Holding Two Truths

There are moments when my heart doesn’t know how to choose just one feeling.

Gratitude and grief.
Peace and resistance.
Trust and ache.

They show up together, uninvited, and sit side by side.

I’ve learned that faith doesn’t always resolve the tension.
Sometimes it simply gives you permission to hold it.

To admit that something can be right and hard.
That obedience doesn’t always feel peaceful.
That surrender can still hurt.

I think we’re often tempted to rush ourselves out of conflicted spaces —
to label one feeling as faithful and the other as wrong.

But Scripture is full of people who loved God deeply
and still wrestled with what obedience cost them.

So maybe this isn’t confusion.
Maybe it’s complexity.

Maybe it’s the holy work of learning how to trust God
while your heart is still catching up.

Tonight, I’m not asking for clarity.
I’m asking for steadiness.

The kind that holds both truths at once.
The kind that doesn’t force resolution too quickly.
The kind that believes God is near —
even when the feelings don’t agree.


“Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.”
— Psalm 62:8 (NIV)

Everybody Stop

Do you ever want to find a really big hill,
take a deep breath in,
and scream out,

“EVERYBODY STOP!”

Like you’re constantly getting hit from all angles
and you’ve just had it?

I get it.
And if I’m honest,
I wish I didn’t.

But here I am.
On the top of my hill.
Screaming at the top of my lungs:
“Everybody stop!!”

Because I’m just so tired.
Aren’t you?

“From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

— Psalm 61:2 (NIV)

It’s Okay to Feel It All

“There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.”
(Ecclesiastes 3:4)

I think about that often — especially when my heart doesn’t seem to know which one it’s doing.

Because sometimes, healing feels like both.

Like crying in the car but smiling at the checkout line.
Like praying with gratitude while still aching with grief.
Like holding a hope so fragile, you don’t even have words for it yet.


I was talking recently with a group of young women, and we started sharing what we do when we’re afraid. Some said they speak truth over themselves. Others breathe deeply or write things down. I told them that sometimes, I just let myself feel it.

Because Scripture doesn’t tell us to pretend we’re fine.
It tells us there is a time for everything.
Even fear.
Even sorrow.

Even the kind of ache you thought you should’ve outgrown by now.


So if today you find yourself smiling through tears, or laughing with something heavy still in your chest — that’s okay.

You’re allowed to feel the joy and the sorrow.
The peace and the ache.
The hope and the hurt.

Both can be holy.
Both can be part of your becoming.


Anchor Verse:
“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”
Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NIV)