ALL THINGS? NO FEAR?
A Soul & Self-Care Sunday Reflection
Sunday, July 26, 2026
Foundational Scriptures:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?”
, Psalm 27:1
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
, Philippians 4:13
Welcome to Soul & Self-Care Sunday.
Today, there is no product to promote.
There is nothing for me to sell.
There is simply a memory, a beautiful, sacred memory, and an honest reflection about faith, fear, weakness, strength and what it truly means to believe the Word of God when our circumstances appear to contradict it.
Yesterday, July 25, was my brother’s birthday.
His name was Des Moines Hatcher Williams, and he was an amazing older brother.
My brother passed away in the year 2000 after suffering an aneurysm. He was only 46 years old, and he is still deeply and fully missed.
Today, I want to take a few moments to remember him, to honor his life and to share a few photographs and memories of the brother I was blessed to have. 
Memories are blessings.
The good memories make us smile. They remind us that we were loved, that we shared something special and that our lives were touched by someone whose presence mattered.
But even difficult, painful or traumatic memories can eventually reveal a blessing when we allow ourselves to view them through the lenses of God’s love and the truth of His Word.
That does not mean that the painful experience was good.
It does not mean that we pretend it did not hurt.
It means that we allow God to meet us inside the memory. We allow Him to show us what survived, what grew, what was learned and how He carried us when we did not believe we could carry ourselves.
Sometimes understanding that process can be difficult.
I may even find myself challenged by my own words one day. There may be another moment when I must return to this very reflection and remind myself of what I am saying today.
But that is the beauty of our testimonies.
Sometimes God gives us a word for others, knowing that we will eventually need to come back and receive that same word for ourselves.
My brother’s life mattered.
His presence mattered.
The love we shared mattered.
And although I would have wanted more years, more birthdays, more conversations and more photographs, I remain grateful for the years and memories that God allowed us to have.
Grief teaches us that love does not end simply because someone is no longer physically present.
Love changes form.
It becomes a memory.
It becomes a story.
It becomes a photograph.
It becomes a lesson.
It becomes something we carry within us as we continue walking forward.
And sometimes, remembering those we have lost causes us to examine how we are living the life that remains before us.
That brings me to the two scriptures that God placed on my heart this week.
The first is Psalm 27:1:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?”
The second is Philippians 4:13:
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
Those scriptures sound powerful when we quote them.
They look beautiful written across a social-media graphic.
They feel encouraging when everything in our lives is going well.
But what happens when our bodies, our emotions or our circumstances begin offering commentary that appears contrary to what the Word of God says?
Can we still believe that we can do all things through Christ when we feel as though we do not have the physical strength to do anything?
Can we truly say, “Whom shall I fear?” when we are privately nervous, worried, uncertain, exhausted or even a little afraid?
That is the place where I find myself today.
There was a time when I weighed approximately 200 pounds, and I could wake up at four o’clock in the morning, walk 17 miles, work a full day, clean my house, manage my office and continue handling everything else that needed to be done.
Now, at approximately 135 pounds, you would think that with less weight to carry, everything would be easy-peasy and breezy.
But recently, it has not been.
My blood pressure has been running on the low side. I have not felt well for much of this month, and my physical energy has not matched the number of responsibilities waiting for me.
Yesterday, during dance class, I noticed that during every break I was leaning forward with my hands resting on my knees, trying to recover my breath and gather enough energy to continue.
And yet, I still have a great deal to accomplish.
I have a magazine that must be completed. I am behind because I have not been feeling well.
We are launching our studio with our very first client on Monday.
There are apartments that need to be rented.
There is work to do with the youth I serve.
There are professional responsibilities, ministry responsibilities, household responsibilities and personal responsibilities.
I still need to mop, but right now I do not even have the energy to think about a mop, let alone pick one up!
I did not go to church today because I am not feeling well. I am not scheduled to serve, but part of me still felt obligated to be there.
However, I am learning that honoring God does not always mean pushing my body beyond its limits.
Sometimes faith looks like getting up and moving.
Sometimes faith looks like sitting down and resting.
Sometimes faith means continuing the assignment.
And sometimes faith means trusting that God can keep the assignment while we allow our bodies to recover.
Resting is not necessarily quitting.
Pausing is not the same as abandoning our purpose.
Self-care requires enough spiritual discernment to know which area of our lives we must continue holding onto and which area we need to place down until God says, “Now, move.”
Our purpose is not singular.
We have purpose in our families.
We have purpose in our careers.
We have purpose in ministry.
We have purpose in our friendships.
We have purpose in our communities.
We have purpose in the lives of the people we encourage, support, teach, mentor and serve.
But we cannot always operate in every area at maximum capacity at the same time.
Wisdom teaches us to ask:
“God, what requires my attention today?”
“What can wait?”
“What must I release?”
“What must I delegate?”
“Where are You telling me to move?”
“And where are You telling me to be still?”
There are only five full days remaining after today in the month of July, six calendar days when today is included.
And as I look at everything that still must be completed, I feel like I need God to perform the miracle of the five loaves and two fish with my time!
Lord,
these hours!
Multiply my energy.
Multiply my focus.
Multiply my resources.
Multiply the work of my hands.
Because when our strength is depleted, Philippians 4:13 becomes more than an inspirational quotation.
It becomes a question of trust.
Do I truly believe that Christ will strengthen me?
Not necessarily by giving me the energy to do everything at once.
But perhaps by giving me the wisdom to do the right thing at the right time.
Perhaps His strength will appear through someone helping me.
Perhaps His strength will appear through an unexpected delay.
Perhaps His strength will appear through divine favor that causes something difficult to come together more easily than expected.
Perhaps His strength will appear through rest.
Perhaps His strength will appear through a “no.”
Perhaps His strength will appear by closing a door that I thought was a blessing.
There was a trip I was supposed to take that did not manifest. Initially, it appeared to be a blessing, and I was disappointed when it did not happen.
But sometimes what we call a disappointment may actually be God’s protection, redirection or provision.
Sometimes we do not know what God has done for us because He prevented something that we never had the opportunity to see.
This is why the Lord being our light is so important.
Light does not always reveal the entire road.
Sometimes it only reveals the next step.
Psalm 27 does not say we will never encounter something frightening.
It reminds us that because the Lord is our light, salvation and stronghold, fear does not have to become our ruler.
We may feel afraid without allowing fear to control our decisions.
We may feel weak without declaring that we are defeated.
We may feel tired without believing that our purpose has expired.
We may need to rest without believing that we have failed.
Faith is not denying what we physically feel.
Faith is acknowledging what we feel while choosing to believe that our feelings do not have the final word.
Today, I am sharing this from the front end of the testimony.
Everything has not yet been completed.
The magazine is not finished yet.
The studio launch has not happened yet.
Every apartment has not been rented yet.
My energy has not completely returned yet.
But I am looking forward to coming back next Sunday with a praise report.
I am looking forward to sharing how God did it.
How He gave me strength.
How He provided help.
How He multiplied my time.
How He placed His favor upon our studio launch and our first client.
How He helped me complete the magazine.
How He brought the right residents to the available apartments.
How He strengthened me to serve the youth and fulfill every assignment that was truly mine to complete.
I am praising Him now, not because I can already see every detail, but because I trust the God who is already standing on the other side of this week.
That is the challenge I leave with each of us today.
Can we activate the truth of God’s Word when we are nervous, frightened or tired?
Can we grasp it and hold onto it?
Can we believe in the resurrection power that lives within us, not merely as a spiritual idea, but as a power that produces tangible evidence in our daily lives?
Can we align ourselves with God the Father, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, and make every faithful effort to walk out our purpose across the different areas of our lives?
And can we also trust God enough to recognize which areas require movement and which areas require rest?
“All things? No fear?”
That does not mean we will never feel tired.
It does not mean that we will never experience concern.
It does not mean that grief will never visit us or that our bodies will never require care.
It means that none of those things has greater authority than God.
The same God who gave me the gift of my brother, Des Moines Hatcher Williams, is the God who has sustained me through the pain of losing him.
The same God who held me in the year 2000 is holding me in 2026.
The same God who strengthened me in the past will strengthen me in the present.
And the same God who gave my brother a place in my heart has given me a reason to continue walking, serving, creating, loving and living with purpose.
Happy heavenly birthday, my dear brother.
You are loved.
You are remembered.
You are missed.
And your life will always remain part of my story.
Closing Prayer
Father God, thank You for the gift of memory and for the life of my brother, Des Moines. Thank You for every moment, every lesson and every expression of love that remains in my heart.
Lord, be our light when the road appears uncertain and our strength when our bodies and minds feel depleted. Give us wisdom to know when to move, when to rest, what to carry and what to release.
We praise You in advance for the completed assignments, the successful studio shoot, the finished magazine, the rented apartments, the lives touched through our service and the favor You are placing upon every purpose-driven endeavor.
Multiply our time, renew our strength and place Your hand upon the work that You have truly called us to complete.
May everyone joining me in heart, mind and spirit experience Your peace, provision, protection and resurrection power in a tangible way.
We trust You for the blessing waiting on the other side of this moment.
In Jesus’ name, amen.
“Faith is not denying that we feel weak; it is believing that weakness does not get the final word.”