Be Still: Under His Shield

Posted by Caitlyn Preston January 27, 2026

Be Still: Under His Shield

“The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still.” — Exodus 14:14

Ever feel like everyone has an opinion about you? Like no matter what you do, someone will misinterpret your intentions, judge your choices, or say things that just aren’t true? At first, it stings. You want to explain, defend yourself, make them understand your heart. You want the last word. (And let’s be honest — sometimes I really do want the last word.)

I’ve been there. I’ve been judged. I’ve been labeled unfairly. And I’ll admit it: my instinct is to respond, to justify my reasonings, to try to control the narrative. But over time, I’ve realized something important: fear often drives that urge to control. Fear that people will misunderstand me. Fear that my heart will get hurt. Fear that I won’t be able to protect my peace.

Sometimes it even shows up in tiny ways… like hiding in a closet with a square of dark chocolate, just giving yourself a minute to breathe, because, well…that’s life. Sometimes, in bigger ways, when people speak poorly about me, I feel that instant urge to react. I just want to say a thing or two right there, to defend myself and set the record straight. But then I hear a soft voice in the back of my mind whispering, “Be still.” It’s faint, almost easy to ignore, but it’s the voice of God reminding me that I don’t have to respond, that I don’t have to control the story, that the fight isn’t mine to fight.

Life can be like an unexpected ice storm. Roads iced over, plans disrupted, power flickering. There’s nothing we can do to control it, and it’s a good reminder that not everything in life is in our hands. Just like the storm, people’s words or judgments can hit suddenly, and we can’t control how others act or what they say. But we can be still. We can trust God to carry the weight we cannot. Exodus 14:14 says it perfectly: “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

David knew this struggle too. When Saul sought to kill him, David could have fought back, argued, or tried to control the outcome. But he didn’t. Instead, he trusted God, saying, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want…He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.” (Psalm 23:1–3) David’s life reminds us that even when people speak falsely or unjustly about us, the safest place to stand is in God’s care, not in our own defense.

That urge to protect ourselves, to control the narrative, often comes from fear. Fear that people will misunderstand us. Fear that our hearts will be hurt. Fear that we won’t be able to maintain our peace. And that fear often finds its outlet in control. Control becomes a shield: a safe and easy way to protect our hearts, our peace, and even our sense of stability. It can make us feel safer, more prepared, more capable of holding life’s uncertainties in check. But shields can weigh heavy, and sometimes they keep us from resting in the very peace we’re trying to protect. Even Jesus faced false accusations and misunderstandings, yet He didn’t react in fear or defensiveness. He modeled perfect trust in the Father, showing us that true security isn’t in controlling what others say. It’s in surrendering to God.

As Psalm 91:4 reminds us, “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” God’s protection isn’t something we have to build or hold ourselves. He is the shield that never grows heavy, the refuge that never fails. God doesn’t want us to live exhausted under the weight of our shields of control. He doesn’t want us trying to defend ourselves at every turn. He wants to be the shield that protects us from this world. Jesus lived this truth. He didn’t over explain, He didn’t argue with every critic, He didn’t micromanage the opinions of others. He left the judgment to the Father, trusting God’s timing and justice. When life presses in and fear tempts us to grab for control, we are called to take up the shield of faith (Ephesians 6:16), trusting that His power and His promises protect us.

Being still doesn’t mean weakness. It means surrender. It means giving your fears, your anxieties, and even your desire to control to the cross. “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7) When we step back and let God carry the burden, our actions, our love, and our integrity speak louder than words ever could. Jesus’ life reminds us that our silence, grounded in faith and trust, can be a powerful testimony of His work in us. We don’t have to respond to everything. We don’t have to elaborate. We don’t have to get the last word. Let them say what they need to say, even if it isn’t right. Let people think what they will. In the end, God knows your heart.. And He sees theirs, too.

Our human instinct is to grab for control, to correct, to defend; but God calls us to lose control. To let go. To lay it all at the cross. That’s where true peace comes from. Jesus carried the ultimate burden for us on the cross, showing us that surrender is stronger than striving, that love and trust are more powerful than fear.

Sometimes the loudest thing we can do is nothing at all. Sometimes the strongest move is to be still, to let God carry the weight we can’t, to lay down the shield we’ve been holding so tightly. Because when we release control, when we stop rehearsing our defenses, when we hand our fears to the cross, peace doesn’t just appear. It settles. It rests. And it reminds us that our value, our protection, and our security aren’t measured by what others say about us, but by the God who sees our hearts, loves us without fail, and gave everything so we could trust Him fully.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5–6) This is the heart of surrender: releasing control, leaving judgment to God, and letting Him direct the way.

And if you’re like me, learning to surrender and find peace isn’t always neat or immediate. It’s a process — giving it all to Him, little by little — even while you’re still enjoying your dark chocolate and navigating the chaos of life. The peace doesn’t come from the chocolate — it comes from Him — but the chocolate sure makes the journey a little sweeter. Take a deep breath, give your burdens to the Father, and let Him carry what you can’t.

Storms may be big, but our God is bigger.

Still reaching,

Caitlyn