Transcription
Have you ever looked at your own thoughts and wondered if something in you is just broken? You get up, you go to work, you talk to people. You smile when you are supposed to, but inside it feels like your mind is a runaway train. You cannot slow down. You tell yourself, "If my brain could just calm down for one day, I might finally be okay." Yet the anxiety, the racing thoughts, and the heaviness always seem to find their way back.
What if your mind is not defective at all? What if it is in survival mode? A nervous system that has carried too much for too long learns to scan for danger even when the room is quiet. Thoughts jump ahead to worst case scenarios, not because you are dramatic, but because your inner world has been trained to stay ready for impact.
Think about your nights. You lie in bed. The house is still, but your mind is wide awake, replaying conversations, rehearsing future disasters, dissecting every small mistake. Your chest tightens over things that are not even happening, over possibilities. Your mind is turned into certainties. You feel guilty for feeling so anxious, then anxious about feeling guilty, and a quiet question forms inside you. What is wrong with me?
To cope, you have used whatever tools you could find. You told yourself to stop overthinking and to be stronger. You drowned your thoughts in noise, entertainment, and busyness. You tried quick spiritual fixes, tossing a verse at your fear so you would not have to feel it, believing that real faith must mean never being overwhelmed. You compared yourself with people who seem calm and confident and quietly decided that you must be the broken one God is disappointed in. No wonder you feel worn down. None of those strategies were designed to heal you. They are survival responses trying to carry the weight of transformation.
Survival mode is a gift in a crisis, a way to get through a night that feels unbearable. As a permanent way of living, it slowly convinces your mind that danger is always close, that you can never fully exhale, even when nothing is actually threatening you.
In this video, I want to offer you a different way. We will not slap a Bible verse on top of your anxiety and call it fixed. Instead, we will slow down and look honestly at what your mind has been trying to do for years. And then we will hold that story up to the light of who God is and what the gospel really promises. My prayer is that you will begin to see that your mind is not a ruined machine, but a part of you that has been trying to survive without feeling safe and that the God who created it knows how to lead it back from constant alertness into real rest.
So for now, just take one gentle breath. You do not have to fix yourself in the next few minutes. You do not have to impress God or prove your strength while you listen. Just be here. Stay with me as we step into the next part of this journey and begin to discover the solid foundation God wants to rebuild under your thoughts.
There is a truth about God that becomes a lifeline for anyone whose mind has lived in survival mode for far too long. It is this. God is not intimidated by the storm inside you. He is not distant from your mental exhaustion, your looping thoughts, or the fear that rises without your permission. He is the God who restores the soul not by demanding instant perfection but by entering the very places where you feel most overwhelmed. The central attribute of God that becomes our anchor here is his gentle nearness. Not the kind of nearness that shouts over your fear, but the kind that kneels beside you and says, "I am here and I am not leaving."
When your mind is convinced danger is everywhere, the nearness of God becomes the one truth that can settle the chaos. This truth goes all the way back into the Old Testament. Think of Elijah in the wilderness after he fled from Jezebel. Elijah was not just tired. He was mentally collapsing. He had gone from bold confidence to panic, from spiritual clarity to emotional shutdown. He sat under a broom tree and begged God to end his life. That moment was not dramatic weakness. It was survival mode. His mind did what minds do when they feel cornered and alone. And how did God respond? Not with rebuke. Not with a lecture about faith. God sent an angel to touch him, to let him sleep, to feed him, to let him rest again. Then when Elijah was strong enough to travel, God met him on a mountain. Not in the wind, not in the earthquake, not in the fire, but in a gentle whisper. The whisper was not a downgrade from glory. It was the form God chose because that was what Elijah's overwhelmed mind could receive. God tailored his presence to the fragility of Elijah's state.
That same God sits with you now. If he whispered to Elijah, he can whisper to you. If he cared for Elijah's exhaustion, he will care for yours. And this tender nearness is revealed even more fully in Jesus. Look at him with the disciples in the storm. They were drowning in fear, convinced the waters would take them under. Their minds leapt to disaster just like yours does. Jesus did not shame them for their panic. He stood in their chaos and commanded peace to come where their minds could not produce it on their own. Look at him with the man filled with torment in the region of the Gerosines. While the world avoided him, Jesus moved toward him, restoring not only the man's spirit, but his mind, until people saw him sitting clothed and in his right mind. Jesus consistently moved toward the mentally overwhelmed, not away from them. In him, the gentle whisper of the Old Testament became flesh and walked toward every fractured, frantic soul.
There is a verse that brings all of this together into one foundation we can stand on. Psalm 23:3, he restores my soul. Not He demands my soul pull itself together. Not. He shames my soul for being exhausted. He restores it. That is the core truth of this entire journey. Your mind is not something God avoids. It is something he knows how to bring back to peace. And if he restored Elijah in his collapse, if he restored the disciples in their storm, if he restored the tormented man in his anguish, then he can restore you. Hold this truth close as we continue. God's nearness is not a theory. It is the starting point of your healing. Let's step deeper together.
There is always a reason your mind feels the way it does. Survival mode does not appear out of nowhere. It grows from layers of spiritual lies, emotional wounds, and behavioral patterns that quietly form over years. When you finally pause long enough to ask, "Why does my mind react this way?" you begin uncovering the deep roots that God is ready to heal. Let us walk slowly through these layers, not to blame you, but to help you recognize the shape of the battle so you can walk toward freedom with clarity.
The first route is spiritual. It begins with a lie whispered into the soft places of your identity. The lie sounds different for each person, but it usually carries the same tone. You are not safe. You are alone. You cannot let your guard down. Some of you hear it as a constant pressure to be perfect. Others feel it as an alertness you cannot shut off. The enemy never starts with logic. He starts with fear. He plants a narrative that tells you your value is fragile. Your world is unstable and God is too distant to protect you. That lie settles into your thoughts until it begins to sound like your own voice. And if the enemy can convince you that God is far away, then every moment of stress becomes a moment where you feel unprotected. But scripture cuts through that lie with a single truth. God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Survival mode thrives when you believe you are on your own. Healing begins the moment you see that you never were.
The second root is emotional. Beneath the spiritual lie lies a wound, usually one that formed long before you had the words to describe it. Maybe you grew up in a home where chaos erupted without warning, so your mind learned to stay alert. Maybe you felt abandoned by someone you trusted and your heart decided it must prepare for rejection. Maybe you were criticized so often that your nervous system learned to anticipate failure before you even took a step. Emotional wounds are not weaknesses. They are experiences that shape the way you learn to survive. And survival mode is simply the body's way of saying, "I do not want to feel that again." When people tell you to just stop worrying or let it go, they overlook the part of you that lived through moments that taught your mind to stay vigilant. But God never overlooks that part. He sees where the wound began. He sees the pain that still echoes through your thoughts. And he knows how to touch the exact place where your heart learned fear.
The third route is behavioral. When a spiritual lie and an emotional wound work together long enough, your brain starts forming thought pathways that become automatic. You worry before you have a reason to. You catastrophize before you realize you are doing it. You replay conversations. pre-plan escapes or assume the worst. These patterns are not signs that you are weak. They are signs that your brain has practiced survival mode for years. Like a trail carved into the ground, your thoughts return to the same places again and again because those paths feel familiar. But familiar does not mean true and it does not mean permanent. Scripture says we demolish arguments in every high thing that sets itself against the knowledge of God and we take every thought captive. God does not merely command change. He empowers it. Where your brain sees a road carved too deep to escape, he sees a path he can root.
As we move into the next part, take heart. Understanding the why is not about reliving your pain. It is about finally recognizing that the struggle inside you has roots and anything with roots can be transformed. Let's walk forward and discover what the gospel has to say to the very places where your survival mode began.
When you have lived in survival mode for years, the weight of it can feel like a kind of punishment. You look at your anxiety, your mental exhaustion, your spiraling thoughts, and something inside you whispers, "This is my fault. Maybe God is tired of me. Maybe this is what I deserve." But the gospel does not leave you in that place. The gospel does not ignore the heaviness you carry, nor does it condemn you for it. It begins by confronting the deepest fears within you and then speaks a better word over your entire story. The hope of the gospel is not a vague comfort. It is a three-fold rescue from the penalty of your pain, the power of it, and the presence of it.
Let us start with the penalty. Survival mode often feels like a consequence. You look at the damage it causes in relationships, the exhaustion in your body, the fear in your decisions, and you wonder if your anxiety is something God holds against you. You ask yourself, "Why can't I be stronger? Why can't I trust God better? Why am I such a mess?" But the cross says something entirely different. The cross says your deepest struggles do not disqualify you. They are the very places Christ came to redeem. When Jesus hung on the cross, he carried every burden that crushes you now. Every moment of fear, every thought you cannot quiet, every shame-filled whisper that says you are not enough, he bore them. Scripture says he was pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities. The punishment that brought us peace was upon him. The punishment that brought you peace. That means your anxious mind does not sit under God's judgment. It sits under his compassion. You are not paying for anything. Christ already paid. And because he paid, he speaks peace over the storms inside you that you cannot calm.
Now the power. If the cross dealt with the penalty of your brokenness, the resurrection deals with the power of it. Why do we keep repeating the same patterns? Why does survival mode feel like a cycle we cannot break? Because human strength alone cannot override the pathways fear carved into our minds. But the resurrection of Jesus is not simply a historical moment. It is the unleashing of a power that now lives in you. The same power that raised Christ from the dead dwells in your mortal body, giving life where fear once dictated your reactions. This is not about forcing yourself to be calm. It is about receiving a supernatural strength that can rewire the way your mind responds to life. The resurrection is God saying, "You are not trapped. You are not helpless. You are not destined to repeat these patterns forever." What fear built in you over years, my power can undo in moments and rebuild over time. Healing is not self-effort. It is resurrection power reshaping you from the inside out.
And then there is the presence. Even when the penalty has been removed and the power has been given, the journey is not instant. You still walk through days where fear rises, where old patterns try to resurface, where your mind whispers threats that are not real. And this is where the final gift of the gospel shines brightest. The promise that Christ will return, renew all things, and make your mind fully whole. You live with hope, not because your present is perfect, but because your future is secure. The world you long for, one where your mind is calm, your heart is steady, your thoughts rest, is the world Jesus is bringing when he returns. Every fracture, every imbalance, every fear pattern will be restored in full glory. Scripture says he will wipe every tear from their eyes and there shall be no more death, sorrow, crying, or pain. That includes the tears you cry in the quiet places no one sees. That includes the pain inside your mind that you cannot put into words. The hope of what is coming gives strength for what you face now. You are moving toward wholeness, not away from it.
As we go forward, let this truth settle into you. The gospel is not a distant doctrine. It is God's rescue for your anxious mind. Because Christ died, you are forgiven. Because Christ rose, you are empowered. Because Christ is coming again, you are held in unshakable hope. Now, let's step into the pathway of healing God has personally prepared for you.
Your mind is not failing you. It is a house that has weathered too many storms, too many sleepless nights, too many sudden jolts of fear, and too many seasons where you had to survive without feeling safe. To step out of survival mode, you and God will walk through a gentle but transformative rebuilding process. Not a demolition of who you are, but a restoration of what has been shaken. Imagine your inner world as a home, your thoughts, your identity, your emotions, your patterns of response, all forming the rooms you live in every day. And now with God guiding the work, you are about to rebuild this house from the foundation up.
The first stage is tearing down the old foundation. This is not destruction for the sake of destruction. It is the courageous act of letting go of what was never strong enough to hold you. Many of us have built our inner worlds on the shaky ground of self-protection. We learned to cope by overthinking, by predicting danger, by assuming the worst so we would not be caught off guard again. We built walls from fear and floors from shame because at one time it felt like the only way to stay standing. But survival structures cannot become permanent structures. They were never meant to last a lifetime. This is where you pause with God and name the lies and pressures that shaped your old foundation. The belief that you had to handle everything alone. The fear that vulnerability would lead to pain. The inner vow that said you must always be strong, always be prepared, always be alert. As you bring these beliefs to God, you are not failing. You are making space. You are clearing the ground so something stronger, steadier, and truer can be built. God does not rush this stage. He stands with you in the broken ground, honoring every tear, every memory, every moment that shaped those walls.
The second stage is laying a new foundation. And the foundation is not made of your effort. It is made of Christ himself. He becomes your cornerstone. His word becomes the blueprint. His promises become the beams that will not bend under pressure. Each day as you receive his truth, you are laying spiritual stones beneath your feet. When you meditate on who you are in Christ, you place a stone. When you replace a single fearful thought with a scripture, you place a stone. When you let grace speak louder than shame, you place a stone. These are not small acts. They are the construction of a new inner world where your identity is held by something far more solid than self-protection. The more you anchor your thoughts in the word, the more your mind begins to shift from survival towards stability. This stage takes patience. Foundations are slow, but every day you choose truth over fear. You cooperate with the master builder who is restoring the structural integrity of your inner life.
The final stage is building day by day. Houses are not completed in one moment. They rise one brick at a time. Your healing will look like small faithful steps. Choosing rest when your instinct says to brace for danger. Speaking kindness to yourself when your thoughts want to spiral. Worshiping when anxiety tells you to withdraw. Forgiving someone you have carried in your mind for too long. opening the windows of your soul to the presence of God and letting his peace fill the rooms you once kept locked. Each choice is a brick. Each act of trust is a beam. Each moment of surrender is a window frame letting in light where fear once cast shadows. God is building a home inside you. One where your mind can rest, where your heart can breathe, where your soul can dwell unafraid. As you rebuild with him, remember this. God is not asking you to finish the house overnight. He is asking you to place today's brick in his hands and brick by brick, step by step, truth by truth, he is leading your mind out of survival mode and into a home where peace is not fragile. It is foundational. Let us continue forward and equip your spirit for this rebuilding journey.
When your mind has lived in survival mode for years, spiritual battles do not feel theoretical. They feel personal, relentless, and exhausting. You are not weak because you struggle. You are under attack because your mind carries value. And as God rebuilds the house of your soul, he also equips you with spiritual tools so you can stand firm in the moments when fear tries to pull you back. This is not about trying harder. It is about learning to fight with the weapons God has already placed in your hands. Let us walk into this with gentleness, with honesty, and with a confidence rooted not in your strength, but in God's unshakable power.
The first part of this equipping is building a scripture arsenal. Think of it as gathering weapons crafted specifically for the battles you face. Not general verses that sound nice, but targeted truths that confront the exact lies that push your mind into survival mode. Begin by creating three groups of scriptures. The first group is identity. These verses tell you who you are in Christ when fear tells you that you are alone or unprotected. Verses like you are my beloved in whom I am well pleased or nothing can separate you from the love of God. The second group is promises. These are the verses that anchor you when anxiety whispers threats about your future. Truths like I will strengthen you and help you or surely goodness and mercy shall follow you all the days of your life. And the third group is power. These are the verses that remind you that God is stronger than the thoughts that overwhelm you. Truths like the Lord is my light and salvation. Whom shall I fear? Or the same power that raised Christ from the dead dwells in you.
As you gather these verses, write them down in a journal. Place them in your phone. Keep them where your eyes can find them in moments of panic or heaviness. You do not need 20 verses at once. Begin with three. Let one from each category become your anchor. When your thoughts begin to race, speak the truth aloud, even if your emotions do not agree yet. When fear rises, declare the identity God has given you. When anxiety tightens your chest, claim the promise that God has spoken over your life. When old patterns try to pull you into spiraling thoughts, stand in the power of God's word and speak it over the storm. This is not empty repetition. This is spiritual warfare. Replacing lies with truth until your mind learns a new pattern of safety. Even one verse learned by heart becomes a sword in your hand.
The second part is practicing powerful prayer. Not merely asking God to remove your anxiety, but praying from a place of authority, truth, and alignment with his word. Many people pray from a place of fear without realizing it. They plead with God to change their thoughts, to fix their feelings, to stop the spirals. These prayers are sincere, but they often reinforce the belief that the battle is stronger than you. There is another kind of prayer, one that stands on the truth of scripture and speaks it into your reality. This is the prayer of declaration, not because you are trying to control God, but because you are choosing to agree with him. Powerful prayer begins by naming the battle without shame. God, my mind is overwhelmed. I feel danger where there is none. My thoughts are racing. My heart is tired. Then it moves into declaring truth. But you have not given me a spirit of fear. You are my refuge and strength. You restore my soul. You surround me with your peace. And then it concludes with a declaration of victory. I stand under your promises. I receive your strength. Fear will not rule me. My mind belongs to you. This is not motivational language. This is spiritual alignment. When you pray this way, you are not trying to convince yourself. You are standing in the authority Jesus gave you.
Let me offer you a prayer you can use whenever your mind begins to slip into survival mode. You may personalize it, shorten it, whisper it, or speak it boldly when needed. Lord, I bring you my racing thoughts, my fear, and the tension I carry inside. I refuse to hide from you. I stand on your word, and I declare that you are my refuge and strength. I reject the lie that I am alone. I receive your peace that guards my heart and mind. I break agreement with fear and I stand in the truth that your spirit gives me power, love, and a sound mind. I place every anxious thought under the authority of Christ. Strengthen me with your resurrection power. Restore my soul. Fill me with the presence of your spirit. Lead me step by step into the freedom you have promised. This is how you arm your spirit. Not through force, but through truth. Not through striving, but through alignment, not through fear, but through faith. As we step into the next part of this journey, your story is about to become a testimony of victory.
There is a story I want to tell you. It is not a dramatic miracle moment or a highlight reel of instant transformation. It is a story of someone who looked very much like you. Someone whose mind had lived in survival mode for so long that chaos felt normal and peace felt impossible. And yet through the gentleness of God, through the steady truth of the gospel, and through the slow rebuilding of the inner world, this person found their way back to wholeness. I tell this story not to impress you, but to remind you that the God who restores one weary soul can restore another. And perhaps in their journey, you will hear the echoes of your own.
The story begins in a season that felt like midnight. This person, let us call him Daniel, had reached the end of his internal strength. On paper, his life looked fine. He had a job. He had friends. He had responsibilities he fulfilled. But internally, he was unraveling. His mind was constantly racing. Every quiet moment turned into a storm of whatifs. Every conversation replayed like a tape he could not stop. Every small mistake felt catastrophic. His shoulders never dropped. His breath never settled. His heart never quite believed it was safe. He woke exhausted and went to bed exhausted. And somewhere deep inside, he whispered, "Maybe I'm just broken." He tried to silence his thoughts with distractions, with busyiness, with the polished mask people expected of him, but nothing slowed the storm. He feared that if anyone saw what was happening inside him, they would walk away or judge him. And in the background of his spiraling mind, he imagined God watching him with disappointment. He thought, "If I had more faith, I wouldn't be like this." It was a lonely night in the soul, one without rest, without clarity, and without hope.
Then came the moment of grace, the moment that did not look miraculous on the surface, but carried the weight of heaven's intervention. Daniel sat in his car one evening, gripping the steering wheel while his thoughts spiraled into another panic. He whispered a prayer, not polished or spiritual, but raw. God, I don't know how to live like this anymore. If you're near, I need you." And something unexpected happened. Not a booming voice, not an instant calm, but a stillness deep inside, as if God quietly stepped closer. A verse he had heard a thousand times surfaced. Not shouted, just present. "He restores my soul." For the first time, Daniel realized he had been trying to fix what only God could heal. And in that moment, he did not promise to be stronger or try harder. He simply gave God his exhaustion. That was the turning point. Grace did not hit him like lightning. It wrapped around him like a warm blanket. The truth of the gospel became personal. God was not demanding composure from him. God was offering restoration.
The journey from that moment was not a straight line upward. Daniel woke up the next morning still anxious, still tired, still wired for survival. But now he had something he did not have before. Hope, and hope changes everything. He began taking small steps of trust. He read scripture not to perform for God but to breathe again. He spoke truth out loud when fear tried to shout over his thoughts. He prayed honestly instead of pretending. He allowed himself to rest without guilt. There were days when the old patterns rose with full force and he felt himself slipping back into the frantic pathways his mind knew so well. But now, instead of collapsing into shame, he remembered the gentle whisper that met Elijah and the calming voice that stood in the disciples' storm. He began to believe that the presence of Jesus was not conditional on his emotional stability. And slowly the house of his soul began to rebuild. Some days brought small victories, a calmer morning, a moment of laughter, a conversation where he did not overthink every word. Other days brought tears and frustration. But through it all, God was faithful. Daniel was no longer battling alone. And day by day, the resurrection power of Christ rewired the pathways fear had built. Time passed and something unexpected happened. Daniel realized one morning he had woken with peace instead of panic. Not because his life was perfect, but because his inner world had finally tasted safety again. He began helping others who felt the way he used to feel. His story became a lantern in the hands of someone who once lived in darkness. The battles he once hated became the testimony he now carried. And the healing God had worked in him began rippling outward into friendships, into prayers, into quiet moments where someone else needed hope. His life became proof that survival mode is not the end of the story. Restoration is.
If you hear echoes of your own life in Daniel's journey, it is not an accident. The same God who walked him out of fear, out of exhaustion, out of survival mode is walking toward you even now. Your story is not over. The victory God wrote for Daniel is the same victory he is writing in you. Let us step into the final part of this journey together where you are invited not just to understand hope, but to step into it fully.
You have walked through a long and meaningful journey in this message. You have looked honestly at the heaviness inside your mind. You have discovered why survival mode became your default. And you have seen the compassion of God who restores, rebuilds, and renews. Before we close, I want to speak gently to your heart. You are not the same person who pressed play at the beginning of this video. You have heard truth. You have breathed hope. You have seen that God is not distant from your struggle. He has been walking beside you, whispering strength into the places that once felt abandoned. If the past seven sections were stepping stones, this moment is where you stand still. Look back at how far you have come and realize you are not alone on this path. You have moved from confusion into clarity, from shame into compassion, and from fear into the first small steps of trust. Your story is opening, not closing. And the God who has spoken peace into your storms will continue to walk with you long after this final word fades.
Now comes the invitation, the kind that does not pressure, manipulate, or demand. This is an invitation to surrender, to let God lead you out of survival mode and into wholeness. Not halfway healing, not temporary relief, a genuine turning of your life toward the God who restores minds, steadies hearts, and rebuilds souls. If everything inside you has been tired of fighting, running, bracing, predicting, overthinking, and fearing, then let this be the moment you say, "God, I am done surviving. I want to live again." You are not being asked to become perfect. You are being asked to trust the shepherd who restores your soul. To lay down the burden your strength cannot carry. To step into a healing that is gentle, deep, and real.
If your heart is stirring right now, if something in you is whispering yes, then respond not to me, to him. I also want to invite you to step into community. You are not walking this journey alone and you are not meant to. If today you want to say yes to God's restoring work in your mind, I encourage you to make a simple declaration publicly. You can type the words, "I'm saying yes to healing" or "I'm stepping out of survival mode" in the comments. Not because the comment itself has power, but because there is strength in naming what God is doing. When you speak it, you break the silence fear once used to isolate you. And when others see your words, they are encouraged to take their own step toward healing together. We lift one another up together. We remember that none of us fights alone. And if you want to stay connected to continue receiving messages like this that speak life to the soul, I welcome you to be part of this community by subscribing and sharing this message with someone who needs hope.
Now, let us pray. Take a deep breath. Open your hands if you can. Let every word wash over you like a gentle river that restores what the storms have damaged.
Lord, I lift up every person listening right now. You see every wound that shaped their thoughts. You see every night they lay awake in fear. You see the pressure they carried in silence. I ask that your healing presence touch the deepest places of their hearts. Let your love minister to wounds that have never been spoken aloud. Bring your comfort to the memories that have lived beneath the surface for too long. Lord, heal the tender places where they first learned to fear.
Now, Father, renew their minds. Replace every lie with your truth. Where the enemy whispered that they are alone, speak loudly that you are with them. Where survival mode convinced them they are in danger, let your peace declare safety. Where their thoughts have spiraled into fear, bring clarity. Build new pathways of trust, hope, and rest. Transform their inner world with the light of your word. Break every agreement they made with shame, fear, or hopelessness and anchor them in your promises.
Lord, strengthen them for this journey. Let the resurrection power of Jesus rise within them. When fear tries to return, give them spiritual courage. When panic rises, fill them with supernatural steadiness. When old patterns call them back, empower them to take thoughts captive and stand firm. Let your spirit guard their hearts and minds with a peace that surpasses understanding. Remind them that they never battle alone.
And now, Holy Spirit, I ask you to fill them completely. Pour your presence into every room of their soul. Let your peace rest on their mind, your comfort rest on their heart, and your joy rise within them. Guide their steps. Whisper to them in the quiet moments. Surround them with your love as they walk out of survival mode and into the life you have prepared. Fill them with hope, with courage, and with the certainty that you are restoring them day by day.
May the Lord bless you and keep you. May his face shine upon you and give you peace. And if this message spoke to your heart, I invite you to subscribe. Share it with someone else who needs healing and leave a comment so we can walk this journey of faith together. Your mind is not broken. God is bringing it back.