I used to think I was silly for wanting to share my story and what I’ve learned over the years. I convinced myself I had no leg to stand on when it came to suffering—after all, others have suffered far worse than me. Even recently, I’ve doubted God’s call to write more, share more, and finally write that book I told myself long ago I would write.
But one thing I always hope to relay in my writing and my posts is this: God cares about all of our grief and sorrow. Every single one. No matter what it looks like. And because he cares, he doesn’t waste any of it.
And I care too. My hope is to point others, in the midst of their suffering, back to God—and to help them see that even in the mess, there is beauty.
I believe that in our suffering—when we come to the end of ourselves, when we’re willing to deny ourselves—we become moldable. We become more of who God created us to be. And it’s there, in that surrender, that we see Him and experience His presence and fullness like never before.
The enemy’s tactics are brutal. He pulls no punches in his efforts to silence our testimonies. But every story matters. Your story matters. Your testimony matters, and it carries power.
Our seasons of sorrow can be dark—but there is One who has already defeated the darkness. So join me. Let your light shine. Tell your story. Share what God has done.
And if you’re walking through suffering right now, you are seen. This valley is not a detour. It’s a journey. And if you’re willing, it leads straight to His throne.
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