Grow in Grace

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  • When You Just Want to Throw Your Hands Up

    When You Just Want to Throw Your Hands Up

    By: Wendy Morris

    Do you ever just want to throw your hands up and walk away from everything?

    Because I do.

    And if I’m going to write honestly about growing in grace, then I have to write about these days too.

    I don’t always have it together.

    I don’t always respond the right way. I don’t always know what God is doing. Sometimes I overthink things I’ve already prayed about. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by responsibilities that normally wouldn’t bother me. Sometimes I’m tired of making decisions, tired of figuring things out, and tired of wondering what I’m supposed to do next.

    And sometimes I just want to say,

    “Lord, I don’t want to deal with any of it today.”

    That’s not the polished version of faith.

    But it’s the real one.

    Faith Doesn’t Mean I Never Struggle

    I’ve written a lot about trusting God, surrendering, healing, waiting, and obedience.

    And I believe every word of it.

    But believing something doesn’t mean I live it out perfectly every day.

    I can write about surrender on Monday and find myself trying to control everything again by Thursday.

    I can know that God has been faithful and still worry about something I can’t see.

    I can tell myself to be still and somehow have seventeen conversations happening inside my head five minutes later.

    I’m still growing too.

    Maybe that’s part of what grace is.

    God doesn’t require me to have everything figured out before I come to Him.

    He simply asks me to come.

    “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7

    Sometimes I Don’t Want Another Lesson

    Have you ever thought, “Lord, I know You’re teaching me something, but could we skip the lesson today?”

    I have.

    Sometimes I don’t want another opportunity to practice patience.

    I don’t want another decision.

    I don’t want another situation requiring discernment.

    I don’t want to figure out the deeper meaning.

    I just want things to be easy for a minute.

    And then I’m reminded that I can tell God that too.

    Prayer doesn’t have to sound beautiful.

    Sometimes prayer is simply:

    “God, I’m tired.”

    “God, I’m frustrated.”

    “God, I don’t know what to do.”

    “God, help me.”

    Those are prayers too.

    Maybe Throwing My Hands Up Isn’t the Problem

    I’ve been thinking about that.

    Maybe there are two ways to throw my hands up.

    One says:

    “I’m done.”

    The other says:

    “God, I can’t carry this anymore. You take it.”

    Same hands.

    Completely different posture.

    One is defeat.

    The other is surrender.

    And maybe sometimes I have to reach the end of myself before I remember that I was never supposed to do everything in my own strength anyway.

    I Am Still Growing in Grace

    Maybe that’s why the words Growing in Grace mean so much to me.

    Growing means I haven’t arrived.

    There are things God has taught me that I still have to relearn.

    There are things I’ve surrendered that I’ve picked back up.

    There are days when my faith feels strong and days when my prayer is simply,

    “Jesus, help me get through today.”

    I don’t want to write as though I have mastered any of this.

    I haven’t.

    I’m walking it out just like everyone else.

    I’m learning.

    I’m stumbling.

    I’m praying.

    I’m surrendering.

    I’m picking things back up and having to surrender them again.

    And through all of it, God keeps meeting me with grace.

    So today, if you feel like throwing your hands up, you’re not alone.

    I’m right there with you.

    Maybe instead of walking away, we can turn those raised hands into surrender and say:

    “Lord, I don’t have this all together. But I know You do. Help me trust You with today.”

    And maybe today, that’s enough.

    Reflection Questions

    • Is there something you’re exhausted from trying to handle on your own?
    • Do you allow yourself to be honest with God when you’re frustrated or overwhelmed?
    • What have you surrendered to God before but found yourself trying to control again?
    • What would it look like to trust Him with just today?

    Prayer

    Father,

    I don’t have it all together.

    Some days I trust easily, and other days I struggle. Sometimes I surrender things to You and then pick them right back up.

    Thank You for meeting me with grace anyway.

    Today I’m tired of trying to figure everything out. I’m giving You the things I can’t control, the questions I can’t answer, and the burdens I’ve been carrying.

    Give me wisdom for what I need to do and peace about what I need to leave with You.

    I don’t need to understand everything today.

    I just need to stay close to You.

    In Jesus’ name, amen.

    —Wendy

  • The Story Behind The Peace I Fought For

    The Story Behind The Peace I Fought For

    By: Wendy Morris

    When God Turns Pain Into Purpose

    I never imagined that I would one day put some of the most painful parts of my life into a book.

    For years, those experiences remained tucked away in my heart, written between the pages of journals, and spoken only in quiet conversations with God. There were parts of my story that very few people knew. I had survived them, but sharing them was something entirely different.

    Writing The Peace I Fought For: My Testimony of Faith, Discernment, and Letting Go required me to revisit seasons I thought I had already put behind me. It meant remembering the heartbreak, confusion, betrayal, fear, and grief. But it also gave me the opportunity to look back and recognize something even greater: God had been with me through every single moment.

    What once felt like something I needed to hide eventually became a testimony I felt called to share.

    I had actually started writing a book several times before, but each attempt seemed to lead me back toward resentment, bitterness, and unforgiveness. The words may have told what happened, but my heart was not yet ready to tell the story in the way God intended. There were still places inside me that needed His healing.

    Then something changed.

    When I finally sat down to write this book, I realized those feelings no longer had the hold on me that they once did. I was not writing from bitterness or from a desire to make anyone understand what I had endured. I was able to look back with different eyes and recognize how completely God had changed me—my heart, my soul, my whole outlook on life, and even my understanding of what truly matters.

    That was when I knew I was ready. The facts of my story had not changed, but the heart telling it had.

    Obedience Often Begins With Fear

    I wish I could say that I wrote this book without hesitation, but that would not be true. I was afraid.

    I wondered what people would think. I questioned whether I was sharing too much. I worried about being misunderstood, and I felt vulnerable knowing that people would be reading about experiences that had once brought me so much pain.

    But God kept placing the story on my heart.

    I have learned that obedience does not always feel comfortable. Sometimes God asks us to step forward while our hands are still trembling. Courage is not the absence of fear; sometimes courage is simply choosing to obey God even while fear is present.

    > “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” — 2 Timothy 1:7 (KJV)

    Every time I have faced fear and remained obedient to God, something has changed inside me. There is freedom on the other side of obedience. There is confidence—not confidence in my own ability, but confidence that God will meet me wherever He leads me.

    Submitting this book for publication was one of those moments.

    This Is Not a Story About Having It All Figured Out

    I did not write this book because I have everything figured out. I did not write it because healing made my life perfect or erased every difficult memory.

    I wrote it because I am not the woman I once was.

    God has changed me spiritually, mentally, and physically. He has taught me about discernment, boundaries, forgiveness, obedience, and the difficult but necessary work of letting go. He showed me that forgiveness does not require returning to what harmed me. He taught me that protecting my peace is not selfish and that being equally yoked is not merely a suggestion—it matters.

    Most importantly, He taught me that peace does not come from controlling the outcome. True peace comes from trusting Him with it.

    > “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” — Proverbs 3:5–6 (KJV)

    There were times when I could not understand what God was doing. Looking back, I can see that He was rebuilding me even when I thought I was simply trying to survive.

    God Did Not Waste My Pain

    Pain can make us feel as though part of our life has been stolen. We may look back at the years and wonder what could have been different. But I now believe that when we place our broken pieces in God’s hands, He does not waste any of them.

    He can use our pain to deepen our compassion. He can use our disappointments to sharpen our discernment. He can use what nearly broke us to help someone else believe that they can make it too.

    That does not mean the pain was good. It means God is good enough to redeem it.

    > “He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3 (KJV)

    My story is not only about what happened to me. It is about what God did within me. It is a story of learning to release what I could not change, surrender what I could not carry, and trust God with the life still ahead of me.

    Why I Chose to Share It

    I shared my testimony because I know there is another woman somewhere wondering whether she will ever feel whole again.

    She may be living with heartbreak, betrayal, or the effects of addiction within her family. She may be questioning her worth, struggling to establish boundaries, or holding onto something God has been asking her to release. She may appear strong to everyone around her while privately asking God how much longer she can keep going.

    I want her to know that this season is not the end of her story.

    Healing may not happen overnight. It can be slow, painful, and deeply personal. But God is present in the process. He is able to bring beauty from ashes, purpose from pain, and peace from places that once held only confusion.

    If even one person reads my story and realizes that she is not alone, then every vulnerable moment involved in writing it was worth it.

    A New Beginning

    Seeing my book published felt like more than completing a project. It felt like a new beginning.

    For so long, I wondered whether this day would ever come. I wanted it, but I was scared. Yet God has a way of bringing us out of our comfort zones and reminding us that His plans are bigger than our fear.

    I could never have done this without Him.

    The Peace I Fought For is now available in Kindle and paperback formats on Amazon. If you are walking through a difficult season—or if you love someone who is—I pray this book reminds you that God is still working, even when you cannot yet see how the story will end.

    This is my testimony of faith, discernment, healing, and letting go.

    But above everything else, it is a testimony of a faithful God.

    Purchase The Peace I Fought For on Amazon

    Reflection Questions

    1. Is there a painful part of your story that God may be redeeming?

    2. Has fear been keeping you from something God has placed on your heart?

    3. What are you trying to control that you need to surrender to Him?

    4. How has God used a difficult season to change or strengthen you?

    Closing Prayer

    Heavenly Father,

    Thank You for never wasting our pain. Thank You for staying close to us during the seasons when we feel broken, afraid, or uncertain. Give us the courage to obey You even when the next step feels uncomfortable. Help us release what we cannot control and trust You with every unfinished part of our story.

    Use our experiences for Your glory. Bring healing where there is hurt, wisdom where there is confusion, and peace where there has been fear. Remind the person reading this that she is not alone, her life still has purpose, and You are not finished with her yet.

    In Jesus’ name, amen.

    —Wendy

  • But God: When the Wilderness Teaches You to Let Go

    But God: When the Wilderness Teaches You to Let Go

    By: Wendy Morris

    “But God…”

    Those two words mean more to me now than they ever used to.

    I grew up hearing them in church. Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night—we knew we were going. There was never a question about it. Church was simply part of our routine.

    The same people showed up. We sang many of the same songs. There was the offering, the sermon, and the invitation. Afterward, we usually ate lunch at my grandparents’ house—or at Helen’s Drive-In if we “went out” to eat.

    Those are such precious memories to me now.

    Looking back, I can see that the adults in my life were planting seeds in my heart. I didn’t take those days for granted; I simply didn’t understand their significance yet. I had no idea how much Jesus would come to mean to me as I grew into an adult. I didn’t know how desperately I would one day need the truth I was being taught.

    There was a period during junior high and high school when I stopped attending church. We had moved away from the church we had always attended, and I never felt comfortable in another one. Eventually, we became “comfortable” not going.

    And honestly, I became comfortable living without putting God first.

    Like many teenagers, I was living for the world. Even though I knew better, I often placed my wants ahead of what God wanted for me. I would feel convicted, pray, ask for forgiveness—and then find myself doing the same things all over again.

    I understand now what a dangerous line I was walking.

    Still, God protected me during those years. He saw things I couldn’t see, knew things I couldn’t know, and already understood the plans He had for my life.

    “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” 
    —Jeremiah 29:11

    God never promised that my journey would be easy, but He has shown me that following Him is always worth it.

    My, my, my—He also knew how stubborn I could be. He knew exactly what it would take to teach me, humble me, and mold me into the woman I am today.

    I am not perfect. I still fail. I still have moments when I want to take control and choose my own direction. But I am saved by His grace. I am learning to surrender daily, walk in obedience, and trust Him even when I cannot see where He is leading me.

    The deepest desire of my heart now is to glorify Him—not myself and not anyone else.

    My way has never proven to work out very well anyway. You would think that realization would make surrender easy, but sometimes it is still incredibly difficult. I often have to choose to trust where God is leading me instead of following where I might want to go.

    If you know me, then you know how hard that can be for me.

    That is why I stand on His promises—sometimes day by day and sometimes moment by moment.

    I often feel as though it took me forty years in the wilderness to loosen my grip on my own way. I used to read the story of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness and wonder how anyone could continue going in circles for forty years.

    How could they keep forgetting what God had done?

    How could they doubt Him after everything He had already shown them?

    How could they continue trying to do things their own way?

    Well, here I am today to say: I understand now.

    Sometimes we wander because we are afraid to trust. Sometimes we keep circling the same mountain because surrender feels more frightening than what is familiar. Sometimes God has to let us reach the end of our own strength before we finally loosen our grip and place everything in His hands.

    The wilderness is not always punishment. Sometimes it is preparation.

    It is where God teaches us dependence. It is where our faith becomes more than something we heard about in church. It is where the seeds planted during childhood begin to take root. It is where we learn that God is faithful—not because someone else told us He is, but because we have experienced His faithfulness for ourselves.

    I now understand that those childhood church services were preparing me for battles I didn’t know I would face. Those familiar songs gave me truths I would later cling to. Those sermons planted words in my heart that the Holy Spirit would bring back to me when I needed them most.

    None of it was wasted.

    Neither were the years when I wandered. God used even those seasons to show me how much I needed Him.

    I am still being shaped. I am still learning obedience. I am still surrendering my plans and trusting His. But when I look back over my life, I can clearly see the places where my story could have ended differently.

    But God protected me.

    But God pursued me.

    But God forgave me.

    But God restored me.

    But God never let me go.

    Those two words are no longer simply something I heard in church. They are part of my testimony.

    My life may not have unfolded the way I once imagined, but God has been faithful through every chapter. I may have spent years trying to lead myself, but He never stopped calling me back to Him.

    Today, I am learning to release my grip and trust the hands that have held me all along.

    I have wandered. I have struggled. I have been stubborn. I have failed.

    But God.

    And because of Him, my story is still being written.

    Reflection

    Are you walking through a wilderness season right now? Could God be using it to teach you trust, obedience, or surrender? What might change if you loosened your grip and allowed Him to lead?

    Prayer

    Father, thank You for never giving up on me, even during the seasons when I wandered and chose my own way. Thank You for every seed of faith that was planted in my heart and for protecting me when I didn’t understand how much I needed You. Help me loosen my grip on my plans and trust where You are leading me. When I feel uncertain, remind me of Your faithfulness. Continue molding me into the person You created me to be, and let my life bring glory to You. In Jesus’ name, amen.

  • When Obedience Changes You

    When Obedience Changes You

    By:Wendy Morris

    Every time I face my fears and remain obedient to what God is asking me to do, a change takes place within my heart.

    It is powerful.
    It is freeing.
    It builds a confidence that can only come from knowing I followed God even when I was afraid.

    It is almost as if I can see my faith in action.

    We know that faith is believing in what we cannot yet see, but there are moments when obedience allows us to experience it in a tangible way. When we take the step God is asking us to take—without knowing exactly where it will lead—we begin to witness what trusting Him can produce within us.

    Obedience Does Not Always Feel Peaceful at First

    Sometimes I have fought against obedience because God was asking me to do something I did not want to do at the time.

    There have been moments when I wanted to hold on, but He was asking me to let go. Times when I wanted answers, but He was asking me to trust. Times when I wanted to remain comfortable, but He was asking me to step forward.

    During those moments, I have felt defeated, fearful, and anxious—sometimes almost sick to my stomach. But I am learning that fear does not necessarily mean I lack faith. Faith is choosing to obey God while the fear is still present.

    Obedience does not always feel peaceful in the beginning. Sometimes peace comes after we surrender.

    “For we walk by faith, not by sight.”
    —2 Corinthians 5:7

    Obedience Changes More Than Our Circumstances

    We often obey God because we are hoping He will change something around us. But sometimes the greatest change takes place inside us.

    Every act of obedience strengthens our faith. It teaches us that we can trust God without having all the answers. It loosens fear’s grip and gives us the confidence to follow Him again the next time.

    The confidence that grows through obedience is not the assurance that everything will happen exactly as we want. It is the assurance that God will remain faithful regardless of what happens.

    There is tremendous freedom in realizing that the outcome was never ours to control.

    He Knows What I Want—and What I Need

    We are human, and we naturally have our own ideas about how we want life to unfold. We pray for certain outcomes, imagine what our future should look like, and sometimes struggle when God’s direction does not match our plans.

    But I am learning to keep my eyes on Jesus.

    He knows what I want, but He also knows what I need. He sees what I cannot see. He knows which doors will lead me closer to Him and which ones will eventually steal my peace.

    Surrender is learning to pray, “God, You know the desires of my heart, but I trust You more than I trust my own understanding.”

    “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
    —Proverbs 3:5–6

    That kind of trust is not always easy. But it is where true peace begins.

    He Has Never Failed Me

    God has brought me through both the good and the bad. There have been seasons when I did not understand what He was doing, but He has always brought me out on the other side.

    Looking back, I can see how He was protecting me, preparing me, strengthening me, or redirecting me. His answer did not always look the way I wanted it to look, but I have never reached the end of a season and found Him unfaithful.

    I may have experienced disappointment along the way, but I have never been disappointed in Him.

    He has never failed me.

    I believe God cares about the desires of my heart. But I am also learning that His answers may arrive differently than I imagined. What He gives me may not always resemble what I pictured, yet it will contain what He knows I truly need.

    Faith Becomes Visible Through Obedience

    Faith is more than something we speak about. It becomes visible when we follow God despite our fear.

    It is visible when we surrender our plans.

    It is visible when we release what He asks us to release.

    It is visible when we take the next step without knowing where the entire path will lead.

    Each time we obey, our faith becomes stronger. We begin to recognize the voice of the Holy Spirit more clearly. We discover that freedom is found on the other side of surrender.

    My prayer is that everyone experiences this—the unmistakable work of the Holy Spirit within their heart. The kind of transformation that brings freedom, courage, peace, and confidence that cannot be manufactured on our own.

    Fear may still come, but it no longer has to make our decisions.

    We can keep our eyes on Jesus, obey what He is asking of us, and trust Him with the outcome. He already knows the way. And when we follow Him, He will faithfully bring us through to the other side.

    Reflection Questions

    1. Is God asking you to do something that fear has kept you from doing?
    2. Are you struggling because His direction does not match the outcome you wanted?
    3. What has God brought you through that reminds you of His faithfulness?
    4. What would obedience look like for you today?

    Closing Prayer

    Father, thank You for never failing me. When fear makes obedience difficult, help me keep my eyes on Jesus. Give me the courage to follow You even when I cannot see the outcome. Teach me to trust that You know both the desires of my heart and what I truly need. Change me through every act of obedience, strengthen my faith, and free me from the need to control what happens next. May my life reflect a faith that is active, surrendered, and completely dependent upon You. In Jesus’ name, amen.

    —Wendy

  • Twelve Years to Whole

    Twelve Years to Whole

    By: Wendy Morris

    “And you are complete in Him.” — Colossians 2:10

    For a long time, I viewed the last twelve years as a waiting season.

    Twelve years since my divorce. Twelve years of healing, rebuilding, surrendering, and learning how to trust God again. Twelve years of hoping that perhaps the next chapter would bring the husband, best friend, and partner I still desire.

    But lately, something has shifted in me.

    I realized that I no longer feel as though my life is waiting to begin. I don’t feel incomplete because I’m single. I’m not searching for someone to rescue me, fill an empty space, or give me the peace I’ve been longing for.

    My life feels complete—regardless of whether my circumstances change.

    And it took twelve years to get here.

    The Biblical Significance of Twelve

    Throughout Scripture, the number twelve often represents divine order, authority, and completeness in God’s purposes.

    There were twelve tribes of Israel and twelve disciples of Jesus. After Jesus fed the multitude, twelve baskets of food remained. Revelation describes the New Jerusalem with twelve gates and twelve foundations.

    There was also a woman in Scripture who had suffered for twelve years before she reached out and touched the garment of Jesus. In the same passage, Jesus raised Jairus’s twelve-year-old daughter back to life.

    Twelve years of suffering.

    Twelve years of waiting.

    And then came healing, restoration, and new life.

    When I began thinking about the significance of twelve, I couldn’t ignore how deeply it spoke to my own story. I don’t believe numbers should be treated as promises or predictions, but I do believe God can use details to remind us of His faithfulness.

    Maybe these twelve years were never wasted years.

    Maybe they were years of divine order—years when God was putting the broken pieces of my life back into their proper places.

    I Wasn’t Just Waiting—I Was Becoming

    I used to believe I was waiting for the person who would make my life feel complete. But looking back, I can see that God was doing something much deeper.

    He was teaching me who I am without another person defining me.

    He was healing wounds I once thought would always control me. He was teaching me boundaries, discernment, forgiveness, and self-respect. He was showing me that forgiveness does not require allowing someone to return and hurt me again.

    He taught me how to sit with myself and still have peace. He showed me that loneliness does not have to convince me to settle. He taught me that I can deeply desire companionship without allowing that desire to become an idol.

    These years strengthened my faith. They taught me to pray, journal, surrender, and depend on God in ways I may never have learned if everything had happened according to my timeline.

    I thought I was waiting for God to change my circumstances.

    All along, God was changing me.

    Complete Does Not Mean Finished

    Feeling complete does not mean my story is finished. It does not mean I no longer desire marriage or that I have stopped believing God could bring someone into my life.

    I still desire a husband who loves God first—a best friend, partner, protector, and companion with whom I can share this life. I still believe there is something beautiful about two people walking together with God at the center.

    But that person will not be responsible for making me whole.

    He will not be asked to heal wounds that I have refused to surrender to God. He will not be expected to become the source of my identity, worth, or peace.

    If God brings someone into my life, he will not complete an incomplete woman. He will add to a life that is already full, peaceful, and rooted in Christ.

    That realization changes everything.

    I can desire love without chasing it. I can hope without forcing anything. I can wait without believing my life is passing me by.

    I am not waiting to become whole anymore.

    Perhaps This Was a Completion Season

    Maybe these twelve years were not simply a waiting season.

    Maybe they were a completion season.

    Not the completion of my entire story, but the completion of something within me. The end of living from old wounds. The end of believing that another person holds the missing piece of my life. The end of looking outside myself for something only God could give me.

    God has taken the woman who once lived in survival mode and taught her how to live in peace. He has taken what was broken and created something stronger, wiser, and more discerning.

    It took twelve years, but I can finally say this with confidence:

    My life is complete because my completeness comes from Christ.

    I am still growing. I am still becoming. I still have desires and prayers that have not been answered in the way I once imagined. But my joy is no longer postponed until those answers arrive.

    These twelve years were not empty.

    They were holy.

    They were necessary.

    And perhaps they were God’s way of bringing order, healing, and completeness to a part of my story that once felt completely shattered.

    I don’t know exactly what God will do next, but I no longer need the next chapter to prove that this one has been meaningful.

    I am whole.

    And now, with an open heart and open hands, I’m simply watching to see what God writes next.

    Reflection Questions

    1. Have you been postponing your joy while waiting for something in your life to change?
    2. Are you asking another person or circumstance to provide something only God can give you?
    3. What has God developed within you during your waiting season?
    4. What if the season you called “waiting” was actually a season of healing and becoming?
    5. Can you recognize the ways your life is already full and complete in Christ?

    Closing Prayer

    Father, thank You for every season You have used to heal, strengthen, and shape me. Forgive me for the times I believed my life could not be complete until my circumstances changed. Help me find my identity, peace, and wholeness in You alone. Thank You for never wasting a single year of my story. Give me the faith to appreciate where I am while trusting You with whatever comes next. In Jesus’ name, Amen! 

    —Wendy

  • Easy Things Don’t Change You

    Easy Things Don’t Change You

    By: Wendy Morris

    Have you ever looked back and really thought about what changed you?

    Not what made you comfortable.
    Not what went according to plan.
    Not the seasons when everything seemed easy.

    What actually changed you?

    For me, some of the most challenging and painful seasons of my life are where I discovered who I was—and who I was becoming.

    I certainly didn’t understand it while I was going through it. There were days that were absolutely miserable. My family could tell you that. There are still specific moments I can remember so vividly that, if I allow myself to sit there too long, I can almost feel the emotions all over again.

    But I don’t look back because I want to relive them.

    I look back because I want to remember what God brought me through.

    There is a difference.

    Looking back can keep us attached to our pain, or it can give us perspective. I don’t need to return emotionally to those places to prove that they happened. I simply need to remember where I was, what God taught me there, and Who brought me out.

    The Wilderness Taught Me Dependence

    Looking back now, I can see that God was showing me things about myself during those difficult seasons.

    Things I probably wouldn’t have learned when life was easy.

    He exposed areas that needed healing. He showed me things I needed to surrender. He revealed where I was depending on myself instead of depending on Him. And although some of that process was incredibly painful, it was necessary to mold me into more of who He says I am.

    Deuteronomy 8 talks about remembering the wilderness. God didn’t want His people to remain there. He wanted them to remember what they learned there.

    I understand that differently now.

    Some seasons aren’t meant to become our permanent address. They’re meant to teach us something we carry with us when we leave.

    My wilderness taught me that I didn’t have enough strength on my own.

    I needed God.

    Completely.

    There were times when I wondered where He was. There were moments when it felt like maybe He had left me. But looking back, I can honestly say:

    He never did.

    Sometimes He gave me more strength.

    Sometimes He gave me courage.

    Sometimes He gave me peace that didn’t make sense considering what was happening around me.

    And sometimes He placed exactly the right person in my path—someone who mentored me, encouraged me, spoke truth to me, or gave me exactly what I needed during that particular season.

    God didn’t always change my circumstances when I wanted Him to.

    Sometimes He changed me in the circumstances.

    And that may have been the greater miracle.

    I Don’t Want to Learn the Same Lesson Twice

    There are places in my life I never want to return to.

    Not because I’m afraid of my past, but because I know what it cost me.

    I know what God brought me through.

    I know what certain decisions did to my peace.

    I know what happens when I take my eyes off God and start convincing myself that my way might work just as well.

    Because I’ve challenged that one too.

    I’ve wanted what I wanted.

    I’ve justified things.

    I’ve tried to tweak Scripture to make something fit what I wanted to do.

    I’ve reasoned with myself.

    What’s really wrong with it?

    It’s just a little compromise.

    Just a little temptation here.

    Just a little there.

    But temptation rarely walks into our lives announcing:

    “I’m here to completely derail you.”

    It’s usually much quieter than that.

    Just this once.

    It’s really not that serious.

    Everybody does it.

    God understands.

    And yes, God does understand our humanity.

    Yes, there is grace.

    Yes, there is forgiveness.

    Thank God for all of it.

    But grace isn’t permission to continually choose something we already know God has asked us to surrender.

    Romans 6:1–2 reminds us that grace was never intended to become an excuse to continue deliberately in sin.

    At some point, obedience requires us to stop asking how close we can get to the line and start asking:

    Does this honor God?

    Temptation Is Real

    I’ve learned that growth isn’t only tested during the huge crises of life.

    Sometimes it’s tested afterward.

    Quietly.

    When no one else knows.

    When you have the opportunity to return to something God already showed you wasn’t good for you.

    That’s when the questions become different.

    Will I go back to what God already delivered me from?

    Will I justify something simply because I want it?

    Will I bend Scripture around my desires, or will I surrender my desires to Scripture?

    Do I actually believe God’s way is better when His way isn’t the easiest way?

    That’s where spiritual maturity starts getting real.

    The hard season teaches us who God is.

    The temptation afterward reveals whether we believe Him.

    His Way Is Better Than Mine

    I’ve tried doing things my way.

    I’ve justified my way.

    I’ve tried convincing myself that something wasn’t really that bad.

    I’ve even tried making my way sound a little more like God’s way so I could feel better about choosing it.

    And do you know what I’ve discovered?

    His way is still better.

    Every time.

    God gives us free will, but our choices still have consequences. We can choose something outside of what God desires for us and then wonder why we don’t have the peace we expected it to bring.

    Something outside God’s will may satisfy us temporarily, but temporary satisfaction and lasting peace are two very different things.

    I’ve lived enough life now to know that I don’t want something badly enough to continually sacrifice my peace, my growth, my relationship with God, or the person He has worked so hard to shape me into.

    That doesn’t mean I’ll never struggle.

    It doesn’t mean temptation disappears.

    It doesn’t mean I’ll always get everything right.

    It means when I don’t, I know where to return.

    Back to Him.

    Remember, But Don’t Move Back In

    I don’t want to live in my past.

    I don’t want to replay painful moments until I feel everything I felt then.

    When my mind starts going there, sometimes I have to change my thoughts quickly and remind myself:

    I’m not there anymore.

    God brought me through it.

    But I do want to remember.

    I want to remember the prayers I thought weren’t being answered.

    I want to remember the days I didn’t think I had enough strength.

    I want to remember the people God sent at exactly the right time.

    I want to remember the peace that showed up when my circumstances hadn’t changed.

    I want to remember the woman I was and recognize the woman God has been molding me into.

    Because sometimes we need to look back—not to go backward, but to recognize just how far God has brought us.

    Easy things don’t always change us.

    Sometimes it’s the wilderness.

    Sometimes it’s heartbreak.

    Sometimes it’s disappointment.

    Sometimes it’s surrender.

    Sometimes it’s resisting the temptation to return to something familiar simply because familiar feels easier than obedience.

    And sometimes it’s finally admitting:

    “God, I’ve tried my way. Your way is better.”

    I don’t know what challenges are ahead of me, and I don’t expect to get everything right.

    But I know something today that I didn’t always understand:

    I don’t have to be strong enough on my own.

    I never was.

    God was my strength then.

    He’s my strength now.

    And when I look back over everything He’s already carried me through, I have every reason to trust Him with where He’s leading me next.

    Reflection Questions

    • What difficult season changed you the most, and what did God teach you through it?
    • Are you remembering your past to recognize God’s faithfulness, or are you allowing yourself to emotionally live there again?
    • Is there something God has already shown you isn’t good for you that you’re being tempted to return to?
    • Are you surrendering your desires to Scripture, or trying to make Scripture fit your desires?
    • Where might God be asking you to choose obedience over temporary satisfaction?
    • When you look back over your life, where can you clearly see that God never left you?

    Closing Prayer

    Lord, thank You for never leaving me, even in the seasons when I couldn’t see what You were doing. Thank You for the strength, grace, people, and peace You provided exactly when I needed them. Help me remember where You’ve brought me from without returning to the places You’ve called me out of. Give me wisdom when I’m tempted, conviction when I begin to compromise, and courage to choose Your way over mine. Continue molding me into who You created me to be. I know now that I don’t have to do this in my own strength. Your way is better, and I choose to trust You.

    Amen.

    —Wendy

  • What Has Your Attention?

    What Has Your Attention?

    By: Wendy Morris

    Lately, I’ve really been convicted about my phone.

    Not because having a phone or being on social media is necessarily bad, but because I’ve realized just how much of my time and attention I’ve been giving to it.

    There have been so many times when I’ve picked up my phone without even thinking about it. Nothing important to check. No real reason to be on it. It had simply become a habit.

    And if I’m being completely truthful with myself, at times I have allowed it to become an idol in my life.

    That realization has made me ask myself a difficult question:

    What could I be doing with all of the time I spend scrolling?

    I could be praying.
    Reading my Bible.
    Writing.
    Working toward something God has placed on my heart.
    Spending time with people I love.
    Being productive.
    Resting.
    Or simply being present in the life God has already given me.

    Recently, I’ve intentionally started limiting my time on my phone, and I can already tell a difference.

    And I’m realizing that maybe I don’t need to know everything about everybody every single day.

    We Were Never Meant to Know This Much About Everyone

    Social media has given us constant access to other people’s lives.

    We know where people are eating, where they’re vacationing, what they bought, who they’re dating, what their house looks like, what their children are doing and what milestone they just reached.

    But most of the time, we’re not actually seeing their lives.

    We’re seeing their highlights.

    And highlights can make someone else’s life look like rainbows and sunshine while we’re sitting in the middle of our own ordinary day.

    That’s where comparison can creep in.

    Before we know it, the enemy can begin whispering:

    You’re behind.

    Everyone else has what you want.

    You’re missing something.

    Maybe your life should look different by now.

    And suddenly we’re questioning blessings we were perfectly content with before we picked up the phone.

    I’ve learned that protecting my peace sometimes means protecting what I allow myself to continually consume.

    Not everything I can know needs to be known.

    Social Media Has Also Changed the Way We Connect

    Something else has really disappointed me lately—the messages people are willing to send privately.

    People who are married.

    People who are in relationships.

    People who say they’re separated.

    People whose relationship is supposedly “complicated.”

    People who clearly haven’t healed from previous relationships but are already searching for someone else to fill whatever they’re trying to escape.

    And somehow we’ve created a culture where things become acceptable because they’re happening privately.

    No one has to know.

    But God knows.

    Private doesn’t mean right.

    And someone else’s willingness to compromise their standards doesn’t mean I have to compromise mine.

    I will never be so lonely that I stop respecting myself or other people.

    Loneliness can make almost-right things look right if we’re not careful.

    Attention can feel like affection.

    Words can feel like intention.

    Chemistry can feel like character.

    And someone telling you everything you want to hear can feel wonderful—until they’re required to actually become the person they’ve been presenting themselves to be.

    That’s usually where the truth shows up.

    Words Are Easy. Character Costs Something.

    We live in a world where access to another person requires almost no effort.

    A follow.

    A like.

    A heart.

    A message.

    A few flattering words.

    But genuine pursuit requires something completely different.

    It requires time, consistency, honesty, effort, vulnerability and follow-through.

    Very few people seem willing to invest those things anymore.

    It’s easy to tell someone what they want to hear.

    It’s much harder to consistently show them who you are.

    And I’m no longer impressed by words that aren’t supported by actions.

    Character is what you do when nobody is watching.

    Integrity is who you are when you could probably get away with doing something differently.

    And God’s standard doesn’t change simply because society’s standards do.

    I’m Not Looking

    I’m not looking for “my person” on social media.

    I’m not looking for him on a dating app.

    Actually, I’m not looking for anyone.

    That’s not me saying everyone else has to make the same decision. It’s simply a personal conviction I’ve come to for my own life.

    I don’t feel the need to chase, search or manufacture something just because I desire companionship.

    There’s a difference between wanting someone in your life and needing someone to fill something missing inside of you.

    I can desire love without becoming desperate for it.

    I can desire companionship without lowering my standards.

    I can experience loneliness without allowing loneliness to make my decisions.

    And I can trust that what God has for me will not require me to abandon the convictions He has developed within me.

    Maybe This Conviction Isn’t Really About My Phone

    The more I’ve thought about all of this, the more I’ve realized that maybe God isn’t simply convicting me about screen time.

    Maybe He’s teaching me to become more intentional about what gets access to me.

    What gets my attention?

    What gets my time?

    What gets my thoughts?

    What gets my emotional energy?

    And who gets access to my heart?

    Not every notification deserves my immediate attention.

    Not every message deserves a response.

    Not every person who shows interest deserves access.

    Not everything happening in someone else’s life needs my attention.

    And not every quiet moment needs to be filled with scrolling.

    Sometimes we become so accustomed to noise that silence feels uncomfortable.

    But maybe silence is exactly where God has been trying to meet us.

    “Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

    I’m learning to put the phone down.

    To stop consuming everyone else’s life and become more present in my own.

    To protect my peace.

    To guard my heart.

    To keep my standards.

    To stop confusing attention with intention.

    And most importantly, to make sure nothing—even something as ordinary as my phone—is receiving more of me than God is.

    Because ultimately, this isn’t just about screen time.

    It’s about stewardship.

    God has given me a life to live, people to love, a purpose to walk in and a limited amount of time to do it.

    I don’t want to look back and realize I spent too much of that life watching everyone else live theirs.

    Reflection Questions

    • What gets the majority of my attention each day?
    • Do I reach for my phone out of purpose—or simply out of habit?
    • Has social media ever caused me to feel dissatisfied with a life I was previously grateful for?
    • Am I allowing attention from other people to make me compromise standards I know God has placed on my heart?
    • What could change in my life if I intentionally gave God some of the time I’ve been giving my phone?
    • Is there anything in my life that has quietly become more important than it should be?

    Closing Prayer

    Lord, help me be intentional with the time and attention You have given me. Show me anything that has taken a place in my life that belongs to You. Guard my heart from comparison, distraction and compromise. Give me wisdom about what—and who—I allow access to my life. Help me remain faithful to my convictions, even when the world tells me they aren’t necessary. Teach me to be present, content and obedient in the life You have given me.

    Amen.

    —Wendy

  • The Quiet Evidence of Growth

    The Quiet Evidence of Growth

    By: Wendy Morris

    Sometimes I find myself wondering how much my faith has really changed over the years.

    After everything I’ve walked through—the heartbreak, betrayal, disappointments, healing, and countless lessons God has faithfully carried me through—I occasionally wonder if I’m really that different.

    At first, I think maybe I’m not.

    Then I look at my life.

    I notice that situations which once would have sent me into anxiety, fear, or panic no longer have the same hold on me. My mind doesn’t immediately race to the worst-case scenario. I don’t feel the same desperate need to control every outcome or figure everything out on my own.

    Instead, I pause.

    I pray.

    I trust.

    That doesn’t mean I never struggle or that I’ve somehow “arrived.” It simply means God has been quietly transforming me from the inside out.

    And maybe that’s what spiritual growth often looks like—not dramatic moments everyone can see, but subtle changes in the way we respond to everyday life.

    The greatest evidence of my growth isn’t that life has become easier.

    It’s that what once shook me no longer has the power to move me.

    As I’ve reflected on that, I’ve noticed something else changing in me.

    I’ve become content.

    Not because everything in my life is exactly how I hoped it would be.

    Not because every dream has come true.

    Not because I’ve stopped wanting good things.

    But because I’ve stopped believing those things are responsible for my happiness.

    There was a time when I was always looking for the next thing that I thought would finally make me feel complete.

    Maybe it was another accomplishment.

    Maybe it was a new opportunity.

    Maybe it was finally finding the right relationship.

    I lived as though peace was always waiting somewhere in the future—just one answered prayer, one achievement, or one person away.

    But every time I reached what I thought would satisfy me, the feeling eventually faded, and I found myself searching again.

    Looking back, I realize I wasn’t really chasing those things.

    I was chasing peace.

    And peace was never something another person or another accomplishment could give me.

    Over time, through surrender, obedience, and allowing God to heal the deepest places of my heart, something changed.

    The void I spent years trying to fill slowly disappeared.

    Not because life became perfect.

    Not because I suddenly had everything I’d ever wanted.

    But because God was changing me.

    He was renewing my mind.

    He was teaching me that lasting peace isn’t found in circumstances. It isn’t found in relationships. It isn’t found in success.

    It is found in Him.

    Now I can honestly say something I never thought I would.

    I enjoy my own company.

    I can sit quietly with myself without feeling lonely.

    I can experience joy in an ordinary day.

    I can embrace this season of life without constantly wishing it away.

    If God chooses to bring someone into my life one day, I’ll welcome that as a beautiful gift.

    If new opportunities come, I’ll be grateful.

    If dreams are fulfilled, I’ll celebrate them.

    But none of those things are responsible for making me whole.

    They can add to my joy.

    They just don’t create it.

    That has been one of the greatest freedoms I’ve ever experienced.

    It’s taken years to reach this place.

    Years of healing.

    Years of facing hard truths.

    Years of surrendering control.

    Years of allowing God to replace fear with trust, striving with surrender, and insecurity with confidence in Him.

    When I look back now, I don’t just see someone who survived difficult seasons.

    I see someone whose mind has been renewed.

    Someone who no longer looks outside herself for what God has already placed within her through His presence.

    The woman I am today still has dreams.

    She still hopes.

    She still prays for what’s ahead.

    But she’s no longer waiting for something—or someone—to make her life meaningful.

    She has learned that contentment isn’t the absence of desire.

    It’s the presence of peace.

    The Apostle Paul wrote, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances” (Philippians 4:11).

    Notice he said he learned it.

    Contentment wasn’t instant.

    It was cultivated.

    Looking back, I realize that’s exactly what God has been doing in my life all along.

    He wasn’t simply changing my circumstances.

    He was changing me.

    And perhaps that’s His greatest miracle in my story.

    Reflection Questions

    1. What situations no longer affect you the way they once did, and what does that reveal about your growth?
    2. Are you looking to a person, achievement, or future circumstance to provide the peace only God can give?
    3. What evidence can you see that God has been renewing your mind?
    4. How can you choose gratitude and contentment in your current season while still trusting God for what lies ahead?

    Prayer

    Father, thank You for the quiet work You have done in my heart. Thank You for healing places I thought would always remain broken and for renewing my mind through Your truth. Thank You that my peace no longer depends on my circumstances but on Your presence. Continue to teach me to live with open hands, grateful for every blessing You give while remaining fully satisfied in You. Help me to trust Your timing, embrace each season with joy, and reflect the freedom that comes from knowing You are enough. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

    —Wendy

  • When Obedience Doesn’t Make Sense

    When Obedience Doesn’t Make Sense

    By: Wendy Morris

    Obedience rarely makes sense in the moment. It often asks us to trust before we understand, to move before we see the outcome.

    Peter had every reason to question Jesus after a long night of catching nothing. He was tired, discouraged, and likely convinced that the effort had already failed. Yet in that very place of exhaustion, Jesus gave him a simple instruction that defied logic: “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.” One act of obedience led to a miracle Peter could never have produced on his own.

    I’ve learned that some of God’s greatest blessings in my own life have come after simple acts of obedience that didn’t make sense at first. There have been seasons when God asked me to let go, to wait, or to step into something unfamiliar before I understood why. In those moments, obedience felt uncertain—sometimes even uncomfortable. But looking back now, I can clearly see that His instructions were never meant to limit me. They were leading me into something far greater than I could have imagined.

    Obedience isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about trusting the One who does. It’s choosing to believe that God sees what we cannot see and knows what we do not yet understand. What feels like a risk in your hands may actually be the very place where God reveals His faithfulness.

    And often, it begins with something simple.

    Sometimes one quiet, surrendered “yes” to God is all it takes to change the entire course of your life.

    As Scripture reminds us:

    “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.” — Proverbs 3:5–6

    If you’re standing at a place of uncertainty today, unsure of what obedience might cost you, take heart. God is not asking you to see the whole path—only to trust the One who is already at the end of it.

    —Wendy 

    Reflection Questions:

    ● Where in my life is God asking me to obey even though it doesn’t make sense right now?

    ● What fear or hesitation is making it hard for me to say “yes” to God?

    ● Can I recall a past moment when obedience led to something better than I expected?

    ● What would it look like for me to trust God with the next step instead of the whole journey?

    #RootedInStrength #ChristianEncouragement #FaithOverFear #TrustGod #WalkByFaith #Obedience #GodsTiming

  • Are You Running From Your Own Healing?

    Are You Running From Your Own Healing?

    By: Wendy Morris

    “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

    Are you running?

    “Are you running from your own healing?”

    It’s a simple question, yet it has the power to reveal what we’ve been avoiding for far too long.

    Healing isn’t always about time passing. Sometimes it’s about being willing to face the very things we’ve spent years trying to escape. We stay busy. We distract ourselves with work. We jump from relationship to relationship. We pour ourselves into everyone else. We bury our emotions beneath constant activity.

    But eventually, what remains unhealed asks for our attention.

    Many of us wonder why we continue struggling with the same fears, insecurities, unhealthy patterns, or emotional triggers. Maybe the better question isn’t, “Why am I still struggling?” but rather:

    • Am I avoiding difficult emotions instead of processing them?
    • Am I seeking temporary comfort instead of lasting healing?
    • Am I willing to let God reveal the places in my heart that still need His healing touch?

    My Own Journey

    During my own healing journey, I found myself doing the work—but also fighting it.

    I wanted healing, yet I struggled to fully surrender. Loneliness often convinced me that what I needed was another person in my life. I believed that if I just had companionship, the emptiness would disappear. Looking back, I realize I wasn’t truly looking for a relationship—I was looking for relief.

    While God was trying to heal the deeper places in my heart, I was sometimes looking for someone else to fill what only He could.

    God patiently began revealing that the issue wasn’t simply loneliness. It was the belief that another person’s presence could make me whole.

    He showed me that before I could build healthy relationships with someone else, I needed to learn how to sit with my own emotions. I needed to process my pain instead of running from it. I needed to understand why I felt incomplete on my own. Most importantly, I needed to find my identity in Christ instead of another person.

    That was one of the hardest lessons I’ve ever learned.

    Healing Requires Surrender

    Healing requires courage because it asks us to stop running and start surrendering.

    It means allowing God into the painful places we’d rather keep hidden. It means acknowledging the wounds instead of pretending they no longer exist.

    The beautiful part is that God never exposes our wounds to shame us. He reveals them so He can heal them.

    As I surrendered more of my heart to Him, something began to change.

    The loneliness that once controlled my decisions slowly lost its grip. My need for validation from others became less important. I learned to enjoy my own company. I began loving the woman God created me to be.

    I realized that wholeness isn’t found in another person—it is found in Christ.

    Relationships are a gift from God, but they were never meant to become our source of completeness.

    Freedom is Found in Him

    The freedom we long for is often found on the other side of obedience, honesty, and surrender.

    While the healing process may be uncomfortable, it produces something that temporary distractions never can—peace, freedom, confidence, and true wholeness.

    Looking back now, I don’t believe God was withholding something good from me during my waiting season.

    He was preparing me.

    He was teaching me to become whole in Him before asking someone else to walk beside me.

    What once felt like loneliness became an invitation to know God more deeply. The more I learned to love the person He created me to be, the less I depended on others to fill a place they were never meant to occupy.

    Now I understand that healing isn’t about becoming perfect.

    It’s about becoming surrendered.

    God’ Promise

    “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

    God never asks us to heal ourselves.

    He simply asks us to bring our brokenness to Him.

    The places you’ve been trying to hide may be the very places where His grace wants to meet you.

    Stop running.

    Your healing is waiting.

    Reflection Questions

    1. What emotions or situations have I been avoiding instead of processing?
    2. Where have I been seeking temporary comfort instead of lasting healing?
    3. Is there an area of my life I haven’t fully surrendered to God?
    4. Am I looking to another person to provide what only God can provide?
    5. What is one step of obedience God is asking me to take today?

    Prayer

    Father,

    Search my heart and reveal the places where I have been running instead of healing. Give me the courage to face the wounds I’ve tried to ignore and the faith to trust You with every broken place.

    Help me stop seeking temporary comfort and begin pursuing the lasting peace that only You can give. Teach me to find my identity, security, joy, and worth in You alone.

    When loneliness tempts me to settle for less than Your best, remind me that You are enough. Continue Your work in me until my heart is fully surrendered and my life reflects Your goodness and Your faithfulness.

    Thank You for being the God who heals the brokenhearted and binds up our wounds with compassion and unfailing love.

    In Jesus’ name,

    Amen.

    —Wendy