Fearless Friday: When Life Won't Let You Push Through

Some moments demand more than strength. They require surrender.

I didn't see it coming.

It hit like a punch in the gut, and to be honest, I never thought it would happen to me. One minute I was living life - podcast scripts half-written, social calendar packed, workout regime in place - and the next, I was flat on my face. Not physically, but emotionally and spiritually.

There wasn't a headline to mark the moment; this was a private one. Just a conviction I couldn't ignore. A holy interruption.

There was no book, no strategy, no coach to fix it. Only silence. Stillness. And a holy whisper I couldn't outrun:

"Lay it all down."

And that's exactly what I had to do. I had to stop and pause. Not because I wanted to, but because if I didn't, I would miss something sacred.

The Required Pause

Some things in life demand a pause.

I'm not talking about the kind where you binge Netflix and call it "rest."

I mean the kind where God stops you at the 50-yard line and says, "You're moving too fast to see what I'm trying to heal."

We hate these moments, don't we? Because we're fixers, doers, carriers. We want to hold on to things until they're fixed. We want control of the timeline, the outcome.

But there are some things you can't strategize your way out of. Nor do I even say, wounds that won't stop bleeding until you're still enough to feel them.

And when you don't pause? Let me just tell you the fallout is real. People begin to feel unseen, spouses feel dismissed, and our children stop opening up because they already know what you're going to say anyway.

You become so full of other people's expectations, noise, and hustle that you stop hearing the voice of the people (and God) who matter most.

Marriage Needs More Than Proximity

It's easy to be in the same room and still be miles apart. Trust me, I've learned this the hard way. After 27 years of marriage, you start to think presence equals connection. But if we're honest with ourselves, being married doesn't mean you're present.

And presence in marriage isn't the same as presence anywhere else because marriage is a covenant. A three-stranded cord. It requires a kind of attention, a kind of sacrifice, that nothing else does. Nothing.

It's asking questions even when you're tired.

It's choosing love when you don't feel like giving it.

It's listening not just to respond, but to understand.

And sometimes it's in those quiet "How was your day?" moments where the most healing happens.

Listen, our marriages need us to slow down enough to notice each other again.

Shame Grows in Silence

You know what else happens when we don't pause? We start hiding.

The shame creeps in quietly:

• I should have seen this coming.

• I shouldn’t feel this way.

• I should be able to handle this.

And because shame thrives in silence, we stop telling the truth, even to ourselves.

In silence, we convince ourselves we're okay. We distract ourselves with "busy work" or numb with scrolling. Justifying the cracks as "just a rough patch."

But unspoken shame festers, and the only way out is vulnerability. To start speaking our truths. To be honest with ourselves and others. And vulnerable enough to let someone else see the mess before it eats you alive.

To the Woman Carrying Too Much

Let me talk to you for a second. The one holding it all together. The "strong one" in every room.

Can I tell you you're carrying a lot.

You're carrying the prayers for your family. The weight of your kids' choices. The disappointment of a marriage that doesn't look like the ones that seem to have it all together, or even the ache of fruit you haven't seen yet, even though you've been faithful.

And so you're wondering:

Why isn't this working?

Why does it feel like I'm doing everything right, but still feel like I'm losing everything?

Why am I the one always laying it down?

But hear me when I say this - You weren't meant to carry this much.

And maybe what you're calling weakness is really God saying, "Daughter, it's time to pause. To lay it down. To trust Me more than your grip on the outcome."

This Is Your Invitation

If any part of this story hits hard for you or resonates in your spirit, don't rush past it.

Take this as your invitation to pause, to breathe, and to be honest with yourself. To finally put your hands up and say, "God, I can't carry the weight of this anymore." Whatever "this" is for you. Maybe it's your marriage, a wayward child, a diagnosis, a friendship, or a relationship that's in question.

God's not asking you to be superwoman. He is asking you to surrender. And being surrendered doesn't look like failure or that the devil wins. Surrender looks like trust. It's the "Even if…Yet, I will" type of trust.

Even if the fig tree does not blossom,

And there is no fruit on the vines,

If the yield of the olive fails,

And the fields produce no food,

Even if the flock disappears from the fold,

And there are no cattle in the stalls,

Yet I will triumph in the Lord,

I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.

Habakkuk 3:17-18 NASB

So here's my prayer for you (and for me):

That we won't be so focused on holding it all together that we miss the moment God is asking us to let it fall apart just long enough for Him to rebuild it stronger.

I Want Your Comments

Have you ever experienced a required pause? What did it teach you?

And if this hits home, would you be so kind as to forward it to a friend. You never know who's quietly carrying too much.

What I’m Reading & Loving This Week

📖 Reading: Don't Give the Enemy a Seat at Your Table by Louie Giglio

🎧 Listening to: Therapy & Theology with Lysa Terkeurst

👚 Obsessed With: This workout shirt from Magcomsen. I find it really hard to find a good non-brand workout clothes and I am loving this one!

👱 My Go-To: Skinpharm in Nashville. Period.