When You Don’t Know What to Do

Have you ever felt like a ship tossed about by the waves—pulled in one direction by strong opinions, shoved in another by influencers, and then left drifting with your own uncertain feelings? I have.

I remember the days after 9/11. The infrastructure of my world felt rattled. I was unsafe, uncertain, and vulnerable. None of us knew how air travel or everyday life would change. The media filled every hour with flames of fear and anxiety. We didn’t have social media then, but we had enough noise to remind us that our lives were forever altered. Only years later did we finally see what those events would mean.

Now, here we are again. A public assassination, graphic and grotesque, seared into our collective memory. I cannot unsee it. Neither can my children. My 20-year-old daughter had to lay down after seeing the footage. My 17-year-old son grew angry after being shown the images he didn’t want to see. My clients are processing—grieving, raging, asking questions. Even my pastor began his sermon by pausing to reflect, acknowledge, and pray.

This is where we are: a people afraid, unsettled, and in need of a North Star.

What Do We Do When Tragedy Strikes?

Some light buildings on fire. Some light themselves on fire. Some become the fire. Others do nothing. Some pray. Some meditate. Others medicate.

But what about us? What do you do when tragedy falls?

1. Name the Storm

Before we can steer, we must admit it’s real. Saying “I feel scared, unsettled, angry, sad” isn’t weakness—it’s honesty. Naming grief is a first act of courage.

2. Anchor to a North Star

Without an anchor, we drift. For those of us who follow Christ, that anchor is God’s Word: “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). The question becomes: Who am I listening to most—the endless commentary, or the still small voice?

3. Choose Presence Over Performance

You don’t need to have the perfect reaction. Presence is enough. Sitting with your daughter in her fear, listening to your son’s anger, hearing a friend’s grief—these are holy acts. Sometimes, the most powerful response is not to fix, but to sit with.

4. Grieve With Hope

The Bible reminds us: “We do not grieve as those who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). Hope doesn’t erase grief, but it does transform it. We acknowledge pain while holding onto the truth that tragedy doesn’t get the final word.

5. Take the Next Faithful Step

You don’t need the whole map. Just the next step:

Whisper a prayer: “God, what do You want me to do with this?”

Follow the nudge—text a friend, step away from the noise, lead your family in prayer, write your lament.

That is already doing something.

6. Guard Your Heart

What you let replay in your mind will shape your spirit. Limit the looping images. Replace them with Scripture, worship, walks in nature, or trusted conversations. “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Proverbs 4:23).

A Tipping Point

We are at a tipping point as a society. But how it tips for you and me isn’t determined by headlines—it’s shaped in the quiet of our souls. The real question is not just what happened in the world, but what will I allow it to do in me?

So don’t shove this down, don’t deny it, and don’t numb yourself with distraction. Look it in the face. Acknowledge the brevity of life. Mourn. Then ask:

“God, what do I do with this?”

And then—obey.