Faith Over Chaos

Let me just start by saying: I am a professional advice-giver. I dish out wisdom like it’s 50% off and I’ve got a coupon. I write about Eden Thinking, walking with God, seeking Him first, and letting trials refine us like gold. I even use scripture references like seasoning—just enough to make it holy, not so much that it feels like a seminary lecture.

But sometimes? I don’t follow my own advice.

Sometimes I just want the chaos to pack up and leave. The messy moment, the messy day, the messy ME—I want it all to take a hike. And instead of turning to the Lord with my hands raised in surrender, I turn to the freezer. Because nothing says “spiritual warfare” like a gallon of ice cream and a spoon the size of your regrets.

Food is my comfort. It’s warm, it’s tasty, and it doesn’t ask me to grow. It just melts in my mouth and numbs the ache. And when that doesn’t work, I crank up the music—the kind that matches my mood: angry, sad, lonely, mad. You know, the playlist Jesus probably side-eyes from heaven because it stirs up everything He’s trying to heal.

I forget Eden Thinking. I forget that walking with God means walking through—not around—the hard stuff. I forget that trials aren’t just annoying interruptions; they’re invitations to grow fruit. (And no, not the kind you dip in chocolate.)

Sometimes I don’t want the lesson. I want the exit ramp. I want to skip the character-building and go straight to the part where everything is fixed and I’m glowing like Moses after a mountain retreat.

But here’s the kicker: when I don’t seek Him first, I miss the message. I miss the fruit. I miss the restoration. And I miss the intimacy that only comes from walking with Him through the valley—not just waving at Him from the mountaintop.

Lately, there’s been a revival stirring in my family. Real repentance. Real seeking. Real longing to be close to the Lord. It’s beautiful and messy and holy and hard. We’re being filled with the Spirit—and sometimes filled with despair. Because even in the middle of revival, the enemy doesn’t take a vacation. He tries to snatch your feelings, stir up confusion, and make you question the very thing God is doing.

But here’s the truth: “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.” (Psalm 139:7–8)

Even when I’m curled up in a blanket of doubt, binge-watching my emotions like a Netflix drama, God is still there. He doesn’t flinch at my mess. He doesn’t retreat when I do. He’s in the depths, in the detours, and yes—even in the dairy aisle when I’m debating between rocky road and repentance.

So if you’ve gone the wrong direction, if you’ve skipped Eden Thinking and taken a detour through the land of emotional chaos—guess what? God still seeks you out. He presses in. He doesn’t wait for you to get it together. He walks into your mess, just like He did in Genesis 3, calling out, “Where are you?”

Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” Genesis 3:8-9 NIV

Not because He doesn’t know. But because He wants you to know He’s still looking for you.

So today, if you’re sitting in your car with mascara tears and a half-eaten pint of cookie dough, wondering if you missed the point—take heart. You didn’t miss Him. He’s still pressing in. And He’s not afraid of your chaos.

He’s the God of Eden. And He’s the God of your mess.

Helping you find peace in the garden again—even when you’re hiding behind the trees with a pint of cookie dough.”

Okay, so you’ve made it through the mascara, the cookie dough, and the spiritual conviction. Before you go back to pretending your freezer isn’t your therapist, let’s pause for a second and ask ourselves:

1. What’s my go-to escape when chaos hits—and does it actually help me grow?
2. Have I been hiding behind the trees lately instead of walking with God through the garden?
3. What would Eden Thinking look like in this season of my life?
4. What fruit might God be trying to grow in me through this mess—and am I letting Him?
5. Where have I seen God press in—even when I wasn’t pressing back?