There is a point in deep suffering where the darkness stops feeling like a passing storm and starts feeling like a permanent home.
The Hidden Burden of the Strong
I know the pain of living in lack-of sitting in the quiet panic of not knowing where the next meal will come from to feed my children. I know what it means to be stuck constantly in survival mode, staring into the uncertainty and wondering when it will ever end, asking myself when I will finally get to stand on the other side. Experiencing a husband’s betrayal and infidelity made me feel completely humiliated and stripped of my self-worth, so I truly know how that hurts.
I know what it is like to cry myself to sleep night after night. So often, I have been the strong one – the pillar, the consoler, the person who encourages everyone else. But carrying others comes with a quiet, heavy price: people rarely recognise when the strong one is battling silent storms of their own, leading to a profound sense of isolation. Yet, even in that deep loneliness, there is a sacred truth to hold onto: God sees you. He knows every hidden tear, because He is El Roi – the God Who Sees Me. You may feel completely abandoned and forgotten by the world around you, but God remains unfailingly faithful.
Walking Through the Fire
My life has not been defined by material abundance, but by a heavy, relentless series of personal trials. Beyond the daily weight of financial strain, I have walked through the terrifying isolation of being diagnosed with a rare disease, faced the profound darkness of losing my physical eyesight, and, most recently, endured the shattering grief of laying my mother to rest.
When hardship stacks upon hardship, you begin to understand the agony of Job. Sitting in the ashes, stripped of physical health, comfort, and loved ones, Job was surrounded by voices urging him to give up, admit defeat, or curse the God who allowed his world to collapse.
Scripture shows us that breakthrough often requires holding on through the exhaustion
The Illusion of Quick Fixes
When you are going through the absolute most, the temptation to search for an exit – any exit – is fierce. When the pain becomes unbearable, it is easy to think, “This Christianity thing isn’t working.” The world constantly offers alternative remedies: temporary spiritual detours, quick fixes, or self-reliance, promising to numb the ache or grant immediate relief. Yet, looking for peace outside of Christ is like drinking saltwater to quench a desert thirst; it only leaves you emptier than before.
Scripture shows us that breakthrough often requires holding on through the exhaustion. The woman with the issue of blood in Luke 8 spent twelve years seeking answers before reaching for Jesus. Moses spent forty long years in the desert before the burning bush appeared.
Imagine being in your 39th year-weary, forgotten, and wondering if God has moved on. Had Moses surrendered to despair in year 39, he would have missed the power of God waiting in year 40. I write this not as someone standing safely on a mountain peak, but as a fellow traveler sitting right here in the fire with you. I get it. I know the paralysing weight of unanswered questions and the quiet tears of heartbreak.
An Invitation to the Weary
If you are in a season of waiting where hope feels like a flickering candle, hear this: you do not need to perform for God.
In Matthew 11:28, Jesus offers an open invitation:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Notice He does not demand that we come refined, strong, or with a polished prayer. He asks us to come exhausted, just as we are.
There are moments when the grief is so heavy that you cannot formulate a coherent sentence. God does not require grand speeches; El Roi hears the silent cry of your heart. When you cannot utter a single word, simply rest at His feet and whisper, “Lord, I am tired.”
The Freedom of True Surrender
This is where the transformative work of surrender begins. We often treat surrender as defeat, but in the Kingdom of God, surrender is the ultimate act of liberation. True freedom comes when you stop trying to fix what is broken in your own strength, lay down the heavy burden of trying to control the outcome, and release the painful “why” into God’s hands. Laying everything at His feet lifts an unbearable weight off your shoulders.
In that quiet space of surrender, you realise peace isn’t necessarily a feeling you go out to search for; it is a deliberate choice. It is choosing to anchor your heart in who God is, regardless of what your circumstances look like. When you choose to trust Him in the middle of the trial, He exchanges your exhaustion for a divine peace that truly surpasses all human understanding.
Anchored in Unfailing Love
Please hear me when I say this: although you might not feel it right now in the heaviness of your trial, your life matters. You might not have heard these words in a very long time from anyone in your life, but you need to know that you are deeply, unconditionally loved. God has not brought you this far to abandon you in the ashes.
Our faith was never meant to be contingent on a pain-free life. True, unshakable faith is not about what God can do for us; it is about who He is. Even if the trials remain, He remains faithful. Do not step out of the light of His truth to chase temporary shadows. Hold fast. Rest at His feet. Jesus Christ remains the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and even in the middle of the ashes, He will make a way for you. I love you and God loves you even more.
