Welcome to While I’m Here.
These reflections are written for the weary, the waiting, and anyone learning to find Christ in ordinary days.
Today’s Scripture
“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28–30 (NKJV)
There is a kind of exhaustion that sleep cannot fix.
If you’ve lived with chronic illness, grief, anxiety, loss, or uncertainty, you probably know the kind I’m talking about. It’s the weariness that settles deeper than your body. It reaches into your thoughts, your hopes, your relationships, and sometimes even your faith.
I’ve known that exhaustion for a long time.
For years, I believed that if I could just solve the next problem, I’d finally have peace.
If the doctors found the answer.
If the pain eased.
If my finances stabilized.
If life became a little more predictable.
If I could simply become the person I thought I was supposed to be.
I spent years chasing peace.
Trying to become someone who had finally earned it.
The harder I chased it, the farther away it seemed.
Looking back now, I realize I had unknowingly made peace another accomplishment to achieve. Another mountain to climb. Another thing that depended on me.
Then Jesus gently reminded me that peace isn’t something we earn.
It’s Someone we come to.
That truth has changed me.
Not because all of my circumstances suddenly became easier.
They didn’t.
I still live with chronic illness.
I still have days that hurt.
I still pray for healing.
I still ask the Lord to provide, to guide, to open doors, and sometimes simply to help me make it through the day.
Those prayers haven’t stopped.
But somewhere along the way, they’ve begun to sound different.
Less,
“Lord, when will You change this?”
More,
“Lord, what are You teaching me while I’m here?”
I don’t ask that because I’ve stopped hoping.
I ask it because I’m beginning to trust that even when I don’t understand His plan, I can trust His heart.
No one is promised a life free from suffering on this side of Heaven.
Jesus never told us we would avoid trials.
He promised He would be with us through them.
The older I get, the more I look forward to Heaven.
But I no longer want to rush through this precious life simply trying to escape the hard parts.
I want to learn what the Lord is teaching me while I’m here.
For much of my life, I believed perseverance meant pushing harder.
Keep going.
Don’t complain.
Figure it out.
Carry the weight.
Smile anyway.
Maybe that’s the generation I was raised in.
Maybe it was pride.
Maybe it was fear.
Probably a little of all three.
What I know now is that pretending to be okay isn’t perseverance.
It’s exhausting.
Real perseverance looks different.
Sometimes it’s opening my Bible before I have the strength to open anything else.
Sometimes it’s whispering a prayer because that’s all the strength I have left.
Sometimes it’s admitting I can’t carry today by myself.
And perhaps that’s been the hardest lesson of all.
I can’t.
Not under my own strength.
For years, I thought following Jesus meant trying harder to become the person I thought He wanted me to be.
Now I’m learning something much simpler.
He isn’t asking me to carry my life.
He’s asking me to bring it to Him.
More mornings than not, I open God’s Word with more questions than answers.
Some mornings I don’t feel particularly strong.
Some mornings I don’t feel particularly faithful.
Some mornings I simply sit quietly with a few verses and an honest heart.
Yet every time I make room for Him…
something changes.
Not always around me.
But within me.
His Word has become more than something I read.
It has become the place where my anxious thoughts slow down.
Where fear loosens its grip.
Where I remember that my identity isn’t found in what my body can or cannot do.
It reminds me that I am loved before I accomplish anything.
That I am seen on the days no one else notices.
That my worth has never depended on my productivity.
Looking back, I realize I didn’t survive because I was stronger than my circumstances.
I survived because, even when I didn’t recognize it, the Lord was faithfully carrying me one day at a time.
If you’ve spent much time in the chronic illness community, you’ve probably noticed how easy it is to compare suffering.
Who hurts more.
Who’s been sick longer.
Whose story is harder.
Somewhere along the way, I realized those were never the right questions.
Pain was never meant to be measured against someone else’s.
And hope isn’t reserved only for the person whose circumstances finally improve.
Hope is found in Christ.
Whether healing comes today, years from now, or not until we stand before Him face to face.
That may not be the answer my heart always wants.
But it has become the anchor my heart desperately needed.
I certainly don’t write these words because I’ve figured life out.
Far from it.
I still grieve.
I still hope.
I still wrestle.
I still wonder.
I’m still learning.
But I’ve discovered that every time I return to Jesus, He is exactly where He has always promised to be.
Faithful.
If you’re reading this while sitting in your own trenches, convinced no one understands, I may not know your story.
But I know what it feels like to wonder if things will ever change.
More importantly…
I know where I have found rest.
Not in having all the answers.
Not in pretending to be stronger than I am.
Not in finally getting everything under control.
I have found rest by returning, day after day, to Jesus.
If all you can manage today is a whispered prayer…
Begin there.
If all you can manage is a few verses before your eyes grow tired…
Begin there.
He has never asked us to come to Him with perfect faith.
Only willing hearts. That’s all He’s asking of us today.
My Prayer
Father,
Thank You for meeting us in the middle of ordinary days, not just extraordinary ones.
Thank You that we don’t have to earn Your love or prove our strength before coming to You. Thank You that You invite us to come weary, burdened, uncertain, and even with questions.
For the one reading these words today, would You quiet anxious thoughts and remind them that they are never beyond Your loving care.
Give them strength for today, grace for this moment, and the courage to trust You with tomorrow.
Teach us to lay down the burdens we were never meant to carry and to find our rest in You.
Help us to remember that Your presence is often the very answer our hearts have been searching for.
Thank You for faithfully carrying us, even on the days we didn’t realize You were doing so.
May our lives bring glory to You alone.
In the precious name of Jesus,
Amen.
Scripture to Sit With
“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28–30 (NKJV)
A Question to Carry
What burden are you bringing to Jesus today? I’d love to hear what the Lord is teaching you while you’re here.
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