Sometimes fear doesn’t show up as panic—it shows up as hesitation, second-guessing, and the quiet temptation to tone down what we know we should say. In Acts 18:9, the Lord meets Paul right where pressure and opposition could have muted his voice, and He speaks courage into the place where silence feels safest.

Do Not Be Afraid—Even When the Moment Feels Sharp

The Lord doesn’t scold Paul for feeling fear; He interrupts it. “Do not be afraid,” He says, because fear has a way of shrinking our calling down to something manageable. But God’s commands often come with God’s presence. He told Joshua the same thing: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

If you’re waiting to feel brave before you obey, you’ll be waiting a long time. Courage is not the absence of trembling; it’s choosing faith while you tremble. And the Spirit God gives doesn’t feed your anxieties: “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-control.” (2 Timothy 1:7) Today, you don’t have to manufacture confidence—you can receive it.

Keep Speaking—Because the Gospel Is Not a Private Comfort

God doesn’t just say, “Feel better.” He says, “Keep on speaking.” The answer to fear is not retreat but faithful witness. Paul later wrote, “I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.” (Romans 1:16) The gospel is power—so silence is never neutral. When we hush what God has said, we quietly treat His Word like it’s fragile.

But speaking doesn’t mean performing. It means being faithful with what you’ve been given: a testimony, a Scripture, a warning wrapped in love, a hope offered without apology. The early church prayed, “enable Your servants to speak Your word with complete boldness.” (Acts 4:29) Ask for that kind of boldness—not the kind that enjoys conflict, but the kind that loves people enough to be clear.

Do Not Be Silent—Because God Is Already at Work Around You

Silence can feel humble, like we’re avoiding making things awkward. But sometimes silence is simply disobedience dressed up as politeness. Jesus said, “And surely I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20) When you speak for Christ, you are never doing it alone. God’s presence is not just comfort; it’s commission.

And you may not see what God is doing behind the scenes. Paul couldn’t see the full story in Corinth, but God knew there were people ready to hear. That’s why Scripture calls us to steady faithfulness: “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast and immovable. Always excel in the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:58) Your obedience today may be the very means God uses to bring light to someone else’s darkness.

Lord, thank You for being with me; give me boldness to speak and strength to obey today—show me one person I can encourage with Your truth, and help me not to stay silent. Amen.

Human sin began with loss of faith in God. When our mother Eve listened to Satans sly innuendoes against the character of God she began to entertain a doubt of His integrity and right there the doors were opened to the incoming of every possible evil, and darkness settled upon the world. The Bible talks about mans being alienated from and an enemy to God. Should this sound harsh or extreme you have only to imagine your closest personal friend coming to you and stating in cold seriousness that he no longer has any confidence in you. I do not trust you. I have lost confidence in your character. I am forced to suspect every move you make. Such a declaration would instantly alienate friends by destroying the foundation upon which every friendship is built. Until your former friends opinion of you had been reversed there could be no further communion. Only a restored faith could bring about a restored friendship. Now, it is well known that people do not go boldly to God and profess that they have no confidence in Him, and no one except the rare professional unbeliever is willing to witness publicly to his low view of God. The frightful thing, however, is that people everywhere act out their unbelief with a consistency that is more convincing than words.

The Lord is my Shepherd: I shall not want. - Psalm 23:1

The king who had been the shepherd-boy, and had been taken from the quiet sheep-cotes to rule over Israel, sings this little psalm of Him who is the true Shepherd and King of men. We do not know at what period of David’s life it was written, but it sounds as if it were the work of his later years. There is a fulness of experience about it, and a tone of subdued, quiet confidence, which speak of a heart mellowed by years and of a faith made sober by many a trial. A young man would not write so calmly, and a life which was just opening would not afford material for such a record of God’s guardianship in all changing circumstances. If, then, we think of the psalm as the work of David’s later years, is it not very beautiful to see the old king looking back with such vivid and loving remembrance to his childhood’s occupation, and bringing up again to memory in his palace the green valleys, the gentle streams, the dark glens where he had led his flock in the old days; very beautiful to see him traversing all the stormy years of warfare and rebellion, of crime and sorrow, which lay between, and finding in all God’s guardian presence and gracious guidance? The faith which looks back and says, " It is all very good," is not less than that which looks forward and says, " Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." There is nothing difficult of understanding in the psalm. The train of thought is clear and obvious. The experiences which it details are common, the emotions it expresses simple and familiar. The tears that have been dried, the fears that have been dissipated, by this old song; the love and thankfulness which have found in them their best expression, prove the worth of its simple words. It lives in most of our memories. There is a double progress of thought in it. It rises, from memories of the past and experiences of the present care of God, to hope for the future. " The Lord is my Shepherd’’ - "I will fear no evil." Then, besides this progress from what was and is to what will be, there is another string, so to speak, on which the gems are threaded. The various methods of God’s leading of His flock, or, rather, we should say, the various regions into which He leads them, are described in order. These are: Rest, Work, Sorrow; and this series is so combined with the order of time already adverted to, as that the past and the present are considered as the regions of rest and of work, while the future is anticipated as having in it the valley of he shadow of death.