Biblical Hope for a Season of Anxiety

Lately, I’ve been walking through a season of anxiety that feels unfamiliar and overwhelming. It’s the kind that creeps in without asking permission, settling into my mind and body before I even realize it’s there. Some days it’s hard to quiet my thoughts; other days, it’s hard to catch my breath. But even in this season, there’s one truth that anchors me again and again: God is with me, and His Word never returns void.

When I don’t feel steady, I keep returning to Isaiah 55:10–11:

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

What a promise. God’s Word is not idle or ineffective. Even when I feel dry and weary, His Word is doing its quiet, unseen work in me—watering the parched places, softening hard soil, producing fruit that I may not yet see. His Word will accomplish His purposes in my life, even in the anxious seasons.

When my heart races and my thoughts spiral, I remember that God doesn’t leave me to figure it out alone. Isaiah 41:10 has become a constant prayer for me:

“Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Those words—I am with you—are enough to carry me through. The presence of God is not a promise of ease, but it is a promise of companionship. Even in my trembling, He is steady. Even when I feel weak, He holds me with His strong hand.

And when I start to wonder if my anxious heart will ever know peace again, I find comfort in Psalm 34:17–18:

“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears
and delivers them out of all their troubles.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted
and saves the crushed in spirit.”

He doesn’t stand far off from our pain. He draws near. The God who commands the heavens bends low to listen to the cries of the anxious, the weary, the afraid.

So this is the hope I’m clinging to: even here, even now, God is near. His Word is at work. His promises still hold. Anxiety may be a part of my story right now, but it doesn’t get the final word—He does.

And because His Word never returns void, I can rest knowing that even this season is not wasted. God is doing something beneath the surface, and one day I’ll look back and see that His faithfulness was written all over these pages too.