Have you ever noticed that it’s often during the hardest seasons of life that we feel closest to God? I know I have. Unfortunately, it’s only after I have exhausted every possible option that I realize how much I need God. Then, I pause, quiet the noise around me, and reach up to Him in prayer. In those moments, I realize God is not distant, even when I am distracted by my own efforts or the busyness of everyday life.
I felt like a failure. I worked hard in school with dreams of becoming a doctor. But a medical school recruiter told me my poor eyesight made that impossible. Lost and uncertain, I changed majors and eventually earned a degree in Economics. However, instead of having the high-powered, money-making career the world told me I needed to be successful, I married young and started a family. After years as a stay-at-home mom, I earned my master’s in education and began teaching. But juggling motherhood and work always left me exhausted, stretched thin. No matter how hard I tried, success felt just out of reach. I was always striving but never arriving.
Being a stay-at-home mom can sometimes feel like a thankless, monotonous job. Or maybe it was just me. My years as a stay-at-home mom felt tiresome and endless. It wasn’t the work; it was the sameness. The days blurred together, and I could work hard from morning until night, only to wake up to the same list waiting for me the next day. There was no clear finish line, no moment when everything felt complete. I loved my family deeply, yet still felt weary and unseen. I wondered if anyone noticed the effort it took to keep everything running.
When life is difficult, and you feel lost in your distress and discouragement, have you ever prayed, “Why God? Where are you in this challenging situation? When will you hear and answer my prayers?” If so, then you aren’t alone. Trust me, friend, I have been there, too. I have been the mom, sitting by my child’s hospital bed, crying out to God, wondering why, wondering when God will answer my pleas, and praying that I could take the place of my child. But I can promise you one thing. Even when you are frustrated, your faith feels fragile, and your prayers seem futile, you will survive the fire. Because through Jesus, we are overcomers.
I never thought I had a gift for hospitality. But then I discovered hospitality derives its power from presence.
Many years ago, I taught a Bible study at my friend and mentor’s home. Our group consisted of about twenty people, both singles and couples. Each week, we gathered around her table for a shared meal, potluck style. We chatted about our lives, ate, worshiped God, and studied our Bibles. But most importantly, we laughed, prayed, and encouraged one another. There was something special about our time around the dinner table. Enjoying food helped everyone relax and open their hearts. Being fully present with one another and with God created a quiet, powerful connection. It grew our friendships and strengthened our faith.
One text changed everything, and for a moment, hope disappeared. “Hey sister, I have some rough news to share.” The doctor’s diagnosis followed this sentence, and it wasn’t good. In fact, it left little room for hope. Maybe you’ve been there too, with the phone in your hand, crying out to God, with tears rolling down your face after receiving devastating news. You wonder how you could possibly hold onto hope when circumstances tell you to give up.
Yesterday, I stood in church singing songs of praise with tears streaming down my face. As I sang words of praise, I also silently pleaded yet again for God to miraculously heal my stepmom from her cancer and to free her from her pain. Finally, I told God that no matter what, I would surrender to His will and plan for our lives.
Sometimes life beats us down with its relentless responsibilities and daily routines. The constant pull on our time and energy leaves us not only physically exhausted but emotionally weary. The weight of everything crushes us, body and soul. It can feel as if we are standing in a sun-scorched land. The endless to-do lists and mounting pressures sear us like relentless heat. The pace is unyielding, and the heaviness threatens to suffocate our very souls.
When I read this verse in my quiet time, “Do everything in love” (1 Corinthians 16:14, NIV), I thought, “Ah, so Jesus wasn’t the only one instructing us to love.” But then the Holy Spirit whispered to me, “No, this is subtly different.”
“Not all wounds bleed. Some come in the form of words spoken long ago, planted like seeds that took root in our hearts, growing into insecurity, fear, or shame.
Dear one, if you’ve ever carried the weight of painful words spoken over you, take heart. There is good news. God’s Word reminds us that those seeds do not have to define who we are. Through His truth, we can uproot them and plant new seeds of hope, courage, and love.
