffering be removed from me." And he cried out, "I am in agony"—deep, anguishing agony. He sweat literal drops of blood as he submitted to God's will, saying, "Not my will, but may your will be done."
Anxiety isn't a sin. It's actually a symptom—or we might say it's a signal.
Think of a car's warning light. When a red light comes on, the car didn't do something wrong. The signal is indicating there's something about the car that needs to be discovered and fixed. You don't throw the car out; you take it to a mechanic. In the same way, if you find yourself battling anxiety, this isn't a sin—it's a signal alerting you to three things:
Anxiety is a signal telling you to turn to God and pray. This is exactly what King Jehoshaphat did in 2 Chronicles 20. The Moabites, Ammonites, and Meunites were attacking on three sides. He was terrified, alarmed, anxious by this news. But he took his burden to God, prayed, and begged the Lord for guidance: "Show me what to do."
His prayer was powerful:
"Lord, the God of our ancestors, are you not the God who is in heaven? You rule over all the kingdoms of the nations. Power and might are in your hand, no one can withstand you. If calamity comes upon us, whether the sword of judgment, or plague or famine, we will stand in your presence before this temple that bears your Name and we will cry out to you in distress, and you will hear us and save us."
You can pray like that. When you feel anxious, overwhelmed, not knowing what to do, you can cry out to God with faith and grandeur. Or you can do what I do: "Help! Help! I don't know what to do!" You can get brutally honest. Why is this happening, God? I don't understand. I feel alone. I feel desperate. I can't get out. And have faith that he'll hear the cries of your heart.
Dr. Caroline Leaf, a communication pathologist and cognitive neuroscientist, discovered something remarkable in her research: "In 12 minutes of daily focused prayer over an eight-week period, the brain can change to such an extent that it can be measured on a brain scan."
Here's the power: "Not only does prayer touch the heart of God, but prayer changes the chemistry of your brain."
This is incredibly exciting because our brain is not fixed. We live in an era where science has shown us that the brain can change. The technical term is neuroplasticity. The more you think a thought, the easier it becomes to think that thought, because you're creating neural pathways through your brain that God designed and can renew and change. Prayer can literally change the chemistry of your brain.
God designed the amygdala—that little almond-shaped thing—for our good. When something goes wrong, it says, "Alarm, alarm, alarm." If you're walking through the woods and hear rustling, you don't think it's a bunny rabbit. You think it's a tiger, a lion, a bear. That's the amygdala doing its job. But the problem is when we start to dwell on the alarm.
The word in scripture most often translated as anxiety is merimnao. It literally means dwelling or pondering on fearful or anxious thoughts. It's an image of meditating on the negative. In other words, some of us are training our brains to be anxious. We're ruminating, rehearsing. We think about what could go wrong, and we're training the neural pathways in our brain to focus on the negative.
It may be natural to think about what could go wrong, but prayer is not natural. Prayer is supernatural. While it may be natural to think about what could go wrong, supernatural prayer breaks the cycle. It takes our mind off what we're afraid of. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
Prayer breaks the cycle. It doesn't just touch the heart of God; it changes your brain.
Now watch how honest Jehoshaphat is. He says in verse 12:
"For we have no power to face this vast army that's attacking us. We don't know what to do. But my eyes are on you."
Do you ever feel like that? There's just too much for you. You can't handle it all. You don't have what it takes. You don't know if you can go on.
He's admitting the truth: "I don't have what it takes. I'm not strong enough. I don't know what to do. But my eyes are on you."
Think about what he's saying: "I'm always looking to you. I'm desperate for you. I need you. I'm training my mind to think about you. I'm not believing the lies of the enemy, but I'm renewing my mind with truth. I'm looking at your character, your nature, your goodness, your righteousness, your power. I'm choosing to believe you're with me. I believe by faith you're working in all things—even the very things I do not want—bringing about good, because I love you and I know I'm called according to your purpose."
You weren't designed to handle it on your own.
1 Peter 5:7 says this:
"Cast all of your anxiety on God because he cares for you."
The word cast is a fishing term—like casting a line. Here it is, God. I don't understand it, God. I'm hurting, God. I'm desperate. I feel alone. My heart rate is rising. I'm sweating. I'm freaking out about my kids, about money. I can't handle all the tension in the world. I don't know what I'm going to do with my future. Should I stay with this person? Should I stay in this job I hate? Here it is, God.
If it's on your mind, it's on his heart. If it's big enough for you to worry about, it's big enough to pray about.
You take it to him. You take it to him again. You take it to him. God cares. You cast your cares because he cares for you.
Anxiety is not a sin. It's a signal. It's alerting you that you're not designed to do it on your own. It's time to take it to God in prayer.
After Jehoshaphat prayed, something interesting happened. He didn't jump in and take control. He didn't use his "spiritual gift of manipulation" to manage things. (I do that all the time—I hand something to God, then I think, "You're taking too long," and I take it back.)
No. What happened next was this: "All the men of Judah, with their wives and children and little ones, stood there before the Lord."
I'm an activator. I want to say, "Don't just stand there, do something!" But sometimes God says, "Don't just do something—stand there." There are times when God tells you to be still. "I don't know what to do. I don't have the power. My eyes are on you. Be still and know that I care. I'm with you. I am God."
Now, sometimes God heals us of anxiety instantly. And sometimes it's more of a process. Sometimes he directs you to a Bible verse that renews your mind, or helps you change your diet so your body's chemistry works better, or helps you find a doctor who recognizes that a prescription can normalize the chemicals in your brain, or you do deep therapy with someone who helps you name, face, forgive, and heal from trauma. Sometimes you retrain your brain through cognitive behavior therapy. Sometimes it's instant, sometimes it's a process. But it always starts with God, is directed by God, and is a result of God.
While Jehoshaphat and Judah waited, the Spirit of the Lord came on Jahaziel and said:
"Don't be afraid or discouraged."
If you don't know what to do, don't know where to go, and feel like it's too much, maybe this is God's word for you.
Sometimes when we pray about our anxiety, God heals us instantly. But often it's more of a process. God may direct you to a Bible verse that renews your mind, guide you to change your diet so your body's chemistry works better, lead you to a doctor who recognizes that a prescription can normalize the chemicals in your brain, or connect you with a therapist who helps you name, face, forgive, and heal from trauma. Sometimes you retrain your brain through cognitive behavior therapy. Whatever the path, it always starts with God, is directed by God, and is a result of God.
While Jehoshaphat and Judah waited, the Spirit of the Lord came upon Jahaziel with this message:
"Don't be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God's. Go out and face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you."
If you don't know what to do, don't know where to go, and feel like it's too much, this is God's word for you: Don't be afraid. The battle is the Lord's. Face it. He's with you. He's for you. He loves you. He cares about you. His power is real. He will never leave you. He will never forsake you.
Anxiety is not a sin—it's a signal. It's alerting you that it's time to pray, time to pause, and time to praise. It's time to thank God for who he is.
Jehoshaphat did something very unusual in warfare. He sent the worship team out on the frontlines with instruments as their weapons. The worshipers began praising God before there was a victory. By God's miracle, the enemy forces that came to attack Judah turned on each other and destroyed themselves.
This is remarkable: they praised before the victory, not after. When all the anxiety is gone, it's easy to praise God. But it takes faith—real faith—to praise God in this moment when you're hurting, when you're feeling anxiety, when you don't know what to do and you don't see a way out.
After Jehoshaphat prayed, paused, and praised, Scripture says:
"The fear of God came on all the surrounding kingdoms when they heard how the Lord had fought against the enemies of Israel... And the fear of God came across the land and the kingdom of Jehoshaphat was at peace, for his God had given him rest on every side."
The Lord fought the battle. God had given them rest.
About three years ago, I experienced a massive breakdown. On the outside, I was able to function. On the inside, I was terrified. I felt a deep sense of inadequacy. I had pushed my body way too far, and my mind was breaking down.
I sought help from a counselor. We prayed together. Then he said, "We're gonna do some breathing." I thought, I don't have time to just sit around and breathe. I have other things to do. But we breathed and gave our burdens to God. We normalized my stress and began thanking him before seeing the victory. I started memorizing Scripture and let God renew my mind.
God fought with me and God fought for me. It didn't happen instantly. It took two years before I felt comfortable saying, "I'm doing better." But now I feel stronger with God than I have in my whole life in ministry. He's given me rest on every side.
This is how I fight my battles:
I pray. I take it to God. When I don't know what to do, I press into God and keep my eyes on him.
I pause. By nature, I'm tempted to act, but sometimes I wait. I pause and sit in his presence and let him do what only he can do.
I praise. I thank him, I worship him, I give him great praise.
I may look like I'm surrounded, but I'm surrounded by God. Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against rulers and powers and principalities and authorities of this dark world. We should never be afraid or discouraged because the battle is not ours—it's the Lord's.
Here's how Scripture puts it:
"Don't be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds."
This is how we fight our battles. We may look like we're surrounded, but God is all around us.
There is a battle going on for you—for your heart. It's a spiritual battle between the kingdom of God, the kingdom of light, and the forces of darkness. The forces of darkness hate what matters to God. And you know what matters to God? You matter to God.
God loved you so much that when you were broken and dead in your sins, God became one of us in the person of Jesus. Jesus, the Son of God, was perfect in every way. He shed innocent blood and surrendered to the will of God: "Not my will, but your will be done." He became the innocent sacrifice. He gave his life so our sins could be forgiven.
If you feel a weight, heaviness, guilt, or shame—if there's a battle being fought for you—that's the Holy Spirit drawing you to God. You're here because he loves you and because he wants you. You simply surrender and say, "I want your love. I want your grace."
We've all sinned. We've done wrong against our Holy God. But because of the grace of Jesus, our sins can be forgiven. It's not just a transaction—we experience God's presence, his goodness, his life, his healing. He becomes our God, and he fights for us.
Wherever you're watching from, if you say, "I recognize that I've sinned. I need a Savior. I want his forgiveness. I want his presence. I'm ready. I want his peace. I want his rest," then call on the name of Jesus. God hears your prayers. He forgives every sin—completely gone. You become new.
