I’ve learned that feelings are excellent messengers.

But terrible historians.

They tell me what this moment feels like.

They tell me what hurts.

What excites me.

What overwhelms me.

What brings me joy.

But they don’t always tell the whole story.

Because a difficult day can convince me that everything is difficult.

A lonely moment can convince me that I’m alone.

A fearful thought can convince me that I’m unsafe.

And if I’m not careful, I start building conclusions from emotions that were only meant to deliver information.

I’ve had days where I felt forgotten.

And later remembered all the ways I wasn’t.

Days where I felt overwhelmed.

And later saw how much grace had been holding me up.

Days where I felt stuck.

And later realized I was moving forward the entire time.

That’s why I’m grateful that truth doesn’t shift with my emotions.

Because some days my feelings are accurate.

And some days they’re incomplete.

And on those days, I need something steadier than how I happen to feel.

I need truth.

And I’m learning that faith often looks like remembering what is true, even when my emotions are telling a smaller story.

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