His Strength, My Journey

Lately, this world feels foreign. Not dark. Not unbearable. Just temporary. The noise feels louder. The striving feels emptier. The rush for things that fade feels thinner than it once did. And deep inside, there is a quiet pull — not downward, but upward. A homesickness. Scripture says we are strangers and pilgrims on the earth (see Hebrews 11:13). I used to read that as poetic language. Now I feel it in my bones. I belong to Another. And His name is Jesus. 🌿 The Gift That Reveals the Father The gift of Jesus is not only about salvation. It is about revelation. When the Father gave His Son, He was not just solving a sin problem — He was unveiling His heart. In John 3:16, we read that God so loved the world that He gave His only Son. He gave. Not because we were good. Not because we were stable. Not because we had proven ourselves worthy. But because love is who He is. Jesus shows us that God is not distant. He is not cold. He is not measuring us with a disappointed sigh. He steps int...

This morning I asked God two questions. “What is Your purpose for my life?” “What is Your purpose for marriage?” I didn’t expect an answer so quickly. But He took me to Book of Proverbs 9. Two women. Two voices. Two invitations. Lady Wisdom stands and calls people to life. The woman of folly sits at the door and calls people to secrecy. Both are loud. Both are persuasive. But only one leads to life. And suddenly… I knew. I haven’t been lost. I haven’t been abandoned. I’ve just been listening to the wrong voice. When Survival Sounds Like Love Folly doesn’t always look rebellious. Sometimes she looks wounded. Sometimes she looks lonely. Sometimes she sounds like this: “You don’t want to be alone.” “Maybe he will change.” “At least someone wants you.” “This will fix the ache.” Folly promises quick comfort. Wisdom builds slow security. I realized something painful but freeing: Some of my choices with men were not rooted in purpose — they were rooted in pain. That doesn’t make me evil. It m...

This week I found myself asking a question many believers are afraid to say out loud: “God, what is my purpose right now?” Not in theory. Not in a future dream. But in the middle of exhaustion. In the middle of confusion. In the middle of not understanding why certain things are allowed. Then I read chapters 9 and 10 in the Book of Job — and what I saw shifted everything. At first glance, Job sounds like a man complaining. He questions God’s justice. He expresses confusion about his suffering. He wrestles with what feels unfair. But buried inside his anguish is a revelation. In Job 9:33, he says: “If only there were someone to mediate between us…” Job identifies a problem humanity had not yet fully understood. The gap between God and man. And here is the powerful part: Job lived centuries before Jesus Christ. Yet in his suffering, he prophetically articulated the need for a Mediator — the very role Jesus would one day fulfill. What looked like complaining was actually revelation. What ...

There was a time when I believed peace was something other people found. Not women like me. Not mothers fighting to keep their children safe. Not hearts that had been stretched thin between faith and fear. For a long time, “moving on” felt like betrayal. Betrayal of covenant. Betrayal of hope. Betrayal of the version of myself who kept praying that if I just loved harder, endured longer, forgave deeper, things would change. But sometimes moving on isn’t betrayal. Sometimes it’s obedience. When Peace Starts to Feel Possible There is a strange quiet that comes when chaos finally leaves your home. At first, it’s unsettling. You wait for the shouting. The slammed doors. The emotional rollercoaster. The accusations. The apologies that never quite turn into change. And then one day you realize… No one is coming to disrupt your peace. The children are laughing again. You are sleeping again. You are breathing again. And somewhere in the middle of folding laundry or watching the ocean waves rol...