Verse: “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7
The service was ready.
The bulletin printed. Slides double-checked. Volunteers confirmed. Sermon notes in hand.
Everything was in place.
And yet—I was still holding my breath.
I’d told myself it would be fine (because it usually is). I’d prayed. I’d prepared. I’d gone over every detail. But even as the music started and people took their seats, I kept waiting for something to fall apart.
Nothing did.
In fact, it went beautifully.
The children read with confidence.
The mic worked.
People laughed in the right places.
The Spirit showed up in the unexpected ones.
Afterward, there was relief—but also a question that lingered quietly in my heart:
Why does the before feel so hard, even when the after is peaceful?
Maybe it’s because when we care deeply—about worship, about people, about how God moves in our midst—we carry the weight of wanting it to go well. Not for perfection’s sake, but because we long for it to matter.
And maybe that’s what stress sometimes is: the tension between our desire to do something meaningful and our fear that we’ll fall short.
It’s vulnerable to lead anything that holds spiritual weight.
It’s vulnerable to believe that what we offer—our voices, our time, our gifts—might actually be used by God to speak to someone else.
But the truth I keep learning (and re-learning) is this:
God never asked for flawless.
God asked for faithful.
The pressure I feel often comes from me, not from God.
And while preparation is holy, so is the moment I choose to let go of control and trust that God can carry what I’ve offered—even if I feel a little shaky as I hand it over.
This week, I’m trying to rest in that truth.
That yes, preparation matters.
But so does presence.
So does trust.
So does letting myself breathe.
Because maybe the real work of worship isn’t in making sure nothing goes wrong—
It’s in believing that God is in it, even if something does.
And most of the time?
It’s more than fine.
It’s grace.