Are you disappointed in me?

Sometimes I wonder if You’re disappointed in me. I wonder if You sigh when You see me still struggling. Still dragging the same aching heart through yet another morning.

Still whispering prayers that sound more like groans. Still surviving.

Still showing up with tears in my throat and weariness in my bones.

Still fighting to believe what I used to be so sure of. Still healing from wounds that feel like they should be scars by now.

I carry this guilt.

Guilt for being tired.

Guilt for not being “better” yet.

Guilt for not having the joy I once wore like a song. Guilt for not leaping into the light.

For maybe sitting in the ashes too long.

And I find myself asking,

Are You frustrated with me?

Am I too slow in the healing?

Too human in the hurting?

Too broken for Your patience?

But then I remember…

You are not like them.

You are not a God who rolls His eyes when I stumble again.

You are not a Savior who times my grief on a stopwatch.

You are not a Shepherd who scolds the lamb for limping behind.

You are the One who leaves the ninety-nine for the weary one still crawling.

You are the One who collects every tear in a bottle and calls it holy.

You are the One who does not break the bruised reed, nor snuff out the dimly burning wick.

You knew I’d still be here—

Still in process.

Still unraveling.

Still learning how to breathe in the fire and hope in the silence.

And You came anyway.

You came not to shame me,

but to sit beside me.

To cup my face in Your nail-scarred hands

and whisper,

“Beloved, I’m not disappointed.

I’m here.

And I’m staying.”

You see the fight in me that I can’t see.

You see how I didn’t quit.

How I still reached for You.

How I still showed up,

even if all I could do was whisper, “Help me.”

And You call that beautiful.

Let the world rush. Let shame scream. Let timelines pass.

But You, Lord,

You are the God who kneels beside the dust

and breathes again.