Truth and Trust: Where Do You Find Solid Ground?
Who do you trust? And how do you decide what is true?
I’ve been thinking about those questions lately.
We live in a world overflowing with information. Stories, headlines, opinions, videos, and confident voices compete for our attention. Some encourage us. Others leave us anxious, angry, or afraid.
Sometimes we share something before we know whether it is accurate. Sometimes we hear something so often that it begins to feel like a fact.
But repetition doesn’t make something true. Neither does popularity.
Greg and I talk about perception and reality. We can look at the same situation and see it differently. Our experiences shape our perspectives, but our perspectives don’t always tell the whole story.
That makes me pause—not only before believing something, but before passing it along.
Am I sharing truth? Am I adding understanding? Or am I adding more noise to a world already overwhelmed?
Then there is the more personal question: Who can I trust?
A friend? A neighbor? A colleague? Someone from church?
I believe there are trustworthy people. I have been blessed by many of them. Yet people are human. We misunderstand, disappoint, and sometimes hurt one another. I know I don’t always get it right either.
The foundation I trust completely is God and His Word.
That is why I don’t simply read the Bible. I soak in it.
Many mornings, I wake around 4 a.m. Before my feet touch the floor, I pray:
“Lord, help me be more like You and less like me.”
I begin with Scripture and prayer. Then I listen to devotionals—sometimes reading along, sometimes closing my eyes and letting the words settle into my heart.
Lately, I’ve been spending time in Job.
His story is difficult. There is suffering, loss, confusion, and questioning. Job doesn’t pretend everything is fine. He grieves. He wrestles. He brings his anguish to God.
That speaks to me.
Faith doesn’t require us to silence every question. Sometimes faith means bringing our hardest questions to God and staying in the conversation.
I also read through the New Testament. In the evenings, Greg and I watch The Chosen, often revisiting episodes and discussing what they stir in us. The dramatization helps us imagine the people and settings, while Scripture remains our foundation.
These rhythms help steady me. They don’t remove every hardship, but they remind me that I don’t have to face it alone.
I’ve also been thinking about artificial intelligence and connection.
I use AI to help organize my thoughts and clarify my words. If you’ve ever heard one of my run-on sentences, you know that can be a ministry all its own!
But every tool needs its place.
A polished answer still needs discernment. Encouraging words on a screen cannot replace the depth of human relationships—the listening, honest disagreement, curiosity, and love that help us grow.
I want to keep making room for those conversations.
Especially with people I love who don’t share my faith.
My heart longs for them to know the hope I find in Jesus. Yet loving someone does not give me control over their journey. I can listen, share, pray, and live what I believe. I can invite without pressuring.
I can trust God with what I cannot change.
That is why the Serenity Prayer means so much to me: serenity to accept what I cannot change, courage to change what I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
There is freedom in remembering that I am responsible for my words, choices, and actions. I am not in charge of everyone else.
Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” —John 14:6
When the world feels confusing, that is where I return.
To truth that grounds me.
To love that guides me.
To hope that helps me take another step.
As you care for your spiritual health this Thursday, what helps you discern truth and return to peace?
Before my feet hit the ground tomorrow, my prayer will be the same:
“Lord, help me be more like You and less like me.”
Authentically Annie
