Women of the Covenant: Steady Faith in Unsettled Times
Nothing New Under the Sun: When the World Feels Unfamiliar
There are times when you can feel the shift in the air before anyone names it.
A change in how people speak.
A change in what is considered normal.
A change in what is honored—and what is mocked.
Sometimes the shift is economic. Sometimes it’s social. Sometimes it’s moral. Sometimes it’s spiritual. Often it’s all at once.
And if you’ve lived long enough to remember different seasons—different presidents, different wars, different cultural tides—you may still find yourself thinking something that surprises you:
“This feels different.”
Not just “bad.” Not just “hard.” Different.
Less stable. More fragmented. More complicated.
And when a person feels that, the mind naturally seeks explanations.
Some people reach for headlines. Some reach for politics. Some reach for fear. Some reach for numbness.
But Scripture offers something steadier than all of that.
It offers a sentence that has calmed people in every generation—not because it minimizes pain, but because it restores perspective:
“There is nothing new under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 1:9)
King Solomon wrote those words from a place of hard-earned wisdom.
Not naïve optimism.
Not denial.
Wisdom.
He had watched cycles repeat: nations rise and fall, people chase meaning and lose it, societies build and decay, power concentrate and corrupt, hearts wander and return.
And he put it plainly: the patterns of humanity repeat.
That doesn’t mean nothing matters.
It means you’re not the first person to live through a season when the world feels unfamiliar.
Which is essential, because one of the most exhausting feelings a person can carry is the sense that this is unprecedented.
That’s when fear grows fastest.
Unprecedented means: no map, no category, no language, no precedent for hope.
But Scripture gives precedent.
It says, “God has met people here before.”
And one of the clearest examples of that is a woman many people don’t talk about enough—Deborah.
Deborah’s story (Judges 4–5) is not set in a comfortable time.
It is set in a period of instability.
Israel is oppressed.
The people are weary.
The roadways are unsafe.
Leadership is uncertain.
The nation is under pressure—politically, socially, militarily.
In other words, it’s not a season of ease.
It’s a season of strain.
And in that season, Deborah appears.
Not as a celebrity. Not as an attention-seeker.
Scripture calls her a prophetess and a judge—someone who carried discernment and responsibility when the atmosphere was heavy.
When others were paralyzed, she was clear.
When others were intimidated, she was steady.
When others were waiting for someone else to lead, she listened to God and spoke with courage.
Deborah is a reminder that God does not abandon a people in times of instability.
He raises clarity.
He raises wisdom.
He raises voices that don’t amplify panic—they restore order.
And this is where I want to connect something very gently to the moment we are living in now.
Many Baby Boomers carry a unique kind of burden in this season.
You’ve lived through enough to notice patterns.
You’ve raised families.
You’ve worked through economic changes.
You’ve seen political cycles.
You’ve watched communities shift.
And now, as life becomes more complicated, you may find yourself concerned about efficient matters:
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Will my retirement hold?
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Will healthcare remain accessible?
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Will I become isolated as people move away or pass on?
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Will my grandchildren inherit chaos or stability?
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What happens when civic responsibility fades?
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Why does it feel like values are dissolving?
If you’re asking those questions, you’re not just “being negative.”
You’re paying attention.
Deborah would understand that kind of attention.
Because she lived in a time when danger wasn’t theoretical.
It was present.
And she didn’t respond with hysteria.
She responded with obedience.
That’s the theme of the women of the covenant.
Not women who controlled history, but women who carried faith into history.
Women who became steady when society wasn’t.
Which brings us back to Ecclesiastes.
When Solomon says there is nothing new under the sun, he’s doing more than making an observation.
He’s offering a form of peace:
If this pattern has happened before, God’s faithfulness has been tested before.
If people have faced moral decline before, God has preserved truth before.
If communities have fractured before, God has held families together before.
If violence has risen before, God has been a shield before.
If economic fear has visited before, God has provided before.
And that doesn’t mean everything ends comfortably.
But it does mean everything ends under God’s authority.
This is why studying prophecy and Scripture matters right now—not so you can argue online or predict dates.
But so you can interpret your life with steadiness.
So you can love your family without panic.
So you can prepare spiritually without becoming obsessed.
So you can live wisely in a complicated world.
Deborah’s life shows us that readiness often looks like quiet courage.
Not loud certainty.
Not dramatic declarations.
Quiet courage.
And if you’ve felt the call to become steadier—not just for yourself, but for the people who look to you—then Deborah is a companion for your season.
Here’s a reflection question I want to leave you with:
Where do you need to trade anxiety for obedience?
Not because obedience makes life easy.
But because obedience makes life clear.
And clarity is a gift.
Now, the same gentle invitation as before—because I’m not here to pressure anyone.
I’m here to provide a steady lens.
If this brought you peace, take what you need and sit with it.
And if you want to go deeper, my Women of the Covenant ebook walks through these stories slowly—no hype, no politics, just Scripture and clarity.
In the next post, we’ll talk about watchfulness—what Jesus meant by “be ready,” and how to live prepared without losing your peace.
Until then:
Steady faith.
Open eyes.
A calm heart.
God will provide.
