The Journey to His Nearness: Where My Good Begins

There’s a quiet kind of comfort in knowing you’re not alone.

Psalm 73:28 says, “But as for me, it is good to be near God.”

Those words remind me that God’s presence isn’t just a nice idea—it’s my safety, my strength, and my hope.

I’ve felt it in the middle of a doctor’s office waiting room, unsure of the outcome.
I’ve felt it on tear-stained pillows, when sleep wouldn’t come and neither would peace.
I’ve felt it when I whispered, “Lord, I don’t understand,” and somehow still felt held.

The nearness of God doesn’t always change my situation—but it changes me.
It stills my racing heart.
It quiets my fear.
It reminds me that even here—especially here—He is close.

And His closeness?
That’s not just comforting.
It’s good.

So no matter what today holds, keep drawing near.
Because where He is—that’s where our good begins.

Even With a Broken Heart — The Journey Still Matters

Some days, I carry more than just the schedule, the smiles, and the Sunday expectations. Some days, I carry heartbreak. Not just my own—but the deep ache of others walking through divorce, sickness, grief, and disappointment. The kind of pain that lingers long after the prayers are spoken and the church doors close.

It’s not always just my burden I carry. It’s the whispered prayer requests, the tearful hugs after service, the silent messages asking for help. It’s the ache of people who feel unseen, and somehow, I tuck their pain into my own heart too.

And then there are the wounds no one warns you about—the ones that come from inside the church. The ones that feel like betrayal. When someone you called “family” turns away. When assumptions are made, and rumors whisper louder than the truth ever gets to speak. When people gossip instead of asking the source, and choose distance instead of grace. And even when they ask the source, their hearts have already decided—choosing gossip over grace, assumption over understanding. It’s hard to grasp why they turn from someone who still loves them and still prays for God's protection and blessings over them. I’ve learned that leaning on God isn’t just a spiritual phrase—it’s survival.

Because some nights, the tears fall when no one’s watching. Some Sundays, the spotlight feels more like a microscope. And some prayers feel too broken to leave your lips—but God still hears them. He sees the unseen. He counts every tear. He comes close, especially when no one else does.

So today, I’m praying.
For those who misunderstand.
For the ones who assume the worst instead of asking.
For the ones who gossip but never listen.
And I’m praying with love—not bitterness—because I still care. I still love. I still hope.

To the pastors' wives, ministry leaders, and silent servants—
You are not alone.
Your heart matters.
Your tears are not wasted.
And your quiet faithfulness? It’s noticed by Heaven.

Even with a broken heart, I’ll keep walking.
Because I know the Healer walks with me.
And even when I feel misunderstood or unseen—He sees.
He knows.
And He’s still building something beautiful, even in the places where we’ve been broken.