Isaiah 43

The Prayer I Keep Coming Back To

/ Baylee Snelling / Leave a comment

Some prayers are long.

Some are carefully thought out.

Some are whispered through tears.

And some become so familiar that they begin to feel like home.

I’ve noticed that difficult seasons have a way of simplifying my prayers.

When life feels uncertain…

when I’m carrying more than I know what to do with…

when grief and hope somehow occupy the same space in my heart…

I don’t usually have eloquent words.

I have one prayer.

Not because it’s magical.

Not because repeating it changes my circumstances.

But because it reminds me of what I so easily forget.

It reminds me that grief and hope don’t have to compete with each other.

For a long time, I thought healing meant grieving less.

Now I wonder if healing isn’t grieving less… but learning to grieve without letting grief become the loudest voice in the room.

I’ve learned that it’s possible to miss what was…

while still believing God for what could be.

It’s possible to mourn what has been lost…

without losing sight of what God is still creating.

It’s possible to carry sadness in one hand…

and hope in the other.

Maybe that’s what faith looks like.

Not pretending everything is okay.

Not rushing past heartbreak.

Not forcing gratitude before we’re ready.

But trusting that God is still building something beautiful while we’re standing in the middle of what feels broken.

That’s why I keep coming back to this prayer.

Not because I’ve mastered it.

Because I still need it.

Almost every day.

Lord, help me grieve what I’ve lost without losing sight of what You’re still building.

Give me peace for today and hope for tomorrow.

Amen.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”

Isaiah 43:18–19 (NIV)

The Waves Don’t Ask Permission

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

One thing I’ve noticed about waves is that they never ask permission before they arrive.

They don’t check whether you’re ready.

They don’t wait until you’re rested.

They don’t pause because you’ve already had enough.

They just come.

Some barely reach your ankles.

Others knock you completely off balance.

And standing there watching them, I couldn’t help but think about how much life works the same way.

So much of life arrives uninvited.

Responsibilities.

Changes.

Opportunities.

Disappointments.

The things we prayed for.

The things we never would have chosen.

Rarely on our timeline.

Rarely with a warning.

And for a long time, I thought strength meant learning how to stop the waves.

How to predict them.

How to prepare for every possibility.

But maybe strength is something simpler than that.

Maybe it’s learning that you can stand back up after one knocks you down.

Not because every wave is small.

But because you’ve learned they won’t carry you away.

And because God has never left you standing in them alone.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.”
— Isaiah 43:2 (NIV)

To Everything I’ve Ever Lost

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Not just what I’ve lost—but what I’ve found because of it.

We don’t always get to choose what’s taken from us. But we do get to choose what we do with the empty space that’s left behind.

And sometimes, if we’re honest, it’s not until we’re brought to our knees by loss that we look up and remember who’s been standing there all along.

That’s what this photo reminded me of:

“To everything I’ve ever lost, thank you for bringing me closer to Jesus.”

It stopped me in my tracks because it’s true. I wouldn’t wish some of the heartbreak I’ve walked through on anyone, but I also wouldn’t trade what it gave me—an intimacy with Jesus I might’ve never known otherwise.

Loss can strip us of our plans, our people, our sense of stability. But it can’t take the One who walks us through the fire.

So maybe the most unexpected gratitude we can offer is this: Thank You for the losses that led me here.

To trust. To surrender. To deeper healing. To Jesus.

Anchor Verse

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.”
Isaiah 43:2 (NIV)