Where Broken Meets Beautiful

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Titus 3:5 — He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to His own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit.

If I could go back and sit across from the younger me, I do not think I would try to fix her. I do not think she would have believed me, anyway. She was stubborn. Wounded. Tired. She was doing the best she could with what she had, and at the time, it was not much.

I was twenty-five when I lost my mom. I remember the hospital room, the chill of it, and the way time slowed in the hours before she passed. When she was gone, I walked out carrying this hollow kind of silence inside me. That grief stayed. It followed me everywhere I went.

And I wish I could say I handled that pain well. I did not. I ran from people who loved me. I tried to outrun the ache. And when I could not, I tried to bury it by numbing it.

A series of choices—and a thousand little escapes—turned into chains of drug and alcohol addiction. I was not proud of who I was becoming, but for a long time, I did not see a way out.

But if I could say just one thing to her—the girl who buried her mom and then buried herself not long after—it would be this: He is real.

God. He is not just a word people toss around when they do not know what else to say. He is not just a name in a book.

He is real. He is real in hospital rooms. He is real in addiction. And He is real enough to save you when you have gone over the edge.

I wish I could have wrapped that girl up and told her again and again until she believed it. But the truth is, I would not go back and undo anything. Not even the hardest parts because God did not waste a single moment. He used every scar, every mistake, every loss. All of it became part of a story I never expected—a story of grace.

And if that is where you are right now—if you are grieving, if you are stuck in something you don’t want to admit, if you think God is only for people who have it together—I want you to hear me clearly: You are not too far gone.

God is real. And He is not scared of your story. He steps right into the middle of it, and when He is through, what is left will not be shame.

It will be grace.

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The Gift Inside the Interruption

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James 4:8 — “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”

What in your life right now feels like an interruption? What is a distraction to you?

I was reading the other day about Jesus’s walk to Golgotha—His path to the cross—and I had to stop and sit with it. The scene is hard to take in. His back had already been torn open from the flogging.

He was bruised, bleeding, and barely able to stand. The crowd was loud, vicious. Dust kicked up under the weight of every step, and Jesus—exhausted—stumbled under the heavy beam pressing into His raw skin.

That was the road to Calvary.

And somewhere along that brutal road, a man named Simon happened to be passing by.

Simon had come all the way from North Africa to Jerusalem for Passover. That was no small trip.  He had come for worship, tradition, maybe time with his family. And then—without warning—he was swept into this scene of violence and confusion.

And before he could piece it all together, they were pointing at him. “You. Carry this man’s cross.”

I tried to picture it. Was Simon annoyed? Confused? Embarrassed? Did he feel the eyes of strangers on him, wondering what he had done to deserve this? Scripture does not tell us what Simon said or how he felt—but I can’t help but wonder if this man knew what he was about to be a part of.

Because no one walks beside Jesus like that and walks away unchanged.

And what amazes me is that Simon’s interruption was life changing, not only for him, but for us too. He was part of this powerful, magnificent, life-changing story of the crucifixion of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

And it makes me think—how many times have I complained about things I never asked for. A change in plans. A difficult person. A road I did not want to walk. But what if those are not just disruptions? What if they are invitations to draw nearer to God?

Friend, I do not know what has interrupted your life lately. Maybe it is something you never saw coming. Maybe it feels heavy, or lonely, or just plain unfair. But what if—right in the middle of it—God is drawing you close?

You do not have to have it all figured out. You do not have to wait until it makes sense. But what would it look like to take one small step toward Jesus, even while the dust is still settling and your arms still ache from the weight of what you carry?

Ask Him what He is doing through it. Let Him speak to you in the silence, in the waiting, in the in-between. You never know how God will use that distraction to change you forever, and maybe even the course of history.

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Speak Even If They Aren’t Listening

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Colossians 4:5-6 – Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.

I was on a flight from New York City, heading home to visit my family in Florida, and I remember the man sitting beside me as clear as day.

There he was—this big, friendly, joyful African American man with his Bible open on the tray table in front of him. He smiled and said hello, and we started talking like old friends. Turned out he was a pastor.

I was young then, rambling on and on about my dreams of becoming a movie star, and he listened like every word mattered.

Then he paused and asked the simplest, most disarming question: “Do you know who God is?” Not in a forceful way. Just kind and curious. Then he asked, “What if what you want is not actually the best thing? What if God has more?”

I laughed—not because it was ridiculous, but because I knew what I wanted. And I honestly did not care.

That sweet man did not even flinch, like he had seen a hundred versions of me before. He just smiled again.

“I’ll be praying for you,” he said.

That flight was twenty years ago, and I have thought about him more times than I can count. I never got his name, but I wish I could find him now. He was the first person who dared to interrupt my self-made plan with the possibility of something more.

And he did it with kindness.

I would love to tell him what God has done. I would love to tell him his prayer was not wasted.

So let me tell you—if you are loving someone, praying for them, or sharing what you believe and it feels like they are not listening, please hang in there. That moment matters more than you know. The kindness. The courage. The seed planted in faith. It might take years to grow, but God knows how to bring it to life.

Keep showing up. Someone like me is counting on it.

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