It occurs when facing something rather unpleasant, unpredictable, or unbearable. Faced with the reality, our instinct says, “get out”. It tells us to run out the door, slam it shut, and lock it tight.

Behind every slammed door, there is a kernel of hope on the other side. As a kid, I’d imagine that the “slammed door effect” had the uncanny ability to transport me to a place of safety & hope. Behind the door, I would no longer be in trouble, consequences would disappear, and mom would forget the words that escaped my mouth when I was angry.

The effect would go something like this: with one big slam, I might walk back through the door to find that everyone forgot what happened and maybe there would even be cookies waiting for me in the kitchen.

Man, there are many days where I wish that the slammed door effect would actually work and I’d come back to that sweet aroma. Days where I wish that I could just run away from reality, slam the door shut, and lock it tight.

I’m aware this hallway metaphor might feel a little redundant to some of you. But God is still using it daily to teach me more about his character, so bear with me as I continue sharing it.

For those who are new here and for those who have been following along for a while, here we go. We’ve made it to the slammed shut door…

Welcome to the hallway.

Today’s door is the one you never anticipated encountering. It’s the unexpected door. Perhaps concealed from plain sight or unsettling because of what lies beyond, you recognize it because the moment you step inside, you are already planning your route of escape.

Beyond the threshold, there lay a box of emotions too heavy to process and broken circumstances: that family member who just got diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, the trauma you experienced as a child, or the fight you got into yesterday with your spouse.

Now inside the room, you have to decide what to do next.

Maybe you saw it from miles away as you looked down the very long hallway or maybe it took you by surprise. Either way, now you are standing inside the room; facing whatever lay beyond the unexpected door. It is here where the temptation lies to revert back to our younger selves; running away, slamming the door shut, and locking it tight.

You must make a choice. As the song by The Clash says, “Should I stay or should I go now?

1. You can try and run away from the person and place which you have been called in this very long hallway that we call life or you can remain. Though uncomfortable, you can choose to see a faithful God who is already there with you in the room, ready and willing to help you every step of the way.

2. You can slam the door shut or choose to venture deeper into the room, daring to believe that God might have something for you within. He is, in fact, the very one who brought you there. With each bold step, you quietly proclaim, “your will be done” as you hope in his words.

3. Lastly, you can choose to lock the door up tight in denial, or you can open it up and face what’s in front of you with God the Father by your side. Psalm 139:2 says that God “discerns your thoughts from a far”. According to the scriptures, he has searched us and knows us intimately. This means all of us. Behind the very thing we are trying to run from processing is a God who knows our every thought & emotion behind it. He is well acquainted with our hearts. That is his home, after all. We can not hide from him.

So to remain, venture deeper, and open up…

These seem to be, while more complicated, the road to wisdom. Because when we believe that there is a real God who is a part of our real stories, then we begin to wonder, is there any point in running?

The temptation to run is in our very nature. It goes all the way back to the very beginning. In Genesis, we are introduced to Adam and Eve, the first runaways.

Ashamed of what they had done in eating the forbidden fruit, we can infer that Adam and Eve hoped for some sort of “slammed door” miracle. Perhaps they thought that if they hid long enough, their Dad would come back, the moment would somehow pass, and everything would continue on as if nothing had happened. Maybe they hoped they could even avoid the weight of what stood before them.

And so, like a game of hide and seek, they ran and they hid…

[8] And they heard the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees of the garden. [9] But the LORD God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?” [10] And he said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.” [11] He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” (Genesis 3:8–11, ESV)

However, the story does not end with their hiding. The sad truth is that the slammed door effect is only an illusion; something we do to make ourselves feel better. It does not change the situation, although we wish it could. Most times, upon re-entry, the situation still remains unsettled and cookies are not waiting on the other side.

The dream that died…

The broken body you hoped God would mend…

The lost job…

The family member who passed…

The repeated miscarriages…

The broken marriage…

They still lie beyond the slammed shut door.

However, so does the Fathers quiet whisper that says “Where are you?”

He reminds us that he is beyond the door, with us in the hard, and calling our names. He is the very voice that beckons us to come home. Yet even still, he was present with us in our running. There all along.

Our hiding does not make God leave. We can run, we can hide, and we can shut the door, but what we can not do is shut God out.

Friend, let me ask you this… What if faithfulness in this season looks like remaining rather than running?

Would you dare to stay? To venture deeper, open your heart to God, and trust that He is already at work within you?

^“7 Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? ⁸ If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! ⁹ If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, ¹⁰ even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.” (Psalm 139:7–10, ESV)

It is his very hand that has led you and will hold you, every step of the way.

If our time here on earth is like a hallway lined with many doors, then there has to be a final one.

Just in the past few days, our family has lost 2 precious members. I imagine them each standing before that last door, looking back in awe of what lay behind them. A beautiful array of color, a unique set of shapes, and a story to tell behind each door. I imagine them looking back, and recalling a God who was near in every. single. room.

After looking behind them, I imagine the steps they would take towards the very last door; the one that in my mind resembles a pearly white gate.

I believe that the steps taken towards this door were sure and steady. Beholding the majesty, the believer walks towards the final door in this very long hallway with confident assurance. This is because of what they know to be true about their Heavenly Father.

I like to think that both Nene and PopPop, with one deep breath and a big step, walked through the last door with a different posture than the ones that came before. This one, they knew for certain, would take them forever out of the hallway and into paradise.

I know this is true because of the words that PopPop said on his final days. He said things like, “It is what it is.” “Beautiful life, beautiful death.” “I am not afraid”. These words carried him forward towards the door of eternity. He knew the hope that lie beyond the door and could nearly hear the symphony singing “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty” (Isaiah 6:3).

While the truth of Gods word tells us that there will be great joy and peace as we walk through the final door (Revelation 21:4), we can not help but let our experience of it on the other side shape our view of death. When someone walks through that final door, there is deep grief for those left behind. The final door of their story leaves us standing in the hallway of our own. Yet, the same God that remains close in every door, also is near in the hallway.

Our friends, Mary and Martha, teach us much about what it means to be left in the hallway of grief in John 11, through the death of their brother Lazarus. They provide beautiful examples of what it means to be completely human, experiencing deep sorrow, while also living in the truth of 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14.

Truth #1: “It was Mary who…”. (v.2)

• It was Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was ill, and soon after passed away. Her faithfulness and adoration unto the Lord did not exempt her and her sister from walking through the door of suffering. It did not exempt her from the sorrow she would experience from not being able to enter the room that Lazarus had entered.

Truth #2: “Jesus loved them all” (v. 3, v.5)

• The wide and long and high and deep love of God did not exempt Martha and Mary from the suffering they experienced in losing Lazarus. They still walked through the door of suffering, despite how much the God of the universe loved them.

  “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world”

  (John 16:33)

Truth #3: “Let us go” (v. 15)

• Jesus moves toward the grieving. According to the text, he and his disciples went to Judea, the place of sorrow where Mary and Martha grieved the loss of their brother, after his death. Even though Jesus knew that the room was only temporary, the Lord was kind to meet the women in their place of grief.

Truth #4: “Mary remained in the house” (v. 20), but He called for her (v. 28)

• When behind the door of suffering and faced with the unexplainable, it is common for us to feel “stuck,” as though we cannot move. Remaining sometimes feels like the only human response to real-life suffering. This is exactly what Mary did. It was there, in the place where she remained, that God “called for her.” He knew that in His presence there would be true peace. He drew near to her in her suffering, and still calls for us to draw near to Him.

Truth #6: “Jesus Wept” (v. 35)

• By his tears, Jesus offers a greater console than anyone else. The consolation of the Jews offered to Mary and Martha, by custom, paled in comparison to that of their Savior. When entering the room, He comes well acquainted with our grief. The Lord does not leave us alone, but rather draws near to us in the richness of human emotion.

Today, I thank God that He is with us as we face every door, even the very last one. And when those we love walk through the last door before we do, I will not forget: He is still with us in the hallway.

Without realizing it, we exchange abiding for activity, communion for productivity, and intimacy for the appearance of closeness.

Over the past year, God has taught me a lot about what nearness to Him looks like. He has reminded me over and over again that life is like a hallway with many doors. The doors represent various seasons and moments that we will walk through in this life. Some doors are filled with joy, other ones are deep with grief and sadness. Behind each one; however, is an opportunity to encounter the living God, who is near to us no matter what we are going through. Behind each door, I imagine Him begging us not to depart from the nearness He offers. I imagine Him him crying out, “come to me”.

A month into motherhood, and I have found myself in another room of this very long hallway that we call life. Behind the newborn door lies various emotions. Grief for the life that was left behind, joy for the moments of pure bliss with my little one, sadness for the loneliness that can be found in the hidden work of motherhood, and fear of the unknown.

It is behind this door that I have been tempted to settle for an illusion of nearness. I have found myself relying on my own strength, trying to make sense of this season apart from the truth of God's Word. I've even come here hoping to have something meaningful to share, only to find myself empty. In my striving to produce something from God, I can neglect the simple invitation to be with Him.

Yet in the midst of temptation there is a God who has overcome it.

"No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it." (1 Corinthians 10:13)

God does not simply provide a way out of temptation; He also offers us the promise of His presence in the midst of it. The invitation has never been to overcome in our own strength, but to draw near to the one who is already near to us.

He says… “Come to me”.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

"To come" is to intentionally approach the Father with a posture of receiving. He looks upon His weary, burdened children with compassion and does not ask them to prove themselves before drawing near. Instead, He invites them to come just as they are. More than that, He doesn't merely extend the invitation, He commands it.

So to the mom who is weary from 2 a.m. feeds, heavy laden by circumstances beyond her control, exhausted from too little sleep, or tired of bearing it all alone…

God speaks three simple words:

Come to Me.

I’m returning to this truth often while within this particular door. If I want to experience the beauty of God’s nearness and not merely the illusion of it, then I must humbly come before Him. I cannot skip the first part of Matthew 11:28 and neither can you.

We must heed the call and make a choice.

The truth is, that this is not the last door we will walk through… As I said before, the hallway is very long. And behind every door lies an opportunity to choose nearness. Many more doors will come. They will be different shapes, different sizes, and of course hold different challenges. However, the person behind them will ALWAYS be the same. Our Savior, extends the same invitation He has always given as he stands behind each one.

Come to Me.

For in His presence and nowhere else is the fullness of joy. (Psalm 16:11)

This reflection was born out of what God has been patiently teaching me over the past year through a simple picture of life as a long hallway lined with many doors. It has become the lens through which I’ve come to see His faithfulness in every season and it’s also the heartbeat behind the children’s book I’ve been writing. If you’d like to continue walking these hallways with me, I’d love for you to subscribe here as we keep discovering the God who is faithful behind every door.

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There is something strange about titles. They give us meaning and purpose, tending to shape the way we do life and interact with others. Even now, as people ask me, “What do you do in town?” my response of “stay at home mom” is quite hilarious considering the belly bump on me. Yet as I lean into what God has for me in being a mom to Jude and wife to Jenner, I am confident that “stay at home mom” is exactly what will continue to shape me in my journey with Jesus during this time.

I say all of this, to 1. Affirm the calling and purpose God has on my life right now (sometimes it helps to write it out, say it out, and say it out again until you believe it) and 2. To share the opportunity I have in this unique season to WRITE about what He is doing in and through me. The badge of honor I am wearing even now as “Jude’s Mom” is the very thing providing time to do more of what I love… write.

While the badge can be weighty, I can feel purposeless, or often unequipped to wear it I know God is crafting a beautiful story in the right now. I sure as heck do not want to miss it.

So WELCOME to my little corner of the internet where I get to lean in, think deeply, and share what God is teaching me. I hope he teaches you something through it or just uses it to encourage you as well.

“¹² Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions. ¹³ Do not present your members to sin as instruments for unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and your members to God as instruments for righteousness. ¹⁴ For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace.”

- Romans 6:12-14

Instruments take on many forms, but in general, they serve as tools used to carry out a particular task or achieve a specific purpose. In the case of this particular scripture, the instrument of discussion is our whole mortal body. Paul instructs his readers to “present” their “members” wisely. Not as “instruments for unrighteousness… but for righteousness”.

Instruments when played correctly and in the presence of an orchestra can carry out the purpose of making a beautiful noise. However, if one is tuned improperly, the noise it makes can be distracting or even destructive to the entire performance. Our bodies, similarly have the ability to produce a beautiful testimony when yielded to the spirit. When each part of of the body is properly tuned, it can produce a wonderful noise! However, if one “member” is being yielded improperly, it might require a proper intervention, such as a tuning or repair.

I think God looks to our bodies, knowing the capacity he has created them for. He knows exactly what tuning and repairs are needed. That being said, as we present ourselves to him, he intervenes and sanctifies us so that every part of us might be used to carry out its specific and intended purpose.

Consider an instrument in an orchestra. It may be perfectly tuned: prepared, capable, and ready to produce beautiful music. Yet the instrument alone is not enough. The musician must engage with it, submit to instruction, and devote themselves to faithful practice. Only then can a memorable performance emerge.

1. Engage - The true work of God begins when believers present themselves to Him.

Perhaps this is why Paul instructs his readers to "present" themselves properly. We each have a crucial role to play. It is in our human nature to present ourselves to something. Giving of our time and energy, the thing we present ourselves to gains our attention as well as our devotion. As we present ourselves to that thing again and again, it begins to shape us.

Present yourself to God alone. This is the call.

Submit - We present ourselves to God so that He, not the world, becomes the One shaping us. A life submitted to Christ trusts His transforming work, even when sanctification is slow and uncomfortable. God takes every part of us and makes us more like him. Here are some examples:

• A mind set on whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, or worthy of praise (Philippians 4:8)

• Eyes fixed upon the goodness of the Lord

• A tongue used for speech seasoned with salt (Colossians 4:6)

• Hands abiding in the humble work of Christ, seeking to love and serve others

• Feet ready to carry the Gospel of Peace forward (Ephesians 6)

3. Devotion - Devotion to this way of life is a proclamation of life in Christ.

A life devoted to Christ seeks to walk in its new identity. As the Holy Spirit illuminates sin, Christ’s finished work on the cross secures our redemption, and the Father calls us His own, we are empowered to walk as a new creation. Romans 6:4 says,
“We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

With the spirit of God dwelling within us and carrying the title of “helper” we now have an asset essential to living out Christ likeness. What was once an instrument of unrighteousness can become an instrument of righteousness, because of the finished work on the cross.

Therefore, “present yourselves (the whole self) to God as those who have been brought from death to life”.

Friend, consider whose you are and to whom your body is yielded. What are your eyes, ears, mind, tongue, hands, heart, and feet doing? Each member can participate in the mission of Jesus and be used for the glory of His name. Do not miss the joy of being an embodied creation, fashioned by the hands of God and called into His service.

You could say that we live in a place where uncertainty has become unfamiliar ground.

Drew Worsham in his book The Magic of Curiosity invites his readers to live lives where awe and wonder take center stage and curiosity becomes our guide. It is in this place, specifically when we embrace curiosity and find freedom in not knowing all of the answers, that we find deepened faith; faith that I think looks a lot like Abrahams.

This morning when I was reading in my bible and praying for our future son, Jude, I found myself in awe of Abrahams faith, marked by:

1. A deep knowledge and trust in the character of God

2. A clear understanding of his calling under the headship of Christ

3. A confidence in where God was taking him, even when he did not know yet where.

These things have always seemed striking to me, but today they seemed to hit a little bit differently. Scripture says that the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you”. And so he went.

You can imagine that many questions that began to flood Abrahams mind after he received this call. He was surely curious! “Where God will I go? What will I do? Who will I meet? How long will I travel?” Yet, with each question that bled from a curious mind, his is faith in God did not dim. Rather it grew strong and he gave glory to God (vs.20). The striking mark of Abraham’s faith was not merely what he did, but what he refused to do while waiting on God’s promise.

1. He did not weaken in faith.

2. He did not let any sort of unbelief or uncertainty make him waver concerning the promise of God.

Abraham’s faith was a steadfast refusal to surrender his confidence in God’s word, even when all the pieces had not yet fallen into place. He trusted because he knew the character of God and the calling God had placed on his life.

I think believers are called to a faith that does not weaken when faced with what appears to be true, but rather clings to the possibilities that God introduces into the situation. Believers are called to be curious thinkers as they ask, “how might God intervene?” Thinking outside of the box, they do not limit themselves to what is in front of them. Instead they cling to a faith that says, "Despite what my circumstances seem to tell me, I will trust the character of God and His calling on my life. He will write the story. He will fill in the gaps.”

Right now, when you look at your life, what makes you think, “God couldn’t do that because _________”? What limitations, obstacles, or circumstances have you concluded are too great for God to overcome?

For me in this season, I resonate with Abraham. And quite frankly, I think that is why this passage stood out to me so much.

“He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body” (Romans 4:19).

Yes, I am just now getting to the main point, but honestly this is the verse that made me pause. Here we see the heart of Abraham - we see his deepest fears revealed. In fact, we are given a glimpse into the very thing that COULD stop him from believing the promises of God, yet we watch him instead choose faith.

Abraham leans in and embraces the uncertainty. Rather than allowing uncertainty to fuel his fear, he allows it to fuel his wonder. How might God fulfill His promise despite the reality standing in front of him? In his curiosity, Abraham chooses deepened faith.

Man, I relate to the aches of Abraham… yet I do not respond like him. I can look to my body, which oftentimes feel bruised and broken and choose the path of weakened, not deepened faith.

Abraham’s story invites us to witness God at work, experience his faithfulness and power, and step into a deeper faith that trusts God for who he says he is and what he has called you into.

Will you take a bold leap and begin to let curiosity take root so that faith can grow and God can be glorified?

The place where certainty ends may be the very place where faith begins.

I say this because when I think about what to do right now in my life… it is to ask God. To sit under his headship, listen to him, hear his heart, and obtain wisdom from above. This time; however, when I ask, his answer is nothing monumental… its a simple trust fall. As I whisper “God, I am scared…” he replies through the illumination of the Psalm of David, which says: “When I am afraid, I trust in you” (Psalm 56:3). In his wisdom, he gives generously the truth of his word, that demonstrates “In God, I trust, I shall not be afraid” (Psalm 56:4,11).

Psalm 56 is beautiful because it reminds us that both action and proclamation matter as we advance before the throne of Jesus.

I think right now, my temptation is to fall into a loose trust of Jesus. One that proclaims with my mouth, but does not hope in what would come if Jesus actually showed up to answer. It’s like a trust fall that’s been prepared for, but hesitates, glancing back just before the moment of surrender.

While singing a song at Breakaway two weeks ago, I was reminded of the exact truth my heart needed. The lyrics declared, “Fear will not find me, ’cause I’ll be dwelling in the house of God!” Like the psalmist, these words are both a prayer and a bold proclamation. To say that fear will not find us is to picture the ultimate game of hide-and-seek: one where fear searches endlessly but never succeeds. That’s the kind of confidence we have in Christ Jesus. To “dwell in the house of God” means being in the place of perfect security and provision for the anxious heart. However, we must make a deliberate act to be there.

To enter into the dwelling place of the Lord means to rest where fear cannot follow. Covered by the grace of Christ, the footprints in the snow disappear. A place hidden to the naked eye, you are welcomed into a place of divine company, protection, and peace.

I imagine a cozy cottage, its windows glowing softly against the snow. Inside, a warm soup simmers on the stove, filling the room with a comforting aroma. There are no footsteps trailing behind, only stillness. There is no fear in the Father’s home.

You aren’t glancing over your shoulder, anxious about what might be catching up to you. You don’t rush to eat and leave as if you’re intruding. Here, you are meant to stay. The chair pulled out for you was prepared long before you arrived. The fire burns not because you earned it, but because he wanted you to be warm… simply because he is a loving and good father.

In this home, there are no unmet expectations, no danger, nothing to run from, and no sadness. The walls seem to hum with peace. You find only nourishment to strengthen you and company to keep your hope alive. Here, time slows. The world outside fades. You are safe, known, and satisfied in Christ alone.

This is the dwelling place offered to you and me. Christ is holding out a key with our name on it, inviting us in and urging us in wisdom to take him up on the offer. He is a generous God offering protection, joy, and strength in Him.

In God’s presence is the fullness of Joy, not fear. When Scripture says, “In your presence there is fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:11), it doesn’t mean fear no longer exists in the world. It means that fear cannot coexist with the kind of joy, peace, and wholeness that flow from being in close proximity to God.

God’s presence doesn’t erase the reality of fear in creation; however, it disarms it. The closer you are to Him, the less power fear has to shape your heart or decisions.

I pray that fear would not find me, simply because I’ll be dwelling in the house of God. That in this season, he would provide me with :

• The strength I need not to be overcome.

• A deep refuge in the shadow of His wings, where I am shielded from danger and hidden in His peace.

• A growing faith, strong enough to “extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one” (Ephesians 6:16)

  “Father, help me to dwell in your house.”

  - Amen.

  

  .

“For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him”.

Colossians 1:16

You’d think that reading this verse would wash over creation with deep comfort.

To know we were made by God; formed in His image & crafted for His glory should be words that feel like the most grounding, life-giving truth.

And yet… it doesn’t always feel that way. There’s something about the sheer possessiveness of the verse above that unsettles me. Instead of relief, I feel resistance rising up. I want to push back, to ask why. I find myself looking at the Creator with both awe and accusation at the same time.

It leaves me in this strange middle ground: am I comforted, or am I frustrated? Do I want to rest in His ownership, or rage against it? Some days, I can’t tell.

I think that this tends to happen most when the creation, the creator, & the circumstances feel misaligned. It happens when we find ourselves in a storyline that God says it is “for his glory”, yet feels like creation broken.

I highlight the word feel because our feelings shape so much of how we experience the world around us. Sometimes feelings are our greatest enemy, shouting lies and blurring truth and sometimes they are our greatest advocate; warning us that something is wrong, teaching us what to say when we do not have words, and helping us make sense of a particular circumstance.

Angry. Sad. Bitter. Grieving. Hopeless.

It’s when we experience these emotions, that the good, beautiful, and precious character of our God begins to blur. Though we know the truth of Colossians 1:16, our hearts often cling more tightly to the reliability of our feelings than to the trustworthy Word of God. Instead of resting in the truth that “all things were created through Him and for Him,” we are disillusioned and caught in a cycle of holding fast to our own words and desires rather than those of Christ.

I often find myself clinging to my own contorted version of what it looks like to have God’s sovereign authority in my life. Sometimes it’s the version where He has just some control. Other times, it’s the version where life unfolds exactly the way I think it should. But most often, it’s the version where I acknowledge His authority in words, yet live as though I still hold the reins. So here I am, fighting to hold onto the authority of his words and let it sink deep into my life.

The Psalmist of 119 says “I hope in your words” for they are worth keeping close because they are the “joy of my heart”. Indeed, “my comfort in affliction is that your promise gives me life” (Psalm 119:49-50, 81, 111).

Today, I cling to God’s Word because it is worth hoping in. Scripture reminds us that the Word of God is living and active, which means it is our present hope: alive and at work even now. I keep it close because I believe it is the joy of my heart, and I invite the Spirit to reshape my perspective, bringing the true words of Jesus back into focus even when I feel like there is misalignment.

When looking at Psalm 119, we ought to be encouraged by the truth it brings. There is validity in the words of Scripture. They are meant to be our source of strength, life, encouragement, and hope. Therefore, “To have been thought about, born in God’s thought, and then made by God, is the dearest, grandest and most precious thing in all thinking” (MacDonald).

BY Him:

• When we think back to the creation story, we remember that “God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good” (Genesis 1:31). This is not a subjective statement, but an infinitely true statement spoken by the very creator of the world. To be made by him, means that he put intentionality, care, and precision into your being.

THROUGH Him:

• Being made through God means His character, creativity, and goodness are expressed in us and through us. We reflect His image, which makes our very existence a display of His glory.

FOR Him:

• Being made for God is glorious because it means we were created to enjoy the greatest treasure there is : God Himself. To be made for Him means our lives are not our own but are to be faithfully stewarded for His glory. In this, we find our truest joy.

Recently, I felt the Lord give me a picture of devotion. He reminded me that when we are rooted in His Word, He is faithful to bring truth to mind.

In the picture, I saw a long hallway lined with doors: each one a different shape, color, and size. Every door represented a stage of life, a new season marked by its own emotions and circumstances.

Behind each door sat little Ashley, cross-legged, holding her Bible. She clung to it both tenderly and fiercely. Though the rooms changed, some bright with joy, others heavy with grief, her posture stayed the same.

Her posture proclaimed a hope in His words. She kept them close because they were the joy of her heart. Indeed, her comfort in affliction was that His promise gave her life! (Refer back to Psalm 119)

That image has remained with me. It reminds me that no matter what, I must cling to Gods Word like Ruth clung to Naomi (Ruth). I am to be that same little girl, holding fast to Scripture, trusting that the my heavenly father has me held. It calls me towards a childlike faith in the midst of the immeasurably heavy.

May we be a people who carry that same posture, clinging to His Word with both tenderness and resolve, believing that the One who made us by Himself, through Himself, and for Himself will keep us until the very end.

In Luke 7:36-50, we see a woman enter the scene without invitation, prepared with an alabaster flask, and weeping. The woman is wearing a name-tag with the word “sinner” marked on it and she is walking into a room in which she was uninvited. She comes in confident, yet sorrowful. Her confidence is striking as she walks into the Pharisees house, paying no attention to the others - those who have certainly rejected her. Instead, she fixes her gaze on the only one who matters, sits at his feet, and weeps. It is this Mark 9:8 moment, when suddenly, she “no longer saw anyone with them, but Jesus only”.

Her chief aim was to sit at the feet of Jesus.

The text says that the woman began to wet Jesus’ feet with her tears, wiping them with her hair. We can assume that this means that she put herself in a kneeling position before the father, tears hitting His feet. This position shows a sort of trust that I want to have. In the midst of feeling the very real emotion of sorrow, she is quickly anchored as she kisses the feet of whom she trusts.

Before the Lord, she is reminded both of her sin and her Savior. She is reminded of her true identity: a child, who has a deeply compassionate Father. From her posture, we learn that praise can be woven between our tears. That in this Christian life, heartbrokenness does not negate God’s goodness. While the woman had a flask of oil to be poured out on the feet of Jesus as a offering, Jesus was collecting the woman’s tears in a flask of his own.

Our tears often speak for us. They speak of our deepest longings, our unmet expectations, and our dreams for what life could have been. In this case, the woman’s tears speak the language of sorrow and repentance. No words escape her mouth, but her actions show who she sees herself to be and who she sees Jesus as: worthy and able. As a response to her cry of repentance, Jesus says to the woman “Your faith has saved you, go in peace”.

Weeping and kissing, oh how it is a beautiful language that speaks of great faith. A very human response, that God would call very faithful. It is when we are met with some of our hardest moments and deepest sorrow, that we have nothing left to do but humbly fall before the father, letting our tears be caught by the one who cares. Kissing his feet and proclaiming with a soft voice “I trust you”.

After this intimate moment, Jesus sends the woman away in peace. Though, not all of her problems were solved, she went in peace. He sends her away with peace that surpasses all understanding. Peace that is not just a feeling, but a restored relationship. Peace like no other in the midst of sorrow and suffering. Peace to carry her through life. Peace in the person of Jesus Christ.

To be sent in peace, means to be commissioned with Gods blessing, assurance, and presence in this world. It is the kind of peace that the world yearns for, yet can not grasp apart from the presence and person of Jesus. It is the kind of peace that causes a person to reach out in faith, even when hope feels distant. Yearning only to touch Jesus.

Let me now introduce you to my friend in Mark 6, who does this very thing. Though she is not given a name, we learn much about the woman right off the bat. We learn that she suffered from a 12 year condition of discharge, and that no medical doctor could quite figure out what was going on. Whether due to the lack of resources or medical knowledge at this point in history, the woman was desperate for answers. Persistently seeking the help of medical professionals and trusting the common grace of God, through doctors, she finds herself weary and desperate for hope and healing. We meet the woman in place of peak desperation. At this point, she has spent all that she had, growing not better, but worse. Her pain is high, her hope is lost, and her tears are many. However, she is met with a glimmer of hope when she hears about the man named Jesus who has preformed miracles and healings in plenty. She says, “If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.”

The woman reached a point of desperation in her health journey where she sought a doctor who did not speculate, but was all knowing. A physician who knit her together in her mothers womb (Psalm 139: 13-14). A physician who knew her condition fully, who understood her suffering intimately, and who alone could mend what was broken. Who did not have to run more tests, take more blood work, or prescribe more medication.

She longed for a great physician, whose name was Jesus. Who could heal her body with a single word or the brush of his hand. And though she was drowning in her condition - and perhaps her tears - she was not without faith.In her desperation, hope stirred. She believed, even quietly, that he could restore her. She knew that It was His presence, His nearness, His holiness that changed everything.

In light of that truth, the woman went against all society norms and expectations, so that she might touch the fringe of the holy one’s garment (Luke 8:44). Similar to the weeping woman in Luke 7, we witness this eyes on Jesus moment. No one or nothing else mattered, but Jesus. In a crowd where various people were “thronging about him” (vs. 24), the woman’s eyes were fixed on the tassels tossing at Jesus’ feet. Yet only to touch Him. In Jewish culture, the tassels were to be worn on the corners of the mens outer garments. Therefore, in order to touch the garment, it is very likely that the woman in this passage would have had to stoop down to a position of kneeling, as she reached for his garment (Deuteronomy 22:12). You heard me right… kneeling.

Both women, rejected by man, but embraced by the Father, find themselves in a position of humble submission. With lowly posture and lifted hearts, they position themselves not in shame, but holy reverence. They understood the power of Jesus and the reality of what happens in his presence, so they sought nearness. They knew that as they positioned themselves before God kneeling, that they were making a public proclamation declaring the body’s alignment with the hearts desire to honor and trust God. Though broken and weeping, they proclaim with their bodies a reverence, honor, and faith in God.

Oh how I long to be a woman like this: broken in spirit, but overall trusting the one who holds me.

We are called to live lives that speak: YET only to touch Jesus. YET only to sit at his feet. Both women, knew that Jesus offered something greater. For the sinful woman, she knew that Jesus offered a greater peace and belonging than anything of the world. And for the woman with discharge she knew that Jesus offered greater healing and restoration, than any primary physician. In this, I am challenged specifically in my weeping to have the faith of these two women, remembering that Jesus offers something better. That he is collecting my tears in his bottle as I faithfully offer to him my trust and belief.

As I sit and write this, I am tempted to miss the point entirely. I compare my own life to the women in these stories, thinking one thing: Where. Is. My. Happy. Ending? Looking to our sweet and compassionate father, I quietly challenge him with the question, “God when will it be my turn to receive healing?” Maybe for you, the question sounds more like the woman I first described, asking God “when will life get easier?” “When will my reputation be restored?” It is when suffering arrives at our door, we ask God these questions - sometimes as hushed whisper and others as fierce, aching cry. We get so caught up in the “what”, “when”, and “how long” (naturally), that we miss out on what is right in front of us. We miss out on the “eyes on Jesus” moment, propelling the women towards bold faith in the story. The thing that keeps them going and leaves them in peace.

The point is not their “happy ending”, but their faith in Christ alone that both carries and blesses them. Even though these women are healed and restored, they do not step through a magical door into lives free from hardship. Their bodies will still grow weary. They will still face rejection. They will still cry lots of tears. And they will still find themselves falling at the feet of Jesus asking for the next thing.

Yet, the two women are not without hope - and neither am I. Neither are you.

As believers, need is the thing that drives us to our knees, but our relationship is what keeps us there. A life with Jesus means we have unlimited access to the very kind of power these women reached out for. In faith, we too can ask God for the two gifts they received: His presence and His peace. It is through the blood of Jesus that a wellspring of hope, joy, and peace flows. Would we be a people who return to it and never cease to draw from its abundance.

When we submit to a posture that dares to trust God with us, we find ourselves on our knees, hopeful in prayer, and drawing eagerly from the well that sustains. We bring every part of our humanity to a God who cares. Clumsily falling at the feet of Jesus over and over again, we find ourselves in a cycle of weeping, kneeling, trusting, and praising. In this posture, I imagine that the Lord looks down to say, “Daughter, you have chosen the good portion”.

You can find me in this chair doing that very thing more and more frequently…

Weeping, longing, kneeling, trusting, and praising him all the more.

If you’ve made it here, we’ve probably already met. But if not, Howdy, I’m Ashley. Welcome to my little corner of the internet, a place where God has been nudging me to write down what He’s teaching me. Whether no one reads this or someone stumbles across it, I want this space to be a faithful home for the Good-Hard story God has entrusted to me.

So here we go…

A counselor I’ve been seeing recently suggested I give my pain a name. The best name I’ve found so far is “boundaries.” It might sound silly that a name could hold so much weight, but what I hadn’t realized was how deeply my pain had seeped into who I believed I was. How it slowly began to shape my identity. The red-and-white placard became a kind of name tag, screaming, “I am human. My body is broken. I am in pain.”

However, when I look at Psalm 16, I’m reminded of a beautiful truth: “The [boundary] lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.” When I replace the word pain with boundaries, it becomes a reminder that there is purpose even in the limitations of today. Perhaps God’s hand is holding me and the placard hanging from my mirror is meant to point me to something true, rather than speaking lies into my identity.

Now, driving in traffic, I notice something I never did before... I notice the red and white sirens that proclaim brokenness into the stories beside me.

I must admit, I struggle not to compare my story to the car beside me; belittling someone else’s pain or trying to justify my own. “At least that’s not what I’m facing,” or “What I’m going through is so much harder than that.” Oh how I miss the point, when I let these thoughts consume me.

Yet, while I may fail, Jesus never did. He sees you and me. He doesn’t miss the car beside us. In fact, His life on earth was devoted to gentleness, humility, and care. He noticed every siren, every story of brokenness, and He spoke a new identity into their lives. While the placards screamed “broken, incapable, disabled,” Jesus spoke stories of healing, restoration, and redemption. Here is one example of this that has been of deep encouragement to me lately.

In Luke 13, God looks at a woman with a disabling spirit and speaks freedom into her story. Bent over, unable to walk, and alone with her condition, God approaches her and restores her dignity by gently saying “woman, you are freed from your disability” (Luke 13:12). What if God spoke that over you? Freed from the identity the placard stamped on you or any lie that tried to define you, and dressed in the priceless identity of Christ.

This is what happened to the woman in Luke 13.

From “disabled” to “daughter”, the woman walked away with a newfound freedom in Christ Jesus. Not only was she freed from the disability as Jesus wrote healing into her story, but she was also freed from the lies that the enemy was speaking. I believe that the same is true for you and me. I’ve struggled with the core fear: that I might be defeated by this. That the enemy, this pain, might overcome me. Maybe you have too. If so, rest assured. The enemy is defeated and Christ is victorious.

Our God is a compassionate father. He sees our pain and suffering and does not run, he actually comes closer. He draws near to the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind (Luke 4:18, 14:13) saying “don’t worry child, the lines have fallen in pleasant places. You can rejoice in your inheritance.”

God sees these broken bodies and calls them beautiful. He looks beyond the body to the Son, who has made a way for all to be made new again. He sees us, his creation, as beautifully broken; as creation longing to be restored. Now with confidence, we can trust that in His timing, wholeness will come.

In many ways, we are all “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” Like sheep without a shepherd, we’re unable to find our way toward life and wholeness on our own. We are slaves to our sin and our circumstances. These labels become the name tags pinned to our foreheads: poor in spirit, blind without sight. They are the visible or invisible wheelchairs that hold us back… UNLESS we trust something grater than ourselves.

When we stop and think about it, everyone can fall somewhere in these categories: poor, crippled, lame, blind. Whether it’s a physical limitation that keeps us from fully participating in life, or a spiritual blindness that clouds our ability to see clearly, I believe God uses those very things to draw us near to Him. Our God is in the business of rewriting stories. What feels like a limitation to us often becomes an invitation from Him into deeper trust.

Today, I am thankful for the placard on my mirror:

• A gentle reminder of my identity in Christ Jesus

• A whisper of Psalm 16

• An encouragement that I am seen by God

• A reminder that in my weakness, He is strong

• A marker pointing me away from lies and toward truth

• A call to trust, even when my body fails me

• A reality that points me towards neediness in Jesus. My body might not be disabled like some, but right now, it is “unable” to do everything it should.

• A quiet teacher of patience, humility, and grace

PS. Here’s a little joy-filled glimpse of my boundaries in action: sometimes it looks like me, flat on the floor with friends, because I just can’t hang any longer!