Returning to Center

I’ve learned that peace doesn’t disappear all at once. It fades quietly when we begin asking people, outcomes, or circumstances to carry what only God can. Not because anything dramatic happened, but because I noticed how easily my attention shifted away from God and toward what felt lacking, uncertain, or unfinished.

That realization stopped me in my tracks.

There was a time when uncertainty made me restless. When things didn’t feel secure or resolved, I would unconsciously look outward for grounding. I’d place more weight on people, on plans working out, on material stability, or on the hope that once something changed, I would finally feel settled. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but my focus had slowly drifted. God was still present in my life, but He wasn’t centered the way He once was.

Being lost doesn’t always look like chaos. Sometimes it looks like over-focusing on what’s missing. It looks like waiting for external things to give you peace. It looks like needing clarity before trusting, certainty before resting, answers before faith.

That’s why Joshua 24:14–15 has been sitting with me so deeply.

Joshua doesn’t speak from a place of everything being easy or resolved. He speaks from a place of decision. He calls the people to choose who they will serve and to remove anything that competes with God for their devotion. He doesn’t force them. He doesn’t debate. He simply makes his own stance clear. As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.

What stands out to me is that this choice isn’t rooted in comfort. It’s rooted in alignment.

I’ve had to be honest with myself about the ways I’ve idolized people, relationships, or even the idea of having more. Not intentionally, and not out of pride, but out of longing. Wanting to feel safe. Wanting to feel seen. Wanting to feel secure. Over time, I forgot that every person I’ve ever met, every opportunity I’ve been given, and every season I’ve survived was possible because of God first.

When God isn’t at the center, everything else starts asking more of us than it should. People begin to carry expectations they were never meant to hold. Waiting starts to feel like punishment. Lack becomes louder than gratitude. And slowly, peace fades.

Returning to center doesn’t mean abandoning your goals, your relationships, or your desires. It means putting them back in their rightful place. It means remembering that God is the source, not the supplement. That trust doesn’t begin after things make sense. It begins right in the middle of uncertainty.

In this season, choosing God doesn’t look like having a perfect plan or a clear timeline. It looks like a quiet return. It looks like noticing when my attention drifts and gently bringing it back. It looks like releasing the need to control outcomes and trusting that God sees the full picture when I only see fragments.

I’m learning that faith isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s a steady posture. Sometimes it’s a daily decision to re-center when distractions pull at you. Sometimes it’s simply saying, again and again, this is where my trust belongs.

This isn’t a restart. It’s a return.

Reflection

What might shift in your life if you chose to return to God as your center, even while things are still uncertain?