A prayer for the heavy things

Lord,

I wonder — who might I have been,

if I had not been asked to carry these heavy things?

Would I have climbed higher?

Would I have been more celebrated, more surrounded, more beloved?

Would life have been lighter, sweeter?

But You, my Keeper,

You do not waste the weight.

You do not waste the wilderness.

And so I trust — even trembling —

that these burdens have been the hands that shaped me.

Father, if the heavy things were the tools,

then let the work be holy.

Let them have carved compassion deep into my soul. Let them have stretched my arms wider for the hurting. Let them have made my voice softer for the broken, and my heart burn hotter for Your kingdom.

If suffering was the chisel,

let the image revealed be Yours.

If the crushing was the oil press,

let the fragrance that rises be Christ alone.

O God, may the hidden battles deepen my ministry. May the secret sorrows make me a harbor for the weary.

May the long nights of weeping make my life a psalm of hope.

Let none of it be wasted, Lord.

Let every heavy thing be turned into a mercy.

Let every scar preach of Your goodness.

If I must carry the weight,

then let it carry me closer to You.

Shape me in the dark places.

Refine me in the fire.

Raise beauty from these ashes.

And when the story is told,

let it be said:

She carried heavy things —

but they made her look more like You.