(Faith Series – Part 3)

So here we are — the “now” part of the story.

After When I Gave Up on God and From Paws to Prayer, you might expect this chapter to be the one where everything finally falls into place. Where I float through life on a cloud of peace, humming worship songs while sipping green smoothies.

Spoiler: Not even close.

What really happened was this: I heard a whisper. Quiet, yet louder than anything else in my heart.

“Welcome home.”

But before you imagine some magical reset button… let’s talk about what really went down.

The Weight Doesn’t Vanish

Here’s what didn’t happen: I didn’t suddenly become calm, holy, or fluent in Leviticus.

Here’s what did: The heaviness I’d carried for years didn’t vanish overnight, but I wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.
And that changed everything.

Getting out of bed became a small win.
Facing one habit at a time — even when I failed — didn’t feel like the end of the world.

I tripped a lot, fell flat, and sat there frustrated and exhausted.

But something had shifted: I got back up.

Slow, Ordinary Healing

Healing didn’t come in fireworks. It came in small, ordinary ways — and it still does. I still had fears, old habits, moments I wanted to run away. But now… I wasn’t running alone.

Here’s the thing: I like fixing problems. Plans, spreadsheets, deadlines — that’s my comfort zone. So naturally, I tried to treat my faith like a corporate turnaround project.

Spoiler: I failed again.

But God? He didn’t roll His eyes. He didn’t leave. He stayed. Patiently. Kindly. Whispering,
“Let me help.”

Piece by piece, He began showing me the things that needed healing — therapy, coaching, sermons, books, honest conversations. Nothing rushed. No pressure. Just steady guidance.

Each time I tripped, I heard it again:
“Let me help.”

Looking back, I’m doing things I never thought I could. I used to panic about everything — world crises, my future, my mistakes, whether I said the wrong thing in a meeting. Now? I still care deeply. I still make mistakes. But the fear doesn’t control me anymore.

Letters, Not Performances

I had to relearn how to talk to God.

For me, it started with writing letters.
Sometimes long, raw.
Sometimes just one line, tear-stained:

“Jesus, listen to my heart.”

It was enough then. It’s enough now. Because He already knows.

Prayer doesn’t have to be polished. It just has to be honest.

You can pray in traffic when fear sneaks in:
“Jesus, please help me.”

Or before a tough meeting:
“God, guide this.”

Or when someone is hard to love:
“Help me see them through Your eyes.”

Find your rhythm. Invite Him into the ordinary. That’s where trust is built — slowly, quietly, deeply.

The People-Pleaser Part (Briefly)

If you read From Paws to Prayer, you know I wrestled with being a people-pleaser and overthinker. I won’t rehash all that here, but I will say this: God slowly peeled back those layers of fear and perfectionism.

Through therapy, sermons, and the right people at the right time, He showed me I didn’t have to perform to be loved.

And in the process, I found something I never thought I needed: real community. Friends who pray with you, call you out when needed, and show up — even when you’re messy.

Turns out, that was part of my healing, too.

Grace in the Stumbles

Sometimes I thought I was doing great… until a sermon hit like a spiritual mirror.

One Sunday, I silently judged someone for not being “Christian enough.” (Yes, me. After everything.) Then came the sermon about the woman caught in adultery where Jesus said:

“Let the one without sin cast the first stone.”

Yeah. That one landed hard.

But even those moments were grace. Because grace doesn’t just comfort — sometimes it exposes what you’d rather hide. And then it stays with you anyway.

Held in the In-Between

Here’s the truth: following Jesus isn’t a sprint. It wasn’t then. It isn’t now.

It’s a slow, sometimes clumsy walk.

It doesn’t mean every dream comes true or every prayer gets a tidy bow.
Jesus never promised easy.
He promised Himself.

And honestly? That’s enough.

I’m still learning. Still saying the wrong things. Still waiting impatiently when prayers don’t get answered on my timeline.

But even in that, He’s teaching me something:
Patience. Trust. Surrender.

I know valleys will come. The battles will get bigger.

But when they do, I pray I’ll remember where to look — and who to lean on.

So no, this isn’t a dramatic ending.
It’s not even the middle.

It’s the messy, beautiful in-between.
Still trying.
Still tripping.
Still trusting.
Still held.

Let’s keep walking — one step at a time.

I don’t have all the answers.
But I know Who does.

The Faith Series may be done, but Cracks & Grace isn’t slowing down. From here, the journey continues into travel, adventure, and traces of God along the way. See you next week!