Don’t worry about it!

When I was younger, they called me Worrywart. I worried about everything—big or small. The weather, sports, sickness, health, the past, the future—you name it. But what consumed me most was worry about myself. What was going on inside me? Why did I feel so uncertain about who I was or what would become of me?

Now that I’m older, I believe some of that came from being adopted. Adoption is a beautiful thing, but it also carries layers of uncertainty—about where you came from, who you are, and what your place is in the world. That kind of uncertainty fed my worry.

But nothing got me more worked up than knowing I had upset someone. If someone was angry with me, I couldn’t rest. I just wanted peace. I would do anything to restore it.

Have you ever felt anything like that? Maybe you worry about your finances. Or your kids. Maybe you carry anxiety about politics, your health, or whether you’ll develop cancer one day. The truth is, we are worrying people. Always have been.

And worry has cousins—fear, anxiety, and even anger. In fact, anger is often just fear in disguise: fear of losing control, fear of being misunderstood, fear of being powerless. And when anger turns outward or inward, it rarely leads to anything good. We criticize, defend, shut down, lash out, or—worse—become contemptuous. That’s what happens when perfectionism masquerades as superiority. It’s really fear and insecurity dressed up as pride.

But here’s something to think about:
Worry is faith turned inside out.

Faith is believing even when you can’t see, touch, or feel. Worry is what happens when you have seen, touched, and felt—but still can’t believe. Why does this happen? Because the human brain is a phenomenal instrument—it can be used for good or for harm.

Every time you worry, your brain creates a tiny rut, a path, called a neural pathway. Travel that same path over and over, and it deepens into a gully. Your brain begins to default to worry—not because you’re weak, but because that’s the path that’s been most traveled.

But the same is true for faith. If you think something true, life-giving, and hope-filled—and do it consistently—you create a new rut. A healthy one. Over time, it deepens into a faith-gully. So when worry comes knocking, your brain has a choice: travel the old worry-gully, or take the newer, stronger path of faith.

Try this:

Say one healthy thing about yourself out loud. Right now.
Then do it again tomorrow. And the next day. For 10 days.

What happens next is what Scripture calls “the renewing of your mind.” You start changing your thought patterns. Healthy thoughts lead to healthy behaviors. Healthy behaviors lead to better choices. Better choices lead to better outcomes.

And one day, when worry comes knocking, it finds a stronger, deeper path already paved: the path of faith.

So let me ask you:

• What would your life look like if you worried less?

• How might your anxieties shrink if you practiced just one healthy thought a day for 10 days?

• What if you approached your Sunday night with faith instead of dread?

• What if you handled family challenges with faith instead of fear?

I dare you—try it for 10 days.

And hey—don’t worry about it.