notesbynora

Scripture: “As the time approached for Him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem.” — Luke 9:51

There are moments in life when we know what lies ahead will be difficult. It is a feeling in our spirit before it ever happens, a conversation we have with ourselves. No one has to tell us that the path is going to be tough. Somehow, we resolve ourselves to do it, despite the fact that we wish we could turn another direction.

I remember when my sister was diagnosed with a fatal brain tumor. The odds were stacked against us, and the road ahead looked very bleak, but we charged ahead, ready to take on the storm.

Jesus experienced this very reality.

Luke tells us that as the time approached for His suffering, death, and ultimate victory, Jesus “set His face” toward Jerusalem. This phrase suggests determination. Resolve. Purpose. He was not drifting into Holy Week. He was walking toward it with full awareness.

Because He already understood the bigger picture, Jesus knew betrayal, pain, and the cross were coming. He knew everything in front of Him had to happen to accomplish God’s plan.

So often, we think obedience should feel easy. We assume that if God is leading us somewhere, the road will be smooth and the outcome comfortable. Yet Scripture shows us again and again that God’s greatest work often unfolds in seasons of uncertainty and surrender.

Jesus teaches us that courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is choosing faith even when the future feels heavy.

My sister’s profession was nursing. Her diagnosis was something she fully understood. I still remember her courage as I type this devotion – the radiation, the chemo, the surgery, the belief in God’s ultimate plan.

Maybe you are facing something today that you did not choose: a loss, a diagnosis, a strained relationship or a responsibility that feels overwhelming. You may wish you could avoid it. You may wonder why this path is yours.

Holy Week reminds us that God is not absent in hard roads. He is often most present there.

Jesus walked toward Jerusalem not because He loved suffering, but because He loved us. He trusted the Father’s plan more than His own comfort. And because He did, redemption became possible.

What would it look like for you to “set your face” toward the place God is calling you? What step of obedience might He be asking you to take today?

My sister received her victory when she crossed the finish line in Heaven. She crossed the finish line in Heaven because she believed in the One who sacrificed it all for us.

Prayer: Lord, give me the strength to trust You when the road ahead feels uncertain. Help me walk in obedience, knowing that You are with me every step of the way. Amen.

There are prayers we pray with confidence. And then there are the prayers we whisper because we are afraid to hope too much.

We bring them to God carefully, ask sincerely, and believe He hears. And then… nothing seems to change. Days pass. Weeks stretch longer. Sometimes months or even years go by, and the situation remains exactly the same.

It is in those moments we tend to ask ourselves, “Did God hear me?“

Scripture assures us He does. Psalm 34:15 says, “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and His ears are attentive to their cry.” Not some prayers. Not the eloquent prayers. Not only the confident prayers. Every cry.

The tears we cry into our pillows. The pain we hide from those who wouldn’t understand. The brokenness we don’t want to talk about because we are too ashamed.

The difficulty is not that God is silent — it is that God does not always answer according to our timeline.

We often think an unanswered prayer is a sign God has not moved. But sometimes what we are asking God to change is not the only part of the story He is working on. God sees connections we cannot see, future moments we cannot anticipate, and consequences we cannot predict.

A child sees a closed door and assumes the parent is withholding – a parent sees the danger on the other side. We measure prayer by immediacy, but God answers with wisdom.

There are three ways God often answers prayer: yes, no, and not yet. The “not yet” can feel the heaviest because it requires trust without evidence. But “not yet” is not rejection — it is timing.

Jesus Himself prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, asking that the suffering before Him might pass. The answer was not the removal of the cross, but the strength to walk through it, and through that obedience came resurrection.

Sometimes God changes our circumstances, and sometimes He changes our strength during them.

If your prayer has not yet been answered, do not assume God is absent. He may be working in ways too intricate for you to see right now. Faith continues to pray even when results are not immediate, trusting that God hears before we see.

Hope is not believing God will do exactly what we ask. Hope is believing God will do what is best.

And His “best” always comes from love.

Prayer:
Lord, when my prayers feel unheard, remind me that You are listening even in the silence. Give me patience to trust Your timing and peace to believe Your answers come from wisdom and love. Amen.

Waiting is one of the hardest parts of faith. I’ve often remarked that I can endure just about anything if I know how long it will last. Just knowing when relief is coming can make all the difference in the world. But waiting without a timeline stretches the heart in ways we never expected.

Waiting for healing, answers, reconciliation, or doors to open can feel unbearable at times. And in the waiting, discouragement whispers, Maybe nothing is happening at all.

Scripture tells a different story. Isaiah 40:31 says, “Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength.”

It does not say those who run ahead or who figure everything out or get a bluepring ot the plan. It says those who wait.

Waiting in God’s kingdom is not inactivity; it is actually trust in motion.

God does some of His deepest work in the waiting seasons because waiting changes us. It teaches patience, dependence, and humility. It slowly shifts our confidence from our own timing to His wisdom.

While we like to think God is preparing the answer while we wait, many times, God is preparing us for the journey ahead.

Seeds grow underground long before they break through the soil. Roots develop where no one can see them. Growth is happening, but it is hidden.

Your life may feel hidden right now. Your prayers may feel suspended between heaven and earth. But delay is not denial. God is not ignoring you; He is shaping something you cannot yet recognize.

One day, you may look back and see that the waiting protected you, strengthened you, and aligned you with something better than what you were asking for.

Hope is not lost when God says “wait.” It is built there.

God never wastes a waiting season.

Prayer:
Father, help me trust You in the waiting. Give me patience when answers are slow and peace when I feel uncertain. Teach me to believe that You are working even when I cannot see it. Amen.

Sometimes comfort comes in extraordinary places. Other times it comes simply and unexplainably close to the heart. 

It isn’t delivered in a sermon – though it could be. It isn’t in a grand moment either. Sometimes, it is in an ordinary place on an ordinary day — a word, a memory, a small reminder found when we weren’t even looking for it.

This happened to me this morning in a note I found. 

There are seasons in life when someone we love is no longer beside us the way they once were. The chair is empty. The laughter is no longer heard.  And we wonder how love is supposed to continue when presence has changed.

But love was never built on proximity.

Love is not measured in how close someone stands to us, how often we hear their voice, or how many times we see them walk through a door. Love is something deeper — something God created to live beyond distance, beyond time, and beyond our understanding.

Scripture reminds us in Romans 8:38-39 that nothing can separate us from the love of God. If God’s love is not limited by distance or even by death, then the love He places in our hearts carries that same imprint. It does not simply end because circumstances change.

Sometimes we receive small reminders — a memory, a familiar song, a handwritten note, a sudden peace that settles over us. We may not be able to explain them, but they gently reassure us: love is still present.

Grief often whispers, You’ve lost them. But love answers, You still belong to each other.

God, in His kindness, understands how human hearts ache. And now and then, He allows us a moment of comfort — not to take away the longing, but to strengthen hope. A reminder that relationships shaped by love are not erased. They are simply held differently now.

We may not always see the ones we miss. We may not hear their voices the way we once did. But love does not disappear when someone is not around.

It remains — steady, faithful, and remembered — carried safely in the hands of God.

Prayer:
Lord, thank You for the love You allow us to share with others. When our hearts ache, and we miss those dear to us, give us peace and gentle reminders that love is never wasted and never lost. Help us trust that what is held by You is always held securely. Amen.

There are moments when life feels unfinished. Loose ends linger. Prayers remain unanswered. Seasons of waiting stretch far longer than we ever imagined they would. We tell ourselves we are being patient, but deep down we wonder if something has gone wrong—if we misunderstood God, missed a step, or were forgotten somewhere along the way.

Unfinished things can make us uneasy. We like closure. We like answers. We like knowing how the story will turn out. And when those things don’t come on our timeline, it’s tempting to believe that God has paused… or worse, stepped away altogether.

But Scripture gently reminds us otherwise. Philippians 1:6 says,
“He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.”

God does not abandon what He starts. Not halfway through. Not when it gets complicated. Not when progress is slow or invisible.

We often measure God’s work by what we can see. We look for movement, milestones, or clear direction. But God does some of His most important work beneath the surface—quietly forming, strengthening, and preparing us in ways we may not recognize until much later.

Even when growth feels invisible. Even when the waiting feels unbearable. Even when hope feels fragile.

There have been times in my own life when I felt stuck in the middle of the story. Not where I used to be, but not yet where I believed God was leading me. Those in-between places can feel lonely. They can leave us questioning our purpose, our timing, and sometimes even our faith.

But I’ve learned that in-between does not mean inactive. What looks unfinished to us is often simply in process to God. He is still working behind the scenes—aligning details, softening hearts, opening doors, closing others, and teaching us things we could not learn any other way. Just because we cannot see His hand does not mean it isn’t moving.

Think of a story while it’s still being written. A chapter may end in uncertainty, tension, or unresolved conflict. If we stop reading there, it might feel incomplete or discouraging. But the author knows what comes next. Every line is intentional. Every pause has purpose.

God is the Author of our stories. He knows how this chapter connects to the next. He knows how the loose ends will be tied together. He knows how what feels broken now will one day make sense.

So if today feels unresolved—take heart. If prayers remain unanswered…If doors haven’t opened…If clarity hasn’t come…It does not mean God is finished. It means He is still at work.

Trust Him in the waiting. Trust Him in the silence. Trust Him when the picture feels incomplete. The same God who began this work in you is faithful to finish it—in His time, in His way, and for His glory.

And when the story is complete, you will see that not a single moment was wasted.

Prayer:
Lord, help me trust You in the unfinished places of my life. When I grow weary of waiting, remind me that You are still at work. Give me peace as You complete what You have begun. Amen.

I thought strength would feel louder. I imagined it would arrive with confidence, certainty, and a sense of readiness—as if one day I would wake up and simply know I could handle whatever was in front of me. I thought strength would feel like clarity, like resolve, like having all the answers neatly lined up.

But most days, strength feels nothing like I expected it to feel.

Most days, strength feels like showing up tired. Like choosing kindness when it would be easier to withdraw.
Like trusting God without seeing the outcome—without knowing how things will unfold or when relief might come.

Strength, I’ve learned, is something much stronger than I know or understand.

Isaiah 40:29 tells us,
“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

It is one of my favorite verses. For reasons I can’t fully explain, the book of Isaiah holds so many of my favorite passages. I return to it again and again, as if my soul recognizes something familiar there. I find comfort in its honesty, its warnings, and its hope. I seem to find my strength in its words.

God is telling us something important here. He does not say He gives strength to the confident, the self-assured, or the ones who appear to have it all together. He gives strength to the weary. To the tired. To the worn-down. To the ones who keep going even when they aren’t sure how.

Most days, that is me. And maybe it is you, too.

There have been seasons in my life when it felt like I was being pressed from every side. Emotionally, spiritually, sometimes physically. I used to wonder why those seasons felt so relentless, why rest seemed so far away. Over time, I’ve come to understand something that has changed the way I see hardship.

When we are doing the work God has placed before us—when we are living faithfully, loving deeply, speaking truth, choosing light—opposition often follows. Satan has little interest in disrupting those who are not working for the Kingdom. But when lives are being changed, when hearts are being softened, when faith is being lived out authentically, resistance shows up.

And oddly enough, I take heart in that. Not because suffering is easy or desirable—but because it reminds me that God is present, active, and at work. It reminds me that what I am doing matters, even when it feels exhausting.

Sometimes strength looks like continuing when stopping would feel safer. Sometimes strength looks like staying when walking away would be easier. Sometimes strength looks like resting—finally letting God hold what we have been gripping too tightly for too long.

We often mistake strength for motion, for action, for visible progress. But some of the strongest moments in our lives happen, unseen by anyone but God.

If you don’t feel strong today, that does not mean you aren’t.It may simply mean that God is doing His best work in you—deep in places no one else can see. He is building endurance. He is growing trust. He is shaping a faith that will last longer than quick confidence ever could.

And that kind of strength endures storms. That kind of strength carries us when emotions fail. That kind of strength lasts.

Prayer:
God, thank You for meeting me in my weakness. When I feel tired, unsure, or worn down, remind me that You are near. Teach me to trust Your strength when I cannot find my own. Amen.

Morning came whether I was ready for it or not. The light slipped through the window quietly, without asking permission. The world outside didn’t pause for my heaviness or my questions. It simply showed up—faithful as ever.

There are days when that feels comforting… and days when it feels hard. The night had been especially long, filled with memories of hurt and betrayal – of loss and frustration – of wondering why it had to be this way.

But Scripture reminds us in Lamentations 3:22–23:
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.”

Not new every season. Not new when I finally feel strong again. New every single morning.

God does not wait for us to catch up. He meets us right where the day begins—offering mercy before we even know we need it. Some mornings, mercy feels like joy. Other mornings, it feels like simply getting out of bed. And that is enough.

I often remind myself that I must live my life not only to glorify God and benefit His Kingdom, but to make the enemy of my soul regretful every time my feet hit the floor. I must make Satan aware that I am not only awake but ready to take on this world with all my heart for my Lord and Savior.

Life can cause us to want to retreat, to want to pull the covers over our heads and hide from the pain. It can confuse us and cause us to believe that God is not aware that we exist.

But don’t you believe it.

Yes, this morning was hard to put my feet on the ground, but I did.

If today feels ordinary or heavy, take heart: God has already placed what you need inside this morning. You don’t have to search for it. He will stir something within your heart to know He is with you every step of the way. He has gone before you. Noting surprises Him.

Just receive it.

Prayer:
Lord, thank You for meeting me here—right where I am. Help me trust that today holds exactly what You intended. Amen.

Every morning, two cardinals tap on my window.

It has become part of my day—almost a greeting. I notice them before I notice the news, before the noise of the world creeps in. Just two bright flashes of red, steady and faithful, reminding me that God’s creation is already awake.

As the storm approached, I found myself worrying about them.

I filled the bird feeders extra full, wondering how they would survive the cold, the wind, the uncertainty of what was coming. I imagined them frightened, hungry, exposed to a world they could not control. And I realized something—I was carrying concern for something God had already been caring for all along.

When the storm passed, I looked outside, and there they were.

Eating alongside other birds—some small, some medium-sized—without fear, without urgency, without worry. They shared space, shared food, and carried on as if to say, We are provided for.

And I was the one who had worried.

Jesus reminds us of this truth in Matthew 6:26:
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”

I stood there watching them—content, unbothered, alive—and felt the quiet correction of God settle into my heart. Those birds did not know a storm was coming. They did not stockpile. They did not panic. They simply trusted the rhythm God had built into their lives: eat when food is available, rest when it is time, and rise again when morning comes.

And somehow, they survived. I had done the worrying. God had done the providing. 

How often do I do that in my own life? I look ahead to the storm—real or imagined—and my heart fills with questions. How will this work out? Will I have enough? Will I be okay? I try to prepare my spirit the way I filled those feeders, as if my effort alone is what will carry me through.

But God gently reminds me: He has never missed a morning.

If He notices two cardinals tapping on my window…If He feeds the smallest birds without them ever asking…How much more does He see me? How much more does He see you?

The birds didn’t survive because I worried. They survived because God is faithful. And the same is true for us. Today, if you are looking at the sky and bracing for a storm—financial, emotional, physical, or spiritual—pause for a moment. Look at the birds. Remember the cardinals. Remember that God’s care does not waver when the weather changes.

You are not forgotten. You are not overlooked.  You are deeply, intentionally loved.

And if God cares so much for the birds in your yard, how much more does He care for you?

Prayer:

Lord, help me to trust You the way the birds do—without fear, without striving, and without doubt. When storms come, remind me that You are already there, providing what I need. Amen.