hard seasons

When It All Feels Like Too Much

/ Baylee Snelling / 3 Comments

You know when life feels like one giant snowball — rolling faster and heavier with every hit of bad news?

Like you barely catch your breath from one thing, and the next thing knocks you down again?

Yeah. Me too.

But I’m starting to believe that those seasons — the ones that feel like too much — might actually be the very ground God uses to prepare us for what’s coming.

Not because He’s punishing us.
But because He’s forming us.

Because without the hard, we don’t always know how to recognize the holy.
Without the ache, we don’t always appreciate the abundance.

And I think He really wants us to be able to appreciate what’s coming.

Not just survive it.
But savor it.

So if you’re in the middle of what feels like a relentless season —
where the good feels distant and the hits just keep coming —
don’t give up hope.

This isn’t the end of your story.

This might just be the stretch of road that softens your heart enough
to fully receive the beauty that’s ahead.

Hold on.
He’s not done.

Anchor Verse

“Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore He will rise up to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him!”
Isaiah 30:18 (NIV)

The Mountain Where Trust Was Tested

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There’s a story in Scripture that’s been close to my heart lately —
Abraham. Isaac. And a mountain no one wanted to climb.

God asked Abraham to lay down the very thing He had given him —
his long-awaited son.
And Abraham said yes.

Not because it made sense,
but because he trusted God’s heart,
even when the path didn’t look like provision.

Someone reminded me recently:
“I like to think the lamb was already on its way up the other side of the mountain.”

That stayed with me.

Because that’s what faith is, isn’t it?
Trusting that God is already providing —
even when all you can see is loss.

We may not understand the mountain,
but we can trust the One who meets us there.

He hasn’t forgotten.
He’s still writing the story.
And the thicket is never empty.