Here’s How I’m Keeping My Head When The World Is On Fire
The world is on fire.
Just look at Ukraine, Gaza, China and AI - there’s much to keep us up at night. Will the rules-based world order that has kept major conflict at bay for the last 70 years survive? Or will the new Trump administration’s ‘America First’ policy lead to a withdrawal from organisations like NATO? Some commentators are bullish about Trump’s foreign policy, while others predict the end of NATO and a more fractious, conflict-ridden world.
And then there’s AI.
As AI continues to advance, will it take our jobs and dehumanise us? Where will that leave our kids as they finish school and move toward entering the workforce? And what about China? President Xi Xingping has allegedly told his military to be ready to invade Taiwan by 2027. Will he order his troops to take the island?
There’s much to worry about in this uncertain world—the world really is on fire. But as I think and blog about these issues, I try to process them in a way that draws me closer to God and his goodness rather than toward despair and fear.
Here’s how I’m going about it:
1) I need to have the right expectations about our world: Sinful actions might shock me, but they shouldn’t surprise me
I’ve been traumatised from watching the news over the past 14 months.
The October 7 massacres plumbed a level of evil and brutality I could scarcely imagine. And not just by Hamas fighters, but also some everyday Palestinians and Muslims in the Middle East and Australia, who cheered on this atrocity.
Is this really the world we live in, I wondered.
Like many in the West, I’ve been immersed in the Enlightenment-era belief that the world is improving and progressing. Yes, we are improving in many areas, like technology, health, and wealth (with global rates of poverty falling precipitously over the last 40 years). And for this, we should praise God!
But morally, as humans, we’re cut from the same crooked timber as Adam and Eve.
And Jesus doesn’t give us any expectations of a world progressing. Instead, we’re to expect wars and rumours of wars (Matt 24:6-7). Sinful people will go from bad to worse (2 Tim 3:13). As they persecuted Jesus, so they’ll persecute us (John 15:20). We’re living in a world under God’s judgement (Romans 1), where God is giving humanity over to its sinful desires, leading to evil people doing evil things.
That’s the Biblical expectation.
And so, while I’m shocked by evil people doing evil things, I shouldn’t be surprised. This is ‘situation normal’ (as tragic as it is).
And if I expect evil to happen in this rebellious world of ours, I’ll more likely respond to it in a way that looks toward the only One who can bring a final end to this evil:
2) Where I look affects my reality. If I look to the Risen Messiah, I’ll be at peace, as he's greater than any tyrant or world event
In my relatively short life I’ve realised something: what holds my attention governs my life.
If I’m looking to human politicians to solve my and the world’s problems, I’ll be on a never-ending rollercoaster of ups and downs, depending on their performance and on whether they’re in power. I’ll feel fear when tyrants rise. I’ll feel relief when ‘my party’ wins.
But human politicians are mortal and temporary. They can only do so much. Their power is limited.
But if I remember how big God is, then the world’s problems will always seem smaller – or rather, in the right proportion. And that tends to ease my fears, and bring me comfort.
3) Life (and this world) is temporary, like a dream
Tim Keller once described our temporal world and our lives like a dream:
It’s all-encompassing when you’re in it. But then you wake up, and it’s all behind you. Of course, there are consequences to our actions in this world that we don’t have in our dreams, but from eternity’s perspective, it’s just as temporary.
‘So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.’ (2 Cor 4:18).
When I remember that life is temporary, I feel strangely soothed. I can better respond to bad news, knowing that this world will be rolled up like a scroll and God will bring it to judgement (Eccl 12:14).
4) I’m never alone: Christ is also with me
While suffering is challenging, I find it even more challenging when I feel alone and isolated in that suffering.
When I think that I have to face an uncertain future alone, I feel vulnerable. I feel exposed. I feel weak. But when I remember that Christ is with us, to the end of the age (Matt 28:20), then I feel a rush of comfort, even confidence. I can face an uncertain and challenging future knowing that the risen and Almighty Lord Jesus Christ is with me.
5) Have the right hope (or else frustration will be the norm)
Like most people around the world, I hope for a future of peace and stability.
Where Jewish kids aren’t massacred or taken hostage, and Palestinian kids aren’t bombed or used as human shields. Where there’s peace in our region and democracy in Russia.
And those are good things to hope for and pray for.
But if that’s where my hope ends, I’ll feel frustrated and disillusioned. I might even tend toward despair.
But if my ultimate hope is in an ultimate reality – the return of Jesus and the end of all evil (Rev 21), then I won’t be afraid or shaken. Sure, I’ll lament sad things that happen, but these things won’t undo me.
6) I need to get out of centre stage of my life (and remember Jesus is the centre)
One of the most profound truths in Scripture is this: Jesus is the centre of the Universe. Therefore, he must be the centre of my life.
But since every man since Adam, I have a tendency to put myself in the centre. And when I do, strange and awful things happen.
I find myself becoming more demanding of those around me, including what’s happening out there in the world. I subtly (or not so subtly) demand things of God. As I become more demanding, I become more controlling, wanting to bend situations and people to my will. Of course, I can’t control anyone, let alone world events, so I end up feeling angry and frustrated. I question God. I question his goodness.
But when Jesus is the centre of my life, these selfish, controlling desires start losing their grip on me. I see the world with a fresh perspective: it’s not about me and what I want. It’s about what Jesus is doing, bringing more people into his kingdom and waiting for that final day of his return.
7) Thankfulness gives perspective
Being glued to social media and the news tends to shift my perspective in God-less direction. Whether fear at world events. Or envy of other people’s lives.
But thankfulness shifts my perspective in a God-ward direction.
When I realise that everything I have – my life, my family, my possessions, my health, my relationships – are ultimately a gift from a good and heavenly Father, my perspective shifts. When I realise that as a sinful, rebellious man I deserve eternal condemnation, not the life I’ve been given, I’m humbled and removed from the centre of life.
When I realise the forgiveness Jesus has won for me – undeserved, eternal, unwavering – I feel joy.
8) Waiting is a feature of the Christian life, not a bug
As a modern 21st century Australian, I’m not a fan of waiting.
I want my life to work as I want it, right now. Waiting is not only a waste of time, I reason, but frustrating. I want God to fix the world now. Why can’t there peace in Ukraine now? Why can’t the Middle East calm down, now? What’s God doing, I think to myself?
But waiting isn’t a bug, something that’s wrong with the Christian life: it’s baked into it. Whether it’s waiting for Jesus' return, for God to answer prayer, or patiently waiting during a challenging personal season, waiting is what we’re designed for.
As author Mark Vroegop points out in his book ‘Waiting isn’t a Waste’, ‘Waiting on God is living on what I know to be true about God when I don’t know what’s true about my life’.[1] If I know that God is good and in control, then I’ll live differently in this difficult ‘already but not yet’ chapter of world history. I’ll live trusting that God has got this, rather than despairing and shaking my head (or fist) at God for not doing what I think he should be doing.
[1] Mark Vroegop, Waiting Isn’t a Waste - The Surprising Comfort of Trusting God in the Uncertainties of Life (Crossway:Wheaton, IL, 2024), 5.