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Feeling Alone? Here’s The Prescription

Happy Thursday, friends…or whenever you read this.

Let’s talk about Psalm 139.
Yeah, that one. The “You knit me together in my mother’s womb” one.
The “Where can I flee from your presence?” one.
The “Search me, God, and know my heart” one.

You know, sometimes we read these ancient texts, these poems, and we think, “Yeah, that’s nice,” To our Western minds it reads all cozy and fluffy like rainbows and puppy dogs, and we move on. But Psalm 139? This thing wants to get under your skin. It wants to mess with your assumptions. It wants to remind you of something so fundamental, so deeply rooted in the very fabric of reality, that you can’t ignore it. It’s like when the Holy Spirit tugs at your mind and prompts you to do something about it…that’s the kind of thought-provoking Psalm that 139 was written to be.

And what is Psalm 139 all about? What does it want us to know? What can we understand from such an ancient yet-still-relevant text of poetry?

Here it is…
are you ready for it?

You are known. Deeply, utterly, completely known.

Not just the surface-level stuff, like your favorite coffee or your go-to Netflix show.
No, we’re talking about the you that you sometimes try to hide. The parts you’re ashamed of, the doubts you wrestle with, the fears that keep you up at night. The real you no one completely knows – But God does.

David, the writer of this psalm, is freaking out a little bit, right?
He’s like, “Where can I go? If I go up to the heavens, you’re there. If I make my bed in the depths, you’re there.”

It’s almost like he’s trying to escape, but he can’t.
Because here’s the kicker: there is nowhere you can go that God isn’t already there.

Think about that for a second. Let it sink in.

We live in a world that tells us we need to perform, to prove ourselves, to earn our worth. That next level accomplishments is the measurement of success and “being a productive human”…
We’re constantly bombarded with messages about how we’re not enough.
But Psalm 139 says, “Before a word is on my tongue, you, Lord, know it completely.“

Before you even think it, God already knows. Before you even feel it, God already feels it.
Before you even mess up, God already knows.

And here’s the radical, mind-blowing, life-altering part: God isn’t freaked out by it.

God isn’t sitting up there, shaking their head and saying, “Oh, man, they messed up again.”
No, God is saying, “I see you. I know you. And I love you.”

This isn’t about some distant, judgmental deity. This is about a God who is intimately involved in your life, who formed you in your mother’s womb, who knows every hair on your head. Think about it, before you knew yourself – God knew you. Doesn’t that just blow your mind?!

And yeah, it can be a little scary. It can feel vulnerable. But it’s also incredibly liberating. Because when you realize that you’re already known and loved, you don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t have to put on a show. You can just be you.

David ends the psalm with a plea: “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.“

It’s an invitation.
A call to honesty.
A willingness to let God into the messy, complicated parts of our lives.

So, here’s my encouragement for you today: embrace the knowing.
Let God see you. Let God love you. Let God lead you.

You are NOT alone. You are not forgotten.
You are deeply, utterly, completely known and loved.

And that, dear friends, is fantastic news.
Something more to ponder today.
Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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When Faith Comes To Dance…

Hey friends, have you ever gotten to a place in your spiritual life where doubt started to creep in and create a kind of identity crisis? Has that ever happened to you? It’s like one minute you’re faith is going strong, you’re connecting with God and things are fine, the next minute you’re questioning aspects of salvation that you never questioned before?

I think it’s important for us to recognize the need to really battle with our faith from time to time. It’s okay to ask the hard questions and, at times, discover you have some doubts. Scripture tells us to work out our salvation with fear and trembling…(Philippians 2:12). Paul doesn’t say “casually consider” or “flippantly cast aside”, no, he uses the word “work”.

Philippians 2:12 is a verse that can stop you in your tracks, isn’t it?
Work out your salvation? Like it’s some kind of cosmic CrossFit routine?
Suddenly, salvation feels less like grace and more like…a to-do list with a lot more sweat involved.

And then there’s the “fear and trembling” part. Yikes. That sounds intense.
Like we’re walking a spiritual tightrope, and one wrong move and whoosh – we’re plummeting into the abyss.

No pressure, right?

But what if… what if there’s something more going on here?
What if Paul’s not giving us a spiritual to-do list, but inviting us into something beautiful, something profound?

Think about it. “Work out” – the original Greek word is katergazomai. It’s not just about gritting your teeth and pushing through. It’s about bringing something to completion. It’s about cultivating something. Like a gardener tending a plant. You don’t just have a garden, you work it. You nurture it. You care for it. You bring it to its fullness.

This is from Shanais’ garden. All the flowers were vibrant and attracting lots of pollinators


My wife loves to garden.
I mean, sometimes even to the point of obsession.
But when she tends the plants, when she works at it, cultivating, hydrating, ensuring the soil has enough nutrients and is at a sufficient PH level, the gardens she is able to produce are magnificent. It’s beautiful, it’s profound. Where once was this kind of barren patch of grass, not a dark-rich, healthy soil contains vibrancy, life and beauty that causes some of our neighbors to be envious.

So, these words “Work out” means we bring something to completion. We cultivate our spiritual journeys, we nurture our faith even when the weeds of doubt tend to sprout up sometimes. And when we care for it, the right kind of faithful fruit is produced…

So maybe, just maybe, Paul’s saying that salvation isn’t a static thing you just get and then you’re done.
Maybe it’s something you participate in.
Something you grow into. Something you live.

And what about the fear and trembling? Is that about being terrified of God’s wrath? I don’t think so. I think it’s more about awe. It’s about recognizing the sheer magnitude of what God has done for us. It’s about being overwhelmed by the incredible, scandalous, mind-blowing love that’s been poured out on us. It’s a reverent, humble awareness of the divine mystery that surrounds us. Like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon – you’re not necessarily scared, but you’re definitely moved. You’re humbled.

See, this whole verse, it’s NOT about earning God’s love. It’s about responding to it. It’s about letting that love transform us from the inside out. It’s about allowing that grace to shape us, to mold us, to make us more like the people we were created to be. That, my friends is what the faith journey is all about. Not some secret formula, or mantra we utter every day. It’s not some kind of ritual we follow to make us more holy. It’s a journey that requires real work to cultivate the right soil for deeper roots.

It’s not about striving in our own strength. It’s about surrendering to the power of God’s love and letting that work in us, through us, and all around us.

So, yeah, work out your salvation. Not like it’s a burden, but like it’s a dance. A beautiful, messy, sometimes scary and occasionally out of rhythm, but it’s always an amazing dance with the Divine. And do it with awe. Do it with wonder. Do it with a heart overflowing with gratitude. Because that, my friends, is where the real transformation happens. That’s where the real life begins. Don’t be afraid of doubt. Let it wash over you sometimes like an off-beat in the rhythm of faith…then get back to the dance.

Grace and peace,
Pastor Scott.

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Kindness: Lifting Heavy Hearts.

“Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up” -Proverbs 12:25

Okay, friends, here we are again with another daily pondering.
And today, let’s talk about heaviness. We all know it, right? We know what heaviness is and how it impacts our lives from time to time. It can sometimes manifest itself like a feeling in your chest, that cloud hanging over your head, that sense that you’re wading through mud even when you’re just walking to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Heavy.


Life throws things at us – grief, disappointment, fear, the sheer overwhelm of existence sometimes –(it’s like the whole kitchen sink is lobbed at us) and it can weigh us down. It can make us feel like we’re the mythological character Atlas who is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And it feels like we might just crumble under the pressure.
I totally get it. You get it. We’re all in this together.

And that’s where this little nugget from Proverbs comes in. Chapter 12, verse 25: “Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.” Simple, right?
But like so many of these ancient truths, there’s a depth here that can really…well, lift us up. (Pun intended, I couldn’t resist.)

Think about that word “anxiety.” The Hebrew word there, de’agah, it’s not just your everyday worry.
It’s more like a deep, gnawing, almost paralyzing kind of care. That feeling that something is fundamentally wrong, that things are spiraling out of control. We’ve all been there. And when that kind of anxiety hits, it can feel like you’re trapped. We’re alone. Like there’s no way out, and so we cry out for help, but no one can hear us.
It’s like the weight is just…too much.

But then, the second part of the verse. “A kind word cheers it up.” Now, notice something. It doesn’t say “a powerful word.” It doesn’t say “a life-changing word.” It says kind. A simple, genuine, kind word.

Think about the last time someone said something truly kind to you. Maybe it was a friend, a family member, a stranger on the street. Maybe it was just a simple, “I see you,” or “You’ve got this,” or “I’m here for you.” Didn’t it make a difference? Didn’t it, even for a moment, lighten the load?

That’s the power of kindness.
It’s not some magic bullet that makes all your problems disappear.
It’s not a quick fix for deep-seated anxieties. But it’s a start.
It’s a crack of light in the darkness.
It’s a reminder that you’re not alone.
That someone sees your struggle, acknowledges your pain, and offers a bit of…hope.

And here’s the thing: we can be that kind word for someone else.
We can be the ones offering that little bit of light.
Think about the people in your life who are struggling. Maybe it’s someone you know well, maybe it’s someone you barely know.


Reach out.
Offer a kind word.
A genuine compliment.
A listening ear.

You have no idea the impact it could have. You have no idea how heavy someone else’s heart might be. And your simple act of kindness could be the thing that helps them keep going.

So, my friends, let’s remember this.
Let’s remember the power of kindness. Let’s remember that even in the midst of the heaviest of times, a kind word can make a difference. It can lift a heart. It can offer hope. And it can remind us all that we’re in this together.
And that, is always beautiful thing.


Something more to ponder on today.
Grace & Peace…
-Pastor Scott.

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Experience Authentic Worship: 5 Ways To Connect With God.

Hey everyone, Pastor Scott here. We talk a lot about purpose, about community, about following Jesus. But today, I want to dive deep into something absolutely crucial to our walk with God: authentic worship.

Think about it: Why do we gather together on Sundays? Why do we sing? Why do we listen to sermons? It’s all about connecting with God, right? But how do we know if that connection is real? How do we know if our worship is genuine, or just going through the motions?

See, God isn’t interested in superficial praise. He’s not looking for perfectly crafted prayers or flawless musical performances. He’s after something much deeper: He’s after our hearts.

In Matthew 15:8, Jesus says, “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.” Ouch. That’s a convicting verse. It makes you stop and ask yourself: Am I just going through the motions? Am I singing the words without really meaning them? Am I listening to the sermon without letting it penetrate my soul?

Authentic worship isn’t about what we do outwardly; it’s about what’s happening inwardly. It’s about a genuine encounter with the living God. It’s about coming before Him with honesty, vulnerability, and a heart that’s open to His presence.

So, how do we cultivate this kind of authentic worship? Here are a few thoughts:

#1. Come as you are: God doesn’t expect you to be perfect before you come to Him. He knows your struggles, your doubts, your imperfections. Bring them all to Him. He wants to meet you where you are, not where you pretend to be. Authenticity starts with honesty.

#2. Focus on connection, not performance: Worship isn’t a show. It’s not about impressing anyone, including God. It’s about connecting with Him on a personal level. Let go of the pressure to perform and simply focus on being present with God.

#3. Engage your heart and mind: Don’t just sing the words; understand them. Don’t just listen to the sermon; reflect on it. Let God’s Word speak to your heart and transform your thinking. Authentic worship engages the whole person.

#4. Worship beyond Sunday: Worship isn’t confined to a church building. It’s a lifestyle. It’s about living every day in a way that honors God. It’s about showing His love to others, serving those in need, and living with integrity.

#5. Pray for a heart of worship: Ask God to reveal any areas in your life where your worship is lacking. Ask Him to give you a heart that is truly devoted to Him.

Friends, God desires authentic worship. He longs for a genuine relationship with each of us. It’s so much more than our outward offerings, it’s about our hearts & minds and the worship that takes place within us. So, let’s strip away the pretense, the masks, and the empty rituals, and come before Him with hearts that are real, honest, and fully surrendered to His love. That’s the kind of worship that truly honors God and transforms our lives.

Grace & Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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Punching Fear In The Face (Psalm 27 Remix).

Alright, friends, let’s talk about fear.
That jittery, unsettling, heart-pounding feeling we all know so well.

It creeps in, right?


Whispers doubts in your ear, paints worst-case scenarios on the walls of your mind.
You’re not alone. We’ve all been there. And honestly?
It’s part of the human experience. But… (and this is a big but) …it doesn’t have to define us.

I was hanging out in Psalm 27 the other day (you know, just your average Tuesday at the hospital – fear, like a hangover still settled in my hear as I waited for my son to get released from surgery), and it hit me. This ancient song, this raw cry of the heart, it’s still relevant.

Thousands of years old, and it still speaks to that primal fear we wrestle with.
And it offers something too, something powerful. Hope.

The Psalmist starts out strong, right? “The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1). Boom. Mic drop. It’s like they’re saying, “Okay, fear, I see you. I acknowledge you. But you don’t get the final word here.”  It’s refreshing to read. It’s equally relieving to read these words out loud and hearing yourself say them – articulate them, and have them settle into that space that fear is residing.

Think about some of these words from Psalm 27:1 that for a second.
Light. Salvation. Stronghold.
These aren’t just buzzwords. They’re images, pictures of something bigger than our anxieties, something stronger than our doubts. When we feel lost in the dark, God is the light. When we feel trapped, God is the way out. When we feel vulnerable, God is our protection. When we are waiting in spaces where we feel powerless – the one who made all of these spaces, the Author of the universe is there in all of His power and glory – right beside us.

Now, does this mean fear vanishes instantly? Nope.
The Psalm goes on to talk about armies and enemies and all sorts of scary stuff.
Life throws curveballs, doesn’t it? Things happen that shake us to our core. But even in the midst of that, the Psalmist declares, “Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then I will be confident.” (Psalm 27:3).  

That’s not some naive, Pollyanna optimism. That’s a deep-rooted trust. A knowing that even when things fall apart, there’s a foundation that can’t be shaken. A love that won’t let us go.

And then comes this beautiful, vulnerable plea: “One thing I ask of the Lord, that this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.” (Psalm 27:4).  

For me, this isn’t about a literal building. It’s about presence. It’s about cultivating that awareness of God’s nearness, that sense of belonging. It’s about choosing to focus on the good, on the beautiful, on the divine spark within ourselves and within the world around us. God’s presence can’t be contained in one place – His temple is built in flesh and bone – in you and me. His presence is here and also in the furthest regions of unexplored space trillions of miles away. It blows my mind to even contemplate, yet I know it to be true. God’s presence – here with us – it’s beautiful.

So, what about you? What’s that “one thing” you’re asking for? What brings you closer to that sense of peace, that connection to the source of all love and light? Maybe it’s spending time in nature. Maybe it’s creating art. Maybe it’s connecting with friends. Maybe it’s just taking a few deep breaths and remembering who you are.

Whatever it is, lean into it. Because here’s the truth: Fear is real. But so is hope. So is love. So is the unwavering presence of God, walking with us, always. And that, my friends, is something worth holding onto and sharing with a world paralyzed by fear. Go. Be brave. Embrace His presence, and light the darkness with hope today.

Grace and Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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Beyond Fear and the ‘What-ifs’

I sought the Lord, and he answered me.
He delivered me from all my fears.

Simple words.
Profound truth. Ancient wisdom for modern anxiety.

What if…

What if your fears aren’t the end of the story? What if there’s something beyond the paralysis, beyond the what-ifs, beyond the worst-case scenarios that play on endless loop in your mind?

Here’s what David discovered:

There’s a seeking. An answer. A deliverance.

But let’s back up. (beep, beep, beep)
Let’s talk about fear for a moment.
Fear grips us. Constricts us. Whispers lies about who we are and what’s possible.
Fear tells us we’re alone, tells us we’re not enough, tells us the darkness is winning. So many lies…

But what if…

What if fear isn’t the truest thing about you?
*mic drop*

What if there’s a voice louder than fear?
A presence stronger than fear?
A love deeper than fear?
And that voice and send fear packing, evicting its presence.

This is what David tapped into. This is the reality he discovered.

The Seeking

“I sought the Lord,” David writes.

Not “I figured it out on my own.”
Not “I powered through.”
Not “I pretended everything was fine.”
Not “I put out a poll with my friends to see what to do next.”

No, David sought. He reached out. He admitted his need.
Could there be something in admitting we need God?
Could there be something to discovering His strength is what’s been missing all along?

What if your seeking is the first step toward freedom? What if your questions, your longings, your restlessness – what if they’re all part of the journey toward deliverance?

The Answer

“…and he answered me.”

Simple. Direct. Profound.

David sought. God answered.

What if God is more eager to respond than we are to ask?
What if the universe is designed for us to find this divine connection, in favor of love, in favor of being heard?

The Deliverance

“He delivered me from all my fears.”
Not some fears. Not most fears. All fears.

What if complete deliverance is possible?
What if freedom isn’t just a nice idea, but a lived reality?
Did Jesus say, “The Kingdom of Heaven is here”? It’s right here, not out there somewhere in the universe – but accessible. Here. Now.

Here’s what I want you to consider:

Your fears don’t define you.
Your anxiety doesn’t have the final word.
Your past doesn’t determine your future.

There’s a seeking available to you right now. There’s an answer waiting to be heard. There’s a deliverance that can rewrite your story.

So maybe, just maybe, it’s time to seek. To reach out. To admit your need.

Because on the other side of that seeking?

That’s where the answer lives.
That’s where deliverance waits.
That’s where you discover who you really are.

And who you really are?
That’s the beginning of wisdom when we align who we are with who God is…perhaps it starts the other way around and we begin with seeking the Lord. He will answer you.

It’s beyond the confines of fear – it’s transformative and can shed light in all of the spaces fear has occupied.
And that my friends is worth seeking after.

Grace & Peace
-Pastor Scott.

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Lessons from The Waiting Rooms of Life…

Ever sat in a hospital waiting room? Time seems to bend, doesn’t it? A minute stretches into an eternity. The air hums with a low-level anxiety, a shared, unspoken question hanging heavy: What’s happening? You’re surrounded by strangers, yet bound by this shared experience of… waiting. Waiting for news. Waiting for a loved one. Waiting for something to happen.

I’ve been there this week. It’s exhausting, and as I was sitting there with nothing to do except wait, I felt compelled to relate this to our lives…so here goes:

Why can’t waiting room chairs be more comfortable?!?

Life, sometimes, feels a lot like that waiting room. We’re waiting for the test results, waiting for the job offer, waiting for the relationship to heal, waiting for… well, you name it. We’re in this in-between space, this liminal zone (I sometimes call limbo) where we’re not quite sure what the next moment holds. And it can be agonizing. We pace. We worry. We check our phones. We wonder if anyone even sees us in this space. And even with all of this technology and social media at our fingertips we can often feel very, very alone.

But what if I told you that this waiting room isn’t just dead time? What if it’s actually training ground? What if it’s preparing us for something bigger, something longer, something… more beautiful?

Think about it. The Christian life isn’t a sprint. It’s not a hundred-meter dash where you burst out of the gates and it’s over in a flash. No, no, no. This life, this journey of faith, it’s a marathon. A long, winding, sometimes grueling marathon. Could it be that these moments of waiting. These exhausting times of limbo-holding patterns actually develop in us this much-needed discipline if we cultivate it and hone in our very short attention spans.

And in that waiting room, in those moments of uncertainty and anxiety, we’re building endurance. We’re learning patience. We’re cultivating resilience. We’re discovering, often painfully, that we’re not in control. Which, honestly, is a good thing. Because if we were in control, well, let’s just say things would probably be a whole lot messier.

That waiting room, it’s where we learn to lean into something bigger than ourselves. It’s where we discover the quiet whisper of God in the midst of the chaos. The quiet whisper of God in the midst of our pain and our suffering. It’s where we realize that even when we don’t know what’s happening, even when we feel lost and confused, we are not alone.

We are held. We are loved.

Think about the marathon runner. They don’t just show up on race day and expect to finish.
They train.
They prepare.
They build their strength and stamina mile after mile, day after day.
And sometimes, that training is hard. It’s lonely. It’s exhausting.

The waiting room moments in our lives, they’re part of the training.
They’re the miles we log when no one’s watching.
They’re the quiet strengthening of our souls.

So, the next time you find yourself in that waiting room, remember this: you are NOT stuck. You are NOT forgotten.
You are being prepared. You are being equipped for the long, beautiful run that lies ahead.

Embrace the waiting.
Embrace the uncertainty.

Because in the waiting, you might just discover the strength you never knew you had.
And that strength, my friends, will carry you through.

Grace & Peace:
-A Fellow Waiting Room Sojourner.

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The Upside-Down Kingdom: Finding God in the Pressure Cooker

Friends, have you ever felt like you’re in a pressure cooker? Like life is just too much? The kind of pressure where you feel like you might crack under the weight of it all? The Thessalonians knew a thing or two about that. They were facing some serious heat, real challenges, and Paul, in his second letter to them, doesn’t shy away from it. But he doesn’t just offer a pat on the back and a “hang in there” either. He dives deep, offering a perspective shift that’s as relevant today as it was back then.

He starts, as he often does, with gratitude. “We ought always to thank God for you, brothers and sisters,” he says, “and rightly so, because your faith is growing more and more, and the love all of you have for one another is increasing.” (2 Thess 1:3, NIV). Think about that for a second. Even in the midst of their struggles, something was growing. Their faith. Their love for each other. It’s easy to focus on what’s wrong, what’s broken, what’s not working. But Paul, he flips the script. He highlights the good, the beautiful, the growing.

It’s a reminder for us too.
What’s growing in your life, even now? Even in the midst of the mess?
Maybe it’s a tiny seed of hope. Maybe it’s a flicker of compassion.
Nurture it.
Pay attention to it.
Because growth, even the smallest bit, is a sign of life.  

Then he says something really interesting. He talks about their “persecutions and trials.”
He doesn’t sugarcoat it. Life was hard.
But he connects those very trials to something bigger. He says these trials are “evidence of God’s righteous judgment, so that you may be considered worthy of his kingdom, for which you are suffering.” (2 Thess 1:5, NIV).


Now, this isn’t some cosmic math equation where suffering equals worthiness. That’s not how grace works. Instead, it’s about character. It’s about how we respond to the pressure.
Do we become bitter and resentful? Or do we, somehow, through the struggle, become more like the person Jesus was?
The pressure, the trials, they can actually refine us, shape us, mold us into people of greater resilience, greater compassion, greater love. It’s not that God causes the suffering, but God uses it.
He redeems it. He transforms it.
Like a potter working with clay, the challenges we face can become the very things that make us stronger, more beautiful, more…us.  

This idea of “God’s righteous judgment” isn’t about some distant, angry judge waiting to whack us with a gavel. It’s about the universe having a certain order to it. A rightness. A justice. And in this upside-down kingdom, it’s often through suffering that we learn what that justice truly looks like.
It’s through the cracks that the light gets in, as Leonard Cohen so beautifully put it.

So, where does that leave us? It leaves us with hope. It leaves us with a God who sees us, who knows our struggles, and who is working even in the messiest parts of our lives. It leaves us with the understanding that even the hard things, the painful things, can be a part of our journey towards becoming the people we were created to be. It leaves us with the courage to keep going, to keep loving, to keep believing, even when it feels like the world is falling apart. Because in this upside-down kingdom, the last shall be first, the weak shall be strong, and even suffering can be a pathway to glory.

And that, my friends, is good news.
Grace and Peace,
-Pastor Scott.

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He’s Not Done With You…

Alright, friends, let’s talk about becoming.


Not just being, but becoming. You know, sometimes we get stuck, right? Like a record skipping, playing the same old tune, the same old story about ourselves. “I’m just not good at this,” or “I’ve always been this way,” or “This is just who I am.” We build these little boxes for ourselves, these tiny narratives, and we huddle inside, thinking it’s safe. But it’s not. It’s just…small.

And then there’s God. Big God. Wild God. The God who looks at you, really looks at you, and sees something more. Something way more. Not the you that’s stuck in the box, but the you that’s bursting to get out. The you that’s been there all along, maybe buried under layers of doubt and fear and all that other stuff we carry around.

Think about a seed. You plant it in the ground, doesn’t look like much, right? Just a little thing. But inside, there’s a whole tree waiting to happen. A massive oak, or a vibrant sunflower, or a delicate rose. It’s all there, potential packed into this tiny package. But it needs the right conditions. It needs water, it needs sunlight, it needs the right soil. It needs to be nurtured.

That’s us. We’re the seed. God’s the gardener. He sees the potential, the magnificent creation waiting to emerge. And he provides what we need. Sometimes that’s comfort, sometimes that’s challenge. Sometimes it’s a gentle rain, sometimes it’s a pruning shear. Because growth isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it requires us to let go of the dead branches, the things that are holding us back.

And here’s the thing: God’s not finished with you yet. He’s not even close. The “you” you know right now? That’s just a glimpse of who you’re becoming. There’s so much more inside, waiting to be unleashed. More love, more joy, more courage, more compassion. More you.

So how do we become? We trust the gardener. We let go of the small stories we tell ourselves. We open ourselves up to the possibility that God might just know a little bit more about us than we know about ourselves. We embrace the process, the messy, beautiful, sometimes painful process of growth.

Because the truth is, you’re not defined by your past. You’re not defined by your mistakes. You’re defined by the incredible, boundless potential that God sees within you. And he’s working, always working, to bring that potential to life. So breathe deep, friends. Let the sun shine in. Let the rain fall. And trust that the gardener knows what he’s doing. You’re becoming. And it’s going to be amazing.

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Not Out Of The Woods (A Poem)

A shiver of leaves, not wind, I think. Or is it?
The dark mouth of the woods opens wider.
No path visible now, just the suggestion of one,
a deer trail maybe, grown over with fear.

It’s a damp smell, fear,
like the underside of a rock turned over,
worms wriggling.
Not death exactly, though that’s in the mix,
the quiet composting of what was.
More like… not knowing.

The blank page before the word,
the silence before the note.
And the wanting, always the wanting,
to fill it, to make some kind of music,
even if it’s just a grunt,
a cry against the weight of all this…nothing.

But wait. My hand, reaching out,
finds the rough bark of a tree.
Solid.
Not a ghost, not a trick of the light.
And the air,
though thick with the smell of wet earth,
also carries something else.
Pine needles, maybe.
And the faintest, almost gone,
scent of wild rose.
It’s enough. A start.
No grand pronouncements,
no heroic stance.
Just this: one foot in front of the other.
A breath.
Another.
The dark woods,
they’ll still be there.
But so will I.
For now.
And maybe, just maybe,
that’s enough.
SS 2/9/25

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