For my good?

I’ve said the words myself…for my good.

I’ve whispered them through clenched teeth and tear-swollen eyes, preached them back to my own reflection like a sermon I was desperate to believe.

But today… today the words feel heavy.

Too heavy.

You see that I suffer.

I know You do.

Nothing escapes You, not the nights I bargain with silence, not the mornings I wake already bracing for the ache.

And still… it goes on.

I keep asking myself if this is what abundant love looks like.

If abundance can ache this deeply.

If goodness is always quiet while grief is loud.

I don’t doubt Your power.

That isn’t my struggle.

I doubt my capacity to keep carrying this without collapsing beneath it.

They say love rescues.

But sometimes love stays.

Sometimes it watches me weep and does not explain itself.

And that kind of love feels cruel when I’m exhausted.

I want to believe that You are not absent just because You are not intervening.

That silence does not mean indifference.

That delay is not denial, and suffering is not punishment.

Still, I am honest enough to say it:

This hurts more than I thought I could bear.

If this is for my good, then my good is being shaped in ways I don’t recognize yet.

If this is love, then love must be deeper than comfort and stronger than relief.

So tonight, I don’t offer polished faith.

I offer what I have.

Tithing my pain.

A heart still beating, though bruised.

A prayer without punctuation.

A soul saying, I’m still here… but I need You to be close.

And maybe this is where the abundance has been hiding all along—not in the removal of the pain, but in the way You refuse to leave me alone in it.

Because even now, when I feel emptied,

I am still being held.

Even now, when hope feels thin,

it has not snapped.

One day, I believe I will look back and see

that what felt like abandonment

was actually endurance being built in secret.

That love was not absent—

it was deeper than I knew how to recognize.

And if tomorrow comes heavy again,

then You and I will meet there too.

Because abundant love does not promise

the absence of sorrow, it promises Your presence in it.

And that will be enough to carry me through another day💛