Faithfulness not fairness

They say, “You look well.”

But they cannot hear the war raging in my mind—the clash of fears and faith,

the echo of prayers that sound like groans,

the silent battle between what I believe and what I feel.

I smile, because it’s easier than explaining the ache. I nod, because I’ve learned that most people aren’t prepared to hear the truth when you say, “I’m unraveling.”

Yet, You—

You are the God who steps into the crowded room with me.

When I feel like the only one without a seat at the table,

You pull a chair beside me.

When I feel invisible,

Your gaze finds me in the shadows.

You know the sting of being misunderstood.

You know the loneliness of being surrounded

yet unseen.

This side of heaven, I may never understand

why some of Your children

reach the end of their rope,

why their weary hands lose grip,

why hope feels so far

and darkness so near.

And it’s not fair, Lord—

but You never promised fairness,

You promised faithfulness.

And even here,

in this valley I didn’t choose,

still waters run.

They run deep—

deeper than my fear,

deeper than my sorrow,

deeper than the roots of despair that try to choke me.

Your Spirit carves a quiet river through my chaos, whispering, Peace. Be still.

So I will keep walking through this valley,

even when the shadows try to tell me it’s over.

I will keep drinking from Your still waters,

even when my throat burns with thirst.

Because I know—

You are not just the God who rescues,

You are the God who stays.

You are my Shepherd.

I shall not want.