Change can feel like standing at a crossroads in the fog – we know we need to move forward, but uncertainty makes every step feel risky. Perhaps you've experienced that familiar ache: the deep-seated knowing that you're meant for more, paired with the nagging question of how to get there. We all carry dreams of transformation in our hearts, whether they're whispered hopes of breaking old habits or bold visions of becoming who we're truly meant to be. The beautiful truth is that change isn't just a possibility – it's part of God's divine design for your life.
Change can feel like standing at a crossroads in the fog – we know we need to move forward, but uncertainty makes every step feel risky. Perhaps you've experienced that familiar ache: the deep-seated knowing that you're meant for more, paired with the nagging question of how to get there. We all carry dreams of transformation in our hearts, whether they're whispered hopes of breaking old habits or bold visions of becoming who we're truly meant to be. The beautiful truth is that change isn't just a possibility – it's part of God's divine design for your life.
Have you ever tried to describe the shape of your heart? Not the anatomical organ, but the spiritual center of who you are? It's not as simple as drawing the Valentine's Day symbol we're all familiar with. Our hearts are complex landscapes shaped by experiences, relationships, and most importantly, what we choose to trust.
The war within ourselves is perhaps one of the most exhausting battles we face. That moment when the alarm rings and we're caught between our morning devotional commitment and the warmth of our bed. The internal debate as we pass by our favorite coffee shop, knowing we've promised to be better stewards of our finances. These daily skirmishes between our aspirations and our actions shape not just our days, but our spiritual journey.
Have you ever tried to read a book while running? Of course not—that would be absurd! You can't absorb the words on the page when you're moving too quickly. Yet so often, we try to navigate life's complexities at breakneck speed, wondering why we can't see things clearly or make wise decisions. The truth is, we can't see properly when we're in a hurry, whether that's reading a book or discerning the state of our hearts.
This past fall, I moved into a new house. My parents were gracious enough to drive from Wilmington to Carrboro to help me get settled in. There were a plethora of boxes to be carried inside and furniture to be constructed. My dad, ever the family handyman, was more than happy to help assemble my new desk, bedframe, and loveseat.
In our fast-paced world of instant notifications, endless scrolling, and constant distractions, the idea of meaningful change can feel overwhelming. We often find ourselves making the same resolutions, setting similar goals, or promising ourselves "This time will be different," only to find ourselves back in familiar patterns weeks or months later. Why does lasting change seem so elusive?