Oh God, I keep getting up (Poem )

Oh God, I keep getting up, though life has been so hard,

A path of thorns and ashes, my very soul is scarred.

A long, long road I've traveled, to see this dawning light,

Through healing's fragile promise, and pain that stains me bright.

Grief has become my shadow, my unwanted, constant guest,

A dye upon my spirit, enduring every test.

I saw my husband falter, his last, beloved breath,

A part of me went with him, into the arms of death.

Yet, God, I kept on rising, from that devastating fall,

I lost five of my children, I answered sorrow's call.

Each tiny life a universe, extinguished in the night,

But still, I kept on rising, toward the fading light.

Oh God, do You see me trying? Do You see the effort made?

I lost my dearest mother, a love that cannot fade.

Still, I kept on rising, through every bitter tear,

Conquering the silence, conquering the fear.

No one likes me, no one loves me, the man who did is gone,

My world grew cold and empty, from dusk until the dawn.

But God, I kept on rising, with a strength I couldn't find,

A will to face the darkness, and leave the past behind.

Oh God, I am ready now for fun, for laughter, sweet and clear,

Ready for a smile again, to banish every tear.

To feel the joy of living, to dance with light and grace,

To find a moment's stillness, in this weary, worn-out place.

And always, through the anguish, the burdens I have borne,

My spirit kept on lifting, greeting every morn.

Please, let me reach the sky, back home, where peace resides,

Beyond the earthly sorrows, where my true freedom hides.

So, the question remains: "God, what about my love, or do I need to stay focused on Your love?"

When Love Hurts:

Love. A four-letter word that holds infinite power. For some, it's the very air they breathe, a source of boundless joy and connection. For others, it's a barbed hook, a source of profound pain, disappointment, and a searing question: Why does something so essential feel so wrong?

If you've ever felt the sting of love's betrayal, the emptiness of unfulfilled longing, or the deep ache that follows loss, you're not alone. The raw, honest truth is, for many, the journey to finding love is fraught with more scars than roses.

We're fed a fairytale from childhood: get married, have kids, live happily ever after. But for countless souls, that script flips into a nightmare. Instead of happiness, there's a profound sense of disillusionment, even anger. The crushing realization that the very people who were supposed to teach us love – our own parents – perhaps couldn't, or didn't. This leaves us feeling "dead inside," "black-hearted," asking the most agonizing question: "What's wrong with me that no one loves me?"

The Deep-Seated Human Need

Why do we chase this elusive feeling with such relentless fervor? It's not just a societal construct; it's woven into our very being. Humans yearn for love because it is a fundamental need for survival and well-being, driven by biological, psychological, and social factors. Biologically, love ensures cooperation and the raising of offspring, facilitating the continuation of our species. Psychologically, it provides a crucial sense of security, validation, and identity, shaping who we are. Socially, a desire for intimacy, companionship, and belonging motivates us to form relationships and overcome the inherent costs of group living. This inherent drive makes the lack of it, or the betrayal of it, so devastating.

The Revelation: True Love's Source

It’s in this landscape of pain and yearning that a profound truth often emerges, a beacon cutting through the darkness: real and true love is found in God.

This isn't the fleeting, conditional love of human relationships, often tainted by expectations, ego, and fallibility. This is unconditional, unwavering, eternal love. A love that doesn't just fill the void, but transforms it. A love that sees our black-hearted anger and pours healing light into it. A love that reminds us we are perfectly, wonderfully made, cherished beyond measure, regardless of any human failing. It's a love that finally answers "What's wrong with me?" with a resounding "Nothing. You are loved."

The Paradox: Human Heart, Divine Connection

Yet, even with this profound spiritual anchor, the human heart still aches. The original voice shared a poignant truth: "The only human man that loved me died, my husband. He is dead now." This isn't a sign of weakness in faith; it's a testament to our created nature. God, who is love, also created us as social beings, wired for connection, companionship, and intimacy in its various forms.

So, the question remains: "God, what about my love, or do I need to stay focused on Your love?"

The answer, perhaps, isn't an either/or, but a beautiful and complex integration. Staying focused on God's love is paramount. It is the foundation, the source of our healing, strength, and identity. It is the love that never falters, never leaves, and truly satisfies the deepest longings of our soul.

But focusing on God's love doesn't mean forsaking all human connection. It means allowing His love to heal the wounds, to mend the brokenness caused by past hurts. From that place of divine wholeness, we can then approach human relationships – whether friendships, community, or even the possibility of romantic love – not from a place of desperate need, but from a place of overflowing love.

God wants us to experience fullness of life, and that often includes meaningful human connection. He can bring companionship in unexpected ways, surrounding us with community, friends, and yes, sometimes even new romantic love, when and if it aligns with His perfect plan.

A Journey of Integration

The journey through love's complexities is never simple, but it is deeply spiritual. It's about recognizing the pain, understanding the intrinsic human need for connection, and ultimately, anchoring ourselves in the unconditional, perfect love of God. From that firm foundation, we find the strength to heal, the courage to hope, and the wisdom to discern the paths to love, in all its forms, that God intends for us.

We are not meant to be alone in our pain, nor are we meant to replace divine love with human substitutes. We are meant to integrate them, allowing God's love to make us whole, and from that wholeness, to experience and share love in every beautiful, messy, human way He allows.

What are your thoughts on this delicate balance? How have you navigated the yearning for human love alongside your spiritual faith? Share your experiences in the comments below.

Short Story )_The word hangs in the silence of the room, heavy and sharp

The word hangs in the silence of the room, heavy and sharp, like a glass pendulum poised to swing.

L O V E.

It is a four-letter venom that has bought me more pain than any honest enemy ever could. I have carried its definition like a burning coal, searching for a place to put it down, yet as a human, I continue this cursed, clumsy search.

Where did I even learn this word? I must have learned it like I learned to walk—by imitation, by stumbling into a pattern that was fundamentally broken. I was taught that love was conditional, a prize for quiet compliance, a thing that could be withheld as punishment. My parents’ house was not built on affection; it was a cold, echoing vault of duty. They didn’t hate me, perhaps, but they did not see me. And in that absence, I internalized the lie: There is something wrong with me that no one loves.

So, I chased the blueprint society handed me, the one etched across every billboard, every rom-com script, every pastel-colored wedding invitation: get married, have kids, live happy.

Yeah, right.

It did not even come close. It was a charade built on desperation and faulty architecture. The marriage imploded, taking with it the last remnants of my soft interior. I was left not just divorced, but hollowed out—dead inside, coated in a protective, miserable layer of black-hearted anger that curdled every kindness offered to me.

I became the living embodiment of the wound I carried. If my own parents could not love me, the ones biologically sworn to protect and cherish, then who in this chaotic, indifferent world ever could? The answer, I screamed silently into the void, was simple: No one.

And yet, my body betrayed my intellect. The primal, relentless human wiring kicked in, reminding me of the cold, hard facts:

Humans yearn for love because it is a fundamental need for survival and well-being, driven by biological, psychological, and social factors. Biologically, love ensures cooperation and the raising of offspring, while psychologically, it provides a sense of security, validation, and identity. Socially, a desire for intimacy, companionship, and belonging motivates us to form relationships and overcome the inherent costs of group living.

Survival. That’s what it was. An incessant need for warmth in the face of inevitable cold. And the only place I ever found that warmth, the only man who ever truly loved the wounded, bitter wreck that I was, is dead.

From Fleeting Feelings to Forever Faithfulness: The Two Loves We Experience

From Fleeting Feelings to Forever Faithfulness: The Two Loves We Experience

Love. It's the language of the heart, the force that shapes our lives, and the most profound experience we can have. But have you ever noticed that love, as we experience it in our daily lives, can feel incredibly different from the grand, all-encompassing love we often hear about in spiritual contexts?

It's a crucial distinction, one that offers profound insights into our relationships, our struggles, and the very nature of existence. Let's unpack the two distinct yet intertwined forms of love: the love we give and receive as humans, and the boundless love attributed to a divine source.

The Love We Know: Human Love

Our human capacity for love is a beautiful, essential part of who we are. It forms the bonds of family, friendship, and romantic partnership. Yet, if we're honest, human love often comes with an unspoken set of parameters:

Conditional: We've all felt it – the subtle (or not-so-subtle) strings attached to human affection. "I'll love you if..." or "I love you because you..." Our love can hinge on another person's behavior, their appearance, or what they offer us in return. If expectations aren't met, or conditions change, our love can falter.

Emotional: Primarily driven by feelings, human love can surge and recede like the tides. While this makes it vibrant and passionate, it also makes it inherently volatile. Emotions can be fleeting, influenced by mood, circumstances, or perceived slights.

Self-Centered (at times): Even in our best intentions, a part of us often seeks reciprocity. We want to feel loved back, supported, and valued. We might give love seeking comfort, companionship, or validation, sometimes making it subtly about our own needs.

Limited: Our individual capacity to love is finite. We can only stretch ourselves so far, and our love can diminish, change, or even end over time as relationships evolve or challenges arise. This isn't a judgment, but a recognition of our human limitations.

This isn't to diminish the incredible beauty and necessity of human love. It's vital, life-giving, and the foundation of our societies. But it's also imperfect, just as we are.

The Love We Need: God's Love

Now, consider a love that stands in stark contrast to these human limitations – a love described as divine, originating from God.

This isn't merely a magnified version of human love; it's an entirely different dimension:

Unconditional: Imagine a love that asks for nothing in return. God's love is described as freely given, not earned by our actions, accomplishments, or good deeds. It's a gift, flowing purely from God's own nature, extended without any prerequisites. You don't have to be perfect, or even good, to receive it.

Eternal and Constant: Unlike human emotions that can waver, divine love is portrayed as unchanging and everlasting. It stands immutable through all seasons of life, unaffected by our moods, our mistakes, or the passage of time. It is a constant anchor in a changing world.

Selfless: This love is not about what it can gain, but what it can give. It's a primary, life-giving movement, a pure outpouring that seeks the highest good of the beloved, entirely independent of selfish interests.

Universal and Infinite: God's love is immense, limitless, and extended to all people, regardless of their imperfections, their past, or their beliefs. It encompasses the entirety of creation, an unfathomable wellspring that never runs dry.

Demonstrated Through Action: This isn't just a theological concept or a warm, fuzzy feeling. Many traditions point to concrete acts of ultimate sacrifice (like the suffering and death of Jesus in Christianity) as the undeniable proof and demonstration of this profound, selfless love in action.

The Foundation and the Reflection

Why does this distinction matter? Because understanding God's love offers us a profound blueprint and a secure refuge.

While human love is often a reflection of our desires and needs, God's love is the perfect original – the wellspring from which all true, selfless love flows. It's the ultimate example, challenging us to stretch our own capacity for compassion, forgiveness, and unconditional acceptance.

When we tap into this divine wellspring, we find an endless source of comfort, security, and inspiration. It provides a constant anchor in a world where human relationships can disappoint or falter. It teaches us that our worth isn't contingent on our performance, but is an inherent gift.

In a world thirsty for authentic connection, recognizing the difference between these two loves can transform how we give, receive, and understand the most powerful force in the universe. May you experience the transformative power of a love that truly knows no bounds.

Two Sides of the Same Liberty: Understanding Freedom "in Jesus" vs. "with Jesus"

Two Sides of the Same Liberty: Understanding Freedom "in Jesus" vs. "with Jesus"

There's a beautiful freedom that comes with a relationship with Jesus Christ. But have you ever considered that this freedom isn't a single, static experience? It's actually a rich, multi-faceted reality, and understanding its nuances can unlock even deeper spiritual growth. Today, let's explore the powerful distinction between being free in Jesus and being set free with Jesus. While they are intimately connected, they represent different, yet equally crucial, aspects of our spiritual journey.

Free In Jesus: The Foundation of Our New Identity

Imagine receiving a brand-new identity. This is what happens when you are free in Jesus. This isn't something you earn or gradually achieve; it's a decisive, instantaneous act of God's grace through faith in Christ.

Internal Freedom: A Decisive Declaration. This is the moment salvation happens. Through Jesus' sacrifice, the penalty for our sin is completely removed. We are no longer condemned. Instead, through Christ's righteousness imputed to us, we are declared righteous before God. It’s an internal shift, a profound legal and spiritual transaction that liberates us from the damning consequences of our sin.

New Nature: From Slave to Child. Before Christ, we were, in a sense, slaves to sin. Our desires and actions were often dictated by its power. But when we are free in Jesus, we receive a new nature. This isn't just a behavioral tweak; it's a fundamental change of identity. We are no longer defined by our past failures but are now adopted as children of God. This new identity grants us the ability and the desire to choose righteousness, to align our will with God's.

Freedom from Condemnation: No More Judgment. This is perhaps one of the most liberating aspects. Because Jesus has paid the penalty for our sin, we are no longer under God's judgment. The condemnation we once faced is gone, replaced by His loving acceptance. This frees us from the crippling weight of guilt and shame, allowing us to approach God with boldness and confidence.

Permanent State: A Completed Work. The freedom in Jesus is not conditional or temporary. It's a permanent part of our identity as believers. It's a completed work, a finished transaction on the cross that is now a foundational truth about who we are in Him. This is the bedrock upon which all other spiritual liberties are built.

Set Free With Jesus: The Active Journey of Liberation

If being free in Jesus is our new identity, then being set free with Jesus is the ongoing, active journey of living out that freedom in the practicalities of life. Think of the biblical exodus story – being led out of slavery into freedom. This is a process that requires God's active power and our willing participation.

This is where Christ’s power is actively engaged to help us overcome specific sins, lingering struggles, or challenging external circumstances. It's about experiencing the practical outworking of the freedom we already possess in Him.

So, how do these two connect?

Our foundational freedom in Jesus gives us the identity and the right to be set free with Jesus. We can’t fight for freedom with Him if we aren't already free in Him. His power is unleashed in our lives to dismantle the remaining strongholds of sin and to help us navigate the difficulties of this world, precisely because we are His children, already declared righteous.

Why does this distinction matter?

Combats Spiritual Stagnation: If we only focus on being free in Jesus, we might become passive, believing that our struggles should just disappear. Understanding the "with Jesus" aspect encourages us to actively engage with God's power to overcome.

Provides Hope for the Journey: When we face recurring sin or difficult circumstances, it's easy to feel like we've lost our freedom. Recognizing the ongoing nature of being set free with Jesus reminds us that God is still working, still leading us, and still empowering us.

Deepens Our Relationship with Christ: Both aspects involve a relationship with Jesus, but the "with Jesus" aspect emphasizes a dynamic, active partnership. It’s in walking with Him through challenges that our faith is strengthened and our reliance on Him deepens.

In essence, being free in Jesus is the glorious declaration of our new identity, while being set free with Jesus is the empowering, ongoing journey of living that freedom out in every area of our lives. Both are gifts from God, both are essential for a vibrant Christian walk, and both point to the limitless love and power of Christ.

What are your thoughts on this distinction? How have you experienced being free in Jesus and set free with Jesus in your own life? Share your insights in the comments below!

Keeping It Real: Why My Struggle Is My Honesty Anchor

Keeping It Real: Why My Struggle Is My Honesty Anchor

In a world obsessed with curated perfection—the highlight reel on social media, the polished answers in church circles—it’s easy to believe that a deep walk with faith means living a life devoid of messiness. We often equate spiritual maturity with the absence of struggle.

But I've found the opposite to be true.

There is a profound, life-altering truth I cling to: My struggle keeps me honest.

This isn't just a catchy phrase; it's the foundation of humility. It means the difficulties, the doubts, the stumbles, and the moments I’d rather forget are precisely what prevent me from becoming complacent, arrogant, or deceitful in my relationship with God and with others.

The Preventative Power of Pain

When life is comfortable, we run the risk of developing a dangerous form of spiritual swagger. We might start to believe that our current success is purely due to our own discipline or superior theological understanding. We forget the pit we were dug out of.

The struggle, however, is a relentless, grounding force. It forces us to stay acutely aware of our own limitations and vulnerabilities.

For me, remembering what I have been through isn't a burden; it's an anchor. It reminds me that I am utterly dependent on Grace. Every time I feel tempted to puff out my chest or rely solely on my own strength, the memory of past failure pulls me back down to my knees. It ensures that I remain humble and honest before God, acknowledging that any good in me is His work, not mine.

The Repentant Heart: Moving from Judgment to Empathy

One of the most powerful and immediate effects of remembering my own brokenness is the complete demolition of my desire to judge others.

We all have a story. We are all sinners running our own race, fighting battles the world knows nothing about.

There have been times when I have looked at someone else’s messy situation—their addiction, their divorce, their moral lapse—and felt that cold, critical voice rise up within me. But before that judgment can fully form, the Spirit reminds me: Wait. Remember where you were. Remember what you did.

That memory—that raw, honest recollection of my own specific failures—causes me to instantly repent of the judgment I was about to cast.

When we are intimately familiar with our own dark side, we stop seeing other people’s struggles as flaws and start seeing them as mirrors. I am not different. I am not better. I am simply a recipient of relentless mercy. This understanding creates deep, genuine empathy and allows us to meet others exactly where they are, just as Christ meets us.

From Shame to Testimony: Using the Struggle

For years, I believed that my struggle—the messy chapters of my life—were things to be ashamed of. Secrets to be buried deep beneath a façade of competence.

But God doesn't just redeem the person; He redeems the narrative.

My struggle keeps me honest because it allows me to shift my identity from “the one who failed” to “the one God brought out.” I am not embarrassed or ashamed of the path I took because that path is now the platform for my testimony.

If my life looked perfect, my words about God’s saving power would ring hollow. But because I can point to specific moments of darkness and say, “God met me right there,” the story becomes real, relatable, and powerful.

Sharing our struggle isn’t about wallowing in the past; it’s about magnifying the Deliverer. It’s the highest form of honesty—a declaration that while I am weak, He is strong, and He specializes in turning messes into messages.

Embrace the Process and Never Give Up

If you are currently wrestling with a difficult season, feeling the weight of your own limitations, or struggling to reconcile your faith with your reality, take heart.

That tension is precisely what keeps you anchored to truth.

We are all struggling, striving, and being sanctified one day at a time. The faith walk is not a single leap to perfection; it is a marathon fueled by grace and marked by many falls and get-ups.

The greatest gift we possess is not our spotless record, but simply life itself, and the resilience to never give up. Hold onto that honesty. Let your struggle remind you of your need for God, and let your testimony show the world what happens when a humble, honest heart relies entirely on a faithful God.

Reflection Question:

What specific hardship in your own past, when remembered honestly, prevents you from judging someone else today? How can you use that memory as a loving testimony?

Unplug to Connect: Why Your Spiritual Life Needs a Physical Bible

Unplug to Connect: Why Your Spiritual Life Needs a Physical Bible

In an age where our phones are practically extensions of ourselves, how often do you find your fingers instinctively reaching for that glowing screen? From news updates to social media feeds, our devices are masters of capturing, and often fragmenting, our attention. But what happens when that same powerful tool, intended to bring us closer to the world, subtly distances us from the divine?

For many of us, our smartphones have become our primary vehicle for Bible study. A quick tap, and we have access to countless translations, commentaries, and devotional plans. This convenience is undeniably a gift, but it comes with a hidden cost: distraction.

Imagine settling down for your quiet time, ready to immerse yourself in God's Word. You open your Bible app, and then a notification flashes – an email, a social media alert, a message from a friend. Suddenly, your focus is split. That moment of sacred stillness is interrupted, and the depth of reflection you seek becomes elusive.

This isn't an indictment of technology, but an invitation to intentionality. It's a call to consider a deliberate shift: putting down your phone and picking up a physical Bible.

Why Put the Phone Down and Pick Up the Pages?

Choosing a physical Bible over a digital one isn't about being old-fashioned; it's about optimizing your spiritual environment for deeper connection.

Reduces Distractions, Deepens Connection: Your smartphone is a portal to the world, and that world constantly clamors for your attention. Notifications, emails, and social media alerts are designed to pull you away, even for a moment. When you engage with a physical Bible, you create a dedicated space free from these digital disruptions. This unplugging allows for uninterrupted contemplation, letting the Word truly sink deep into your spirit without the constant gentle tug of the virtual world.

Prioritizes Scripture, Not Screens: Think about how frequently we check our phones for information, updates, or entertainment. Making the deliberate choice to pick up your physical Bible first – before checking anything else on your phone – is a powerful act of prioritization. It declares to yourself and to God that His Word is your initial and most important source of information, wisdom, and comfort for the day. It’s an intentional act to make scripture a non-negotiable priority.

Encourages Focused Engagement: The physical act of holding a Bible, turning its pages, underlining passages, and making notes in the margins fosters a different kind of engagement. There’s a tactile connection, a sense of gravitas that can be lost on a screen. This environment, free from the multi-tasking temptation of a phone, is more conducive to prayer, meditation, and truly wrestling with the text. It allows for a single-minded pursuit of understanding.

Builds a Powerful Spiritual Habit: Consistency is key to spiritual growth. By committing to reading your physical Bible before engaging with your phone, you begin to establish a profound and valuable spiritual habit. This consistent practice trains your mind and spirit to seek God's voice first, setting the tone for your entire day and strengthening your spiritual discipline over time.

How to Make the Shift

Making this deliberate shift doesn't require drastic measures, just intentional choices.

Designate a Sacred Space: Choose a quiet spot in your home where you can keep your physical Bible, a notebook, and a pen.

Set Boundaries: Before bed, place your phone in another room or on silent. When you wake up, reach for your Bible before you reach for your device.

Pray for Focus: As you open God's Word, remember His promise in Jeremiah 33:3 (AMP): "'Call to Me and I will answer you, and tell you [and even show you] great and mighty things, [things which have been confined and hidden], which you do not know and understand and cannot distinguish.'" Ask Him to speak to you through the pages, to reveal His hidden truths.

Seek Wisdom: Don't be afraid to ask for understanding. James 1:5 reminds us: "If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you." Trust that as you seek Him in His Word, He will illuminate your path.

Engage Actively: Underline, highlight, write notes in the margins, journal your thoughts. Let the physical act of studying deepen your understanding.

This isn't about being anti-technology; it's about being pro-spiritual growth. It's about recognizing the unique power of a physical Bible to draw us into a deeper, less distracted conversation with our Creator.

This week, I challenge you: put your phone aside for your spiritual time. Pick up that tangible copy of God's Word. Experience the profound difference that focused, undistracted engagement can make in your spiritual journey. Let your physical Bible become your first, most cherished screen – a window directly into the heart of God.

Listen Closely: Why Silence Is Your Pathway to God

Shhh... Listen Closely: Why Silence Is Your Pathway to God

In a world that constantly demands our attention, where notifications ping, headlines scream, and every moment feels like it needs to be filled with sound or activity, the very idea of silence can feel... well, deafening. We're wired to be busy, to consume, to react. But what if the most profound wisdom, the deepest comfort, and the most vital connection are found not in the clamor, but in the quiet?

What if, sometimes, you have to be quiet so that you can hear God?

This isn't just a quaint spiritual notion; it's a deeply rooted truth echoed throughout scripture, a golden thread woven into the fabric of faith.

Be Still, and Know: The Invitation of Psalm 46:10

Perhaps one of the most beloved verses in this regard comes from Psalm 46:10: "Be still, and know that I am God."

This isn't just a suggestion; it's an imperative. "Be still" isn't merely about physical inaction; it's an invitation to quiet the restless churning of our minds, the anxieties of our hearts, and the demands of our schedules. It's about surrendering our need to control, to hurry, to do.

In that hallowed stillness, the Psalm promises, we are able to know God. Not just intellectually, but experientially. It's in the quiet that we drop our defenses, open our spirits, and allow His presence to fill the space we've created. It's hard to truly grasp the grandeur and sovereignty of God when we're constantly running on our own steam. Silence creates the sacred pause where His divine nature can truly resonate within us.

The Gentle Whisper: Elijah and the Still Small Voice (1 Kings 19:11-13)

One of the most powerful illustrations of God speaking in the quiet comes from the story of the prophet Elijah. After a dramatic victory and then a crushing defeat, Elijah found himself in despair, fleeing for his life. God called him to stand on the mountain, promising to pass by.

First came a mighty wind, shattering rocks, but God was not in the wind. Then an earthquake, shaking the very foundations, but God was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake, a fire, fierce and consuming, but God was not in the fire.

And after the fire, a gentle whisper – a still small voice. And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak, for he knew it was the voice of God.

This profound narrative from 1 Kings 19:11-13 teaches us that God doesn't always speak in grand, attention-grabbing spectacles. Often, His most profound messages, His deepest comforts, and His clearest directions come not in the cacophony, but in the quiet. Are we so distracted by the winds, earthquakes, and fires of our own lives that we miss the gentle whisper intended just for us?

A Time for Silence: The Wisdom of Ecclesiastes 3:7

The timeless wisdom of Ecclesiastes 3:7 reminds us that "there is a time to keep silent and a time to speak." In a world obsessed with self-expression and the constant need to fill every conversational void, this verse offers a potent counter-cultural truth.

Silence is not emptiness; it is a sacred space. It’s not weakness; it’s a posture of humility and receptivity. There are moments when the greatest wisdom lies not in articulating our thoughts, but in quieting them. It’s in these moments of chosen silence that we create room for reflection, for discernment, and most importantly, for God's voice to rise above our own internal monologue.

Cultivating Your Sacred Stillness

So, how do we integrate this ancient wisdom into our noisy modern lives?

Start Small: You don't need hours of uninterrupted silence. Begin with 5-10 minutes each day. Find a quiet corner, turn off your phone, and simply be.

Make it Intentional: Don't wait for silence to happen; actively seek it out. Schedule it into your day, just like any other important appointment.

Breathe and Listen: Focus on your breath to anchor yourself in the present moment. Then, with an open heart and mind, simply listen. Don't force anything. Just be present.

Embrace Different Forms: Silence can be found in a walk in nature, sitting by a window, or even just pausing before you start a new task. The key is the internal posture of receptivity.

Let Go of Expectations: You might not hear a booming voice or have a sudden revelation every time. Sometimes, the "hearing" is a sense of peace, a gentle nudge, a subtle shift in perspective, or simply the profound comfort of God's presence.

In a world that constantly begs us to speak, to perform, to be loud, let us remember the profound power of quiet. Let us embrace the sacred discipline of stillness, trusting that in the silence, the gentle whisper of God is waiting to be heard, leading us deeper into His peace and purpose.

What does your moment of stillness look like today? How will you make space to truly listen? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

Oh, God, I want to be free, I must be free,

Oh, God, I want to be free, I must be free,

To break the harness of this earthly chain.

This life, a frantic test endured by me,

A cruel experiment of endless pain.

The weight of heavy air, the endless fray,

The constant pressure that denies release;

I pray to reach the end of this dark day,

And find the shelter where the sorrows cease.

I yearn to make my passage back to You,

To finally hear the solemn word, "Well done."

I need my name inscribed, forever true,

When through the veil, the final sprint is run.

For here, the earth refused to call me kin,

My heart was alien, my steps astray.

I found no welcome where light should begin,

Just shadows gathering at the close of day.

I was rejected by the dust below,

A stranger walking on a foreign shore.

But when I hit the sky, and watch it glow,

Will Heaven’s door be opened, and ask no more?

Oh, God, when I appear before Your throne,

Will Your forgiveness wash the fear away?

Will I be welcomed to the blessed known,

And find my acceptance in that perfect day?

Will You still claim the child they cast aside?

Will You still be my Father and my Friend?

My anchor in the overwhelming tide,

Whose love and mercy never find an end.

The Wellspring of Salt

The Wellspring of Salt

The wellspring of salt has run to dust;

The reservoirs of grief are done.

I used to believe that tears were proof

Of weakness, a battle lost and won

By the soft heart. Now, I know the lie:

I emptied them all, and still survive.

I have wept the oceans of a lifetime dry,

And there is nothing left to shrive.

A hollow chamber where the soul should ache,

Just echoes of the weight I carried:

The sudden, brutal severance of a husband gone,

The earth that claimed the mother I have worried

For since, in silence. The exquisite pain

Of longing back for love that never came.

A scorched internal landscape, washed with rain

That never fell, and only bears the name of God

They took the fiber of what was pure,

And twisted the thread until it snapped and frayed,

Demanding that my gentle spirit cure

Its wounds by wearing the garments of their rage.

They forged the fire, but they do not own the flame.

I will not wear the shadow they designed.

The GOD in me runs toward the light now, screaming

A vow against the darkness they defined.

I lift my gaze above the ruined years,

I reject the bitter architecture of your hate.

I stand here, stripped of every single tear,

At the final, desolate, unburdened gate.

How does one rise when the ballast is shed,

But the wings are unfamiliar and untried?

My lament is finished, my final word said.

Oh, GOD, when the tears are utterly dried,

How can I fly?