Posts Tagged ‘god’
Don’t Grow Weary in Doing Good
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9
Exhaustion can seep into our souls—not from working long hours or staying up too late, but from doing the right thing over and over and over again when it feels like no one notices. It’s the tiredness that comes from showing kindness to a difficult person, serving in your church when volunteers are scarce, praying for a prodigal child year after year, or faithfully giving when your own resources feel tight.
This weariness is real. The Apostle Paul must have known it when he wrote these words to the Galatians. “Do not become weary in doing good.” Why would he say it unless he knew we would be tempted to stop? Because doing good can sometimes feel like planting seeds in barren soil. We water, we wait, we hope—but the ground looks unchanged.
Maybe you’ve been there. Perhaps you are there right now. You’ve prayed faithfully, but the answer seems delayed. You’ve forgiven someone again, only for them to hurt you once more. You’ve extended generosity, but few have shown gratitude. In moments like these, the enemy whispers: “Why bother? No one sees. It doesn’t matter.”
But Paul gives us a promise: “At the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” The truth is, the good we sow is never wasted. God sees every hidden act of faithfulness. He treasures every whispered prayer, every unseen sacrifice, every choice to love when bitterness would have been easier. The soil may appear hard and lifeless, but beneath the surface, something is happening. Roots are forming. Life is stirring.
The “proper time” is God’s time, not ours. That’s what makes perseverance so challenging—we don’t get to set the schedule. But we can trust the Gardener of our souls. He knows the right season for the harvest. Sometimes we glimpse it here: a relationship restored, a prayer answered, a life touched. Other times, the full reward won’t be seen until eternity, when Jesus Himself will say, “Well done.”
So what do we do while we wait? I used to sing a song to my children and now to my grandchildren about this very thing. “You’ve gotta wait, wait, wait patiently. You’ve gotta wait, wait, wait patiently. You’ve gotta wait, wait, wait patiently until it’s your turn.”
During the times of waiting, we have to learn to wait for our time. Our time when God works His plan – His miracle – His solution. And while we wait, we must keep sowing, keep showing up, keep loving, serving, praying, and forgiving. Not in our own strength, but through the Spirit who renews us day by day. When weariness presses heavily, we lean on His promise: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Do no let the enemy of your soul convince you that your efforts don’t matter. They do. God sees. He remembers. And He promises a harvest. Keep going. The story isn’t finished yet.
Prayer:
Lord, when I feel tired of doing good, remind me that You see my efforts even when others don’t. Help me not to give up, but to keep sowing in faith, trusting that in Your perfect timing, a harvest will come. Amen.
Held in His Hands
There are days when life feels steady, predictable, and peaceful, and then there are days when everything feels just a little too heavy. Our hearts get stretched. Our minds grow tired. Our spirits long for a reminder that we are not carrying life alone.
Holidays are often a culprit in bringing us to a point of desperation. Loss and loneliness contribute deeply to the inability to pull ourselves out of the heaviness.
Scripture gives us one of the most comforting truths: “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” — Deuteronomy 33:27
The everlasting arms — not temporary, not conditional, not distant. Everlasting. Always present. Always strong. Always steady.
Sometimes we forget that we are held. We forget that God’s hands didn’t drop us when life got hard. We forget that He is still the One holding every detail, every moment, and every heartache together.
Yesterday, while enjoying family and friends, I found myself drifting into places that brought tremendous sadness. The thoughts seemed to cripple me, and the weight of pain tried to overcome me.
When things feel too heavy, it’s not because God stepped back — it’s because He’s inviting us to lean in. To rest. To trust. To let Him carry what we were never meant to hold alone.
Think about how a parent scoops up a weary child. The child doesn’t earn rest. They don’t explain themselves. They don’t have to be strong or put together. They simply let themselves be held.
That’s what God is asking of us. He knows the pressure you’re under. He knows the prayers you pray in the quiet. He knows the people you love and the burdens you carry. He knows the memories you hold and the pain you don’t often say out loud.
And He whispers, “Come to Me. Let Me hold you.”
Even when you feel overwhelmed, God is not.
Even when you feel unsteady, God is sure.
Even when the future feels uncertain, God has already gone before you.
Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is simply stop… breathe… and fall into those everlasting arms. Let Him be your refuge today. Let Him carry the weight. Let Him strengthen what feels weak. Let Him remind you that you are never, ever walking alone.
Because even when life feels too big, you are safe in the hands of a God who never lets go.
Prayer
Lord, thank You for holding me with everlasting arms. When I feel overwhelmed, remind me that I am not carrying life alone. Help me rest in Your strength, trust in Your timing, and find peace in Your presence. Hold my heart steady today. Amen.
God is just, but where is the justice
“For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.” – Isaiah 30:18
It is in the courtroom that this question comes to mind. As a foster mom, I frequent the halls of justice quite often as a silent member of the lives of those I care for 24/7. History. Tragedy. Heartache. Mistakes. Looking the other way. Neglect. Unaware. The topics are all the same with simple twists here and there, all coming back to the same common element: God is just — where is the justice?
I’ve held the hands of littles as we walk to the car. Their every step trusting mine. Their minds confused, scared, unsettled — as the judge folds the file and reaches for another. Lawyers who were just angry at one another, fighting to make this motion or dismissal, laughing moments later about some event they’d all attended or a golf game gone by. And I find myself asking: Lord, do You see this? Do You hear their cries?
But those questions don’t stop in the courthouse. I’ve asked them in hospital corridors, too.
A few years ago, my sister — vibrant, driven, full of purpose — was diagnosed with Glioblastoma, Grade 4. Only months before, she had been named to the Georgia State Board of Nursing, an honor she had longed for and worked so hard to obtain. She had just purchased her own home, bought a new car, and was nearly finished with her Master’s degree. Life was opening up for her in ways she had dreamed of. And then, in the reading of an MRI, it all ended.
And now, our nation mourns a young leader — Charlie Kirk. At just 31 years old, with a wife and two small children, his life was stolen by assassination. He was bold in his faith, fearless in his convictions, and yet vulnerable to the evil that lurks in the hearts of men. The images of his death shook millions. Once again, we find ourselves crying out: Where is the justice? How could this happen?
How do we reconcile these moments? The confusion of children abandoned by the very people meant to protect them. The loss of a sister whose dreams were cut short. The murder of a young husband and father whose voice was silenced too soon. How do we hold the truth that God is just alongside the harsh reality of a world that so often feels cruel and unjust?
The truth is — God’s justice is not always immediate, nor is it always visible. What feels delayed to us is never forgotten by Him. Justice, in His hands, is not only about punishment or reward but about restoration — of hearts, of lives, of creation itself.
Sometimes His justice shows up in quiet ways: the healing of a child’s trust, the mending of a broken heart, the courage of a widow standing strong, or the ripple effect of a life lived faithfully. And other times, it feels hidden — waiting for that day when every wrong will be made right before His throne.
Until then, we wait. We walk by faith. We live justly ourselves, even when the world does not. We cling to His promise that justice will come, even if not in the way or timing we long for.
So when the courtroom feels cold, or the MRI brings devastation, or violence steals a leader in his prime, we anchor ourselves in this: God sees. God knows. God is just. And one day, His justice will roll down like waters, and His righteousness like a mighty stream.
Closing Prayer:
Lord, when life feels unfair and injustice surrounds me, remind me that You are just. Help me trust in what I cannot yet see. Give me strength to walk faithfully and to bring glimpses of Your justice into this world until the day You make all things new. Amen.
notesbynora 