exhaustion

Everybody Stop

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

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)

When You’re Ready to Be Done

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

Have you ever just… wanted to tap out?

Not in a dramatic way.

Not even in a crisis.

Just in that quiet, soul-deep sigh of

“I don’t think I can carry this anymore.”

Like you’re in a relay race, but your teammate is nowhere in sight.

Like you’ve been doing your part, and you keep looking back, hoping God’s about to step in and take the baton.

But He doesn’t.

Not yet.

And so you keep running.

But you’re not sure why.

We talk a lot about God’s timing.

But what about ours?

What happens when our timing says, “This season should be over by now”?

What do we do when our souls feel finished,

but the story hasn’t let us stop?

Maybe we wrestle.

Maybe we go silent.

Maybe we pray prayers we never thought we’d pray.

I don’t have a neat ending for this.

But I’m learning this:

Sometimes, what feels like a delay is actually a deepening.
And sometimes, the ache is what carves out room for something we weren’t ready for yet.

Anchor Verse:
“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

Exodus 14:14 (NIV)

Maybe This Is the Post

/ Baylee Snelling / Leave a comment

I didn’t plan a post tonight.
I didn’t come with a title or a theme or a tidy truth to wrap everything together.

I sat down to write —
and nothing came.
Just a tired kind of quiet,
the kind that doesn’t ask to be explained.

But maybe this is the post.
The one that doesn’t offer clarity or closure,
but simply shows up.

Maybe this is the kind of honesty we all need sometimes —
to admit we don’t always have the words,
or the answers,
or the strength to keep unpacking what still hurts.

Maybe the miracle isn’t always in what we say.
Maybe it’s in the showing up anyway.
In being present to the moment — even when the moment feels like not enough.
Even when you feel like not enough.

And maybe
this is the kind of space
where we quietly remember
that even when the words won’t come,
He still does.

That He doesn’t need eloquence
to meet us.

He just needs us.

So if you’ve arrived here —
empty-handed, weary, unsure of what you’re even looking for —
you’re not alone.

Let’s sit here for a while.
Not searching for the right thing to say.
Just resting in the comfort that we’re seen anyway.

“…for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.”
— Matthew 6:8