This year, I’ve had more medical appointments, tests, and treatments than possibly any other year of my life. God’s sovereignty does not shrink in the presence of symptoms. His rule does not weaken when diagnoses multiply. His authority does not fluctuate with lab results. Through it all, He is the Great Physician, Rapha, my Healer. I’ve held on to this name tightly over the last several weeks.

At Marah, after Israel crossed the Red Sea, God revealed something about Himself: “I am the Lord who heals you” (Exodus 15:26).

The Hebrew word behind that promise is rapha, which means to restore, mend, or make whole. God reveals His name not at the end of the trials of the wilderness, but at the beginning of the journey. Hunger, conflict, and long seasons of wandering still waited ahead. Before the battles ever started, God declared victory.

This name gave the people a way to understand the road ahead. When hardship appeared, they could remember what God had already revealed about Himself. Rapha reminded them that restoration was part of His nature, even when circumstances seemed uncertain.

God’s deliverance did not remove the wilderness. Israel still walked through the desert, experiencing the weight of hunger and uncertainty. The declaration of “Healer” did not eliminate struggles, but served as an Anchor to the One who rules over all things.

David writes that God formed him in his inmost being and saw his days before any of them began (Psalm 139:13–16). While we experience life one moment at a time, God sees the entire story at once. His declarations reveal certainty where people often see uncertainty.

Healing, by human definition, often means the removal of symptoms. Healing in Scripture stretches further. In Isaiah 53:5, healing comes through suffering. In Revelation 21, complete healing appears when death, mourning, crying, and pain are no more.

Perfect healing belongs to God’s definition, not ours. The Healer is present before, during, through, and after our pain. Nothing in my life escapes His final restoration. Understanding this does not eliminate discomfort. It powerfully reframes it.

David wrote in Psalm 34, “I sought the Lord, and He answered me.” He wrote those words while fleeing for his life, not when he reached safety. The pursuit of God preceded comfort and relief.

Wilderness moments often reveal the condition of the heart. A hardened heart resists what God reveals, while a seeking heart recognizes His character even when the road remains uncertain. We see God’s faithfulness as we endure the wilderness.

Healing may not look or feel like we expect. The wilderness may last longer than we planned. When the Healer is doing the work, even in ways we do not fully understand, we can trust His timing.

Surrender means releasing not only our expectations, but also the expectations others place on us. Surrender allows God to define what progress looks like. Surrender refuses to measure His faithfulness by speed.

“I sought the Lord” remains the right response.

I do not understand all of it, but I see enough to trust that His definition of complete healing surpasses mine.

That is confident surrender.

As humans, our vision is limited. We can only see part of the path at a time. What feels stable to us may not be level at all. What looks like forward movement can still lead us off balance. When we rely only on what is visible, uncertainty often follows.

That is why Scripture so often connects walking with trust. God does not simply show us the destination. He teaches us how to walk. He leads us with steady reassurance. He clears the path of dangers we cannot see.

David’s prayer captures that dependence so clearly:

“Let me hear Your loving devotion in the morning, for I have put my trust in You. Teach me the way I should walk, for to You I lift up my soul. Deliver me from my enemies, O LORD; I flee to You for refuge. Teach me to do Your will, for You are my God. May Your good Spirit lead me on level ground. For the sake of Your name, O LORD, revive me. In Your righteousness, bring my soul out of trouble.” (Psalm 143:8–11)

The imagery of a clear path is not accidental. Throughout Scripture, the picture of straight paths and level ground signifies something prepared in advance and made secure before our journey begins. A level path is not always easy, but it is secure. Level ground holds us steady even when our vision is limited and the next step is unclear.

Isaiah speaks of royal preparation in Isaiah 40:3–4: “Prepare the way of the LORD… make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” In the ancient world, preparing the king’s highway was not about aesthetics. The construction served a structural purpose. Roads were leveled, curves were straightened, and obstacles were cleared to make safe passage for the king. The road itself reflected the honor of the one who would walk it.

When John the Baptist later quoted that passage in John 1:23, he was announcing the arrival of the King. The leveling was not about convenience, but about the presence of God. The imagery of the King’s Highway took on new meaning as level ground announced divine arrival.

When we place our trust in God, we are not promised full visibility, but faithful guidance. He leads us where we could not safely go on our own. He prepares the way before us, walks beside us, and surrounds us with His protection. In Scripture, level ground often accompanies divine arrival. The same Lord who lowers mountains and lifts valleys has already seen the terrain ahead. What feels uncertain to us is not unseen by Him.

A level path is not for independence, but for escort, an invitation from God to walk with Him. He breaks down the mountains of pride, raises the valleys of despair, and removes stumbling blocks from the path. We walk in quiet confidence, knowing the road is under the King’s authority and that He walks with us.

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” feels different when the tension is close to home. Enemy feels like a strong word when shared space no longer means shared connection.

Praying for people to get what they deserve is human nature. Praying in submission with surrender is Christlike. When I do not know what to pray, I simply say, “Lord, whatever it takes.” The outcome rests in His hands, and I trust Him to work where I cannot. Those words came from a place of strain that felt personal and unresolved. I did not know how much that prayer would continue to matter.

Since then, life has shifted in ways I could not have anticipated. My circumstances changed dramatically, but the prayer did not. It continues as I rest and recover.

Jesus’ command in Matthew 5:44 is easy to quote and difficult to live. Enemy sounds like a harsh label when conflict exists without open hostility. Sometimes the tension is quiet. Distance can grow even across the same room.

“Whatever it takes” moves the focus away from my preferences and toward God’s purposes. It acknowledges that He sees what I cannot see, knows what I cannot know, and understands every heart involved. The prayer places the situation in His hands instead of mine.

Since returning home from the hospital, my ability to serve has been limited. Tasks that once felt routine now require planning, assistance, or patience. This forced slowing has removed many distractions. What remains is time to pray. I cannot do everything I want to do, but I can pray all day, every day.

When I pray, “whatever it takes,” I am letting go of all that is not mine to carry.

“Whatever it takes” is not a demand for a specific outcome. It is surrender to God’s will, even when that will involves change in me rather than change in the situation. Sometimes the answer is peace amid unresolved tension. Sometimes it is clarity about what belongs to me and what does not. Sometimes it is the strength to endure a season that has not yet changed.

Praying this way does not excuse harmful behavior, nor does it eliminate the need for wisdom, boundaries, or accountability. Surrender is not passivity. It is trust that transformation belongs to God, not to me.

This season of recovery has brought that truth into the light. I cannot carry everything I once managed. Limitations have allowed me to release things that were never mine to control. Letting go is not weakness. It is obedience.

If you are walking through tension that feels too close, too complicated, or too heavy, you are not alone. This prayer does not require perfect faith or eloquent words. It requires willingness.

Lord, whatever it takes.

Place the outcome in His hands and trust Him to work where you cannot.

Faith matters more than ever, not faith as a feeling, but faith anchored in what God has already promised. Even in my uncertainty, God did not move. His sovereignty and steadfastness never depend on individual circumstances. Nothing thwarts His purpose or derails His promise. God remains a permanent stronghold, no matter what life brings.

Moses wrote, “Lord, You have been our dwelling place throughout all generations” (Psalm 90:1). Israel’s circumstances changed constantly in the wilderness. Their tents moved. Their surroundings changed. Their future was uncertain. Their refuge did not change.

That has become increasingly meaningful to me.

This is where faith holds steady for me. When circumstances shift and familiar supports fall away, God’s promises remain unchanged. He does not withdraw when life narrows. He does not loosen His grip when independence fades. He remains my dwelling place.

A temporary season does not mean an absent God. Faith in His promises keeps us anchored. When the Lord is my refuge, I am never without a home, even while the path keeps moving.

Ballet summer session is this week, which means getting up earlier and spending more time in the car. My daughter is not a morning person, and she comes by it naturally. We started the car ride every morning with a prayer and the daily Bible reading. Sometimes we had to listen to a song taken directly from Scripture after the reading.

On Tuesday morning, the reading started with Ephesians chapter four. “As a prisoner in the Lord, then, I urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling you have received: with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, and with diligence to preserve the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:1–3). I said “OUCH!” out loud.

The Bible doesn’t only tell us WHAT to do. It tells us exactly HOW to do it and the result of doing it! Walk worthy, with humility, gentleness, patience, love, and diligence. This preserves unity and peace. Again… OUCH.

As I meditated on walking worthy, I also attempted to take my thoughts captive and stop the unwholesome talk. Unwholesome doesn’t necessarily mean profane or even untrue. Our words can be negative, hurtful, contrary, rebellious, or obstinate. Another verse came to mind: “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person” (Colossians 4:6).

The world’s idea of being “salty” may be sarcastic, rude, or overly critical. A Christian should be salty in a very different way. Our words should be gracious, drawing others toward Christ rather than pushing them away.

The best way to manage temptation is to be rooted in the Word of God. I can readily recall Scripture because I study and diligently make an effort to apply the Word. When His Word is written on our hearts and lighting our path, we are better equipped to walk worthy of our calling.

“All to Jesus I surrender, humbly at His feet I bow; worldly pleasures all forsaken, take me, Jesus, take me now.”

“All to Jesus I surrender, Lord, I give myself to Thee; fill me with Thy love and power, let Thy blessing fall on me.”

“I surrender all; all to Thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all.”

He got a kick out of her reaction, thus beginning a 70+ year tradition. He not only wrapped her gifts in brown paper, but he hid them, pulling them out as the last gift of the day. Her anger transformed into expectation. The contents of the humble packaging were often very valuable, usually jewelry or something special he knew she wanted but didn’t get for herself. In the later years, when the gathering family grew to 25–30 people, he discreetly added the brown box to her matriarchal pile of gifts. She still opened it last.

If you haven’t figured it out, this is another story about my grandparents. I learned so much from them. This brown paper packaging is no exception. It may even be one of the most important lessons. The best gifts are often hidden or disguised. After all, the Savior of the world entered the world in humble circumstances, born to a young woman and raised in a carpenter’s home. He lived without earthly wealth or status, even while teaching the crowds about the coming Kingdom. Isaiah 53 tells us He had no outward beauty to attract people, and He would be despised by many.

As the world remembers His birth, let us also remember the greatest gift of all: His sacrifice for our sins. Through Him, we can die to sin and be raised to walk in newness of life through baptism (Romans 6:3–4). Do you need to open His gift?

No one knows when their lasts will happen, either their last day or the last day with a loved one. In the episode of Doctor Who called “Last Christmas,” dream Danny reminds Clara that every Christmas is the last one. We ought to make every moment count. The most extraordinary memories are often in the most ordinary moments. Preparing the food, sitting at the table, cleaning up, and exchanging gifts may seem like the least important parts of the festivities, but those are often the moments when we hear the most laughter, share the best stories, and give the most hugs.

I would say my grandmother loved Christmas, except the joy she had during the holidays was bigger than that. Grandmama loved her family and getting as many people together as possible. She enjoyed hunting for the perfect gifts and the best bargains. She diligently wrapped each gift with love and an immaculate bow. She had a weakness for Christmas candy (all candy really, but Christmas was her favorite).

This will be the third Christmas without her and the second without my grandfather. Those who have a great presence in life leave a great void when they are gone. We don’t know which Christmas, gathering, or ordinary day together will become a treasured memory. Cherish those you love. Make new memories. Take AND be in all the photos, no matter how self-conscious you might be. One day, only pictures and memories will be left. Make them count.

Rebellion, Judgment, and Deliverance

Throughout the Old Testament, a pattern of rebellion, judgment, and deliverance emerges. The people do well for a time, then begin doing what is right in their own eyes. God sends judgment, and they face the consequences of their rebellion. They cry out for God’s mercy and redemption, and He delivers them. This cycle repeats so often that reading it can make you dizzy, until you recognize that people today are not any different. How many times do we make the same mistakes over and over? How often do we allow ourselves to fall away and make excuses? Then, when we see the chaos of consequence, we cry out for help.

Even if we don’t see a miraculous intervention, we can still see God at work through His Word, His church, and the unexpected ways He provides. He has given us His Word to provide guidance and wisdom. He has given us the church to help meet our needs. Oftentimes, we call out as a last option after trying to solve the problem on our own. As one of my favorite quotes reminds us, “Prayer is a first response, not a last resort.” Be a first responder.

As we read the Word of God, two simple words often change the course of circumstances: BUT GOD. Here are just a few examples:

But God remembered Noah… (Genesis 8:1). All the people of the earth were wicked, with thoughts that were altogether evil all the time, except for Noah. God preserved humanity through Noah and his family, giving the world a new beginning.

But God meant it for good… (Genesis 50:20). Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery, and he became the second most powerful man in Egypt. In their jealousy, they wanted to hurt and punish Joseph, but God used the circumstance to bring salvation.

But God led the people… (Exodus 13:18). When the Israelites fled Egypt and the armies of Pharaoh, God deliberately led them through the wilderness, even though going through Philistia would have been nearer, using that time to prepare them for what lay ahead.

BUT GOD will ransom my soul (Psalm 49:15) and strike the heads of my enemies (Psalm 68:21) because He is the strength of my heart and my portion forever (Psalm 73:26).

But God raised Him from the dead (Acts 13:30). As Paul recounts the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, he emphasizes the power and providence of God. Not only that, but God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). Paul also writes, “But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in our trespasses. It is by grace you have been saved!” (Ephesians 2:4–5).

A Choice, a Change, and a Challenge

Through the Gospels, Jesus teaches the disciples how to live and share God’s love with all people. Through the book of Acts, we learn how to become a part of the church. Through the letters, we gain instruction and encouragement.

In each of these teachings, we have a choice to make: continue living as “dead in our trespasses” OR “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles” (Hebrews 12:1) to walk in newness of life (Romans 6:4). The choice to change your life and follow Christ includes significant challenges, specifically living contrary to the world.

Jesus offers all people a choice. Each chooses whether or not to make the changes necessary to follow Him. Repentance means to turn from sin, agreeing with God that sin is sin, and leaving that lifestyle behind. This change will come with challenges, but He gives us all we need, provides a way out, and works the circumstances for good, according to His purpose. We may not always see the good, certainly not in the moment, but we can walk in Hope and trust that God does not change.