Ask me what I know

Ask me what I know, and I will tell you that he will carry you through.

I’ll tell you that He is there, steady and close, when the tears mix with the water in the shower, when your sobs fall silent, heard only by Him. I’ll tell you of His presence, soft and sweet, filling the room when sleep won’t come and the weight of it all presses hard against your heart.

I’ll tell you that no heartbreak runs too deep, no wound too raw, that He cannot redeem it. That even in the ashes you’re standing in, this is not the end. He weeps with you; His tears fall beside yours, transforming dust to clay. And with His own hands, He shapes that clay, molds it into a vessel of honor, beauty rising from sorrow.

I’ll tell you that weeping may last through the longest night, when dawn feels worlds away. But morning will come, and with it, joy. Joy that wipes away what seemed endless.

So go on, ask me what I know.

I know Jesus.

Of all that is uncertain, He is sure. Of all that feels lost, He is found.

So let me tell you of this one, steady thing I know: His love. His grace. His unending, unbreakable promise to carry you through.🤍