I knew that You would come.

You stood outside my grave, with tears still on Your face. I heard You say my name, and my night was turned to day. You came, oh, I knew that You would come. And You sang, and my heart it woke up. Now I’m not afraid, I see Your face, I am alive. You came, I knew that You would come. And You said death’s only sleeping. With one word, my heart was beating. And I rose up from my grave, and my fear was turned to faith ’cause You came. Oh, I knew that You would come.

These are words I’ve been turning over again and again for the past week, and words that I’ve sang (read: screamed at the top of my lungs) in the countless miles I’ve gotten to drive over this past weekend. I knew that You would come. And those words are the thing that changes everything about the hope we have in Jesus, and I think those are the words are the bow that ties everything together perfectly in terms of everything I’ve felt and learned lately from God.

And maybe I am in a season of very heightened emotions, but I’m trying to choose to see it as a gift instead of somewhat of an annoyance that I’m constantly seeking to turn off. I’ve missed so many things lately, not in the way that I’ve let them slip by but that I just long for a lot of different things and my heart is in a million different spaces. I have woken up most mornings feeling the weight of the world and the sadness that comes with living in a world that is so broken, but I’m trying to choose to see that as a gift, to depend on God in a new way for peace and comfort. He calls us to live fully alive, and I think these are the moments when we get the opportunity to shut it down or lean into what God’s calling us into. He’s already come and the Victory has already been won, so we can feel the depth of brokenness without allowing it to take control of our lives.

I think there’s a reason I’m spending this time a lot more tenderhearted and inclined to what God is speaking into my heart instead of trying to shut it up. Yes, there are days when I wake up and think, “Dear God, if I tear up at another news headline or catch another pit in my throat from seeing a baby laugh, I’m going to freak out. Please keep it under control.” But then other days, I get the opportunity to sit in it, which is what I think God is intentionally inviting me into, especially in a season where He is the most consistent thing I know, as He always should be but is rarely the case when our flesh clings to anything else it can.

It’s so beautiful that in a season of so much change and transition, the greatest lesson I have been able to learn is about God’s steadfastness in the way He loves us so fiercely and cares for us in such detail, even in our feeling the weight of sadness and brokenness. I’ve had so many moments where I’m just stopped in whatever I’m doing, and I feel a comfort and peace of knowing that I get to do my days with Him. A lot of those moments I almost cry, but there’s also been a ton of pent up emotion, so I guess that’s normal, but then I have moments where I get to see God and I’m like, “WHY wouldn’t we all just cry in awe?” I think we ought to have that reaction a lot more than we do, and I think my greatest prayer should be that God would take away the numbness and restore us our sight to see things the way He intended them to be seen.


I went to visit one of my best friends on Lookout Mountain this past weekend, and every view I saw almost brought me to tears. Of course, this may have been embarrassing to cry at a hang gliding spot or to tear up just driving down the mountain and seeing the expanse of the city open up before you or to watch the sun set from her dorm room window. I caught myself every single time and thanked God that He would allow me to be loved so well by the people around me, but also that He would allow me to sit in awe of the things He created for me to see, like each view and conversation and comforting moment was a love letter from Him that I got to read over and over again and feel for the first time every time.

There’s an explanation for a song by one of my favorite songwriters, Sandra McCracken, where she says, “It’s God’s defiance against all that is broken and His ultimate Victory over those things, and the way that He accomplishes that is by His own steadfast, unrelenting, pursuing love, so I am staking everything on that.” His steadfast, unrelenting, pursuing love. What an image. That’s not just some far off thing that we get to watch like we watch a romantic comedy’s plot unfold on our laptops or read about in the classics, but that’s actually the way we’re loved. That same God we sing songs about is the same God that is unrelenting in His pursuit of YOU. I can’t fully grasp that, but I have a feeling that if I did, it would change everything about the way I live, as someone who is seen and known by God and fully loved and desired and sought after. I think it would make us stop seeking so much to have someone want us.

So maybe this is a season where I’m falling in love with everything around me but choosing to cling to God instead, because that’s such a nugget of wisdom I’ve needed to learn: you can fall in love with things, so long as it’s actually leading you to fall more in love with the God who created them, not just the thing itself moving higher and higher up on a pedestal.


I’ve spent a lot of time in Psalm 103 lately, and it’s one that a lot of people are familiar with, but I have found a lot of comfort from God in memorizing Scripture, which is never something I’d been hungry for until now. There’s something very special about being able to recall such rich truths about ourselves and about God in moments of panic and uncertainty and instability. I see the ultimate message being: He will always come through, above everything else. His character shows above everything. He is for us, and that’s something He also keeps reminding me of. I’ve needed to spend time in this because it helps the truths of who God is and who we are to not be overshadowed by the fears of who we are not.

The Lord is merciful and gracious,
    slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
He will not always chide,
    nor will he keep his anger forever.
10 He does not deal with us according to our sins,
    nor repay us according to our iniquities.
11 For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
    so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
12 as far as the east is from the west,
    so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
13 As a father shows compassion to his children,
    so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.
14 For he knows our frame;

    he remembers that we are dust.

The other beautiful thing is that this is how He calls us to love. He is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, so we ought to learn from this. He doesn’t deal with us according to our sins, so we shouldn’t deal with others in that way. He is merciful and gracious, so we ought to be the same. He has created us in His image, and He remembers that we are dust, but He asks us to love the way that He does because it is woven into the image of who we are and who He has created us to be. I can’t think of anything more honoring than to love like He does.

I think the best way to love the way He does and to pray that He would open our eyes to see like He does is to ask for humility, knowing that we can’t love like He does out of our own strength, but that we have to drink deep of His strength and His love in us.

This is a prayer I’ve posted before, but one I’ve begun to lean back into in a season of diligently learning how to love the way God loves us.

// Litany of Humility

Happy Tuesday, friends.

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