The events of this past week have weighed heavily on the hearts of millions: tragic violence, the somber remembrance of 9/11, and the steady drip of heartbreaking headlines. Each day seems to bring a new wound to a weary world. And while we try to carry the sorrow of the larger world, we also carry our own, very personal burdens. For our family, that burden has been John’s sudden return to the hospital after severe complications from his recent stay.
When everything feels overwhelming, I keep returning to God’s Word for comfort and direction.
Matthew 11:28–29 — “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. … and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”
Jeremiah 29:11 — “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”
It’s so easy in seasons like these to feel like we must carry the weight ourselves. But scripture keeps reminding us that we weren’t made to carry it alone. God’s plan is wider, kinder, and more capable than our own. He specializes in making the impossible possible, opening doors we didn’t even know existed, and He promises to “never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” When we surrender our anxieties, we invite a peace that truly surpasses understanding.
Joshua 1:9 — “Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid … for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.”
Hebrews 13:6 — “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear what man shall do unto me.”
1 Peter 1:7 — “The trial of your faith…might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.”
These verses don’t promise that hardship won’t come, but they do promise purpose and presence in the middle of it. The fires of trial are not meaningless; they test and purify. How we walk through those fires becomes our testimony, a light in a world that too often knows only darkness.
Matthew 5:10 — “Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake…”
Luke 23:34 — “Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”
1 Thessalonians 5:16–18 — “Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks…”
So how do we practically become that light right now? A few thoughts I’ve been clinging to and want to share:
1. Praise in the storm. Singing, praying, or simply speaking aloud what we know of God’s character pushes back against despair. It doesn’t deny pain, it dignifies it by placing it in God’s hands.
2. Step away from the noise. Sometimes the best thing we can do is turn off the news, silence the constant stream of information, and look up from our screens. Go outside. Let the fresh air clear your mind. Walk among the trees, listen to the birds, and allow God to use the silence of His creation to speak to your heart.
3. Gather close at the table. There is something profoundly healing about preparing a homegrown meal, putting it on the table, and gathering your loved ones to give thanks. Meals slow us down and remind us of the provision of God.
4. Keep a posture of forgiveness and love. The radical example of Christ, to forgive and to love those who harm, is often the hardest and the purest witness we can give.
5. Pray without ceasing, and act with compassion. Prayer changes us; action changes the world. Reach out to neighbors, check on a grieving friend, bring a meal, or just sit quietly with someone who needs company. Small, ordinary acts of love matter enormously.
6. Allow your testimony to be formed. I’m praying for a testimony that, years from now, reads like a song of God’s faithfulness, a story of how He paved a way through the impossible.
On a personal note: I want to be the kind of wife John needs in this season; steady, prayerful, patient, and present. I want my boys to witness not only my courage but my joy and trust in the Lord even when life is hard. This blog has become one of the places I process those things, and I am deeply grateful for every one of you who reads and prays with us. Sometimes writing here steadies me more than I realize.
My challenge to you (and to myself) is simple: make a joyful noise. Praise God in the uncertainty. Choose trust over spiraling worry. Love others fiercely and forgive generously. Hold your loved ones tighter today.
I look forward to the day I can look back on this season and see, plainly, how God worked; the doors He opened, the provision He provided, and the ways He used this struggle to make praise rise from our mouths. May our lives become the kind of testimony that boldly sings of His goodness.
With love,
Mattea