Ntonhle Dlamini

Obedience,anxiety, and the God who knows the plans

Jeremiah 29:11 — “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord…

This all began when I was fast asleep and my phone vibrated. 

I woke up, checked it — probably nothing important. Growing up, I was taught to always pray when I wake up at night. Whether I’d just come back from the bathroom or simply ran out of sleep, pray first. So I did. I got on my knees, prayed, and felt so calm and relaxed. 

Until I stood up, switched the lights on… and damn near stepped on the gecko.

So much for “do not fear,” right? I’d literally just finished talking to the God who says that 365 times. And 30 seconds later I’m having a full threat-response meltdown over a 7cm lizard.

It started on my wardrobe. Then my bed. Then the wall. Then the door was ajar and it vanished into the passage. My heart rate said “run.” My brain said “find it.” My shoulders said “we’re staying up here until further notice.”

I kept trying to “relax,” but my body refused. Why? Because uncertainty feels more threatening than actual danger. A gecko I can see is annoying. A gecko I might see has me scanning every nook, over-analyzing shadows, and making sandwiches with one eye on the ceiling.

Sound familiar?

“Do Not Fear” Meets Human Nature 

The Bible says “do not fear” 365 times. One for every day. Yet we still lie awake asking God for the blueprint before we’ll unclench our fists.

We don’t just want peace. We want coordinates. 

We don’t just want provision. We want the itinerary. 

We’re like Thomas: “Unless I see the exact location of the nails… I will not believe.”

Here’s the kicker: I did pray. I was obedient. And the gecko still showed up. Prayer didn’t prevent the scare. But it did something else — it meant I wasn’t facing the scare alone, even when my adrenaline said otherwise.

My brain has two systems:

Threat system: “WHERE IS IT? I need exact location or I’m not safe.”

Logic system: “It’s harmless. It’s probably gone. Relax.”

When threat mode is on, it mutes logic. So “do not fear” sounds like “drop your guard mid-battle.” My body literally couldn’t.

What God Actually Gives Us: Jer 29:11 

Notice what the verse doesn’t say: “For I have emailed you the 5-year plan with timestamps.” 

It says: “For I know the plans I have for you.” 

I know. Not you. 

God holds the details not to torture us, but because we can’t carry them. If I’d known exactly where that gecko would run next, I would’ve exhausted myself trying to intercept it. Instead, I got what I actually needed:

A way out — the passage to my study.

A boundary — my bedroom door, shut, lights off. 

Provision — a sandwich and hot chocolate for my nerves.

I didn’t get the gecko’s GPS. I got my next step. And maybe that prayer at 2am wasn’t to prevent the gecko. Maybe it was to prepare me to walk through the passage after I saw it.

Trust Looks Like Walking Through the Passage Anyway 

The turning point wasn’t when I found the gecko. I never did. The turning point was when I walked through the passage without knowing where it was.

I had “my room is sealed” and “I need to study.” That was enough data to move. 

That’s trust. Not the absence of questions, but the presence of movement despite them. It’s saying: “I don’t know the plans, but I know the Planner, so I’ll take the next step.” Even when the next step comes right after prayer and panic in the same 5 minutes.

The Hangover of Hypervigilance 

Even after I was safe, my shoulders stayed up. I scanned the kitchen while making food. My body was still running security scans.

That’s us after a crisis, too. The storm passes, but we’re still bracing. We pray “give me peace” but keep refreshing for answers.

Peace didn’t come when I got all the details. Peace came when I ate the sandwich. When I felt the warmth of the hot chocolate and told my shoulders, physically, “stand down.” When I named 5 colors in my kitchen to break the threat-scan.

God often gives us peace in the uncertainty, not after we solve it.

So If You’re Scanning Your Own Kitchen Tonight… 

Maybe your “gecko” is a job decision. A diagnosis. A relationship. A prodigal child. And you’re stuck because you can’t relax until you know it’s “100% gone forever.”

Here’s what I learned from a lizard at 2am:

Your need to know the location is human, not faithless. God designed your threat system. He’s not mad you have one. He’s not mad you panicked after you prayed.

“Do not fear” isn’t a command to feel different. It’s an invitation to move anyway. Shut the door. Make the sandwich. Walk to the study.

You won’t get the full map. You’ll get the next step, a boundary, and daily bread. That’s Jeremiah 29:11 in real life.

Prayer doesn’t always prevent the storm. Sometimes it prepares you to walk through it. I prayed, then panicked, then moved anyway. All three can be true.

Peace is a practice, not a download. Shoulders up? Shrug and drop them. Mind scanning? Name 5 colors. Body tense? Eat warm food and breathe.

I never found the gecko. It’s probably in my brother’s room now — and that’s his problem. 

But I found something better: I can function without all the details. I can pray, panic, and still shut the door, eat the sandwich, and trust that the One who knows the plans also knew the gecko would be there when I switched the light on.

And He knows where you are, too.

What “passage” is God asking you to walk through without all the details tonight — even if you just prayed about it?