This reflection was originally published on Medium under the “Even Here” publication.
Read it there → Even Here
Lord,
What has happened to me?
Years of turning, wrestling, releasing, returning.
Of trying, surrendering, hoping, doubting.
You’ve seen it all — every decision, detour, and deep sigh.
I’ve followed what I thought was Your voice.
I’ve pivoted careers and called it faith.
I’ve stepped out of ministry and back into a career.
I’ve waited. I’ve longed. I’ve questioned. I’ve wept.
And now I wait again.
I confess, Lord — there is sadness in this.
Sadness that I am still here, in the in-between.
Sadness that clarity hasn’t come,
that the questions have lingered longer than I thought they would.
I grieve the story I thought I’d be living by now.
God, I don’t know what’s next.
I don’t even know if I should know.
Am I meant to trace some grand arc,
to find meaning in the pattern?
Or simply live today — faithful, uncertain, present?
I confess: I want clarity.
I want a map. A purpose. A reason.
But maybe You’re not handing out maps —
maybe You’re offering Yourself.
So if the story keeps changing,
if the next 10 years look nothing like what I expect,
if clarity never arrives,
teach me to find peace without full understanding.
Help me carry this sadness without shame.
Help me accept this tension without bitterness.
Help me learn to flourish —
not because the tension disappears,
but because You meet me within it.
Help me live without needing to analyze everything.
Give me grace to hold the tension:
to seek without striving.
to trust without knowing.
to love without guarding.
to hope without demanding answers.
And if letting go is part of faith,
then hold me as I let go.
You are not the God of tidy answers,
but the God who walks with us —
in mystery,
in movement,
in the mess of it all.
So I place the next chapter — whatever it holds — into Your hands.
Not with resignation,
but with quiet defiance:
a belief that You are still at work, even here.
Even in me.
Amen.