A while back, Jo and I had a couple of dear friends over for dinner. We’d penciled in the night knowing there was something that needed talking about. As soon as forks were down, I asked, “So, what’s on your mind?” Turns out, our friends had a pretty big decision to make. Life-changing, really. It involved a job opportunity and potential move across the country. They talked for a good bit, going back and forth about all the reasons they ought not to go. Would their kids adjust? Would they miss their families too much? Would the job not pan out the way our friends hoped? They’d barely taken a breath, running through every conceivable negative, when I asked, “OK. Now, what’s the best that could happen?”
They quieted. Looked at each other, then at me in a sort of puzzled way as if to say, “What does that matter?” It took our friends a few minutes and some stumbling around before they let themselves imagine what good might come from saying yes. But once they cracked open the door to possibility, hope poured out. They started talking over each other again but with what ifs of a gentler kind: All the potential growth and opportunity it could mean for my friend’s career. All the ways it could actually bring their family closer. Seeds of dreams they’d barely shared with each other filled the space between us.
As Jo and I sat there, we watched our friends’ worry turn to hope, their fear to boldness. All their hypotheticals softened with truth. Whether they ended up choosing to make the move or to stay put, they now had in front of them a fuller picture, one that wasn’t fed by insecurity alone but also by belief.
I could tell a handful of stories just like this. I’ve asked the same question of buddies who come to me nervous wrecks about opening the business they’d been working toward or expanding the one they’ve already got. I get that it’s second nature to worry first, trust second. And sadly, for a lot of folks, the worry can be so heavy, so mind-bending, that they never even make it to peace. If you’re anything like Jo, you’ll run through every worst-case scenario when it comes to your kids or work. She says it gives her a sense of safety and control to confront all the potential bad stuff first.
And in a sort of upside-down way, this is how we’ve begun to encourage one another. We lessen potential blows with these cultural “-isms” or questions like, “What’s the worst that could happen?” and “What could go wrong?” And we mean well by them. They’re intended to comfort, to settle anxious hearts. We’re so afraid of offering false hope that we remind one another to “hope for the best, but expect the worst,” and to “believe it when you see it” instead of the other way around.
What I want to know is, when did we all get so scared of believing the best? And what if this currency of caution that we’re offering each other, even the most well-meaning, is just deepening the ruts of our worry-prone hearts? What if self- confidence and bravery weren’t reserved only for those best at extinguishing fear and managing risk, but also for those willing to believe? In themselves. In each other. In opportunity. In a God whose goodness never fails and who’s there to catch us whether we soar or whether we flop.
“… what if this currency of caution that we’re offering each other, even the most well-meaning, is just deepening the ruts of our worry- prone hearts?”
Failure deserves a mention here because it is a real-life possibility. I don’t want you to hear that choosing to believe the best equals or somehow earns you success every time. Not all of my big, brave swings have landed me on my feet. In fact, a few of them have landed me in some pretty hot water. But I’ve never regretted betting on goodness, on happiness, on chasing potential and seeing what we’re made of.
I read somewhere that worry is belief gone wrong because you don’t believe that God will get it right, while peace is belief that exhales. I haven’t been able to get that visual out of my head. It takes me back to the night our friends sat across from us, each of them wearing worry like a cape. The way their fear held them stiff, pulled their shoulders to their ears—and then, the way their whole bodies exhaled as soon as they opened their minds to how this thing could play out differently.
So, I want to try something. I want to see what happens if we flip a few of these “-isms” and platitudes that are inherently rooted in the negative, in fear and worry, and we turn them around. Here’s what we’d have to offer one another:
What’s the best that could happen?
What could go right?
Hope for better, and expect the best. You’ll see it when you believe it. Imagine if our default was to expect the best—all that could go right. What doors would it open? What dreams would be chased? What lives would it change? How differently our world would spin.
My point isn’t all that groundbreaking (and it tends to get lost in today’s doom-and-gloom dialogue), but here it is: We’ll do the impossible when we believe we can. We’ll take the big risk when we believe the best is waiting for us. We’ll make the leap when others share in our belief that we’ll stick the landing.
To a lot of people, I bet the past 20 years of my and Jo’s life look a bit like a roller coaster, which isn’t far from the truth. We’ve built. We’ve risked. We’ve won. We’ve lost. We’ve learned plenty. But only in life’s rearview mirror can we see that the real miracle is that we believed in any of it to begin with—and that we kept believing. The more life we live, the clearer it becomes that some people don’t give themselves that chance.
Don’t let that be you. Embrace a belief in the best and watch it drown out fear. Let this be the wisdom we offer each other. No more nodding along and humoring worst-case scenarios. Instead, let’s ask our spouses, our kids, our friends: “What’s the best that could happen?” and watch hope flood in.
This story has been adapted from the summer 2025 issue of Magnolia Journal. To see it in print, pick up your copy here or on a newsstand near you. Then, start a subscription for inspiration year-round.
